Meetings At Night

~ Taylor ~

He returned to the inn near dark to find Alexis lying on the bed, still in her sundress, bare feet fluttering while she read from Glory. She wore a diadem of tiny flowers and had cast Light on the ones in front to use as a reading lamp. He could hear her humming as he opened the door.

"Things went well, I take it?"

"Very. He gave me a cute barrette," she showed him a tiny enameled butterfly on one side of her head, "and a lovely crown of flowers. And we ate so much! How was the wedding?"

"As expected. The reception was fun. I spent most of my time with beastkin. It turns out they're all right, as long as you don't mind being pawed once in a while." He told her about the fallout from the Prater affair.

"I bet that made you popular." She meant it in a bad way.

"I got a few dirty looks. But the head curator for inspections, Barnard, actually shook my hand as I was leaving and thanked me. He made a point of being seen doing it. I suspect he's a good guy."

"Maybe he thinks having a bunch of city workers being controlled by a tree monster is a bad thing."

"Could be," agreed Taylor with a smile. He got behind his screen and started changing clothes.

"Hey. Do they really let everyone carry swords around the governor?"

"Not everyone. Only certain people can carry swords inside the city: wardens, watchmen, legates, and some others. We had them with us inside the temple. At the reception, everyone except the governor's guards and imperial officials had to leave them at the door."

"So, you just carry it around so you can turn it in at the door? Why bother?"

"Because people will notice if you don't. The sword is a symbol. A legate's first duty is to protect his township. Forgetting your sword is like saying you're not prepared to do your job, or you think your territory is so safe it doesn't need protection."

True to form for someone her age, Alexis's interest in his day was a prelude to a personal request. At least she let him change clothes first. "Any chance of a lesson tonight?"

"I'll teach you the seeking game."

She sat up, legs crossed. "Don't we need mana stones for that?"

"I made you some." He tossed her a narrow box that was heavy for its small size. Inside were eight mana stones lined up from smallest to largest, on a bed of dark velvet. They were gray and smooth, without any sign of their value. The box's weight came from a thin layer of iron shielding, there to block the mana emanating from the stones.

"I'll teach you tomorrow how to fill them. For now, you should be able to locate the two big ones. Close your eyes, and I'll hide them somewhere in the room." They played the hiding game until someone knocked on their door: a footman holding an invitation.

About the last thing Taylor expected from the evening was to end up sitting across from Keeva Augberg, drinking tea in one of the Sunglaze Inn's meeting rooms. She was too old for the pink in her hair to be natural, but the green of her eyes was a match for Taylor's own. She used to be a physically powerful woman, and her shoulders remembered their brawny past in a way her frilly gown couldn't hide. Though she had never served in the Empire's military, she had some kind of fighting class with a leadership specialization. She had spent her life expanding the Augberg family's influence through every avenue available, including over a dozen townships overseen by Augberg relatives.

Taylor suspected Keeva of trying to have him killed at least once, so he examined the tea carefully before drinking it. Alexis, sitting at the far end of the table where Taylor could watch her, was instructed to eat and drink nothing. Before leaving their room, they had put everything valuable in his satchel, and he sealed their room with the strongest ward he could put together in the moment. Keeva's three guards weren't armed in any obvious way, but judging from their enchanted clothes and the class-based mana he sensed, they didn't need weapons to be deadly. They kept their distance, and Taylor kept his paranoia quiet enough to sit through the event.

"It's your meeting, Lady Augberg," he told her after introductions were finished, "why are we here?"

"Because. I thought if I invited you to my mansion, you wouldn't come."

"That's true. I wouldn't have."

She looked at him squarely, without the usual smiles and diversions he expected from women in power. However subtly she wielded her power in private, in person, she had a reputation as a blunt instrument. The difference might be intentional.

"There's no reason for us to be enemies, Bilius. I have no grudge against you, and you have no cause against me." Her use of the dead boy's name set Taylor on edge. That child had died of neglect, leaving his body for Taylor to inhabit. Hearing Keeva say that poor kid's name when she did nothing to help him made Taylor want to insist she call him Sir, Your Honor, or Mister d'Mourne as if they were strangers. But, there were advantages to letting her think she was making headway with him.

