“I’m sorry,” I said, over the howls of his laughter.
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, wiping at his eye. “Truly. Besides, I thought you liked making me angry.”
My breath caught. From his jagged grin, full of too-sharp teeth, I knew that no further reading would be accomplished that day. “Now that I think of it, Iamangry,” he continued. “I’m positively furious. Surely, something can be done about that?”
CHAPTER 18
In Which Glenda Is Learning the Machinations of War, Which, Much to Her Frustration, Involve Dealing with a Legion of Less-than-Pleased Parents, and In Which Glenda Is Learning that Money Can Intervene to Solve Most Human Problems.
Draining a generation of student magicians would not come cheap. The Church could simply order them, and have it done, but why stir unnecessary resentment among the higher born? Paying off the families was an easy solution—provided that someone else supplied the cash.
Or at least, Elder Beth explained it so when Glenda expressed her frustration over this newest detour. The Elder had been thrilled to take her in as a mentee, but Glenda couldn’t help an inward seething. She was, after all, an elf; no level of class or rank could put them on equal footing.
Once Cameron is dead, Glenda thought to herself,I will shake you off like the tick that you are.
But for now, their ambitions aligned. So it was that they stood in a grand audience chamber before Chancellor Felix Noor.
Banners hung from the walls, one for each vassal of NewAlbion. Glenda’s eyes passed over a spread-winged eagle, a crawling salamander, a golden lion—at the last, she dug sharp nails into her palm, feeling a throb at the back of her head. Stands topped with witch-light kept the banners from falling into shadow. An excessive display of magical consumption, but that was the point: to broadcast conspicuous wealth and drain the small folk of their nerve, so that by the time they reached the chancellor, who lounged on a dais at the room’s far end, your average goatherd or silk-merchant would be reduced to a stuttering mess.
Not so for Glenda, the Elder, and a selection of higher priests, who stood before an outspread fan of knights. Their polished armour reflected the witch-light, so that they shone like something from a fable.
In front of the dais, a scattering of the king’s knights stood in hesitant opposition.
“So,” said the chancellor. “It’s over, then.” He raised his goblet, with a small smile. “I’d have chosen a finer vintage, if I’d known this was to be a special occasion.”
An obvious lie: this chamber, which ought to have been packed with supplicants, had been curiously empty upon their arrival.
“Be well,” Chancellor Felix Noor said to the knights who bristled at the dais edge. “I can’t expect your loyalty to me to come before obedience to the Church. Unfortunately.”
Elder Beth stepped forward. “You must know why we’re here.”
“Tithe evasion,” said the chancellor sadly.
This brought the Elder to a halt. Her snarl of triumph froze, half-formed.
“Is it not tithe evasion? I have been rather blatant about it. Very well.” The chancellor sighed heavily. “I’ll admit to it. The murder of Cedric Lombardi.”
Mutters filled the hall. The Elder looked sharply at her closest attendant, who shrugged and shook his head.
“Not that either?” The chancellor was starting to look confused. “I’ve been helping myself to the king’s treasury, is it that . . . ? No? Hm. I fixed the results of a unicorn race just this past week, could that be . . . ? Well then, what is it?” He drained the last of his goblet and slammed it down on the arm of his chair. “Or must I keep guessing?”
“Dealings with the sorcerer.” The Elder’s voice rose as she attempted to resume a triumphant overture. “You’ve been fetching him texts, and receiving forbidden artifacts in return.”
“Oh, that?” The chancellor laughed, seemingly in good humour. “That will be my downfall? Nothing I’ve supplied has done him any good, despite his boasts. The madman hasn’t made a scrap of progress in decades.” His rich brown eyes narrowed. “I imagine you’ll be seizing my wealth, since I’ve failed to produce any heirs. Is that what this is about? You need some pocket change.”
Glenda felt the chancellor’s gaze move to her and forced herself to remain straight-backed, a proud soldier of Order.
“It’s the prophecy, isn’t it? With that daft little knight. All of a sudden, everyone’s in the most terrible rush. Well, I hope you’ll use my money for something grand. Am I to be executed?”
“Jailed.” The Elder’s teeth clicked together with finality.
“Ah,” said the chancellor, finally withering. “How dull.”
Glenda searched herself for pity as knights escorted the chancellor from his raised platform, his paunch becoming more visible with his slumping posture. Mostly, she just found herself wishing he were Cameron.
And she rocked on her feet, imagining all the interesting things she would do if he were.
CHAPTER 19
