“Yes, it seems likely that this mixed-blood was fathered by a wizard—or someone carrying wizard blood. Maybe even someone distantly related to us—we have blood ties to most of the prominent gifted families in the realm. That would explain the resemblance. It would not surprise me if this upland hedge witch seduced one of the gifted to this purpose. That, of course, does not absolve the wizard from responsibility in this matter. It is our duty to be wary of this kind of entrapment. Everyone knows the copperheads breed like rabbits.”
Dancer stiffened, and Han put his hand on his friend’s arm. “He’s trying to get a rise out of you,” he murmured. “Don’t give him an excuse to hush both of you. Just let him dig himself a deeper hole.”
“Alister and his copperhead friends have obviously concocted this story in order to discredit me,” Bayar went on. Finally, he looked at Dancer and Willo. “Are you two aware that copperheads are forbidden to enter the Council House? Leave, or I will have you seized.”
“You don’t have the authority to order anyone seized,” Han said. “You are no longer High Wizard.”
“We won’t stay much longer,” Willo said. “This place drains my magic away.” She looked Bayar in the eyes. “Before we go, I have something to return to you.” She pulled a pouch from her belt and turned toward the council. “This is the jinxpiece Gavan Bayar used to render me defenseless.”
She handed it to Adam Gryphon. He picked free the tie and dumped Bayar’s ring onto his palm. Extending his hand toward the center of the table, he tilted it, the ring glittering in the light like an accusing eye. Two falcons, talons extended, back-to-back. With emerald eyes.
“It is a jinxpiece,” Gryphon said, poking it with his forefinger. “Very powerful, indeed.”
He didn’t say what everyone knew—the ring exactly matched the amulet Gavan Bayar had worn since his Naming. He closed his hand over his amulet as though he could hide it from view.
“The Demonai warriors say that if you mark your enemies, you can always find them again,” Willo went on. “You marked me, Bayar. You left me a scarred spirit—and a son.” She paused. “But I left my mark on you, too.”
“This has gone on quite long enough,” Bayar said. “We were in the process of—”
“Let her speak, Bayar,” Gryphon said. “We have time for this.”
“Display your right palm to the council,” Willo said. “Show the mark I made on you.”
Instead, Bayar closed his hands into fists. “Who seduced whom, witch?” he said, his voice low and venomous. Turning in a swirl of fabric, he stalked from the room.
For a long stunned moment, nobody moved. Then Micah Bayar rose and followed his father. But not before delivering a glare of pure hatred at Han and Dancer. His uncle, Lord Mander, hustled out after him.
Those left at the table stared after them.
Han balanced the gavel on his hand. “Well, I think we’ve lost our quorum,” he said. “So I don’t think we can do any other business today.”
Abelard smiled, shaking her head. “Well, well, Alister. Usually these meetings are deadly dull. New blood, indeed. You have infused new life into these proceedings.” Abelard, of everyone, seemed willing to accept Dancer, if by so doing it disgraced Gavan Bayar.
Han didn’t feel particularly cheerful at that moment. If the pot had been simmering before, he’d brought it to a boil for sure. He looked into the huge fireplace at the end of the meeting hall. A gray wolf with green eyes looked back at him, the guard hair spiking along her shoulders.
What is it? he wanted to say. What are you trying to tell me?
Han had too many vulnerabilities—too many people he cared about, too many ways the Bayars could get at him, with their long reach and many allies. He needed to get back to Fellsmarch.
“This meeting is adjourned,” Han said, banging down the gavel. “Dean Abelard, can you stay a minute?”
Abelard was so delighted by the outcome of the council meeting that she unhorsed three of her guards and donated their mounts to Han and his party without asking questions. She also gave them cloaks in Abelard colors, inscribed with the Abelard book-and-flame.
Han, Willo, and Dancer pulled the cloaks over their clothes and agreed to split up and meet at the stables in ten minutes, when they were sure they were not being followed.
Han left the council chamber first and hurried along the corridor toward the stables at the back of the Council House.
“Alister!”
Swearing under his breath, Han swiveled around. Fiona stepped out from behind some draperies, seized his arm, and pulled him out of sight.