"If anything, we should be allies against your father. He stole my favorite granddaughter and then abandoned one of his children. Have you heard anything from Otis in the last ten and a half years? Anything at all?" Taylor knew the truth was more complicated than that. According to a journal he found, his mother wasn't stolen from the Augbergs so much as she escaped. As for Father, he was heartbroken by his beloved wife's death. It wasn't right that he abandoned his son, but at least he could claim a reason.

"I haven't heard from anyone in the family. Not even you."

"I've been so angry at your father for so long I overlooked the fact that Sybil gave me great-grandchildren. With your brother gone, you and Cecilia are the last of her promising branch. I'm sorry to say, your sister doesn't measure up. But you have Sybil's boundless talent. You're wasted in tiny Mourne, working for small stakes."

"And you have something better in mind for me."

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"Don't you ever think about all the things you could do if you had a little more to work with? The family can offer you resources, tutors, connections, and high positions. You would have a team behind you instead of always being alone in everything you do. You could be part of a proper family, one that supports you instead of abandoning you."

"Those are nice words." Taylor stood, ready to leave. He couldn't sit there and listen to that woman claim to care about him. "But you're a few years too late. If you actually cared about me like family, I would have heard from you a long time ago."

"I put my time and resources where they will do the most good, much like you and your little orchardist. Would you spend half as much time and gold on her if she didn't promise to be useful in the future?

"But you're right. I shouldn't have overlooked you so completely. That was entirely my own mistake. But I'm paying attention now, and your so-called father isn't. Take my card, and think about it." The old woman held the white cardstock between two fingers, insisting he take it. "Life can change so suddenly. If you ever find yourself without a place to go, the Augberg home can be your home. You have an open invitation to visit, even if I'm not there. Judge for yourself what we're like, instead of listening to rumors."

He took the offered card, and she stood, slowly, which encouraged Taylor to help her up. The old bird was getting craftier by the minute. "You're a good boy. It's a shame your father never took an interest in you."

Once she was up and moving, the matriarch said her goodbyes and headed for the door, leaving on her own terms instead of letting him go first.

"Lady Augberg," he called to her. "What's it for? All the power you acquire, all the money. What's the point?"

"To be the ones with power. So we can protect the family."

~ Enzo ~

He was only half-joking when he told the d'Mourne boy how old he was. His body ached in ways he couldn't properly describe. It wasn't just the pained joints and knotted muscles that bothered him. His flesh was fundamentally tired. The next major work of magic he did might be his last.

The end of a long day was his favorite time. He sat in an old wood-paneled dining room in the palace, in his customary corner, appreciating the smiling young servers who brought him hot brandy whipped with raw egg and topped with warming spices. The drink eased away most of his pains, leaving him free to contemplate the day in the light of a single candle. Recently, he learned he missed the warmth and glow of a proper flame. Everything was lit by magic now, and people were better off for it, but he couldn't help but reminisce about the days before trains and ubiquitous mana wire.

A figure weaved among the tables in the dim restaurant, and spoiled Enzo's reverie by homing in on him. Yaonoch, still in the white uniform of a basic priest, sat himself at the same table and ordered beer.

"Even your drinks are old."

"Beer is too young to be interesting. Are you enjoying your stay in Bostkirk?"

"It's no Avimore, but the food is nearly as good. And it's so cheap. I'm going to get too fat for my robes at this rate."

"Don't worry about that. You'll get too fat for them eventually, no matter what you do. That's what happens to humans when they get old." Enzo laughed, which sounded like a cat chewing taffy.

"Oh, very nice. Here I am in the spirit of friendship, and you're prophesying my doom." He sipped his beer and sighed. "We miss you in the capital, old friend. Don't you get bored, out here in the sticks?"

