Clariel took out her paper, consulted it and said, ‘I have “Matters of Law, Royal, City and Guild” in the Crooked Room. But I don’t know where it is.’
‘That’s my next lesson too,’ said Denima. ‘I’ll show you the way. Come on, we don’t want to be late.’
She started off, with Clariel and Belatiel following, the latter talking as he walked.
‘I’ve got “Money Counting”,’ said Belatiel, making a face. ‘Tower Room, with Master Fincher. But I really do want to talk to you, cousin, about … about a very important matter concerning our family, the Abhorsens that is. I hesitate to ask, after Aronzo, but my motives really are straightforward and honest, so I wonder if we could meet after the lessons today …’
‘I really am busy,’ said Clariel, giving him the benefit of the doubt. ‘I have Charter Magic lessons this afternoon, and tomorrow I have to go to the Islet to try to find a colourful fish.’
‘So you don’t hold with only servants doing Charter Magic,’ said Belatiel, with a pleased look.
As before, Denima spoke at almost the same time, so their words overlapped. ‘A colourful fish? Who for?’
‘The King,’ said Clariel. ‘I’m not much of a Charter Mage and I don’t particularly want to be one, but I don’t think it should be left to servants … What?’
Denima had stopped in mid-stride and swung around to face Clariel so they nearly ran into each other, and Belatiel had also crowded close, and they were both staring at her.
‘The King?’
‘You’re seeing the King?’
‘The day after tomorrow,’ said Clariel. ‘The fish is for a kin-gift. It’s traditional, apparently.’
‘But no one sees the King,’ said Belatiel. ‘Not for years.’
‘No one,’ repeated Denima.
‘I was told he keeps up some of the old traditions,’ said Clariel, uncomfortably. ‘Like the kin-gift, and I’m his cousin so I have to see him to give him the present –’
‘I’m a cousin too, and I’ve never been able to get an audience,’ interrupted Belatiel. ‘I was supposed to present the kin-gift when I first got here last year, but the King refused to see me. Or someone refused on his behalf.’
‘Mother seems to think we’ll get in,’ said Clariel. ‘I wish I understood what is going on here. There’s clearly all kinds of machinations afoot and I really don’t want to get caught up in them before I can …’
Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her shoes, before realising she was doing exactly what her father did when he wanted to avoid talking about something difficult, so she jerked her head back up to see Belatiel and Denima looking at her, not unkindly. For the first time she realised that they both had forehead Charter marks, albeit disguised under the same sort of thick paint as her own. But Aronzo and Yaneem didn’t have marks, or at least she didn’t think they had.
‘Before you can do what?’ asked Denima.
‘Make my own plans,’ said Clariel.
‘You’re right about the machinations,’ said Belatiel, lowering his voice. ‘There are things you should know, that’s why I want to see you after the lesson. Be very careful of Aronzo, for one. His father effectively rules the city now, and that pretty much means the Kingdom as well –’
‘Does it really matter who rules the city, or the Kingdom for that matter?’ interrupted Clariel.
‘Perhaps it doesn’t matter so much who actually rules,’ replied Belatiel. ‘But the royal family don’t just govern the Kingdom. They also embody part of the Charter, and are charged with its preservation, in all its manifestations. Which begs the question, who … or what … also gains if the King is overthrown?’
chapter seven
the education of a charter mage
‘If the King is overthrown?’ asked Clariel. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We can’t talk about it here,’ said Belatiel. ‘I’ll meet you straight after class, and we can go –’
‘You shouldn’t be talking about it at all,’ interrupted Denima. ‘Best you leave it alone. Come on, Clariel. Law is taught by Mistress Gurlen and she’s a very different proposition from old Dyrell.’
‘Wait for me after class!’ called out Bel, as Denima took Clariel’s hand and dragged her away. ‘It is important! Very important!’
‘They always say that,’ said Denima. She darted a look at Bel that Clariel couldn’t interpret: part angry and part wistful. ‘Men!’
Clariel wondered if it was as simple as that. Bel wasn’t obviously trying to set up a flirtation, he appeared sincere about having something important to tell her. And she felt she should know more about the situation in the city and what was going on with the King, and the Guilds and all that, despite another part of her wanting to keep separate from it all. If she could convince her mother, she might be away within days, off to the Great Forest, and then everyone could fight over who ruled to their hearts’ content.
As for the Charter, Clariel thought it ought to be fine without assistance from the likes of Belatiel or herself. She didn’t really know what the royal family had to do for or with the Charter, the childhood rhyme about the Great Charters not being very informative on a detailed level. Apart from the royal family, the Clayr and the Abhorsens having some role, she did know Charter Stones were important for keeping the whole thing together. There were several Charter Stones in Estwael, and every village had one, and she had seen a number in the city, often at crossroads or other such places as well as the one in the hilltop garden near her house. All of them looked extremely old, and from her limited perception of the marks that shone and crawled upon the stone, the magic within them was ancient too, so it didn’t seem that the current King or any of his immediate predecessors had very much to do with them.
‘Come on. We’ll be late!’ urged Denima. She started to run, and Clariel ran with her, up one of the corner stairs, along another bare, whitewashed corridor and then into what was clearly a later addition to the house, the stonework changing to brick, the ceiling lower, and the angle where the walls met something less than true.
‘Crooked Room,’ said Denima, slowing to a walk. ‘Better lesson, better teacher. You might even like this one. Sit by me … if you like.’
It was a better lesson, and Clariel did sit by Denima. The group was larger, but there was no nonsense with introductions, apart from Clariel meeting Mistress Gurlen, a surprisingly young woman with a commanding presence, bright eyes and a penetrating voice. She lectured from a podium and drew with chalk on a huge slate board, and the students sat in rows behind small desks. Every desk had two key reference books chained to it, books that Gurlen expected everyone to be able to hunt through and find any indicated text at a moment’s notice.
Clariel almost enjoyed it, for it suited her idea of how things should be. There was a clear aim, potentially useful knowledge, a confident leader, and no time to waste. If only the class had taken place beyond the walls, in some sun-dappled glade, she would have enjoyed it completely. But even grappling intently with questions of law and the differing interpretations of the texts and a third opinion from Mistress Gurlen, she could never entirely forget the brick walls that hemmed her in, and the oppressive weight of the city beyond that.
It was a relief when the class was finally over, and they were dismissed. Though many of the students were slow to leave, chatting to one another, Clariel went straight for the door. Denima half raised her hand as if to call her back, but Clariel didn’t even notice. She needed to get out under the sun again, away from the weight of stone and the smothering attention of other people.
In her urge to escape the confines of the house, she also forgot that Belatiel had asked for her to wait.
Roban, Heyren and Linel were standing around outside the front door. There were even more guards there now, two score at least, showing many different Guild badges. Though they straggled along the wall of the house, most leaning against the stonework or sitting on some upturned barrels, Clariel noted that even in this