“Here is something to divert your mind,” said Ishabal, handing over a piece of paper. “My investigator mage just returned from an inspection of the new river walls at Pofkim.”
Berenene snatched the paper and read it over twice. “He says the walls are solid all along their length,” she murmured. “Under the bridge as well, and solid around the timbers and piers, as if they were poured mortar made of stone. The villagers say the ground shook and produced these stones for hours? Impossible.” She looked at Ishabal and raised her eyebrows. “It is impossible.” It was half a statement, half a question.
The great mage helped herself to bliny filled with jam. “I trust my mage. The girl did it. She managed a storm in the Syth, she made the ground produce a multitude of stones and pack them into walls along the riverbank, without disturbing the bridge. I find her…intriguing.” She tucked a strand of silvery hair behind her ear. “She would be a very useful addition to Your Imperial Majesty’s mages, if she chose to join us.”
Berenene flapped a hand, as if she was not particularly interested. “Then she is your concern, not mine. Recruit her. Offer her plenty of money. These merchants’ spawn always grasp quickest for wealth. Offer her whatever amount you think is just. Certainly she sounds useful…” Her voice trailed off, indicating her lack of interest in the subject. “Do you know, I am disappointed in Jak and Fin,” she told Ishabal. “Staying abed while Sandry goes riding with a tiny escort—really! I don’t care if they had caught pneumonia, the girl will never be convinced of their devotion if they are not constantly at her side. They would have looked so brave, shaking their swords at fer Holm. Honestly, Isha, these men! If we didn’t hold their coats for them, how would they ever manage?” She tugged a bellpull.
Almost instantly a maid popped into the room. That was one of the things Berenene liked about this seacoast palace: It didn’t take forever for servants to respond to a summons. It should also prove less intimidating to visitors such as her young cousin, for example, than the palace in Dancruan. She had brought her court here yesterday, to enjoy the sea air, she had said. In truth, she had brought them here to continue her siege of Sandrilene.
“Have word sent for my attendants to have their horses saddled,” she informed the maid. “We’re going to pay a visit to Landreg.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy and left at a run.
Berenene saw that Ishabal was watching her. “I miss my cousin,” the empress said innocently. “She must be tiring of account books and prosy Ambros. And she’s had three days of close confinement to the castle and the village, to keep her from would-be kidnappers. She’ll be eager for imperial entertainment. There is safety for tender young heiresses in a large group such as ours. Besides, I haven’t seen Ealaga in months.”
“If you were a bit kinder to Ealaga’s husband…,” murmured Ishabal.
“He knew he thwarted me when he refused to tell Sandry they were short of money and required her presence,” Berenene said tartly. “Besides, he is prosy. A fine steward for the girl’s lands, but dull.” She inspected her nails. “Perhaps, when Sandry has given over her lands to her husband’s direction, I may speak to Ambros about the Imperial Stewardship. If he does with the realms as he’s done with her property, we shall prosper. Though I’ll make you do all the talking with him, Isha.” She got to her feet in a rustle of light silk. “Will you ride with us? You’ll have a chance to talk with Viymese Tris.”
The mage smiled. “You will have Quenaill to protect you, Majesty. And I will be here, making charms to defend your men against the power of a stitch witch, should things come to force. I do hope for all our sakes that they will not. The more I consider what Lady Sandry did to her kidnappers, the more I am concerned about what she may do elsewhere, if her hand is forced. Have you forgotten the prodigies that were reported of these four young people?”
The empress leaned against the wall. “They did prodigies in concert with their teachers, in a time when they shared a mutual tie,” she said patiently. “I have also not forgotten the reports of their behavior since their reunion in Summersea, Isha. No two of them have worked in magical concert since then. They’ve had plenty of chances to do so on their way to us or while they’ve been here. Instead they quarrel. Their bond is shattered. Without it they are lone mages. You and Quenaill would not be the highest-paid mages in the empire if you could not find a way to best any lone mage.”
“What if you force them to reunite?” demanded Isha stubbornly. “I have some experience of young people, remember.”
“Your children and grandchildren? They are well-behaved mice. I happen to understand high-spirited youngsters,” replied Berenene. “They are always very proud and very certain that their errors are the blackest crimes known in the world. These four are no different. You’ve read the same reports I have. They bicker like brother and sisters. Would you be happy to let your sister or brother share your mind, if you were them?”
Ishabal sighed.
“You’re being cautious for me—good. That’s what I want,” Berenene said lightly as she walked through the door to her dressing room. She called back over her shoulder, “But don’t let caution produce monsters who don’t exist. They aren’t great mages, not yet, and you and Quen are.”
Isha shook her head. I am not as certain of that as you are, she wanted to tell her empress. I can get no sensible reports of what Briar and Trisana did while they were gone so far from home. I do know that Daja Kisubo put out a fire by pulling in a vein of the Syth, and that she walked through three burning buildings, each bigger than the last. I also know that Vedris of Emelan, a wise and careful ruler, counts your pretty little cousin as his chief lieutenant. Without magic she is more clever than the average eighteen-year-old, and she is a powerful mage.