"The sticks? Bostkirk is a wonderful city. It's clean, for one thing. A beast can breathe out here. I don't want to end my life in that poisoned place. Maybe you don't mind it, but it's torture to me. I'm happier here than I've been in a long time."

"What do you think about this new legate?"

"The governor's niece? She's intelligent and she's been well-trained. There's every reason to think she'll succeed, but you never know for sure until they've been tested."

"I don't mean her. I mean the other one. D'Mourne."

"Why? Did he surprise you?" Enzo knew full well which legate Yaonoch meant. He had helped arrange the supposedly chance meeting.

"He's ten, and he made a genuine divine figure, so yes, I am surprised. For the record, making a Chowgami is perfectly fine, but an Erstdwerg could cause concern. And he did it without the Divine Sculpting skill. He doesn't even have a class. If he did, I'd know. "

"There's nothing you can do with a class that can't be done without a class. I've told you this before."

"So who's teaching him? Don't try to tell me you don't know. That's precisely the kind of work I used to do for you."

"I remember you were very good at it, too."

"Which means I know your standards. I want his file and access to anything else you dig up about him. The church has to have him. It can be direct, or we can backdoor him through the military, or something else. I don't care how, but we need to get a handle on him."

"The Empire and the church are better off leaving him alone."

"You're an Imperial magician. Your first duty is to the Emperor, or did you forget?"

"My duty is to the Empire, and I haven't forgotten. The problem you're going to have with him is that he doesn't want to be whisked off to some better future if it isn't his decision. D'Mourne won't go if you try to force him, and he fights to the death when cornered. Coercing that boy will be the last thing you ever do. But if you think you're tougher than the head magician of Rossignol Court, be my guest. Just name me in your will before you try."

"Reginar made a run at him?"

"Twice. The first time was a little over a year ago. The kid caught him by surprise and opened up a vein." Enzo ran a thumbnail from the inside of his elbow to his wrist. "Nearly bled him dry. More recently, Reginar and his pet gryphon tried to carry him off. D'Mourne wounded them both so badly that they had to retreat." Enzo savored the shock on Yaonoch's face. The bishop had met Reginar on several occasions and had a fair idea of the elder beastkin's power. "To be fair, Reginar was only trying to capture the boy, not kill him, so he was holding back. The boy is also decent with a sword. Just ask Bennett. And he's shaping up pretty well as a legate, too. So everyone's better off right now if you leave him to his own devices."

Yaonoch shook his head emphatically. "I can't justify letting him run loose. Have you seen him pray? The gods pay attention to him. The minute he gets a class, he's going to have blessed titles. He belongs in the church, with a divine class. He'll do the most good there, and we can guide him properly."

"If the gods are already involved with him, then mortal guidance is the last thing he needs." Enzo reached out to his former student and put an old hand on his young arm. "After the life he's had, it's a miracle he's turning out so well. Don't interfere with miracles. You can't make them any better. I'll send you his file, but it will come with my strongest official recommendation to leave him alone."

"You want him for yourself," accused the cleric.

"That would be nice," Enzo agreed, releasing him, "but it's more important that he thinks of the Gordian Empire as a force for good, and not as a threat to people he cares about. I've been at this a long, long time. This one won't blindly follow authority or compromise on his morals. He'll never obey orders without asking questions first. On the other hand, there's little chance he'll end up as a bandit. The safest route here is to befriend the boy. Earn his loyalty. Be ready to help him if he needs it. That's how you get him on your side."

With the promise of d'Mourne's file thus secured, Yaonoch and Enzo spoke of other things until the old magician had drained his third flip and weaved his way to bed. The last thing he did before closing his eyes was say a silent prayer to all the gods to keep Yaonoch from doing anything short-sighted. Enzo knew something that was only in the file by omission: nobody was teaching the boy. Either he was a millennial genius, there was a hidden master in Mourne, or he was learning directly from the gods. As absurd as it sounded, Enzo's money was on the Gods. The more the church tried to take control of the gods' chosen instrument, the more destruction they would reap as a result.

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