Beyond the Shadows
Page 83
“Do you have any idea how Uly’s going to react when she sees you?” Kylar asked.
Durzo shook his head.
“Then maybe you should shut your face.”
“Ah, wook, wittle Kylie is all gwowed up. He mad at his massah.”
In a flash, Kylar was on the verge of punching Durzo’s face. Then he laughed. “Unbelievable, huh? Guess I’ll go over to my room. Good luck.”
Durzo patted his back as he walked out of the room. It was an oddly intimate gesture, but Kylar said nothing to draw Durzo’s attention to it.
His room was even smaller than Durzo’s, which barely had room for two chairs. Kylar’s had only one chair and a bed. Kylar sat in the chair. Then he moved to sit on the bed. Then he stood so he could open the door before she even knocked. Then he changed his mind and sat again.
He cursed. She was just down the hall now, and she’d stopped—dropping Uly off at Durzo’s room? Uly and Vi were together? Vi didn’t seem to feel upset or guilty, which was weird, considering she’d kidnapped Uly, beaten her, and starved her only a few months ago. Then Vi was moving again, as tense as he was.
Kylar stood to open the door. There was a quick, firm rap, and then she opened the door, but Vi wasn’t alone. Sister Ariel and another woman of a similar age but with long blonde hair stepped into the room, and Vi followed.
For the tiny room, it was too many people, even if three of them hadn’t been magae. Kylar backed up to the wall.
“Kyle Blackson, this is Speaker Istariel Wyant. She’s in charge here,” Sister Ariel said.
“Nice to meet you,” Kylar said. “Here the guest quarters or here here?”
“I’m the Speaker of the Chantry,” Istariel said, annoyed.
“Then why aren’t you the Chanter?” Kylar asked. What was with him? That had Durzo written all over it, and Vi’s eyes went wide.
Istariel’s lips thinned. “We have problems, young man, they may even be bigger than your ego.”
“Why are we meeting here rather than your office?” Kylar asked.
She blinked. “What was it you said, Ariel, reckless but not stupid? Kyle, the Chantry and all of the south is entering a perilous time. We need Vi’s help if we are to survive.”
“You do?” Vi asked.
“Silence, child,” Sister Ariel said.
“All of this was supposed to happen much more slowly,” Istariel told Vi. “We meant to give you some semblance of a normal tutelage, because the service we require of you entails serious risks for you and the Chantry. The bare fact is that you may be—”
Sister Ariel cleared her throat.
“You are the most Talented woman to come to the Chantry in a century, Vi. You were married before you arrived, so your marriage is not in violation of the Third Alitaeran Accord. A woman’s Talent isn’t enough to guarantee her advancement, but a highly Talented woman is always conspicuous. Thus, you’re highly visible, highly Talented, and married—to a man who’s also highly Talented—and your marriage is not in breach of any treaty.”
“Huh,” Vi said. “What are the odds of that happening by chance?” She stared pointedly at Ariel, who had the decency to blush.
Istariel cleared her throat. “Yes, about that. Kyle, we never expected you to actually come here. In fact, Sister Ariel was adamant that you wouldn’t.”
“I wasn’t aware how susceptible you would be to Vi’s . . . charms,” Ariel said blandly.
Kylar blushed. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“But here you are,” Istariel said. “So you could destroy Vi—or at the very least destroy her usefulness to the Chantry.”
“Which is why I get some truth. Right. Still doesn’t answer why you have to sneak around to meet me,” Kylar said.
Istariel’s eyes flashed. “The Chantry has had a number of incidents involving Vy’sana wedding rings. A century ago, someone ringed a Speaker against her will.”
“It’s called ring rape,” Ariel said.
Istariel turned a cold gaze on her sister. “Stop helping.” She turned back to Kylar. “It was an attempt to subvert the entire Chantry in one stroke, and it came disastrously close to succeeding. That was only the most recent incident. There is enormous antipathy to forcible ringing.”
“So if I tattle, Vi’s finished. Why do you care?” Kylar asked.
“There’s no reason for us to be enemies,” Istariel said.
“I can think of one,” he said, tugging his earring.
