Darkborn Part 11

Telmaine As the elderly servant closed the door, Telmaine dithered. She had done what she had to do, she told herself: She had confirmed that Ishmael was being cared for. Which he surely would be with that formidable old man attending him. She had no business simply wanting to be with Ishmael, to cross words and match wits, to hear his deep, rea.s.suring voice. Perhaps even to touch him again and feel that warming, disturbing spirit of him. She was a respectable married woman and he a mage; she had no business at all.

She heard the door begin to open and shied as the younger servant emerged. Catching her sonn, he turned and sonned her with the briskness of a Borders wind. She need not explain herself to a manservant; without speaking, she turned and rustled back toward her room, aware of him behind her.

She had her hand on the handle when a wash of familiar sonn caught her. "Telmaine!" said Merivan, in her imperious voice.

Her sister swept up to her, tall, heavily veiled, and elegant in a loose, intricately textured gown. Telmaine had an impulse to throw herself on Merivan, as she should have thrown herself on her mother or another of her sisters. She restrained it; Merivan's was not a consoling bosom, and she was far too sharp. "Meri," she said weakly, "what are you doing here?"

Merivan took her by the arm and steered her over the threshold of her rooms, revealing, Telmaine realized, no doubt as to which were Telmaine's. She inspected the plain furnishings. "I suppose you're used to this kind of thing," Merivan remarked, "being married as you are, but it's hardly befitting your station."

"Decor was hardly," Telmaine said, "a consideration. What are you doing here? I thought you were staying at the coast for another several days."

"We were, but Lord Vladimer's illness-"

"Illness?" Telmaine said sharply. "Lord Vladimer is ill?"

"If you'd gone home, as you were supposed to, you would have known. He was taken very ill just after you left-whatever were you thinking, letting that man escort you?-and once everyone found out the house was in such turmoil we decided we should bring the children away. When we arrived home, there was a message from your your household wondering where you were, because they'd expected you home the night before yesterday, and from mother and Elfreda saying they'd also had a message and did I know anything. So when Theophile had to come over to the government chambers on business, I thought to come, too, so we could go by your house. I hardly thought to find household wondering where you were, because they'd expected you home the night before yesterday, and from mother and Elfreda saying they'd also had a message and did I know anything. So when Theophile had to come over to the government chambers on business, I thought to come, too, so we could go by your house. I hardly thought to find you you here, and in such state. Telmaine, what have you been up to?" here, and in such state. Telmaine, what have you been up to?"

Telmaine drew a deep breath and let it out. Drew another and let it out, too. She had no idea how to begin begin to answer that question. to answer that question.

"Telmaine, you haven't done anything foolish, have you?"

Telmaine started to laugh, and clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle it.

"Has that man compromised you?"

She shook her head, still struggling to contain her hysteria. "Oh, if only it were as simple simple as that!" she got out. as that!" she got out.

"Whatever do you mean?" Her sister slapped her, stingingly. "Control yourself."

On the couch, Amerdale stirred and whimpered. Telmaine pulled her sister through to the little writing room and pushed the door to. Merivan freed herself firmly; she did not much like being managed. "Where is that husband of yours, anyway? If he'd come down for the summer, as he ought to, none of this kind of thing would happen."

"Merivan, who told you who told you we were here?" we were here?"

"That creature of Vladimer's-Blondell. I have no idea why Vladimer regards him so highly. He said you had been brought here by Ishmael di Studier, so I insisted on coming up to you."

"And did he also say that Bal and Amerdale were with me, not to mention Olivede?" Telmaine said tartly. "Or did you just a.s.sume you had to rescue me from some adulterous escapade?"

Her sister's bosom heaved dramatically. "Telmaine! With you, I didn't know what to think."

"That," Telmaine said, "is not fair. Bal is in the bedroom, too weak to rise from his bed. Baron Strumh.e.l.ler and I found him nearly beaten to death on the floor of his study. The men who beat him kidnapped Flori. They think that Bal knows something, or has something they want. Baron Strumh.e.l.ler and others are trying to find Flori, and he brought us here because he thought we would be safer."

Merivan absorbed that. "What has your husband got you mixed up in now?" she demanded. "Those Rivermarch dealings of his . . ."

Telmaine chewed on the inside of her lip. She felt no urge to defend the demimondaines, since she felt much as Merivan did, albeit for different reasons. Her Bal was made for better things than the free hospital in the Rivermarch. She had to resist the urge to defend Bal, because in doing so she was likely to let slip more than her sister should know.

