Engine of Lies ebook Page 7

  The unease Mrs Wetherby had dissipated returned, full force. I leaned forward. “Claire, noblemen don’t marry commoners. Not often, anyway. A poor aristocrat might marry a rich merchant’s daughter, but what could you do for a rich one? He’d only want you as a mistress. Haven’t you heard the stories about pretty commoners being seduced, and then thrown away like old rags?”

  “Of course I have. I’d have to be deaf and blind to miss them. Remember the girl from Old Campton everybody talked about a couple of years ago? I wonder where all those women come from who don’t know any better.”

  I had wondered, too. Commoners laughed about the dim-witted bluebloods, but if recent stories were true, the half-witted girls in my generation would make the noblewomen look brilliant. The not-so-noble aristocratic men had no qualms about taking advantage of my silly sisters.

  The girl from Old Campton had, like many other fools, been seduced and disgraced. But this girl had done the other ninnies one better. She had charged Baron D’Armond with rape, and demanded money for the child. The baron had not denied the baby was his, but denied the rape accusation. The penalties are so severe no one believed even our numbskull baron would do such a thing, and the girl and her family were the laughingstock of the district. The baron was acquitted, and the reparations the girl had to pay for slander bankrupted her family. The girl abandoned the baby and fled, no one knew where.

  When the gossip started, I had not known what the word rape meant. I had heard whispers about what criminals—men whose lives were already forfeit—might do to an unaccompanied woman, but I hadn’t understood those either. When Mother Janet evaded my questions, old Mrs Barnes, our neighbour down the lane, had taken pleasure in describing in detail what rape meant. Her cackle followed me as I fled for home, where I gave Claire a fumbling, abridged version of what she had said.

  My face burned now, remembering. Mother Janet had been shocked at the girl’s gall. I had wondered what appalling circumstances could drive anyone to throw away her own reputation by making such an accusation.

  Claire said, “I’m not that stupid. Or desperate. I’ve been learning who’s who in this city, and which men are good catches. I’ll see for myself what the noblemen are like. If they’re all cads, then I’ll marry one of the merchants Mrs Wetherby says are decent men. But I’m not ready to do that yet.”

  She had as much, if not more, experience dealing with men as I had. She would make a better choice than many women would, but I couldn’t shake my sense of disquiet.

  “I want you to make a good match,” I said, “but your father was a tailor, and left you penniless. Your stepfather was a scholar who didn’t do much better. Why would a rich nobleman marry you?”

  Some of her sparkle dimmed. “For love. I can make a man love me.”

  “Do you think you can keep a man charmed for decades when you don’t love him?”

  Her smile faded. “Other women have done it. Why can’t I?”

  “Just keep in mind,” I said, groping for advice Mrs Cole had given me, “you’ll have to live with him. If you don’t marry for love, at least marry someone you like and respect. Promise me you’ll be careful, and take Mrs Wetherby’s advice.”

  “I will, and Granny Helene’s, too.”

  “Good. Don’t pass up a merchant you respect to marry a nobleman you can’t stand.”

  She dimpled. “Especially if he’s a rich merchant. Deal.”

  We finished our coffee, and I followed her to the needlework shop. As she conducted her business with the proprietor, I watched the crowds flowing past on the street. Two young men engaged in violent argument caught my attention. Even on a fashionable street a few blocks from the Earl’s palace, they stood out, with brocaded waistcoats and layers of snowy lace peeking out at collar and cuffs of velvet frock coats. A glimpse of swords confirmed their status as high-ranking and self-important nobles. I sniffed.

  Other pedestrians bowed and curtsied, and seemed relieved when the two men ignored them. My unease grew as the pair approached the corner where the needlework shop stood. It deepened into dread as they stopped at the entrance, still arguing. The older of the two, in his mid-twenties perhaps, was talking with fervour, but in a low voice, as if annoyed about carrying on an argument in public. The younger, in his late teens, didn’t seem to care.

