Satia controlled her excitement. A chained mage.
The chains made a soft rattle, glittering in the firelight. They did not bind his movement as he flowed into the room. His dark gaze flicked over her and then to her maidens, no doubt seeing more than she wished. Satia kept her face still as his lips tightened.
She’d a moment to wonder if there was elven blood in his lineage as he came to stand before her and gave her the barest of nods.
Paulin cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, this is Ritathan, Chained Mage of the Guild of Mages of Edenrich.”
Satia smiled warmly. “I welcome you to our service.”
“I do not serve you,” Ritathan said coolly. “You do not hold my key.”
So they were not to be friends. Satia dropped her smile and gave him a narrow look. “A small matter.” She turned to Paulin and held out her hand.
Paulin shook his head. “Majesty, I was never entrusted with the key. To my knowledge, it was carried to the battlefield and may be lost.”
“And the spare?” Satia clamped on her anger as the smirk on Ritathan’s face grew.
“Your Majesty, I beg pardon, but I was never told of a spare.”
Satia glared at Ritathan. “Where is the spare key?”
“You are not the master of my chains,” Ritathan intoned. “You do not hold my key.”
Paulin studied the ceiling. “That’s rather a common refrain.”
The two men exchanged looks that told Satia much that did her little good now, but could be stored away for the future. “You cannot cast,” she said flatly.
Ritathan gave her an insolent nod. “I cannot cast unless commanded by the master of my chains, the holder of the key. I am bound by key and contract.” Satia didn’t miss his glance at her women. “Such are the strictures of the Guild of Mages and the Royal Contract from the time of—”
“No matter,” Satia interrupted, to regain control of the interview. “We will find the key.”
She turned her attention away, deliberately, and focused her attention on Paulin. “Royal Steward, we need prepare to celebrate our victory—”
“Your victory?” Ritathan’s voice cut through hers, smooth and strong. “You have won a civil war over the carcass of what was Xy. ‘Tis now but an outlying city of what was a vast empire. This city and its surrounds can barely sustain itself and your army just trampled over many of the crops that would have aided its people.”
“Mage Ritathan,” Paulin protested, but the man continued.
“The surrounding baronies no longer acknowledge you as suzerain, owe you no fealty, if they even communicate with you at all. Swift’s Port and Athelbryght do not even trade with Edenrich. The foreign ambassadors have fled to their homes long ago, the Palace is falling to ruin about your ears, and the coffers are empty. So, yes. All hail the King and Queen of Xy. The King and Queen of Xy, all hail.” Finished, Ritathan bowed his head with the slightest of impudent tilts.
“I should have you executed,” Satia spat.
Ritathan nodded. “Guildmaster Forterran would not be pleased, but he would not be surprised. I have a reputation for telling truth to power. It makes him grind his teeth.”
Satia turned away and focused on Paulin. “Take him away and confine him to his quarters. Contact the Guildmaster. I do not want a mage I do not control loose in the castle. Are the fees current with the Guild?”
“No,” Paulin said. “Nor with the tradesmen and laborers.”
“We will see to the accounts when the war chest arrives and the King’s household is set up. A matter of days, no more.” Satia closed her eyes, then opened them and smiled at Paulin. “Perhaps you could find a few musicians to play at the evening meal? The King likes revelry and we should see him amused.”
“I will see it done, Your Majesty.” He bowed and gestured for Ritathan to precede him as they left. Satia’s stomach heaved again as the door closed behind them. Wretched man, telling her things she’d rather ignore.
A soft knock. Avice opened the door, took a tray of tea things from someone, and shut the door again. She placed the tray on a small table near Satia’s chair, saying “The war chest is empty.”
“Yes,” Satia settled back in the chair, “I know.”
“Let this steep for a bit, then drink.” Mira set to work with her satchel and herbs. “Should settle your stomach.”
“We can sell the airion tapestries, and take note of who buys them,” Satia took a breath as her stomach knotted again. “That solid gold dinner service can be melted down and coins issued. Xyrath can announce a new coinage to replace the old, debased coins.”
