Sworn To Transfer (13 page)

“Well,” said Ciardis, “They don’t exactly—”

“Ciardis Weathervane!” came a screech that echoed in the antechamber and had every man, woman, and child standing in line angling their head to view the door where Lady Serena stood staring straight at them. Spying Ciardis, Serena pushed through the crowd with uncustomarily angry shoves and elbows in soft stomachs. Looking over Christian and Stephanie as if they were filth beneath her boots, she hissed at Ciardis, “What is the meaning of this?”

“This?”

“This!” said Lady Serena, waving a letter about in front of her face.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a summons to the court of the Magistrate for the trial of the Duchess of Carne,
as well
as a letter of complaint filed in the Imperial courts by the Duke of Carne.”

Ciardis took the letter hesitantly.

Lady Serena blew up. “What did you
do
?”

Ciardis decided to give a full confession on the events of the previous afternoon. It didn’t calm Lady Serena down. In fact, she had a fainting spell. 

“That’s some sponsor you got there,” said Christian wryly.

For a moment, sympathy actually crossed Stephanie’s face as she said, “No wonder you’re as hopeless as you are. No one could learn with
that
as their teacher.”

Ciardis decided that it was too early in the morning to be offended. Especially at someone who’d saved her life the night before.

“For the pre-trial hearing about Duchess Leah of Carne, all witnesses are called forward,” said a man standing by the courtroom doors.

With a collective sigh, Ciardis, Stephanie and Christian went forward into the room. Ciardis, Stephanie, and Christian spent most of the morning recalling what they’d learned. A minstrel and wind mage were called in to open the locket and an unknown mage was present to have the contents sealed in a memory ball for records. The ministrel from the night at the Blue Duck Inn had hobbled into the court with a broken leg and a neck swathed in gauze to tell his experience. The locket was as he surmised - a conversation between a much younger duchess and the former heir to the Algardis Empire discussing ways to kill his father and take the throne.

The judge heard their thoughts, reviewed the matter, and announced that the closed trial of the Duchess of Carne would commence tomorrow before the emperor, a superior magistrate, and the head of the mages. No further efforts from the witnesses would be needed.

“Thank the gods,” muttered Stephanie as they exited the building.

“Where’s your dragon friend?” questioned Christian.

“No idea,” muttered Ciardis as she looked around for Lady Serena.

She walked down the steps with heavy feet. Ciardis knew that she needed a break. Her head was rushing and not many things were making sense. When Christian and Stephanie tried to follow, she brushed them off, telling them she needed some air before disappearing into the crowd. She had no idea where she was going and had no set direction. She just wanted to get away. With hunched shoulders, she decided to go to the one place where there were no distractions, where she could sit for a few hours and no one would question her. Crossing three streets and a bridge brought her into the bookbinders’s district and to the doorstep of her favorite shop.

As she walked into the dusty front portion of the shop, she sighed in happiness that nothing had changed. Books still covered every surface, including the sides of the stairs, and a smell of old paper wafted to her nostrils the minute she opened the door. She decided to browse for a minute before heading upstairs. Ignoring the one other patron who was there at this hour, she walked around, tracing her fingers along the spines of books and opening up pages to glance at their contents.

But she couldn’t help but notice the quiet in the air. Not the comforting quiet of an absorbing read, but the silence of a fixed target before a kill. Her heart beat a little faster as she looked over her shoulder, cautiously trying to take a peek at the man on the far side of the room. She was disturbed to see that he was staring right at her.

More disturbing than that were his eyes. Ciardis turned to face him fully, so startled that she dropped the book she’d been browsing through on the floor. She stepped over the fallen book, unseeing, and tried to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

I’m sure lots of people have golden eyes. It must be a common trait for a few families.

The man sat still, looking at her, until Ciardis couldn’t take it anymore.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“It’s odd, isn’t it? Seeing someone you’d never thought you’d see,” he said softly.

“Who are you?” she said, her voice shaking.