She averted her gaze. “Magae have been forbidden to marry magi for two hundred years, Kyle. The Alitaeran Emperor Dicola Raiis feared we had established a breeding program to make archmages so we could become the dominant force in world politics we once were. At the time, we were closely allied with the men’s blue school, and the treaty required all the married magi to divorce. The men wanted to go to war, but the decision was the Speaker’s, who was herself married to a Blue. She knew that they had no chance against the might of Alitaera, and she signed the accord. The split with the men was acrimonious. Relations have been strained since then. To protect ourselves, and perhaps for many other reasons including to stop the humiliating inspections of compliance, the Chantry has spread the prohibition of marriage to all men. Women who do marry are effectively finished. They are allowed no advancement within the Orders; they are sometimes denied further schooling, and they are often the objects of ridicule. Nonetheless, for their own reasons I suppose, many women choose this path.”
“How many?” Kylar asked.
“Half.”
“You lose half?”
“The only thing worse than losing them is getting them back the wrong way. There is a woman named Eris Buel who has become the de facto leader of a large number of these women. They want to come back. They want to reject the Alitaeran Accords—maybe all of them—and they want to establish a men’s school here. At heart, though, they just want to be Sisters again. Our reports suggest that we may have more ex-magae here this spring than magae.”
“How many are you talking?” Kylar asked.
“Eight to ten thousand. While we have that many active Sisters, ours are spread out throughout the world. If these Chattel—ummm, these married Sisters—arrive and demand to be readmitted and form their own order, we won’t be able to deny them.”
“What happens if they do form an order?” Kylar asked.
“Most likely? They immediately hold a vote of no confidence and oust me and put their leader in my place. At best, Eris Buel is angry, naive, and dangerous.”
“You want Vi to kill her?”
“Light blind me, no!” Sister Istariel said. “We want Vi to replace her.”
“What?!” Vi asked.
“You’re more Talented than she is. You’re prettier, and you’re not as angry.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen Vi when she gets angry,” Kylar said.
“Neither have you!” she snapped.
“The point is,” Sister Ariel said, “Eris Buel doesn’t lead the Chattel yet. These women come from all over Midcyru. Most of them don’t know each other. They’ll look for a leader once they’re here. There’s more. Istariel, tell them about the Khalidorans.”
Durzo shook his head.
“Then maybe you should shut your face.”
“Ah, wook, wittle Kylie is all gwowed up. He mad at his massah.”
In a flash, Kylar was on the verge of punching Durzo’s face. Then he laughed. “Unbelievable, huh? Guess I’ll go over to my room. Good luck.”
Durzo patted his back as he walked out of the room. It was an oddly intimate gesture, but Kylar said nothing to draw Durzo’s attention to it.
His room was even smaller than Durzo’s, which barely had room for two chairs. Kylar’s had only one chair and a bed. Kylar sat in the chair. Then he moved to sit on the bed. Then he stood so he could open the door before she even knocked. Then he changed his mind and sat again.
He cursed. She was just down the hall now, and she’d stopped—dropping Uly off at Durzo’s room? Uly and Vi were together? Vi didn’t seem to feel upset or guilty, which was weird, considering she’d kidnapped Uly, beaten her, and starved her only a few months ago. Then Vi was moving again, as tense as he was.
Kylar stood to open the door. There was a quick, firm rap, and then she opened the door, but Vi wasn’t alone. Sister Ariel and another woman of a similar age but with long blonde hair stepped into the room, and Vi followed.
For the tiny room, it was too many people, even if three of them hadn’t been magae. Kylar backed up to the wall.
“Kyle Blackson, this is Speaker Istariel Wyant. She’s in charge here,” Sister Ariel said.
“Nice to meet you,” Kylar said. “Here the guest quarters or here here?”
“I’m the Speaker of the Chantry,” Istariel said, annoyed.
“Then why aren’t you the Chanter?” Kylar asked. What was with him? That had Durzo written all over it, and Vi’s eyes went wide.
Istariel’s lips thinned. “We have problems, young man, they may even be bigger than your ego.”
“Why are we meeting here rather than your office?” Kylar asked.
She blinked. “What was it you said, Ariel, reckless but not stupid? Kyle, the Chantry and all of the south is entering a perilous time. We need Vi’s help if we are to survive.”
“You do?” Vi asked.
