Stained Glass Monsters (15 page)

"No leaders? Truly?" Rennyn had not had
that impression.

"Outside the structure of the Sentene,
no. They'll take ranks and give orders as part of their duty, but
on a personal level Kellian strongly resist imposing their will on
each other. The Illumas, for instance: it is immensely rare for
Kellian to show the ability to be mages. Sarana is only the second,
and all the Kellian were, I think, tremendously pleased when Sukata
Illuma showed the same ability as her mother. But none would
suggest that Sarana try and have another child for the sake of
increasing the number of Kellian mages, or try to force the issue
if Sukata chose not to study the art. It's very rare that they'll
even give their opinion unasked, because an opinion is itself a
kind of expectation, a suggested direction. You look sceptical,
Lady Montjuste-Surclere."

"I can't tell if you're idolizing them
or not. You obviously care about them greatly."

"Indeed. They are a complicated group,
misunderstood by most. Perhaps I misunderstand them too. But I do
trust them. And I
do
consider them a responsibility, even
though they are, as you say, people. To me they are simply people
worth protecting."

Rennyn was starting to see she should
have paid more attention to Tyrland's politics. It would probably
not make a great deal of difference until the Grand Summoning was
complete, but might complicate what vague hopes she had for the
rest of her life.

"Do you have a map of the area around
Sark?" she asked, deciding she really needed to stop talking about
the Kellian. She'd asked to see the Grand Magister for an entirely
different reason, and proceeded to further spoil Lady Weston's day
by using the measurements she'd been making to calculate the
eventual diameter of the area of distortion emanating from Falk.
While the expansion would probably not cross Sark's circle, it
would come very close. More people than Rennyn cared to imagine
would need to be moved.

Lady Weston had barely time to call
another secretary when two men dressed in the resplendent red and
gold of the Royal Guard appeared with a summons for Rennyn.
Unsurprised that they'd leapt at the chance to question her
immediately, Rennyn followed obediently along behind.

The guardsmen took her deep into the Old
Palace, to a room focused around a box-like podium constructed of
marble heavily worked with sigils. This was the Hall of Question,
where any injunction to tell the truth would be massively
reinforced by this permanent working. It made even half-truths
immensely difficult, though not impossible. Even the
strongest-willed could not outright lie here. That was the risk in
making this gesture. They might hit upon the right questions, and a
refusal to answer could reveal almost as much as the truth.

Seated at the long table before this
podium were the seven who were conducting the questioning, though a
reasonable audience had been allowed in as well. Mostly
Councillors, Rennyn assumed. There were also two powerful shields,
one around the podium and one enclosing the section of seats to the
right of the Hall. This area was half-filled with Kellian waiting
their turn. Many of their mage partners had joined them, including
Lieutenant Danress, face set beneath her bright hair. Captain
Faille was currently being questioned.

Rennyn was immediately struck by the
fact that none of the Kellian were wearing their uniform coat.
She'd seen them remove it so it wouldn't hamper them in battle, but
never otherwise outside the Houses of Magic. A gesture, a very
deliberate gesture: they had removed the Montjuste Phoenix. The
Kellian might have accepted this questioning, but they were far
from impressed by it.

Her entrance had caused a little stir,
which was immediately overshadowed when below to the left a small
but grand door was flung open and a very upright and decorative man
strode in, crying: "All rise for Her Majesty, Queen Astranelle."
Since Rennyn was already standing, she stayed where she was and
curtseyed on cue when, after a stream of minor courtiers, the Queen
entered the room.

Astranelle Montjuste was in her sixties,
and had the timeless appearance that anyone with access to powerful
magery could achieve, though Rennyn understood she was no more than
a competent caster herself. She was small-boned, her ash-blonde
hair drawn up into tidy confinement except for soft curls framing
her face. She was not astonishingly beautiful, but looked...sweet.
A lovely, blue-eyed delicate creature in floating blue and
turquoise silks. Queen of Tyrland, and by all accounts an
intelligent and practical woman.