Merivan threw up her hands. "I cannot reason with you with that mulish expression on your face."

"You're not reasoning," Telmaine said, provoked beyond circ.u.mspection. "You're hectoring, nagging, and badgering. I know it's because you care, but, Meri, I've had a terrible two days, I'm worried about my husband, frantic about my daughter"-I've used magic to heal my husband and I might be falling in love with another man, and a mage besides-"and I'm tired tired."

"You should come home with us. Theophile has contacts, and failing that, he would be able to pay for agents."

"Bal shouldn't be moved again until he's stronger, and we're all safer here."

"Safer?" Merivan said. "From what?"

"I don't even know. Ishma-Baron Strumh.e.l.ler-doesn't know."

Merivan couldn't miss that revealing Ishma Ishma-. "Oh, Telmaine-"

"Yes," Telmaine said in bitter exasperation, "you told me I'd come to a bad end, and maybe this is it. Are you satisfied?"

That checked her sister in midflight. "No," she said in a hurt tone. "It may surprise you to know that I am not."

Telmaine bit her lip. "Please let Mother know that you have found me. I don't expect to stay here any longer than we must-any longer than it takes for the investigations to conclude and allow us to go home and for life to get back to normal. And Merivan-though it doesn't sound like it-I am grateful you came to find me."

"You're right," Merivan said, "it doesn't sound like it. I suppose it is easier for you, with your free and easy att.i.tude to propriety."

"That's an old-"

She stopped, hearing footsteps outside. Not the near-noiseless ones of the servants, but heavy footsteps from men climbing abreast up the stairs in a rhythm of carpet-m.u.f.fled and floor-resounding footsteps. Her heart rate doubled. The footsteps approached, but did not reach their door. When the pounding came, it was from elsewhere in the corridor. A harsh voice demanded that a door be opened. Neither sister breathed, for listening. Then she heard Ishmael di Studier's distinct, deep tones, suddenly ending in a bark of pain.

Six

Ishmael

I shmael had only warning enough of his arrest to realize the futility and dangers of flight. When Eldon shook him awake, it was to tell him that the men had already encircled the wing of the house, armed and in force. His servant had heard Casamir Blondell in the side vestibule, talking to the superintendent about a warrant for murder. Tercelle Amberley, almost certainly, if not the man he had shot while escaping-but how had his disguise been penetrated so quickly? Ruthen would not have betrayed him. Was it Blondell's doing, then, and if so, why? There was bad blood between them, but surely not that bad. He swiftly rejected the possibility of testing his luck against their mettle; escape was too unlikely to be worth the punishment that would befall Lorcas and Eldon for forewarning him. He rolled out of bed, shedding his rumpled shirt. "Get my leather vest." The leather vest, with its stiffening of metal links, was armor against knives, and protection for his ribs, at least the first time anyone went at him. "If this goes ill," he said, "y'need t'tell the Hearnes that it's Guillaume di Maurier who's gone seeking their daughter; Hearne knows him, and I'm sure Lady Telmaine knows of him." He pulled on the vest, a clean shirt, and gloves, and when the footsteps and the pounding came, he made his menservants stand well aside, out of the line of any fire, and opened the door himself. shmael had only warning enough of his arrest to realize the futility and dangers of flight. When Eldon shook him awake, it was to tell him that the men had already encircled the wing of the house, armed and in force. His servant had heard Casamir Blondell in the side vestibule, talking to the superintendent about a warrant for murder. Tercelle Amberley, almost certainly, if not the man he had shot while escaping-but how had his disguise been penetrated so quickly? Ruthen would not have betrayed him. Was it Blondell's doing, then, and if so, why? There was bad blood between them, but surely not that bad. He swiftly rejected the possibility of testing his luck against their mettle; escape was too unlikely to be worth the punishment that would befall Lorcas and Eldon for forewarning him. He rolled out of bed, shedding his rumpled shirt. "Get my leather vest." The leather vest, with its stiffening of metal links, was armor against knives, and protection for his ribs, at least the first time anyone went at him. "If this goes ill," he said, "y'need t'tell the Hearnes that it's Guillaume di Maurier who's gone seeking their daughter; Hearne knows him, and I'm sure Lady Telmaine knows of him." He pulled on the vest, a clean shirt, and gloves, and when the footsteps and the pounding came, he made his menservants stand well aside, out of the line of any fire, and opened the door himself.