She looked him up and down. “Abelard colors? Demon’s blood, Alister, I want to know what game you’re playing.”
Han jerked free. “I don’t have time for this right now,” he said. “I’ve got to go.” He tried to slide between her and the wall, but she stepped into his path.
“Are you working for Abelard, or are you working with me?” she said. “I saw Micah and my father, and they told me what you did in there. Are you insane?”
“Probably,” Han said. “It runs in the family, apparently. Now, I really—”
“You listen to me.” Fiona took hold of his cloak. “I agreed to help you become High Wizard, and in return, you—”
“But you didn’t help me,” Han said. “You told me yourself you never met with Gryphon. You failed, Fiona, and I don’t reward failure.”
“Why would Adam vote for you?” Fiona demanded. “Why would he, when you murdered his parents?”
“Maybe he doesn’t think I’m guilty,” Han said. “Which I’m not.”
“However it happened, you got what you wanted. So why did you have to bring in the copperheads?” Fiona was practically spitting on him. “That’s my family name and reputation you’re besmirching with this story of Bayars consorting with…with savages. You know that can’t be true. And if it is, the copperhead witch must have been the aggressor.”
Han lost patience. “You Bayars are the savages,” he said. “I told you up front I would disgrace your father, and I did. Don’t say you weren’t warned. Now, get out of my way.” He shoved past her and into the hallway.
“I’ll go to my father!” Fiona shouted after him. “You’ll pay for this!”
Probably, Han thought. But there are some games I can’t play anymore.
C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N
A HOT
SUMMER NIGHT
“How many more classes are there?” Mellony whispered to Raisa, fanning herself.
“Two more, I believe,” Raisa said, scraping her damp hair off her forehead. “Those of Naming age, and the adult performers.”
“You were right. They are awfully talented. But it’s stifling in here.” Mellony turned to Jon Hakkam, who was sitting behind them. “Could you call for our carriage so it’s ready when we are?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Jon said, and worked his way into the aisle.
The dancers were onstage now, so Raisa faced forward again. Southbridge Temple was garlanded with flowers, decorated with banners and pennants celebrating the Briar Rose Ministry. Rows of seats were filled with the performers’ family and friends, dressed in their best, many of whom had likely never been in a temple, let alone attended a dance recital.
Raisa’s party was seated in a place of honor, in the front rows. Her entourage grew larger day by day. Today it included both Klemath brothers, who seemed joined at the hip, since neither would allow the other to gain an advantage in Raisa’s affections.
Their cousins Missy and Jon were there, and, of course, Cat Tyburn, Night Bird Demonai, and the usual contingent of blue-jacketed guards, including Hallie Talbot.
Raisa had hoped the recital would distract her from her worries about Han, but there were reminders all around.
True to their word, Amon and Averill had worked together to incorporate Demonai warriors into the cordon of protection that surrounded Raisa. Her Demonai bodyguards often included Night Bird or Nightwalke
r, since Averill trusted them above anyone else. Nightwalker and Amon still mixed like oil and water, but they’d managed to cooperate to the degree necessary.
Raisa’s thoughts strayed to Han. He would be at the meeting of the Wizard Council right now. How would that go? Was there any chance at all he’d be elected High Wizard? And, if so, any chance that Fire Dancer would be accepted as a member?
She’d told Han she needed a High Wizard she could trust. She trusted Han Alister. He’s not a murderer, she repeated for the thousandth time.
And yet…Raisa hadn’t shown the piper talisman to Dancer. She hadn’t shown it to anyone. She’d hidden it away, hoping Amon wouldn’t ask about it again, knowing that he eventually would.
“Are we staying for the reception?” Mellony asked, interrupting Raisa’s glum thoughts. “Micah invited us to play cards later on.”
“We’ll be back in plenty of time, don’t worry,” Raisa said, thinking, I’m as distracted as Mellony. She nodded toward the stage. “Watch. This next number is amazing.”
Raisa had brought Mellony to the recital, hoping she might take an interest in the Briar Rose Ministry, might even teach some classes there herself. Her sister was a talented musician and dancer—much more gifted than Raisa would ever be.