Queen Astranelle surveyed the room until
she found Rennyn, and then stood gazing at her. Given the foolery
about challenges to the throne, Rennyn supposed it was unfortunate
that she was standing at the top of the stairs, forcing the Queen
to look up at her. Magic was not the only arena where symbols had
power. With that in mind, Rennyn curtseyed again, as deeply as she
was able without falling over. The Queen inclined her head in
return, then sat down, and people began to move.

After some murmured consultation with a
member of the Queen's entourage, one of the people conducting the
questioning said, "Thank you, Captain. That will be all for now,"
and the official in charge of the shields made some adjustment
which opened a passage to the waiting area. It seemed that although
the Queen had ordered their interrogation, she had no real interest
in what the Kellian had to say.

Without any hint of surprise, Captain
Faille bowed and left the dock. Remembering his little catalogue of
her reactions, Rennyn suspected the man was probably rarely
surprised by anything – when he did bother to speak his comments
were always perceptive and on occasion exceedingly dry. She watched
him covertly as she started down the stair, but Danress' whispered
explanations provoked no change of expression. He simply sat down
to watch.

"Rennyn Montjuste-Surclere, you are
called to Question."

The official opened the shield for
Rennyn to pass through, and she stepped up to the podium. It was a
thick marble box, reaching as high as her chest, with a gap cut in
one side for people to pass through. Interesting how just standing
in it made her feel like a criminal.

Rennyn looked out at her audience and
remembered she was tired. Politics did not amuse her. Touching the
cold marble gingerly, she gauged the power running through it. A
strong shield. She wondered what that monster Helecho had used to
convert the Sentene's to an explosion.

With the injunction settling around her,
Rennyn reminded herself that she'd chosen to do this. Exploding
shields would not be necessary.

"Please state your full name," the
person sitting in the centre of the examiner's table said. She was
a woman with short-cropped brown hair, a voice of warm smoke, and a
most suspicious gaze. Councillor Allerton, perhaps.

"Rennyn Helena Montjuste-Surclere,"
Rennyn replied, then added, "Though Rennyn Helena Claire on the
Dawnbringer's Register. And various aliases."

Interesting. She'd answered rather more
than she'd been intending. It was a clever spell, encouraging
thorough explanation, a potentially fatal chattiness. Narrowing her
eyes, Rennyn concentrated on the task of choosing exactly what
truth she would tell, and no more.

"Can you prove that?" asked a
dark-bearded man sitting at the far right of the table. "Evidently
you believe that you are a descendent of Solace Montjuste-Surclere,
but that may merely be something you have been told."

Startled, Rennyn had to laugh. "It would
be an elaborate ruse, if so. Let me see. I don't imagine the usual
paternity castings would cover such a distant connection, but feel
free to devise one. I have a few centuries of documentation,
various objects which belonged to the family. I–" She paused, then
shrugged. "There's a collection of letters from King Eliathas. One
has the official seal on it. That would establish Tiandel's
survival, at least."

"King Eliathas was aware of the
ruse?"

"Pretending to die is perhaps not so
hard. Pretending to die after moving your most precious belongings
out of your house and shuffling your fortune about in interesting
ways, that requires a little collusion."

"Reasonable," the man continued. "What
other members of the Montjuste-Surclere line survive?"

"My brother, Sebastian. Solace. This new
son of hers, Helecho." The name sat bitter on her tongue.

"After three hundred years, only two
descendents of Tiandel remain?"

Rennyn shrugged. "Three hundred years of
experiments with the Eferum. It's not the safest
preoccupation."

"Experiments based around the Grand
Summoning? It is true, is it not, that this would involve
continuing research into the function of the spell? That you would
have the means to recreate the Grand Summoning?"

"Quite true." She did not look down, did
not dwell on the day her father had not returned, of the void that
had left. And she never allowed herself to think of her mother's
death.

"Have you ever planned to cast the Grand
Summoning yourself?"

"No."

"Have you supported, assisted or
colluded in any other individual casting the Grand Summoning?"

"No."