  “Lucinda, I’m done. Let’s go.” Claire brushed past me and reached for the door. Horror solidified and dropped onto my shoulders like vultures.

  “Claire, wait.” I grabbed the nearest thing to hand. “I was admiring this, uh, cushion. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  She beamed. “I’m so glad you like it. I made that. Would you like to see what else I’ve done?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I listened and watched with half a mind as she sorted through a pile of embroidery. The rest of my attention was on the scene outside the door. The younger man snarled something and stalked away. The older one watched him go with his hand on his sword hilt, breathing hard. The younger man disappeared into the crowd, and the older one turned towards the side street. The vultures pulled out their talons and flew away. I leaned on the table holding the cushions and trembled.

  Claire reached for me. “Lucinda, are you alright?”

  The shopkeeper rushed over with a chair. “Sit down, miss. You look as if you’re about to faint.”

  I waved her away. “I’m fine—er, I will be fine. Sometimes being a witch stinks.”

  They fussed over me, but I refused the offered glass of brandy. All I wanted was fresh air. I walked out the door, and almost smacked into the nobleman who was still standing on the footpath in a brown study. Startled, he backed a few steps. I looked past him, searching the crowded street for the younger man.

  The man in front of me doffed his hat and waited for a response. I gave him the slightest bob of my head, while still scanning the crowd. His head jerked back, and he gave me an incredulous stare.

  My heart dropped. If I had embarrassed the Fire Guild…

  He looked past me, and lightning struck.

  He wouldn’t complain that I’d insulted him. He wouldn’t remember me. For all his sophisticated elegance, desire was as naked on this dandy’s face as on the faces of the country bumpkins who had courted Claire in Lesser Campton.

  She gave him the perfect curtsey one would expect from a rich merchant’s daughter.

  He made an elegant, deep bow. “Please, miss, may I know your name?”

  She shook her head and walked around him. He quivered when I followed, blocking his view.

  He lurched after us. “Wait, please.”

  Claire looked away, her nose in the air. “We haven’t been introduced, have we, sir?”

  We walked away without looking back.

  The sense of danger that had overwhelmed me in the shop vanished. I watched Claire out of the corner of my eye. She looked at me the same way, wearing the expression of conspiratorial rapture that had made her my best friend a decade earlier. I grabbed her elbow and pulled her into a coffeehouse before giving in to the urge to giggle. Within seconds we were screaming with laughter, telling each other, “Stop! Stop! This is too much.” We retreated into a dim corner, away from the staring customers.

  “Claire, you look as pleased with yourself as a cat with a mouse tail hanging out its mouth. Why? Who was that?”

  She turned a rosy pink. “That was the Earl of Eddensford’s eldest son. Oh, Lucinda, this was just perfect. I am so glad you were with me. I must’ve been as thick as a plank not to see what being a warlock means, but your story was such a shock.”

  “What do you mean, what it means? Uh, that’s not what I meant. Oh, God.”

  “It means they have to bow to you—”

  “That’s a relief—at least I didn’t embarrass the Fire Guild by not curtseying to Earl Whosit’s son. I get tired of bowing and scraping.”

  “Wh
en did you ever?”

  “There wasn’t any need before we left home. Do you think Baron D’Armond knows Lesser Campton exists? He’s never set foot there.”

  “And if he had you’d’ve been more likely to spit in his eye than curtsey to him. I’m telling you, Lucinda, you always acted like a witch.”

  “I’ve been doing lots of curtseying lately—”

  “Really? Who do you curtsey to?”

  “The Earth Mother. The Frost Maiden—uh, the Water Sorceress, that is—”

  “Oh, well. That’s different. They deserve it. The point is—I’ve gone from being a nobody to being stepsister to one of the most powerful people in Frankland. You outrank everybody except the king and queen and the dukes. I guess you’ll even outrank the dukes once you’re married.”