“You know who I am. I shouldn’t have come so soon. But I had to know you were alive. I had to see for myself.”

“What?” said Ciardis.

Swallowing harshly and not quite believing her luck this week she said, “Are you a Weathervane?”

He smiled and tipped the end of his cap toward her in salutation. Just as quickly, he walked out of the front of the shop. She raced to follow him, sure of what she’d seen but not believing.

When she got outside, the streets were empty and there was no sign of the mysterious gentleman.

Ciardis unsteadily fell back onto the solid oak door and put a shaky hand up to her mouth.

Could there be another Weathervane?

She had to investigate this further. Ciardis rushed back to her quarters in the Imperial palace to look for the Weathervane journal in her room. Once she found it, she pored over the text until she came to the passage that described the characteristics of each Weathervane. It was clear that all of those with the powers in her family had golden eyes.

But why assume he’s family? There could be other yellow-eyed people on the streets of Sandrin.

“Right,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I’m sure there are green-eyed ducks in the street fountains, as well.”

What could this mean? Did she have family that she wasn’t aware of? Why hadn’t he said so? What was his name?

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. As she got up from her writing desk to answer, she tried to compose herself.

“Lady Serena has returned to her quarters and requests your presence in the Companions’ Guild hall,” a messenger announced, when she opened her door.

I
n the old days, the Companions’ Guild—sometimes called the Hall of Order by nitwits who lived and breathed by the rules of the guild—had invested the Companions’ Council as the governing body of all trainees and companions. The council’s rule was law, and had been since the investment. Times had changed since then.

Maree Amber, Head of the Companions’ Council, was in a foul mood. She stared gloomily ahead as she walked toward the moon room. In her hands she clutched a tightly rolled scroll. The scroll with embossed edges had the Imperial seal of a rampant lion on it – making it official. This sort of missive was generally a very fine letter for the guild to receive. It promised wealth, opportunity, and power. This letter, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. The desire to shred it into a thousand pieces with her sharp nails was overwhelming.

It was also the last straw that would break Ciardis. To think that the Companions’ Guild had been reprimanded by the Imperial courts was mortifying. Over a trainee, no less, was intolerable. Ciardis was ignorant, impulsive, and snippy. The girl had no respect for her elders and certainly wasn’t taking her responsibilities seriously. As she approached the moon room’s wide double doors Maree saw Lady Serena waiting for her.

Maree Amber smiled at her and held out her hand for a kiss. The smile looked sweet. But it didn’t reach her cold and calculating eyes. Maree Amber didn’t like Ciardis or her cohort of friends, if you could call them that. In particular she was fed up with Lady Serena; the woman’s ineffective attitude and unobservant demeanor was letting the girl run wild. In addition, in Maree’s opinion, Lady Serena took the word “vapid” to a whole new level.

Serena was supposedly in charge of introducing Ciardis to the nobility across the city, ensuring that she met the right people and increased her magical and mundane talents, as well as instilling within her their code of ethics and loyalty. So far all she’d done was teach the girl to dance and how to shop for pretty dresses. From the reports that Maree Amber had received from Damias before his untimely death and from select observers she had placed in the court herself, the girl seemed to be more inclined to discover her talents by accident, or at least without adequate instruction. That just wouldn’t do.

In her hands Maree Amber held the third warning from the Imperial Courts. The letter detailed a new transgression, apparently dealing with the Duke of Cinnis. As a result the letter said that the Companions’ Guild was being threatened with restricted access to multiple court functions. This atrocious mess could and would be laid down squarely at the offending party’s feet. It was time to get their house in order, and Maree Amber would be lying if she said she wasn’t gleefully prepared to do so.

With a snap of her fingers, she ordered the large doors to be swung open. The loud clicking of her heels echoed as she walked on the marble pathway to her seat at the half-moon table. Serena followed closed behind and took a seat to Maree’s right. Three other colleagues had already taken their place. None said a word as they waited.

