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“You have no answer to my perfectly reasonable point, have you? For that is exactly why you hired Chartji in the first place.”
He beckoned. I returned the skull to the basket. When I sat next to him, he pulled me close and whispered, “So much for our attempt to spy. The steward said ‘village-born.’ The mansa knew you aren’t Houseborn. I think they know who we are.”
His words fell like stones, unpleasant because they were so hard. “How could they know? I’d better go see what I can learn.”
“You need not look quite so eager, love. Although I suppose it is natural that you do.”
He released me as a parade of solemn servants entered bearing platters. As they readied the table I retreated to the bedchamber, drew the shadows around me, and walked unobserved back through the bustle in the sitting room and out the open door.
Near the entry hall I recognized the djeli’s distinctive tenor. I peeked around a corner. The djeli and the steward were speaking to a soldier who had saddlebags slung over a shoulder. Although their speech had a rhythm different from that of Adurnam, I could string together sense.
“Ride to Four Moons House. Tell the mansa we have the young magister he seeks. Go in haste. Do not rest.”
Four men armed with crossbows stamped in from outside and bowed to the steward. He directed them down my corridor. They walked past without seeing me.
The djeli was holding a sheet of foolscap, which he read. “There are four fugitives, my lord,” he said to the steward. “We are advised to keep the wife as hostage for his good behavior, but that she has peculiar abilities and must be watched by a djeli at all times. Also, remove all mirrors. Kill her rather than allow her to escape. There may also be another man and woman. Shoot the man and capture the woman.”
The steward made a sign to avert evil spirits. “Ill-omened! Strange to have them turn up a year after we got the letter.”
The djeli perused the letter again. “The four have become partisans for General Camjiata.”
“If they are partisans for the general, why are they not with his army?” asked the steward. “Why would the young Diarisso come here in such disorder? He is not on a Grand Tour, although no doubt the women will wish to pursue the matter.”
The djeli nodded. “Above all, we must not make them suspicious. We will coax them to stay.”
Pursue the matter! Coax them to stay! I retreated to the sitting room, still in my shadows. The table had been tastefully laid and a side table arranged with platters: spiced beef with apples, fish in a pepper sauce, and winter parsnips stewed with leeks and garnished with freshly bloomed violets for decoration. Three servants awaited orders.
“We will serve ourselves, as we prefer to dine alone.” Vai spun cold fire into lamps of fluid silver shaped like a lion, a crocodile, a stag, and a horse. This casual feat made the servants murmur as appreciatively as if he had done it to entertain them, and maybe he had. “Do not disturb us unless we call for you.”
Dusk was settling over the garden. People paced its confines, lighting stone cressets with cold fire. I shut the curtains. Yet I could not despair, for the food smelled delicious. I again set out the skull and placed a spoon with a bit of meat, fish, and parsnip by the white jaw, then steered Vai to the table.
“I’m not hungry,” he said, with the burning look of a proud man who is preoccupied by feeling he has allowed himself to be outmaneuvered by his enemies.
“Yes, yes, magic feeds you. So you told me before, although I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean by it. You will eat to keep up your strength.” I shoved him into a chair and whispered. “They’ve sent a messenger to Four Moons House.”
With my own plate piled rather higher than his, I savored a fine meal, and he did at length start eating. I demolished the remaining dishes and afterward, before I quite realized I was doing it, cleared the table and set everything in stacks on the side table as I had become accustomed to doing at Aunty Djeneba’s. Closing my eyes, I allowed my senses to range afield. The vast compound was deeply woven with threads of pulsing magic. By the sounds of boot-heels, I could track the guards patrolling the garden and passage.
I led him to bed and undressed him. Beneath the covers we snuggled close.
“We’re under guard,” I whispered in his ear.
“It will take at least a week for a courier at speed to reach Four Moons House and return,” he said, in a better mood now that he had eaten and had his arms around me. “Our difficulties are threefold. They know who we are, so our attempt to spy has already been thwarted. You must warn Bee and Rory they’re in danger. You and Bee must have time to speak to the headmaster before we leave Noviomagus, so it may be best to play along for a day or two before we break out. Also, this is a very comfortable bed, do you not agree?”
“A woman does not have to walk the dreams of dragons to foresee you plan to enjoy its comforts tonight.”
“So I do!” he remarked, as if surprised at my perspicacity. “I’m not sure you’re appreciative enough of your good fortune. As for tomorrow, I have a plan that plays to both our strengths.”
“I can’t wait to hear what you imagine those to be.”
“Nor will you wait. I am methodical and persistent. You are impulsive and unpredictable. Ouch! Not to mention wild and ungovernable.”
That was true enough, as he soon discovered.
It was a simple plan with room for precipitous change. In such a sprawling compound there were layers of propriety meant to separate the high from the low. The mage House had a lovely breakfast room where a select group of adults broke their fast. There Vai insisted we would go, although the steward asked us four times if we would not prefer a comfortable tray of food in our suite. As we walked through the corridors I could not help but notice they had taken down all the mirrors.
Vai wore the dash jacket of midnight blue with exploding flowers, which he had brought along in the satchel precisely to overawe the House residents. To my surprise it looked splendid, not at all ridiculous. As good as the man looked out of his clothing, he looked particularly fine when he was well dressed and with his beard and hair trimmed the way he liked. He had a way of moving meant to draw the eye. As we entered the dining parlor, shadowed by the steward, everyone looked up. Men and women sat at separate tables, and the women in particular watched as Vai paced the length of the side table with its platters of apple and yam pudding, various porridges of rice, corn, millet, or wheat, warm bread with butter, fried beancake, a haunch of moist beef, and a dozen other mouthwatering trifles. The coffee looked sweet and milky.
“Is this all?” he demanded. “I expected a repast fitting to a House of stature, but…”
