Welcome to The Children of Una series. Here’s a handy index of the published chapters.
While Gowell is managing to feed himself and survive on his own, with El-Una’s help, the kingdom as a whole is teetering toward unbalance. Danen provides Lewison with plenty to worry about; what Danen himself thinks about his abrupt change in circumstances, only he knows.
Lewison’s eyes opened on lavender afternoon light. The smell of burning pine logs stung his nostrils. He could feel the nibs of feathers poking through his pillow, pricking his scalp. Sitting up, scratching at his head, he glared through a blur of sleepiness, searching the carpet beside his bed for his slippers. He used to have a valet for these sorts of things. But when old Sal went back down the mountain, retiring at the respectable age of ninety-two, Lewison hadn’t had the time to replace him.
I’m not that old yet, as that nephew of mine once said. It was an amusing memory, that day when Danen had laughed at Lewison for dousing the pot-bellied stove the Elves had given him. But it was one of the few pleasant memories he had left with his nephew. Where did I go wrong with Danen?
He slipped an arm through his thick, quilted robe that kept him from freezing to death in this stone tower top they called the Aerie — the phoenix’s nest. Outside his window, the spring warmth hadn’t reached the towers yet. Even in summer, the snow on Gubarashi’s highest reaches never melted. Belting the sash around his waist, Lewison gave his beard a quick, finger-combing before throwing open the door to his bedroom and emerging in what he liked to call his living-library-room.
The central chamber of his tower was a glorified hallway, in reality. Too long to divide into smaller rooms, it boasted two levels of bookshelves, a cast-iron stairway leading to the upper galleries, and little else. The rest of the space was bare of furniture, apart from several reading podiums and the High Mage’s desk resting within reach of the suite doors. The only attempt at giving the place a homey touch had been done by his wife, Lady Novena, when she’d first come to live with him here. Facing the east, a row of floor-to-ceiling windows had been installed. There, the Elven lady had carved out a small haven of refinement — a couch, a low table and tea things, smaller seat cushions in the Elven style, various indoor plants, now withered.
When was the last time I took tea there? Lewison asked himself, pausing in the middle of the empty expanse to gaze at the armchair Novena had carved for him. A priceless piece of her own handiwork.
He shook his head, then went to sit inside his fireplace to rid himself of the chill. There was nothing he could do about the past. It was his present difficulties that deserved his attention.
When his bones had soaked up as much heat as they could, he settled behind his desk. Lovingly, he tidied his workspace, prepared the quill pens, checked with approval the growing stack of things Aster had managed to complete since he’d last sat there. He’d long since left off thinking of his acolyte as the farm boy and now depended on him as a trained assistant. The young man was almost ready for his ascension trial — a test which, if he passed, would initiate him into the responsibilities and status of an official mage.
Lewison had to stand to reach the top of his pile of tasks still uncompleted. As he worked, sunlight reflected on the hard rock face of the Gubarashi and glinted along the gold lettering of countless spines in the upper gallery. By the time Danen and Aster arrived for their afternoon lesson, he’d worked himself into a stress headache.
Putting the clues together from half a score of letters and reports, one fact had become plain. The nobles had taken advantage of his long absence to readjust the power hierarchy, with some making subtle advertisements of their readiness for a direct conflict, should the need arise.
Lewison sighed, shuffling the relevant stack of papers together and setting them aside in their own pile. He’d dealt with this before, and it had always proven a difficult situation to diffuse. Why do men with an overabundance of military might seem bent on finding a reason to wield it?
The door opened, admitting Aster and his nephew, and Lewison felt a strange multi-layered film of remembrance fall into place. How many times had they performed this tableau? His acolytes arrived, he stepped away from his demanding workload to offer guidance and training, and Danen found a way to wear his patience to a thinness, effectively ruining the lesson and wasting Lewison’s precious time. Time that ought to be spent on averting the looming disaster only he could see coming.
Danen sauntered over to the desk, plucking up a paperweight and unsettling the stack of papers underneath it. He fidgeted with the glass box. “What will we be studying today, Uncle — I mean — my lord?”
Danen grinned at Lewison, more peppy than usual. His dark eyes took in the stacks of paperwork, the stress-lines on his uncle’s drawn face. Lewison was certain these past few weeks had done little to convince Danen he’d enjoy filling the role of High Mage someday.
Well, Lewison was done playing Danen’s games. It was no longer worth his time.
“Actually, there will be no lesson. I have too much to do at the moment,” Lewison rose and began gathering up what he would need to show the Head Scholar in preparation for making his own diplomatic moves to preserve Celandra’s status quo. He sent a communication to the stable master, Prepare two horses for my acolytes.
Aster joined them at the desk, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “Are you leaving, my lord?”
“No, I’m sending you two somewhere. There are horses waiting outside. Just follow the mountain road until you reach the first branching-off, turn onto it and ride until you come to a lake. You’ll find my mountain lodge there. I’ll need you back here by tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully, by then we can resume your lessons.”
“Wait, you mean the lake house where the Elves are staying?” Danen huffed. “I thought I told you, Uncle, I don’t want to waste time placating them! Can’t they wait until I’m officially the High Mage?”
“The Concordance Treaty doesn’t take a hiatus whenever a High Mage doesn’t feel up to doing his job,” Lewison countered.
He rubbed at his temple. This conversation was threatening to turn into another argument. It bothered him that he constantly felt on edge with Danen. His words were tinged with ill-disguised annoyance, even when he was trying to be patient. It didn’t help that he had his own reservations about tossing Danen among Elves again without supervision. But it was only one of many unfortunate, delicate situations Lewison could do little about.
He raised a hand to forestall Danen’s reply. His nephew bristled, shoulders drawn tight as Lewison continued. “I know you’re not High Mage yet, but the moment you were wed to Lady Pearelle, you both became the living fulfillment of our Treaty with the Elves. Ignoring your responsibilities will not remove their burden. Take my poor example as a cautionary tale, if you like.” Lewison gestured toward the empty sitting area. “Once, I tried to relegate my Elven wife to domestic tasks like decorating this unwieldy space and look what good that did me. I have a tea table I never use, while my wife removed herself from my sight two decades ago. A brief period of vexation for Lady Novena, years of purgatorial regret for me.”
Danen sniffed. “The solution seems simple enough — never allow the Elven representative to interfere in the first place. Can’t the Treaty be fulfilled well enough at this distance?”
Lewison raised a brow at him. “No,” he said, trying to keep condescension from creeping into his tone. “That’s not how a marriage works. Nor how the Treaty is meant to be upheld.”
“Fine.” Danen shrugged. “I suppose I can afford one day away.”
Lewison felt his shoulders relax. His nephew was being reasonable for once. He nodded to Aster. “Go with him. Keep your ears and eyes sharp, the both of you. While I have no reason to suspect Lady Pearelle means you any harm, we cannot afford to be dealt more complications.”
Lewison knew he didn’t have to remind either of them what had happened the last time they’d been entertained by Elves. Ever since he’d learned of the terrible transgression upon Danen’s dignity, his promise to Maudline had pricked at his conscience savagely. But what had happened could not be undone, and even his sister would’ve had to admit, when the whole kingdom is in need of saving a High Mage’s priorities must be clear.
Dear Reader,
I often do not know what to write in these weekly little notes at the end of a chapter. But consider this your invitation to write me a message back and ask what you like. I’m always interested in getting to know readers!
Cheers,
~LL