"Have you, or do you intend to assist or
aid Queen Solace in completing the Grand Summoning?"

"No."

Lady Weston's voice suddenly
interjected, "Do you know of any way to stop the Grand Summoning
before it completes?"

Rennyn blinked, turning. The Grand
Magister had arrived unnoticed to sit beside the Queen. The map of
Sark was open before them. Even at this distance Rennyn could see
the sharp line she'd drawn along the outskirts of the city.

"Yes." Rennyn ignored the murmur which
ran around the room. "The obvious way: go into the Eferum where she
is and attack her. She will have the means to fight back, and it
now seems possible that she's guarded by Eferum-Get, but a
sufficient force, well-prepared, should overwhelm even that. After
all, people die all the time in the midst of summoning focus
stones. The problem is what happens with the power she is
manipulating. Even if she'd been killed as soon as the Falk
expression had appeared, the minimum consequence would be a
backlash which could have shattered Aliace Hill and sent pieces of
it raining down on the city. To be clear, other than using the
attuned focus to push her back during the last moments, I do not
know of a way to stop the Grand Summoning without destroying large
pieces of Tyrland in the process."

"What do you intend to do after her
defeat?" the Queen asked, her voice a very resonant one for such a
small woman. Her gaze was steady and unwavering, reserved but not
hostile.

"If Solace is pushed back into the
Eferum, she will not have been defeated," Rennyn explained. "So I
would inevitably have to prepare for her return. But – either way,
if I pushed her back or were to succeed in killing her, I..." She
shrugged, for she had never found this question easy to answer.
"For a while at least, I would do the things I haven't been able to
spare the time to do now. Trivial things. Beyond that I can't say
I've made any firm plans. Travel. I've not been able to risk
leaving Tyrland."

The Queen had listened with an air of
polite attention. "You have heard of the recent debates regarding
your claim to the throne?"

"Yes. I was surprised by it. I have no
claim to the throne. Tiandel abdicated."

"The argument is that if Solace still
lives, Tiandel had no throne from which to abdicate."

Rennyn was trying to work out what was
going on. It didn't seem to her that the Queen was concerned in the
slightest about the legitimacy of any claim to her throne.

"Well, given that Solace still lives,
it's her claim to the throne which seems to me the point of
contention," Rennyn said. "Either way, Tiandel removed himself from
the line of succession. Which would make that creature Helecho
Crown Prince. Perhaps you should take this discussion up with
him?"

The Queen said something softly to Lady
Weston, then sat back. Rennyn found the entire exchange confusing,
and could only presume that some political point had been made.

"Were you aware of this Helecho's
existence before your encounter in Surclere?" Lady Weston
asked.

"No."

"Do you believe it is he who was
responsible for the death of your Great-Grandfather?"

Rennyn paused, then said dubiously. "I
suppose that's possible. But it doesn't seem to me very likely. I
don't believe he has a focus stone. If he was able to open a gate
to our world, he would not lack that. But, focus or not, he is a
dangerous thing, perhaps more dangerous than Solace. Eferum-Get
might have various abilities, but they are not usually mages."

Lady Weston nodded, then gestured to
return the floor to the Councillors conducting the questioning.
This time the woman second from the left took charge: a prim blonde
brimming with righteousness.

"What is your opinion of the Kellian,
Lady Montjuste-Surclere?"

Deliberately, Rennyn looked at the
collection of Sentene waiting behind the shield. She'd been careful
not to glance toward them until now, and couldn't help but wonder
what the Kellian thought of her. What did the children of slaves
think of the children of the slave-master?

"Which one?" she asked.

The answer, or perhaps Rennyn's flat
tone, caught the woman off-guard. But after a startled moment she
said: "All of them."

"I haven't met all of them," Rennyn
said, reasonably. "Are you asking me to give an assessment of their
morals? Or their ability to wave pointy bits of metal about?"

The man to the woman's left murmured
something softly, an instruction. "I am asking whether in your
opinion the Kellian pose a potential threat to Tyrland," the woman
said briskly.