Sonn resolved two heavy pistols, pointed at his head, from the agents on either side of the city superintendent. He wasn't sure whether his n.o.bility or his villainy merited such attention. Behind the double rank of public agents stood Casamir Blondell, his form indistinct amongst the echoes, but his expression twisted in anger and loathing. The extremity of that expression gave Ish the briefest of warning before they laid hands on him-it had, he thought, taken them rather a long time to appreciate that in his shirtsleeves, with his gloved hands spread, he offered neither threat nor resistance. He tensed involuntarily as they hauled him forward, reacting to too many memories of similar manhandlings, but he did not resist as they dragged him into the corridor.

"Ishmael di Studier, Baron Strumh.e.l.ler," the superintendent said, "we are arresting you in the name of the archduke on suspicion of the murder of Lady Tercelle Amberley one night past, and on suspicion of sorcery committed against Lord Vladimer Plantageter two nights past."

He stiffened in their grasp, his mind suddenly locked with horror at the second accusation and its implication. "Vladimer-" he started to say, unwisely, and the men holding his arms turned the joints upon themselves with the elegant efficiency of men practiced in the technique. He cried out once, in agony, and hung between them, gasping.

"Lord Vladimer, as you surely know, lies senseless in the ducal summer house," hissed Blondell.

The superintendent's expression shifted subtly toward distaste. Ish could not allow himself to hope, not with the charge of suspected sorcery against him, but he knew Malachi Plantageter to be as scrupulous in the discharge of his duties as the realities of politics allowed. He had descended from the old n.o.bility-he shared the ducal surname-to this lowly public service, and made it his own. Ishmael said, in a low voice, "I am innocent innocent "-a gesture from the superintendent stayed any move to silence him-"of both those charges, but especially of th'last." "-a gesture from the superintendent stayed any move to silence him-"of both those charges, but especially of th'last."

"The law grants that possibility," the superintendent allowed, "and ensures all men a fair trial, whatever the charges, witnesses, and evidence. I will ensure you are guarded, until we know the outcome of Lord Vladimer's affliction and know the exact charges to be laid."

He heard the threat and the promise in that, stretched as he was in painful suspension between his guards. Murder was a capital charge, one that would leave a man shackled outside to await the day. Proven sorcery-and there was a conundrum, since the witnesses who could disprove disprove it would hardly be considered upstanding citizens and witnesses-could have him exiled, confined to an asylum, or executed. Death by blades of light had last been used twenty years ago, against the mage who'd aided the kidnappers of Guillaume di Maurier and his sisters. it would hardly be considered upstanding citizens and witnesses-could have him exiled, confined to an asylum, or executed. Death by blades of light had last been used twenty years ago, against the mage who'd aided the kidnappers of Guillaume di Maurier and his sisters.

That was always a.s.suming he escaped being knifed or beaten to death in the cells. Lord Vladimer might be feared, but he was also respected for his mastery of the underhanded arts, and he was the archduke's brother. Criminals, Ish had noticed, tended to be traditionalists. His very survival through the next day, never mind to the trial, depended upon the superintendent's readiness to do his duty. And who would help Vladimer, with Ish confined to a cell? Why did they think Vladimer's affliction was magical? Because it seemed unnatural; because it confounded the physicians . . . They'd not let him know or even ask. His mind circled on itself like a mad dog gone frantic with thirst.

The superintendent finished the formal reading of the charges, a ceremony Ish had endured several times before, though never in such august surroundings or company. Setting and sobriety were not as much compensation as he might have thought.

His guards efficiently chained his wrists, but left his ankles free. He was, he thought, rather out of practice in being arrested as a mage, as he did not know whether this represented current thinking on how to contain a mage's power. He hoped it was; he'd no desire to be rendered unconscious, or dosed with some concoction intended to mute his powers, usually by the expedient of drugging him into stumbling imbecility. Flanked by four guards, and led by the superintendent, he was started along the corridor. Imogene's t.i.ts, he was thankful that none of the Hearnes, particularly Telmaine, had opened their doors, though they had surely been aware of the affray. He could almost feel the intensity of her listening attention. But only almost-and that was surely imagination alone. She did not know how to reach him herself.