  I gaped at her. “Claire, wait. Dukes and earls and their ilk don’t associate with witches and wizards anymore.”

  “They don’t marry them, you mean. But don’t you see? That’s what makes it so perfect. I’m not a witch, so they won’t be scared of me. I can marry anyone I want. Even a duke would be glad to have me.”

  “But, but… If you’re interested in Earl What’s-his-name’s son, why wouldn’t you talk to him?”

  “Lucinda, really. That wouldn’t be proper. If I talked to him without an introduction, he’d think I was easy. I have to show I have self-respect.”

  “I have self-respect, lots of it, and I talk to anyone I want to, whether I’ve had an introduction or not.”

  “See? Only witches can get away with that.”

  “But I… Oh, never mind. Who’s going to introduce you?”

  “Oh, that’s simple. If he’s interested, he’ll slip the shopkeeper a few coins, and she will. It will be better if he thinks he’s chasing me.”

  “He’s interested, all right. He followed us until we ducked in here.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I have eyes in the back of my head.”

  “Oh, for…” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “You probably do. I’m going to have to be careful.”

  When we left the coffeehouse, she turned north, for the outskirts of town and Mrs Wetherby’s boarding house. I turned south, towards the city square, but not for the Fire Warlock’s gate. I went to the Earth Guild house, and asked for Granny Helene.

  Claire’s bracelet sat on a table, a coiled scorpion ready to strike. I probed at it from across the room. Keeping my distance was silly, but I was unwilling to touch it. I detected the glamour spell without any difficulty, but could not read it.

  “Only an earth witch can read the glamor spell,” Granny Helene said. “There were other spells on the bracelet, including a forgetfulness spell, which I’ve already lifted. I’m glad to have heard your story. Someone seemed to have taken a serious dislike to your family. Mother Celeste and Warlock Arturos alerted Granny Martha and me to Claire’s problems, but nobody said anything about Janet’s problems—”

  “Mother Janet? What’s wrong with her?”

  “She wouldn’t leave Lesser Campton, even to take her own daughter to a healer. Claire shouldn’t have been up and walking around by herself—”

  “She really was sick?”

  “What did you think?” the healer snapped. “That I would poison her to get her to give up the glamour spell? I admit, it did cross my mind, but my oath as a healer won’t allow it. Granny Martha and I had been scratching our heads trying to figure out how to persuade her to come to me—I’m the closest specialist in curing curses—when we got lucky and she came down with a bad case of influenza on her own. I used it as leverage.”

  I stared at her. She turned red and looked away. “And made sure she didn’t recover as quickly as she might have otherwise. Now, as I was saying,” she went on in a rush, “after Claire was safe in bed with my assistant keeping an eye on her, I went to see your stepmother, and found a serious phobic spell at work on her. Its original intent was to stop her from going too far from home, say, ten miles, but as time went on it closed in on her until now she’s terrified of even leaving the house.”

  “I had no idea. How long has she been under it?”

  “It was one of the spells on the bracelet. From what you said, I’d guess the phobia was part of the plan to keep you from finding a husband. She was so terrified of leaving your village she couldn’t approach the Scholar’s Guild and ask for their help. I told the Earth Guild Council about it, of course, as it’s their job to find out who did it, and got on with trying to undo the damage. I lifted the spell, first thing, but this is a tough nut to crack, it went unnoticed for so long. The distance doesn’t help either, but I obviously can’t convince her to come here.”

  My cheeks burned. How many times had I jeered at Mother Janet’s panics? Once was too many. I, too, had lived in fear. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and she had suffered on my account. I had not always gotten along well with Mother Janet, but she didn’t deserve this.

  Granny Helene continued. “I couldn’t let Claire go back there either, as I need to keep working on her until she makes a complete recovery, which she will. From the glamour spell, anyway. The forget spell worked on her so long she may never remember about the glamour spell, no matter how many times I tell her.”