It probably doesn’t help that the ministry is named after me, Raisa thought. Mellony is trying so hard to claim her own place in the world.
When the recital was over, Raisa introduced Mellony to Speaker Jemson.
Mellony curtsied to the speaker. “What a fabulous performance,” she said, smiling. “You’ve done wonders with these children.”
Jemson nudged forward one of the principal dancers, a boy of naming age, who ducked his head shyly. “Hastings here is one of our stars. He was just admitted to the Temple School at Oden’s Ford. He leaves in the fall.”
“That’s wonderful, Hastings,” Raisa said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You will love it there.”
Hastings didn’t look so sure.
“Perhaps, before summer’s end, we could host a performance up at Fellsmarch Castle,” Mellony said. “I would love for people who’ve never visited Southbridge to see all this talent.”
“What a good idea, Your Highness,” Jemson said, beaming. “It would be inspiring for the students to visit the palace as well.”
“I could organize a reception, after,” Mellony offered. “To benefit the ministry.”
Thank you, Mellony, Raisa thought, touched. That is a wonderful idea.
As they exited the temple into the street, Mellony wrinkled her nose. “The air is always so thick down here, but tonight it’s worse than usual.” She sniffed. “It’s not the river. It’s more like smoke. Who would have a fire going on a night like this?”
It was true: the air was thick and irritated Raisa’s eyes. “They burn wood for cooking,” she said. “When it’s hot like this, I guess the smoke has nowhere to go.” That seemed wrong, though. There was a stiff breeze blowing across the river from Ragmarket.
A line of carriages awaited them. Raisa, Mellony, and both Klemath brothers squeezed into one, bracketed by mounted guards. Cat and Night Bird rode up top.
They passed Southbridge Guardhouse, the scene of Raisa’s first confrontation with Mac Gillen, and crossed the bridge into Ragmarket.
Cat Tyburn leaned down over the side of the carriage, clinging like a burr to the side as they rattled over the cobblestones of the Way. “There’s a fire up ahead somewhere,” she said. “Maybe close to the market. Looks like a big one. We’ll need to take a detour around.”
Mellony seized Raisa’s arm. “A fire!” she said, her eyes wide, her face as pale as double-burned ash. “That’s what we’ve been smelling. It must be close.”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Keith Klemath said, patting Mellony’s knee. “I’m sure we’re in no danger.”
Typical Klemath, Raisa thought. You have no idea whether we are in danger or not.
Raisa shared Mellony’s fear of fires. She and Mellony had come close to burning to death on Hanalea a little over a year ago. Was there something about her that attracted flame—like one of those lightning trees that are struck over and over? She shivered in spite of the stifling heat.
They were thrown to one side as the carriage made a sharp left turn onto a side street. They jounced down the narrow way, then made a right turn, back toward the palace. Raisa could hear Cat rattling off directions overhead, joking with the driver. Cat knows these streets better than anyone, Raisa thought. She’ll find a way around.
They rode a block or two, and then Cat swore. They turned again.
Raisa stuck her head out the window, drawing in a lungful of smoke, which set her to coughing. The smoky haze eddied in the light of the wizard lamps that lined the streets, twisting into lupine bodies. The Gray Wolves—her totem that prophesied danger and change.
“What’s going on?” Raisa demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.
Cat leaned down, looking like a bandit with her Ragger scarf tied over her mouth and nose. It was an odd pairing with the dress she’d worn to the reception.
“This way’s blocked, too. It’s either one really big fire or several small ones.”
Several small ones? How would there be several small fires?
A few blocks farther, and they were turned back again. Now wolves milled in front of the carriage, as if to turn it aside.
Turn back, gray-eyed Hanalea said, drawing her lips away from her teeth, her fur standing out on her shoulders.
Raisa rapped on the roof of the carriage. “Stop!” she shouted.
The driver reined in the horses with some difficulty. Cat leaned down again.
“We need to get a better look at this thing,” Raisa said. “See where the fire is, and how big it is. We need to get up high.”
“Highest thing around here is Southbridge Temple,” Cat said, shrugging.
