Part 2 (1/2)
Mrs. Baydon fit another piece into the puzzle: a painting of a verdant garden. ”That's not true at all, Mr. Baydon. The guest list is very exclusive. Only thirty-two are invited to attend on any particular occasion. And it's said everybody wishes to be invited to parties at Lady Marsdel's.”
”Which is precisely the reason why I don't,” Rafferdy said. ”If everybody wants a thing, then it's a sure sign it's awful.”
”Really? Then why did you come tonight?”
”To help you find this.” Rafferdy picked up a piece and set it into the puzzle.
Mrs. Baydon clapped her hands, her face aglow; she was a lively young woman and always looked prettiest when animated. ”I've been searching for that piece for the last hour. I must have stared at it a hundred times. Whatever will we do without you, Mr. Rafferdy? Lady Marsdel is right; everything will seem dreary when you're gone. You will come back to us soon, won't you?”
”Like a moth fluttering to a streetlamp, no doubt. I hope to return before the beginning of the month.”
Mr. Baydon emitted a grumble as he turned another page; all that could be seen of him were the furrows in his forehead and a thicket of curly brown hair.
”Why do you read those broadsheets, Mr. Baydon?” his wife asked. ”You know they always make you frown.”
Rafferdy took the liberty of answering her. ”But, Mrs. Baydon, that's precisely the reason he reads them. Here in the Grand City, a gentleman's life is so filled with ease and luxury that annoyance is prized as a novelty, and thus becomes a form of amus.e.m.e.nt.”
”Is that so, Mr. Rafferdy?”
”I swear to it.”
”Then your level of amus.e.m.e.nt is likely to increase, for here comes Mrs. Chisingdon, no doubt in search of a fourth hand to complete a table. You do enjoy playing parlor games, don't you?”
”Nearly as much as I enjoy donning my most expensive coat and strolling St. Galmuth's Square where all the pigeons fly.” And he excused himself, departing just in time to pretend not to hear Mrs. Chisingdon calling his name.
He retreated into the study and there discovered a number of men who, like him, were refugees from the parlor. They were drinking brandy and discussing the ills of the monarchy and agreeing that only a.s.sembly was wise enough to lead Altania in these trying times; they were, in other words, avid readers of The Comet.
Still, they were preferable-if only just so-to a table of Mrs. Chisingdons and an endless game of Queen's Court. Rafferdy claimed an empty chair on the edge of the room, declined the tobacco box a servant offered him, accepted the brandy, and pretended to find a globe of the world fascinating.
There was a general complaint in the room that the making of business had grown risky of late. The Outland counties were all but lawless, with the king doing nothing about it; the roads were unsafe. And how many s.h.i.+ps, laden with gold and chocolate, had been dashed to bits by capricious winds on their way back from the New Lands? True, trade with the Murgh Empire was profitable. Very profitable, several men were quick to say. Even so, there were whispers of an ill wind that might one day blow west across the sea. Yes, there had been peace for over fifty years with the empire, but who knew when that might change?
There was, in sum, an overall want of stability, a deficit of that most precious predictability upon which both civilization and business relied. Nor was there any hope that the king would do anything about it. Rothard's will was as weak as his const.i.tution, though all agreed his daughter, Princess Layle, was a modest young woman, sensible and not given to frivolous displays. The only hope was that she would be married to a man of good sense who would do what King Rothard had not: namely, rely upon the wiser heads of a.s.sembly in determining the best course for Altania. Regardless of the man, marry she must, and before her father's health failed. That a woman should rule Altania on her own was, of course, unthinkable.
”It seemed to go well enough for Queen Elsadore all those centuries ago,” Rafferdy said, looking up from the globe. ”Grant you, I'm no historian. But there is a rather enormous statue of her in front of the Citadel.”
”And a shame it was ever erected!” exclaimed Sir Earnsley, a high-colored old fellow who wore a gray flannel waistcoat despite the balmy evening. He was a baronet-that is, a member of the gentry, and not a far step up from a country squire. Lady Marsdel must have been positively frantic to get to thirty-two that night. ”What sort of signal does it send to the young ladies of our nation to have her lauded so? Queen Elsadore never took a husband.”
”I believe that, upon her ascension to the throne, she claimed she was married to Altania,” said Mr. Harclint. He was a nephew of Lady Marsdel-not that this was at all special, as her ladys.h.i.+p seemed to have a mult.i.tude of nephews. This one had the usual receding chin and watery eyes.
”No, not married to Altania,” Sir Earnsley said darkly. ”She said she was married to the land of Altania. We all know what that means. It is wrong for her likeness to stand in such a place of respect.”
”Just so, Sir Earnsley,” Rafferdy said, ”for I gather she did nothing at all, save to turn back endless hordes of Murghs who wished to overrun our fair island, thus preserving the sovereignty of our nation and the ident.i.ty of the Altanian people forevermore. I agree, that's hardly worth commemorating.”
