Spellslinger (Spellslinger #1)(23)
‘You needn’t protect my feelings,’ Mer’esan said drily. ‘It’s not as if I was unaware that my husband is dead.’
The casual way she spoke caught me off guard. I found myself staring at her, searching for some sign of grief, or anger, or even relief. I guess I stared too long, because when she looked back at me I suddenly felt very cold. ‘Watch where you swim, son of Ke. Men are apt to drown when they dive too deep into unknown waters.’
‘Forgive me, Dowager … I meant no—’
‘I told you to call me Mer’esan.’
‘Forgive me, Mer’esan.’ I decided to keep my mouth shut for a while and see if that worked out better.
The dowager stared at me for what felt like a very long time. I grew increasingly uncomfortable, which I suspected was the point. I think she wanted me to speak again, to say some other foolish thing so she could mock me once more. But I have a stubborn streak sometimes, especially when someone is goading me.
‘Good,’ she said, after what felt like eternity. ‘Now perhaps we can return to matters of consequence.’ She took the cards from me and fanned them out, picking one at random. When she flipped it over it showed the highest face card of the suit of spells: the clan prince.
‘Ancestors …’ I swore. Could Ferius have been responsible for his death? No, Mer’esan would have already cast a scrying spell, sand and ember magic most likely. She’d know if her husband had been murdered. It’s just another test.
‘Better,’ she said, as if she could read my thoughts, which was entirely possible. I doubted even silk magic was beyond the dowager magus. She handed me back the cards. ‘My husband had been declining for decades, and half the world knew he was in his final months. The Argosi’s timing was simply coincidence. She’s here for another reason.’
I flipped through the cards. If the Argosi always made sure their decks represented the true state of the world, then wouldn’t a new clan prince be important to them? I sorted through until I found the card titled ‘The Clan Prince’. It showed a man in a crown with a septagram behind him, the sigils of all seven forms of magic glowing. ‘Whether we have an old clan prince or a new one, it’s still the same card, still the same deck.’
I hadn’t intended to speak aloud, but Mer’esan smiled and reached out to put a hand on my cheek. The gesture was far more affectionate than I would have expected. ‘Better, son of Ke. Much better.’
It seemed the degree to which the dowager liked me was entirely dependent on whether the last thing I said was clever or not. ‘You said the Argosi only painted their other cards … the discordances … to represent people or events that could change the world. You believe that Ferius Parfax is here because something dangerous is coming. Something that could …’ How had she put it? ‘Something that could build or destroy a civilisation.’
Mer’esan nodded. ‘Try and sleep with that thought burrowing around your head.’ Her shoulders slumped and her eyes looked sunken in their sockets. ‘Finish now, Kellen of the House of Ke. This conversation is the longest I have suffered for more than twenty years. I grow tired.’
I was about to suggest that it could have gone a lot faster if she hadn’t kept testing me. Unless that was the point. She wanted to know if I was clever enough, but clever enough for what? I reached into my pocket and dug out the gold disc that the dowager magus had sent to me. ‘You want me to spy on Ferius Parfax.’
Mer’esan turned away from me, suddenly busy with arranging her glass and her book and her kettle. She’s ashamed, I thought. Ashamed of what she’s asking me to do. ‘The Argosi are full of secrets,’ she said. ‘This one seems to have taken an interest in you. You will do whatever is required to maintain that interest. You will do so without revealing my request to her or your father or to anyone else.’
So, spy on the woman who saved my life. ‘And in return you’ll ensure I stay in the mage’s trials,’ I said, the words already sounding like a betrayal. ‘But won’t the trials be suspended until the new clan prince is selected? Doesn’t the council have better things to do than decide who gets a mage’s name?’ Mer’esan turned back to me and gave me a hard look, but I was getting tired of being made to perform for her amusement. ‘No, just tell me this time.’
I think she might have blasted me with a spell then and there if she hadn’t been so exhausted. ‘The trials are more important now than ever. They are all that matters.’
‘But why?’
‘Because I never gave my husband an heir,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper and yet so full of … what? Sadness. Regret. Guilt. And something else. Determination. ‘What matters more than the strength of a mage, Kellen?’
I thought back to Ra’meth’s words the night before. ‘The strength of his family.’
Mer’esan nodded. ‘There is no mage left powerful enough to hold our people together solely on his own strength. Others could try to kill him and thus take the crown for themselves. So the next clan prince must have a powerful bloodline. A family too strong to challenge. A dynasty.’ She gave a wry shake of her head. ‘Besides, by using the trials to determine the strongest bloodline, those cowards on the council needn’t fear voting against the mage who might become their ruler. Their hands are kept clean.’