“Let’s go back to the river, then,” Raisa said. “Otherwise, we may end up driving right into it, since it’s obviously between us and the castle. Send word to the other carriages. Anybody you see along the way, send them toward the river.”
They raced back toward the Dyrnnewater. They’d all fallen silent, even the Klemaths.
They pulled up in front of the temple. By now, everyone knew there was a fire. Dancers and families milled around, corralled by the dedicates. It seemed like all of Ragmarket and Southbridge was jammed into the temple close.
“I have to get back to Ragmarket,” one woman was wailing. “Everything I own is ’cross the river. Maybe I can save something.”
“My wife is back to home,” an old man pleaded. “She an’t well. I got to go see to her.”
“Don’t let anyone go until we see what’s what,” Raisa snapped. “Come on, Cat, Hallie, you know the city as well as anyone. Jemson, how do we get up to the bell tower?”
They plunged into the cool dark of the temple. Jemson directed them to a staircase. They raced up the steps, Raisa hitching her dress up to her thighs to free her legs, Jemson’s robes flapping two flights above her.
The stairs grew narrower and steeper as they climbed, around and around. Until finally they stepped out of the stairwell into the belfry, and the hot wind teased at their clothes. Raisa leaned through the window and looked out over the city to the southwest. Cat and Hallie came up on either side of her.
Here, the air was clearer than below, but the sight that greeted them was frightening. A gash of angry purple-and-orange fire bordered Ragmarket to the south and west, between the castle close and the market. It roared downhill, toward the river, driven by a strong east wind.
“The market’s already gone,” Cat said, knotting and reknotting the scarf around her neck.
Hallie drew in a breath. “My girl’s down there,” she whispered. “She stays in Ragmarket with my mam.” Hallie’s daughter, Asha, was only three.
“How would a fire like that start?” Jemson whispered, looking over their heads. “It circle
s the whole neighborhood. People are going to be trapped between the fire and the river.”
Memory shivered over Raisa. The flames reminded her of the strange fire on Hanalea—garish and relentless.
“Come on,” she said, turning back toward the stairs. “Let’s get down to ground level. We have to stop the fire at the river, if not before. And it won’t be easy, not with this wind.”
They clattered down the stairs, throwing themselves around corners in a mad dash to the bottom. When they reached the temple close, Raisa saw a familiar tall figure centering a cluster of bluejackets, shouting out commands, rendering order out of chaos.
It was Amon Byrne—and Talia and Pearlie and Mick, among others.
“Amon!” Raisa shouted. He turned, and she saw that one sleeve of his uniform was charred. He had soot smudged on his face. “Thank the Maker! Where did you come from? How did you get here?”
“I was up at the castle close. I knew you were down here, at the recital, and so I—”
“You came through the fire?” Cat interrupted.
Amon nodded. “It runs all the way from the battlements to the bottoms. We’ve lost half of Ragmarket already, and the rest will go within the hour.”
“Request permission to go into Ragmarket, sir,” Hallie said. “And lead people to the bridge.”
Amon looked at her standing stick-straight, lips pressed tight together, eyes focused straight ahead. “Talbot, I know you have family in Ragmarket, but that fire is stampeding right at us. It’s too unpredictable to risk—”
“Me and Pearlie’ll go with you,” Talia said.
“Count me in,” Mick said.
“And me,” Raisa said.
“No, Your Majesty, you are not going into Ragmarket, so forget it.” Amon looked at the other four for a long moment. “Promise me you’ll cross back when it’s time?”
“Yes, sir,” they chorused.
“If you die over there, I’ll see you brought you up on charges,” Amon said.
“Yes, sir.”
And they were gone, disappearing into the haze of smoke.
Raisa watched them go, her heart a clenched fist inside her chest. “Jemson,” she said, turning to the speaker, “we need buckets, barrels, anything we can use to wet down the buildings. And blankets to beat out sparks. We’ll start out on the Ragmarket side, and retreat across the river if we need to. Ask the dedicates to take the children inside the temple close, so none of them slip across the bridge. They can be watchers, and signal if any burning embers catch.”