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~5~
Even before Gabrielwas halfway through sending the remaining courier requests, the House Calliope courier arrived, giving Nic a lovely sense of vindication. She hadn’t been misleading Gabriel—at least, not deliberately so—but she had experienced a frisson of doubt. The other housesshouldaccord the new House Phel at least conditional respect, as one never knew who would turn out to be the next power to be reckoned with, but she’d worried that the scandal of her flight might’ve circulated via gossip, tainting Gabriel’s reputation as a fearsome wizard.
After all, it didn’t speak well of a wizard to lose his familiar, regardless of the circumstances.
It could be, however, that word of her escape and recapture hadn’t made the social rounds. Certainly neither Papa nor the Convocation would want word of her rebellion, failed though it might be, to be commonly known. She’d been secluded in her tower since late autumn, so no one expected to hear much about her. Also, it was winter still in most of the Convocation, making travel difficult, so the real social season wouldn’t begin for another month or two.
The written message from Calliope was couched in tones just short of fawning, extending personal congratulations to the nascent house and providing the account information so that they could supply all of House Phel’s publishing needs. Calliope even offered credit terms, in case House Phel wished to pay its account on an annual basis. “No, House Phel does not wish to pay your exorbitant interest,” she muttered at the letter she was drafting. “But it’s a lovely thought.”
She had yet to dig through the house accounts with any thoroughness, but she’d found the most recent sums. Gabriel had kept the finances reasonably updated, at least up until he’d taken off to track her down. Despite her confident assurances to him, she winced as she deducted the cost of setting up a balance with Calliope. If his income numbers were accurate—and she had no reason to doubt them—their expenses would quickly outpace the revenue. They needed to step up their income, fast. Her dowry would be a most welcome addition.
The Calliope courier took her order, carefully grasping the rolled-up scroll in its tiny hands. Spreading its wings, it lifted off from her desk, hovered a moment, trilling that House Calliope thanked her, then vanished.
“The couriers I’ve seen so far didn’t look like… a small person,” Gabriel commented from his table.
“I think it’s supposed to be an angel, though rendered with considerable artistic license. It was specially designed for House Calliope. Some of the mercantile houses take branding very seriously. Quite some time ago, Calliope paid for House Ariel to collaborate with Ratsiel to create a proprietary courier just for them.”
“Fascinating,” he commented, though he looked horrified. “I thought Ariel magic worked on animals, not humans.”
“Well, humans do have animal bodies, so there’s some overlap. But the Calliope angel is only based on a human shape, with wings. It’s an entirely magical construct, with no self-awareness and just enough corporeal form to transport physical objects. They come in all sizes. Just wait until you see our order delivered.”
“Oh, joy,” he replied, drily enough to make her laugh, and she turned to the next arrival, a courier that was—fortunately for Gabriel’s peace of mind—a nondescript cloud from House Byssan with their house crest in translucent, glasslike scrolling.
Gabriel watched her hold out the written request for an account, along with a personal letter to Quinn Byssan, then shook his head when the cloud vanished. “How do they make the material objects disappear?”
“Ratsiel magic,” she replied with a shrug. “Nobody knows how they do it. All we know is they scoop up any wizard with an MP score in communication of five or higher.”
“Communication magic sounds rather vague,” he replied thoughtfully.
“More so than moon magic?” she inquired archly.
“Good point,” he conceded.
Before Gabriel had presented himself at Convocation Center, a fully fledged wizard from the swamps of Meresin, the MP scorecards hadn’t even included a column for moon magic, though water had been there. Now moon magic would be regularly tested, too. Chewing thoughtfully on her sandwich—since they were still dealing with business, Gabriel had asked someone to bring them lunch, and it had turned out to be a delicious olive-oil-drizzled bread with fresh tomatoes and a mild cheese—Nic considered whether she could add one more change to Gabriel’s life, or if she’d pushed him too far already.
“Just ask,” he said as he wrote out the third draft of the letter to her father. He lifted his head. “I can feel you thinking at me.”
“Can you?”How interesting.She could certainly sense the hum of his thoughts as they intensified, but she hadn’t expected him to be as attuned to her. Was it a result of the reciprocal bonding? Hard to say. When he just regarded her steadily, she forged ahead. “Speaking of scooping up wizards, you should also begin recruiting young wizards with MP scores in water magic.”
He looked unhappy but didn’t immediately argue.Progress!“I recall your explanation of how this works, that houses bid for wizards with high MP scores in the magic the house is licensed for.”
“It doesn’t always come to bidding. That’s only for the bright young talents of that season. We can’t compete for those, and we’re not going to try. Yet. I’m going to suggest you want wizards with any potential in water magic, high to low. I’d like to aim in particular for the ones with low MP scores because they’ll be grateful for the opportunity.”
“To live in a backwater swamp with no resources to speak of?” he asked drily.
She refused to be embarrassed. “It does us no good to delude ourselves about what we don’t have to offer. What wedohave to offer will make up for that.”
“Do tell.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his long legs, folding his hands behind his neck and giving her his full attention, those wizard eyes black and impenetrable. For all that she’d found him irresistible in his fighting leathers, this laid-back Gabriel at home was oddly enticing also. Of course, that was the Fascination at work. He’d be devastatingly attractive to her covered in mud and swamp water.
She ticked the points off on her fingers, determined to keep her mind on the task at hand. “Exclusive and intensive tutelage by the most powerful water wizard alive. Opportunities to invent new applications for water magic and participate in the development of a product line. And freedom to hone their own skills, rather than owing all their time and energy to the lord of their house.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. With any other wizard, she wouldn’t have dared to suggest such radical ideas, but she’d been thinking a great deal about Gabriel’s determination to upset the status quo of the Convocation. If he had any hope of succeeding, he’d need fellow rebels to assist. What better way to attract the malcontents?
Gabriel frowned, however. “Junior wizards normally owe all their time and magical energy to the house that adopts them?”
Letting out the breath in relief, she nodded. “Standard contract. The bright young things can usually negotiate for more latitude, but the moderately talented are expected to be grateful to have room and board. The ones with low scores can look forward to a life that’s little better than indentured servitude.”
He eyed her. “I find it obscurely comforting to discover that wizards also receive a brutally raw deal from the Convocation.”
“It’s not all bad. Through diligent application of effort and unshakeable loyalty, they can rise in position and gain more freedom. Their familiars with them,” she added, “which gives us incentive to assist our wizard masters with all enthusiasm. Their good fortune is ours.”