Earnsley glowered but said nothing more on the topic, and after that the conversation turned to a proposal put forth by Lord Farrolbrook, which, if pa.s.sed by both halls of a.s.sembly, would require the king to seek approval before commissioning new s.h.i.+ps for the royal navy. At present, the king could order new s.h.i.+ps at his whim. As the government must pay its debts, a.s.sembly was forced to levy new taxes to pay for the s.h.i.+ps whether it approved of their being built or not. This, it was agreed, offered another example of the monarchy's unwarranted powers and habitual irresponsibility.
”Your father sits in the Hall of Magnates, Mr. Rafferdy, does he not?” Mr. Harclint asked.
Rafferdy set down his empty brandy gla.s.s. ”Yes, Lord Rafferdy holds a seat in the Upper Hall, though circ.u.mstances have not allowed him to attend a.s.sembly of late.”
”Tell us, then, what is Lord Rafferdy's opinion on the New Act for Rationality in the Commission of Naval Vessels?”
”I have no idea. You'll have to ask him when you see him next.”
This resulted in a moment of blinking on the part of the questioner. ”Well, what about you, Mr. Rafferdy? What is your opinion?”
”How can that be of any relevance? I neither sit in the Hall of Magnates nor have a vote on such proposals.”
”Yes, but we would know what you think about it.”
”Even when it can have no significance?”
”Of course it has significance,” interjected Sir Earnsley. ”A man's opinions are everything. They tell you what he stands for, why he acts as he does, and who he is.”
”I don't have opinions,” Rafferdy said pleasantly.
Mr. Harclint let out a high-pitched laugh. ”Now you're being willfully perverse, Mr. Rafferdy. Everybody has opinions.”
”I don't. Or if I find I'm developing one, I remove it from my mind as quickly as possible, as one might have a surgeon draw a bad tooth.”
”What sort of nonsense is that?” Sir Earnsley said with a bristling of brows. ”It sounds like the sort of prattle a philosopher would spout. You're not at university, are you, Mr. Rafferdy?”
”Not anymore. It made my clothes smell of books.”
”Good. I don't approve of this current custom of young gentlemen attending university and getting their heads filled with outlandish notions. The universities are nothing but breeding grounds for agitators and anarchists-that is to say, men who lack proper opinions. In my day, once a man knew how to read and cipher, the only things he needed to learn were what his own common sense taught him.”
Which meant he learned nothing at all, Rafferdy was going to add cheerfully. Before he could, another spoke instead.
”And how should a young gentleman learn about magick, Sir Earnsley, if he does not attend university?”
At first Rafferdy could not locate the speaker. Only when the other moved did he become aware of a gentleman whose name he did not know sitting in the corner of the study. The lamplight ventured into that area of the room only reluctantly, and Rafferdy could discern little more than the sharp lines of a sallow face and the glint of dark eyes.
”How should they learn about magick?” the old baronet answered, scowling. ”I'd rather they teach young men philosophy or foster them in the courts of Murgh princes for their education, than instruct them in such foolishness.”
”But it isn't foolishness, sir,” Mr. Harclint protested, making what seemed a great effort to raise his voice in pa.s.sion. ”Surely Lord Farrolbrook is no fool. Everyone expects him to sit on the front benches in the Hall of Magnates one day soon, and it's said he's a magician of superior ability.”
”More likely he is a superior charlatan,” Earnsley replied. ”You'll more likely find a hog with wings than an honest man who claims he can perform magick.”
”You cast aside the notion of magick very easily, sir,” said the dark-eyed man in the corner. With his long limbs and black attire, he gave the impression of a coiled spider. ”Yet, were it not for magick, we would not sit here now bewailing the weak rule of King Rothard but rather the harsh rule of the Old Usurper's grandson. For without magick, the battle of Selburn Howe would have been lost.”
Earnsley s.h.i.+fted his bulk in his chair. ”No one in this room was born then, myself included. Who's to say what really happened on the field at Selburn Howe?”
”What happened there has not been forgotten where I come from,” the dark-eyed man said. He pressed the tips of long fingers together before him. ”I have heard you all say that winds of trouble blow. And I would say that you are right, and also that other winds stir, the likes of which have not been felt in a long age. The time may come sooner than you think when Altania has need of a great magician again. When that happens, I can only hope she will have one to call upon.”
Mr. Harclint took up the cause for magick then, proclaiming there was no force at work today that had more potential for aiding progress and industry or for furthering the general advancement of Altanian civilization. ”As for the coming of our next great magician, I warrant we may have to look no further than Lord Farrolbrook. His powers are extraordinary, and it's said he can trace his lineage all the way back to Myrrgon himself.”
Rafferdy laughed. ”I find it fascinating,” he said, ”now that studying magick has come back into fas.h.i.+on, that so many sons of lords have suddenly discovered they can trace their ancestry back to Myrrgon or Xandrus or Gauldren the Great.”
Mr. Harclint worked his wan features into a vaguely indignant look. ”Lord Farrolbrook has a ring that proves his descent, one bearing the crest of House Myrrgon.”
”What a marvelous relic,” Rafferdy said. ”Perhaps I'll buy a similar bauble from an old gypsy the next time I venture to the Beggar's Fair. Then I, too, can follow the latest style and claim descent from one of the seven Old Houses. How about you, Sir Earnsley? Will you accompany me?”