  “She is much more like her old self. She’s still coming to see you?”

  “Yes, that’s why I haven’t lifted the glamour spell yet. She’ll keep coming back as long as I’m holding the bracelet hostage. At first, she came every day, and I had to send her away so I could tend other patients. When she doesn’t come for a month, I’ll let her have the bracelet back. With the spell lifted, of course. In the meantime, I reinforce the suggestion that her self-involvement was childish, and keep her focused on the good things she can learn from her experience.”

  “What good things?”

  “How do glamour spells work?”

  “They make the other person fall in love with you, temporarily.”

  “That’s half of it. They also enhance the spell-user’s ability to put the other person at ease, by encouraging small talk, good manners, and being a good listener. With many experiences of charming people behind her, Claire could become an extraordinary hostess. She would be quite an asset as a wife to some merchant, or a diplomat or noble who knows how to use her.”

  My jaw fell. I stammered something inane, and the earth witch laughed at me.

  “Of course you didn’t expect anything like that,” she said. “But then who expected you to marry the Fire Warlock either?”

  “I suppose a good hostess doesn’t have to be smart. Oh, dear, I didn’t mean…”

  “Ah, well, as for that, you’re judging her based on living with her and her mother while those malicious spells were at work on them. Those often have the side effects of dulling the mind and sapping the energy. By rights, neither is as lazy or dull as they’ve appeared for the last few years.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have said that. She ran circles around me today.” I repeated our conversation about the earl’s son, and she laughed.

  “Lord Richard’s not a bad sort. Claire is brighter than most of the inbred noblewomen this country is burdened with. If he married her, instead of the Red Duke’s dim-witted and disagreeable daughter his father’s been trying to pair him up with, he’d do the country a service. Besides, my impression is that Claire is quite hard-headed when it comes to men, and she wants to make a good marriage to support her mother. It would be a crying shame if Janet had to beg.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” I said. Damn the Chessmaster and his nefarious schemes that ruined people’s lives willy-nilly. The lingering guilt I felt about sending him back to the Empire with my lock still hiding his talents evaporated.

  Granny Helene picked up the bracelet with the tip of her wand, to put it away, while I mulled over the unsettling prospect of an earl for a brother-in
-law.

  “I suppose it is rather judgemental of me,” I said, “to assume all aristocrats are shallow and selfish nincompoops. Although Mrs Wetherby seems to have a worse case of it than I do. I mean, it does seem insulting to the decent men to assume they’re all lechers waiting to seduce any woman they can.”

  “Um…” she said, holding the bracelet poised in mid-air over its hiding place.

  “Just as it’s insulting to decent women to assume we’re all so stupid we’ll succumb to any nobleman who tries to seduce us. And thank God we live in a civilised country, unlike some wicked places I’ve read about that allow rape, and the woman has no recourse—her own family throws her out on the street as if she brought disgrace on them.”

  “Er…” she said, lowering the bracelet.

  “I’ve taken enough of your time. I won’t keep you from your work any longer.” I left, too preoccupied to wonder why the earth witch was chewing her lip as she saw me to the door.

  Family Matters

  I sat at one end of the metal table in the practice room with two fire wizards arguing over my head. Jean listened with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face. René sat at the other end and sulked.

  “Did the other Officeholders object to them leaving Frankland?” Master Sven said.

  “No,” Beorn said, “but they aren’t used to thinking about people trying to kill them. I’m not saying the Empire’s going to send an army after them as soon as they set foot outside the Fire Office’s shields—”

  “I should think not. The Empire would be stupid to start another war when they haven’t recovered from the last one. The staff Quicksilver hired are all in the Fire Guild, all level three or four talents.”

  “Right, and except for Lucinda’s lady’s maid, they’re wizards itching for combat experience. With that much firepower nobody’s going to send less than an army against them, and they’d see that coming a hundred miles away. No, I’m not worried about the lot of them together.”