Above them a round circle in the middle of the domed roof opened to the sky. A full moon lit the room and cleverly placed glass panes reflected the light so that it shone directly on the single, lonely stool that sat in front of the panel.

Maree Amber heard a firm knock echo in the moon room chamber from the doors at the opposite entranceway. She leaned forward with a predatory smile. The knock was followed by the door slowly opening and a calm, monotone voice announcing, “Companion Trainee Ciardis Weathervane appears before the council.”

Maree eyed the girl, the source of all of their trouble in the past few weeks. Ciardis had on a light green coat, a tunic, breeches, and boots. Her brown hair curled haphazardly around her face and her bronze skin had tanned to a deeper brown in the hot sun. She looked glamorous...and tense. Her tread was heavy and plodding, as if she thought that if she delayed the meeting by even a second the outcome would be better.

“So good of you to join us,” Maree said. “We have much to discuss. Please take a seat.” 

Ciardis swept forward to take the only place available: the stool in the center of the room. As Ciardis walked forward into the round hall, her steps echoed with every click of her boots, and she could feel the tension in the air. Raising her chin proudly, she looked over each of the five seated panel members carefully. Four out of the five members of the Companions’ Council sat before her, with the addition of Lady Serena.

A bead of sweat formed at the back of Ciardis’s neck and slipped down her back. Today’s meeting was not going to be a good one. She could tell that already.

“Very good,” said Maree Amber. “Let us begin.”

Maree Amber’s tone was polite, almost cordial, but her posture was the stiffest Ciardis had ever seen. Sitting with her back to the entranceway, Ciardis eyed the council’s positions high above her. Their raised dais was only meant to make her feel insecure; the trouble was that it was working.

“You have been deficient in your role as a trainee, Ciardis Weathervane,” said Maree without preamble. “I blame this partly on your lackluster sponsor and partly on your innate ability to foul up even the simplest social situations.”

Ciardis opened her mouth, ready to object. She wasn’t really upset about the slander against Serena. But she thought she’d been fairly good in the courts...so far. Aside from a few minor indiscretions all of which were done in the service of the Prince Heir. But she couldn’t speak. As soon as she opened her mouth she’d felt it close just as fast. Her lips were sealed shut as if by magic. She lurched up from the stool or at least she tried. It was impossible to do.

Straining her body, she felt the shackles of air tighten around her waist and legs; the air was weighing against her body. It was as if an invisible force had been dropped on top of her. Her body began to tremble—not in fear, but in fury. She narrowed her eyes as she stared from face to face on the council trying to determine who it was that bound her to her seat. Unfortunately two of the panelists were unknown to her; she was sure they were council members, but the new rotation had just started and so she wasn’t sure which ones they were.

She looked to Madame Maree’s right, knowing that this wasn’t her power. The magic that bound her was one of compulsion. It felt like air magic, but she’d studied enough to know that this wasn’t natural.

Finally she caught the eye of the one male panelist whom she knew. The one they called the Rithmatist. Ciardis stayed silent. She knew confronting him about it would be futile. Ciardis was brave but not stupid.

The Rithmatist was known for his fondness for cruelty and his heartless approach to discipline. He was known throughout the streets of Sandrin for his exotic tastes and his fixation on street girls. One of the servant boys, a friend of hers who often gave her gossip in the halls, had told her to watch out for the man.

“At first glance you’ll think you’re with your grandpapa,” the boy had told her while scrubbing a banister. He was slowly edging down the steps backwards, carefully cleaning and polishing the wood along the rail.

“But that man is a snake. A snake in fine clothing, so watch your step,” he said. A woman had come up behind them at that moment. “What was that?”

“I said watch your step, ma’am,” he quickly muttered. “Just polished the floors and they’re a bit slippery.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, nodded coolly, and hurried off. Ciardis left just as quickly.

Back in the moon room, the Rithmatist continued to stare, unblinking. He was the stern-looking man that was eyeing her through eyeglasses with his chin was perched on his folded hands.