Part 21 (1/2)

”He did study magick. It did not turn out as Earl Rylend hoped; not long before the earl's pa.s.sing, Lord Wilden perished in a fire. We all of us believed it was magick that started the blaze-some spell Wilden had attempted but was unable to control.”

Ivy could only be horrified at this knowledge. ”His instructor in magick must have been very poor to allow him to attempt something beyond his ability.”

”In that you could not be more correct, for Lord Wilden's tutor in magick was none other than Mr. Bennick.”

”Mr. Bennick?” Ivy said, astonished anew.

”Yes, Mr. Bennick,” Mr. Quent said, and his voice became a growl as he spoke the name. ”How Earl Rylend became acquainted with him, I do not know. Perhaps it was through Lord Marsdel. I only met Lord Marsdel on a few occasions, but I knew he had a fondness for famous personages, so perhaps that was what drew him to Mr. Bennick.” fondness for famous personages, so perhaps that was what drew him to Mr. Bennick.”

Ivy nodded. Though not famous himself, Mr. Bennick was the grandson-though illegitimate-of Slade Vordigan, who was Altania's last great magician. It was historical fact that Vordigan used magick to help defeat the army of the Old Usurper, Bandley Morden, thus saving the nation and preserving the Crown.

Ivy listened with great interest as Mr. Quent described how Earl Rylend had brought Mr. Bennick to Heathcrest to tutor the earl's son, Lord Wilden. For a period of several years, Mr. Bennick was a frequent guest at Heathcrest Hall. Some of his acquaintances also came with him from time to time-men who belonged to the same order of magicians that Mr. Bennick did.

”So that's how you met my father!” Ivy exclaimed, fascinated to learn a bit of the history of the two men in the world she loved most.

He gave the reins a flick. ”Yes, Mr. Lockwell came more often than Mr. Bennick's other friends, for which I was glad. Lord Wilden was of an age with me, but Mr. Bennick and his magician friends were several years older. Thus they showed me little interest or regard.”

A grimace crossed his face, as if at some unpleasant memory. But it pa.s.sed after a moment.

”Your father, however, was always very kind to me,” he went on. ”We spent many hours together rambling over the countryside, for he had a great fascination for all the plants to be found there, and for the structure of the rocks that made up the crags and fells. I had learned about these things from my father before he grew ill, and I was more than happy to share this knowledge with Mr. Lockwell as we walked.”

These words filled Ivy with a great warmth. ”I am so pleased to know that you and my father were so well-acquainted.”

Mr. Quent nodded. ”I was always grateful for his friends.h.i.+p, at that time and later. After my father pa.s.sed, other than Mr. Lockwell, I suppose I had no real companion at Heathcrest Hall except for-”

He swallowed, as if something had caught in his throat.

”Except for whom?”

”Ashaydea,” he said in a gruff tone.

”Ashaydea,” Ivy said, repeating the name. It was beautiful, and though unfamiliar was certainly feminine. ”Who was she?”

It seemed to take him a long time to speak. ”She was the ward of Earl Rylend, a bit younger than Lord Wilden and me. The earl brought her back with him from one of his trips to the Empire. She was an orphan, a child of an Altanian lord and a Murghese woman, and she had witnessed her family perish in a violent fas.h.i.+on. Lady Rylend never...that was, she was not pleased to have a child of foreign parentage in her house. But Earl Rylend had considered her father a close friend, and so Ashaydea stayed at Heathcrest for many years.”

Ivy thought of the large family portrait she had seen on the landing of the staircase at Heathcrest. The elder couple in the painting could only have been Earl and Lady Rylend, and the boy between them their son, Lord Wilden. Then there had been the small figure standing apart from the others, her dark dress merging with the shadows on the very edge of the painting.

”Ashaydea,” Ivy said again. ”I saw her, I think-in the painting on the stairs at Heathcrest. She was as lovely as her name. But what happened to her after the earl and Lady Rylend pa.s.sed away? Where is she now?”