He could change that. He had already worked with her, showing her how to direct her power. He could try, in the few seconds he might sustain such a contact, to convey to her the essence of his own magical understanding, in hopes she could organize and use it. Mind-touching her across distance would incapacitate him, to be sure, and end any chance of escape en route to the prison, if chance there still were for him, shackled and under guard. And if he were to cripple himself mind-touching anyone, he should be getting a warning to Magistra Hearne, or even Phoebe Broome. In short, he was once again being a sentimental fool. But neither of the other women, each a known mage, would be able to reach Vladimer. Neither of them had the loyalty to Vladimer that he had, and Telmaine as a member of Vladimer's own cla.s.s would have, and Vladimer had had to have the help of a loyal mage, if this were truly sorcery. Telmaine had the power to help; she should have the willingness; what she lacked was the knowledge. Every step was taking them farther apart, which might not be a real impediment, but to have the help of a loyal mage, if this were truly sorcery. Telmaine had the power to help; she should have the willingness; what she lacked was the knowledge. Every step was taking them farther apart, which might not be a real impediment, but felt felt like one, even so. He drew a deep breath, paused at the top of the stairs, as though to catch his balance, and reached into the core of his vitality, tearing loose the largest part of it he had ever committed to his magic. He threw it-vitality, will, magic, intuition-into the strongest mental shout he could summon: must help him!> It was all he had to give. The inside of his skull felt as though he'd everted it in sunlight. He was going down. He was vaguely aware of the voices around him shifting from harshness to consternation as he slid to the floor, boneless, and then his awareness went, mercifully, to ash.

Telmaine One hand pressed to the door, one fist to her lips, Telmaine strained to hear through the heavy doors. They were taking him away. She could hear it; she could almost feel him on the other side of the door, that banked-ember spirit, the rough wisdom she had come so much to rely upon, that had started to tempt her to forget all proprieties, loyalties, and vows.

must help him!> And after the voice, which sounded like a shout from far away, all she knew was sudden, scourging pain, followed by an even more sudden, scourging absence. She seized the door handle two-handed; she had the door open and was in the corridor before Merivan's shocked, "Telmaine!" reached her. On the top of the stairs, a huddle of men grappled with a fallen Ishmael, whose unconscious weight threatened to spill them all down the stairs. He lay draped back across their arms, his own bound beneath him, his exposed face frighteningly spent and lax, except where the scars pulled it.

"What is this?" she said, fear lending her voice the ring of imperiousness.

Men's faces turned toward her, men caught going about men's justice and embarra.s.sed at being witnessed doing so. Justice, like all the other worldly affairs of men, was kept out of the sight of women, lest knowledge offend their modesty.

"What are you doing, manhandling one of the archduke's guests so!" she said, her voice piercing.

"This man is no guest of the house," Casamir Blondell said.

She ignored him, the peasant, turning her sonn on the tall, aged man with the distinctive nose of the archducal line, whom she knew slightly as the superintendent of public agents. "What is this, pray tell me?"

Ishmael groaned as the guards settled his awkward weight onto the stairs; the sound, pitiful as it was, weakened her with relief for the indication of life. She braced herself on the lintel; she would not be dismissed as vaporish.

"Lady Telmaine," said the superintendent, "please forgive us for disturbing you, and the peace of the household."

"Disturbing me me! It is him him you have rendered senseless." you have rendered senseless."

"It was not our doing. It was a sudden collapse," he said, and gestured with one hand. Obedient to the gesture, his men hefted Ishmael's sagging form and began to lug it down the stairs. "We will have a doctor attend him at the prison."

"How could it not be your doing? I heard him cry out."

"I am sorry, again, that you have been disturbed," the superintendent said, his tone polite, a little chill. "I wish you a pleasant night."

"Wait!" she said. "Why are you arresting Baron Strumh.e.l.ler? I demand to know. He is a friend of my family."

She thought he would appeal to propriety, to charges not fit for a polite lady's ears. He surprised her, saying, "He is charged with murder and sorcery, Lady Telmaine."

At the word, sorcery sorcery, spoken aloud to her face, her courage left her. She stood gripping her arms as she listened to them carrying Ishmael down the stairs to the next corridor. Their footsteps were faint and hard on the tiling of the vestibule, their pa.s.sage through the door prolonged. She heard words exchanged below, and then the heavy door closed.

"Telmaine," Merivan said, "have you utterly lost your mind? What do you mean making such a spectacle of yourself, and in defense of an accused sorcerer sorcerer?"

Telmaine found her voice. "This is a vile vile and baseless accusation. You heard him say we must help Vladimer! That's not the a.s.sertion of someone who'd mean him harm." and baseless accusation. You heard him say we must help Vladimer! That's not the a.s.sertion of someone who'd mean him harm."

"I heard no such thing," said Merivan sharply. "You are imagining things."