“Silence, child,” Sister Ariel said.
“All of this was supposed to happen much more slowly,” Istariel told Vi. “We meant to give you some semblance of a normal tutelage, because the service we require of you entails serious risks for you and the Chantry. The bare fact is that you may be—”
Sister Ariel cleared her throat.
“You are the most Talented woman to come to the Chantry in a century, Vi. You were married before you arrived, so your marriage is not in violation of the Third Alitaeran Accord. A woman’s Talent isn’t enough to guarantee her advancement, but a highly Talented woman is always conspicuous. Thus, you’re highly visible, highly Talented, and married—to a man who’s also highly Talented—and your marriage is not in breach of any treaty.”
“Huh,” Vi said. “What are the odds of that happening by chance?” She stared pointedly at Ariel, who had the decency to blush.
Istariel cleared her throat. “Yes, about that. Kyle, we never expected you to actually come here. In fact, Sister Ariel was adamant that you wouldn’t.”
“I wasn’t aware how susceptible you would be to Vi’s . . . charms,” Ariel said blandly.
Kylar blushed. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“But here you are,” Istariel said. “So you could destroy Vi—or at the very least destroy her usefulness to the Chantry.”
“Which is why I get some truth. Right. Still doesn’t answer why you have to sneak around to meet me,” Kylar said.
Istariel’s eyes flashed. “The Chantry has had a number of incidents involving Vy’sana wedding rings. A century ago, someone ringed a Speaker against her will.”
“It’s called ring rape,” Ariel said.
Istariel turned a cold gaze on her sister. “Stop helping.” She turned back to Kylar. “It was an attempt to subvert the entire Chantry in one stroke, and it came disastrously close to succeeding. That was only the most recent incident. There is enormous antipathy to forcible ringing.”
“So if I tattle, Vi’s finished. Why do you care?” Kylar asked.
“There’s no reason for us to be enemies,” Istariel said.
“I can think of one,” he said, tugging his earring.
She averted her gaze. “Magae have been forbidden to marry magi for two hundred years, Kyle. The Alitaeran Emperor Dicola Raiis feared we had established a breeding program to make archmages so we could become the dominant force in world politics we once were. At the time, we were closely allied with the men’s blue school, and the treaty required all the married magi to divorce. The men wanted to go to war, but the decision was the Speaker’s, who was herself married to a Blue. She knew that they had no chance against the might of Alitaera, and she signed the accord. The split with the men was acrimonious. Relations have been strained since then. To protect ourselves, and perhaps for many other reasons including to stop the humiliating inspections of compliance, the Chantry has spread the prohibition of marriage to all men. Women who do marry are effectively finished. They are allowed no advancement within the Orders; they are sometimes denied further schooling, and they are often the objects of ridicule. Nonetheless, for their own reasons I suppose, many women choose this path.”
“How many?” Kylar asked.
“Half.”
“You lose half?”
“The only thing worse than losing them is getting them back the wrong way. There is a woman named Eris Buel who has become the de facto leader of a large number of these women. They want to come back. They want to reject the Alitaeran Accords—maybe all of them—and they want to establish a men’s school here. At heart, though, they just want to be Sisters again. Our reports suggest that we may have more ex-magae here this spring than magae.”
“How many are you talking?” Kylar asked.
“Eight to ten thousand. While we have that many active Sisters, ours are spread out throughout the world. If these Chattel—ummm, these married Sisters—arrive and demand to be readmitted and form their own order, we won’t be able to deny them.”
“What happens if they do form an order?” Kylar asked.
“Most likely? They immediately hold a vote of no confidence and oust me and put their leader in my place. At best, Eris Buel is angry, naive, and dangerous.”
“You want Vi to kill her?”
“Light blind me, no!” Sister Istariel said. “We want Vi to replace her.”
“What?!” Vi asked.
“You’re more Talented than she is. You’re prettier, and you’re not as angry.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen Vi when she gets angry,” Kylar said.
“Neither have you!” she snapped.
“The point is,” Sister Ariel said, “Eris Buel doesn’t lead the Chattel yet. These women come from all over Midcyru. Most of them don’t know each other. They’ll look for a leader once they’re here. There’s more. Istariel, tell them about the Khalidorans.”