For a long moment he said nothing, then a sigh escaped him. ”She is here in Invarel.”

This statement puzzled Ivy. If his old companion from Heathcrest was here in the city, why did he not go on occasion to see her?

Only perhaps he did, she realized with a sudden astonishment.

What a sad and pitiful creature, Mr. Quent had said that day at the Citadel, when they glimpsed a woman in black on their way out. The woman's hair and eyes had been dark-just like the girl in the painting on the staircase at Heathcrest Hall.

”Lady Shayde!” Ivy exclaimed. ”She is Ashaydea, isn't she?”

”She was,” Mr. Quent said, his voice low.

Ivy shook her head, thinking of all she had ever heard of Lady Shayde, the king's famed White Lady-how a look from her was said to freeze the blood and make one confess to any sort of crime. Those could only be exaggerations and old wives' tales, of course. Yet it was a fact that over the years, no one had captured more spies or traitors to the Crown.

”But what happened to her?”

”Mr. Bennick happened to her, that's what,” Mr. Quent said, his expression grim. ”It was years ago, back when we were at Heathcrest Hall. I do not know the details of it. No one ever will, save the two of them alone. He performed some magick upon her-some ancient and abominable enchantment. It made her into what she is.”

Ivy could only stare, shocked by this revelation. She thought of the pretty, dusky-skinned girl in the painting, and of the woman she had seen at the Citadel, whose face was as pale as porcelain. Could magick really be used to alter someone so drastically? Perhaps the stories of her abilities were not mere rumors and superst.i.tion after all....

Despite the warmth of the lumenal, Ivy s.h.i.+vered. ”Why would Mr. Bennick do such a thing?”

”Why would Mr. Bennick do anything?”

Ivy sighed. He could only have done it to advance his own power. After all, that had to be the reason he had schemed to use Ivy and Mr. Rafferdy to gain entry to the house on Durrow Street-in hopes that the magicians of his order would give him his magick back. Similarly, he must have thought he could somehow use Lady Shayde to his benefit all those years ago.

”Only he could not keep her under his control, could he?”

Now Mr. Quent laughed. ”No, he could not. And if he had known her then as I did, he would not have thought he could. She was never a pet who could be tamed, as Earl Rylend discovered.”

A thought occurred to Ivy. ”Is Lady Shayde one of the people you've been arguing with at the Citadel?”

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her as he drove. ”You are clever indeed, Mrs. Quent. Yes, Lady Shayde and her master, Lord Valhaine, have a different opinion on some matters compared to the inquirers.”

”On some matters? You mean concerning how to approach the problem of the Wyrdwood.”

He seemed to hesitate. ”It is not the Wyrdwood that is the specific item of our disagreements, but rather those who might incite it to rise up.”

Witches-so that was the matter they had been arguing over. ”But how can she and Lord Valhaine complain?” Ivy said, feeling some indignation on her husband's behalf. ”After all, you captured the witch in Torland.”

”Yes,” he said, gazing forward as he drove. ”Yes, we did capture her.”

Then what disagreement could there be? Ivy wanted to ask, only at that moment Mr. Quent pulled back on the reins, and the cabriolet came to a halt before The Seventh Swan.

”I must leave you here, dearest,” he said. ”I fear I must return to the Citadel to have more arguments before I can leave the city tomorrow. Do not worry-I am sure all will be resolved.”

Startled, Ivy blinked. So engrossed had she been in the history recounted by Mr. Quent that she had not realized they were already at the inn.

”Of course,” she said. ”I will not keep you.”

He came around to help her from the carriage, and she kissed his bearded cheek.

”When should I expect you tonight?”

”I fear it is best if you do not expect me at all before you retire.”

He pressed her hand to his lips. Then he climbed back into the driver's seat, and with a flick of the reins the carriage moved away down the street.