"I am not imagining things. I distinctly-" And as she felt Olivede Hearne's sonn wash over her, she stopped, with the instinct that had let her keep her secret so long. "I thought he said something," she said in a shaken voice. "I must have imagined." She remembered the strange sense of distance in those words, though only a door separated them, and the conviction, before and after, that she had felt felt him. Had he found a way to speak to her without words or touch? Could mages do that? Could him. Had he found a way to speak to her without words or touch? Could mages do that? Could he he do that? do that? Would Would he do that to her, knowing that she felt as she did? Had he do that to her, knowing that she felt as she did? Had he he ordered her to act? She shuddered. ordered her to act? She shuddered.

"Telmaine," she heard Merivan declare, "you are not yourself."

Even as she let herself be led back into the guest room, she reached desperately and clumsily out after the vanished footsteps, the vanished sound of wheels on paving, the vanished sense of a presence like a banked fire.

"Tend to your child," Merivan ordered, though Amerdale, exhausted, was unstirring. Merivan swung into Balthasar's room. Telmaine, following, blocked the closing door with an outstretched hand, so that it jarred against her palm. Olivede, who had trailed after them, stood back, seemingly dazed.

"I need to talk to your husband alone alone," Merivan said.

"He's my my husband. Leave him be," Telmaine growled. "Or so help me, I will remove you from this room myself." husband. Leave him be," Telmaine growled. "Or so help me, I will remove you from this room myself."

Balthasar cleared his throat. "I heard most of it," he said. "Baron Strumh.e.l.ler has been taken on suspicion of Tercelle Amberley's murder, and suspicion of sorcery directed at Lord Vladimer. You don't think he did either of those things, Telmaine, and you, Merivan, do not think Telmaine should be speaking in his defense, regardless of her convictions, because of the nature of the accusations."

Merivan recovered with her usual swiftness. "I request that you permit Telmaine and Amerdale to come home with me."

"We stay together," Telmaine said. She wrestled a moment with her guilt, but urgency prevailed. "Balthasar, Baron Strumh.e.l.ler needs a lawyer. He had servants here, in his quarters, just down the hall."

His smile was a gift she did not deserve. "Then hopefully they should know his lawyers. We should arrange bribes for the guards to ensure he is well treated in prison. Telmaine, I'm afraid I am going to be talking to your banker."

Merivan said sharply, "Collingwood's will not permit it."

"Everything you need is yours," Telmaine said, ignoring Merivan.

"Then we must find out what ails Lord Vladimer. If we could establish that there was nothing magical about Lord Vladimer's affliction, it would exonerate Baron Strumh.e.l.ler then and there."

"But surely the archduke's physicians would be better able to tell," Telmaine protested, rejecting the memory of that faint mental voice.

"I would like an independent opinion, preferably by someone who knows magic. If this is magic or poison, then someone is out to deprive the state of certain protections. Think of this as if it were all of a piece," he said to Telmaine. "Think of all the people involved, and what it might mean to have them at odds with one another, dead, or otherwise unable to act."

Merivan pulled Telmaine close to her. "We must summon the physicians. He's delirious."

"He's not delirious," Telmaine said. "A lot of things have happened, Merivan. A lot of things . . ." She cast a wisp of sonn over Bal. If he were right, if Tercelle Amberley's sighted children, her murder, the burning of the Rivermarch, Lord Vladimer's sudden illness, and Ishmael's arrest were all part of some terrible conspiracy-to who knew what end-what new danger was Bal bringing down upon them by marshaling forces against it? He was not a powerful man, physically or politically. All he had was his supple scholar's mind, his ability to reach daring conclusions from scattered information, his potent sense of public duty and the respect of other men who shared it. He was such an innocent, compared to herself.

"Merivan," she said. "I have to talk to my husband, alone, if you would."

Her sister hesitated, clearly unsure which one of them was the more unreliable. Balthasar stirred himself to lend his male authority with a quiet, "Please, Merivan."

Breathing through her nose, Merivan left.

Bal said, "She's vexed that she isn't allowed to hear."

"Don't cozen me, Bal," Telmaine said in a low voice. "Please, just arrange for the lawyer. Don't try to do more. You're too weak, and it's too dangerous."

His tone was as gentle as his words were merciless. "You're now asking me not to defend a man we both believe is innocent, against charges that could destroy him socially, if not lead to his execution?"

"Bal," she whimpered.

"I know." He reached out his hand, and she took it, and knew at once what lay behind his words: the fear of a gentle man who knew he had only his wits to serve him and knew they might not be enough. The fear of a man who doubted his own courage-it was not fastidiousness alone that had made him ask her to pour away that marcas-root elixir. And the old fear of a man who had once let justice pa.s.s undone that he might do so again.