Chapter Six #2
He drew a deep, dramatic breath, facing the doors once again.
“After observing a period of mourning, it might yet take time for them to fully consider the risks and rewards this position affords.” He couldn’t resist casting a parting bolt.
“Mind you, a new contract will be expensive. Very expensive.”
With that, he strode out of the throne room.
The way was clear, the halls silent as he passed. The girl followed a step behind, keeping pace, with only the slight rattle of Ritathans’ chains to mark her progress.
His carriage was waiting as they emerged into the courtyard. Forterran suspected that it had not moved from the spot; no one would want him to stand about.
The door was opened for him and he settled in. The girl climbed in behind him and sat facing him, looking like she was about to burst.
Forterran flicked a finger, making sure that none could hear, then released her. “We can’t be heard,” he said. “Vent your wrath.”
“You could have killed them,” Halithe seethed. “They had to have had him killed, you know that. You have enough power to—”
“More than enough, “Forterran said mildly. “Enough to kill them all and level the Palace if I had a mind.”
Halithia startled, sat back, her eyes wide.
“Then stand in the ruins and give an evil laugh,” Forterran said, “surveying my revenge. And what then, eh?” He huffed his impatience.
“I am not all-powerful. I can be killed. And what then? What of my Guild? Destroy the slightest level of trust we have built over the years since the Mage Wars? You want me to shatter all that over this?” he gestured at the chains in her lap.
She at least had the sense to drop her glare to her lap.
“You need lessons, chit. Lessons in control and lessons in seeing the larger picture.” Forterran softened his tone.
It would do no good for both of them to be angry.
“Your rage accomplishes nothing. I do what I must, for my Guildmembers and my own skin. When you rise to my level of power, then you can burn it all to ashes if you wish. Thankfully, I will most likely be dead by then.”
There was that mulish look again. Forterran thanked all the powers that she wasn’t going to be his problem much longer. “Girl, be certain of this choice. Once we leave here, once you enter the Guild Tower, there is no turning back.”
The girl’s gaze rose to bore into him, eyes red and swollen.
“You can still change your mind,” Forterran spoke gently now. “I can remove the bracelet, you can walk back in, beg forgiveness, and talk about how terrifying I was and how you have changed your mind.” He glanced out the carriage window. “No doubt Satia will welcome you back with open arms.”
The chit blinked and he saw that mulish determination return to wash over her face. “I want this.” She clutched the chains in her lap so hard her knuckles turned white. “Queen Kara never gave a damn about my ankles.”
Whatever that meant, he was wise enough not to ask for an explanation. He just rapped on the roof and the carriage started off.
“Very well, then,” Forterran said. “There is little time before we reach the Guildhall. You should know that—”
“I’ll wear chains and be subject to the control of the Guild and whoever holds my key,” Halithe blurted.
“I will never have children, never marry, never own property in my own right, and be subject to the rules that govern the Guild.” She drew a breath.
“But I will know all the secrets, and wield such power that—”
Forterran shook his head, and rubbed his hand over his face. “Child,” he just said quietly, which was enough to make her cut off her tirade.
“You have a lay-person’s understanding of the Guild,” he said. “And there is no time for me to lesson you. But hear this much.” He reached with his power and clamped down hard so that she could not move. Her eyes widened.
“I am the Guildmaster of the Mage Guild of Edenrich,” Forterran said firmly.
“As such I control the Guild, and it is within my power and authority as Guildmaster to punish those who violate our rules and laws. There is no appeal, no higher power. You, as an apprentice and a journeyman, and yes, even as a master, are under my authority, and the authority of those I place over you.” He eased up just a bit. “Do you understand me so far?”
She managed to nod, but her eyes never left his.
“I will not hesitate to destroy you if you represent a threat to me and mine.” Forterran spoke simply and slowly.
Best to make an impression now, before this chit went much further.
“Eventually, you may gain the powers you seek, but the road is long and rocky before you, and you will not have the power to challenge me for many years.”
She shook her head. “I would never—”
“Yes, you will,” Forterran released her. “At some point, they all do. You will think yourself smarter, faster, more capable, and you will try.” He snorted. “Even Ritathan did, in his time.”
Her eyes filled with tears at that and he cursed himself for a fool.
He hated a woman’s tears. Made him feel so damn helpless.
Forterran dug in his pocket, pulled out a hanky, and offered it to her.
She muttered her thanks, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, then twisting the fabric between her hands.
Thankfully, she grew quiet after that and remained silent for the rest of the trip, only occasionally wiping her eyes, lost in thought.
They reached the Guildhouse gates in no time, for which Forterran was grateful. He wanted no more tears, no more dramatics.
His wife was waiting for them and some of the tension in Forterran’s shoulders eased when he saw her. Obeda opened the door, her round face and soft smile both warm and welcoming. Her eyes lit up when she saw Halithe.
“You got her,” she said, offering Halithe a hand out of the carriage. “Any trouble?”
“There will be,” Forterran said as he followed. “Eventually.”
Obeda nodded and smiled at the girl as she drew her into the warm hall. Halithe stood there with hanky and chains filling her hands.
“I’ve packed supplies for you,” Obeda said. She picked up a cloak from a chair and drew over Halithe’s shoulders. “Everything you should need. Tunics and trous, they are far more practical than skirts.” Her voice dropped for Halithe’s ear alone but Forterran heard “moonpads” and “babysbane.”
Not a conversation he wanted to be involved in.
“Am I going somewhere else?” Halithe clutched Ritathan’s chains tighter, probably to keep her hands from shaking, Forterran thought.
“Come,” he said, hustling her down the hall. “Out here,” he added as he opened a large wooden door and ushering her into a small garden.
His people had readied two pack horses, well loaded, as well as two riding horses, both stamping in impatience. It appeared his instructions had been carried out.
“Apprentice,” a deep voice called, and beside Forterran, the girl jerked and spun toward the sound.
Ritathan stood there, dressed for the cold, his songbirds in a cage by his side. His normally stern face was wide with a smile, and he held his arms open to his apprentice.
Thank the powers, she was his problem now.