everything.” Wart was clearly enthusiastic about this Vincent. “He’s a knight in the Order. Private Blades can only become knights after their wards die. The King summoned him to Grandon to dub him.”
This talk of Blades was not out of place. She knew that there was an auxiliary corps of retired Blades who helped out the Companionship by performing odd jobs, although she was vague on the details. Squiring vulnerable ladies on long journeys might well be one such task. She also knew that some of these “Old Blades” had been conscripted into more strenuous duties during the present emergency. Possibly they also supplied boys with wagons as replacements. “Do you often transport Sisters?”
“No,” Wart said indignantly, “but I can’t afford to be fussy.”
Minstrel Boy
T HE MORNING AGED AND THE DAY GREW HOTter. Wart asked directions from two shepherds, one more toll keeper, and the drivers of three other wagons, always receiving the same answer. Emerald was astonished to discover that she was enjoying herself. Having never wandered this far from Oakendown since she’d first entered its gates, she had forgotten how interesting the world was.
“What about you?” Wart asked. “Why are you not going to Newhurst by coach?”
That was none of his business, but if she lied to him, he would be entitled to lie to her. She wasn’t very good at lying anyway. “Someone used some nasty sorcery right in the heart of Oakendown. I detected it and wouldn’t lie about it, so they threw me out.”
“Oh, that’s tough! What sort of sorcery?”
The inquisitors of the Dark Chamber claimed they could detect any spoken lie. Although they did not brag of it, most White Sisters could do the same, smelling the taint of death on the falsehood. Emerald had enough of the knack to know that Wart had faked his reaction. Sadly she concluded that he was not what he said he was. He was playing Mother Superior’s evil games.
“Nasty. I was attacked by a spider bigger than you. I don’t honestly know if it was meant to kill me or just frighten me. It certainly did that. No one else will admit it existed at all. I was outvoted.”
“Not fair! What do you do now?”
“Find a rich husband.”
“Truly?” He had not expected that. He looked at her doubtfully. “Mightn’t that be even tougher? Not finding, I mean—I’m sure you won’t have to look very long. I mean, finding a husband you want.”
“Very likely.”
“No parents, brothers?”
“My mother’s still alive, but she hasn’t got two copper mites to clink together.” Either Emerald needed to hear her problem set out in words or else young Wart was just skilled at asking questions, but she found herself telling him all about her father’s illness and the enchanters of Gentleholme Sanctuary. “They said they could cure him, but the pain grew worse and worse. Soon he was screaming all the time unless he got a fresh enchantment every day.”
Wart’s lip curled in horror. “They made his sickness worse?”
“Don’t know. Some diseases act that way, so perhaps not. We certainly couldn’t prove anything. But they did keep putting their price up.”
“This is why the King is trying to suppress the elementaries!” he said indignantly. “His new Court of Conjury is turning up all sorts of horrible cases like that. They have some good sorcerers helping them, and some White Sisters, too. And the Old Blades, of course. You must’ve heard of Sir Snake, who used to be Deputy Commander of the Royal Guard? He’s their leader…. Officially they’re called the Commissioners of the Court of Conjury—but they’re all knights in the Order, so everyone calls them the Old Blades—and they go in and investigate the elementaries. But often the sorcerers fight back with monsters and fireballs and terrible things. They’re doing a wonderful job, and—” His baby face colored again. “I’m raving, aren’t I?” he muttered. “But you have heard about the
This talk of Blades was not out of place. She knew that there was an auxiliary corps of retired Blades who helped out the Companionship by performing odd jobs, although she was vague on the details. Squiring vulnerable ladies on long journeys might well be one such task. She also knew that some of these “Old Blades” had been conscripted into more strenuous duties during the present emergency. Possibly they also supplied boys with wagons as replacements. “Do you often transport Sisters?”
“No,” Wart said indignantly, “but I can’t afford to be fussy.”
Minstrel Boy
T HE MORNING AGED AND THE DAY GREW HOTter. Wart asked directions from two shepherds, one more toll keeper, and the drivers of three other wagons, always receiving the same answer. Emerald was astonished to discover that she was enjoying herself. Having never wandered this far from Oakendown since she’d first entered its gates, she had forgotten how interesting the world was.
“What about you?” Wart asked. “Why are you not going to Newhurst by coach?”
That was none of his business, but if she lied to him, he would be entitled to lie to her. She wasn’t very good at lying anyway. “Someone used some nasty sorcery right in the heart of Oakendown. I detected it and wouldn’t lie about it, so they threw me out.”
“Oh, that’s tough! What sort of sorcery?”
The inquisitors of the Dark Chamber claimed they could detect any spoken lie. Although they did not brag of it, most White Sisters could do the same, smelling the taint of death on the falsehood. Emerald had enough of the knack to know that Wart had faked his reaction. Sadly she concluded that he was not what he said he was. He was playing Mother Superior’s evil games.
“Nasty. I was attacked by a spider bigger than you. I don’t honestly know if it was meant to kill me or just frighten me. It certainly did that. No one else will admit it existed at all. I was outvoted.”
“Not fair! What do you do now?”
“Find a rich husband.”
“Truly?” He had not expected that. He looked at her doubtfully. “Mightn’t that be even tougher? Not finding, I mean—I’m sure you won’t have to look very long. I mean, finding a husband you want.”
“Very likely.”
“No parents, brothers?”
“My mother’s still alive, but she hasn’t got two copper mites to clink together.” Either Emerald needed to hear her problem set out in words or else young Wart was just skilled at asking questions, but she found herself telling him all about her father’s illness and the enchanters of Gentleholme Sanctuary. “They said they could cure him, but the pain grew worse and worse. Soon he was screaming all the time unless he got a fresh enchantment every day.”
Wart’s lip curled in horror. “They made his sickness worse?”
“Don’t know. Some diseases act that way, so perhaps not. We certainly couldn’t prove anything. But they did keep putting their price up.”
“This is why the King is trying to suppress the elementaries!” he said indignantly. “His new Court of Conjury is turning up all sorts of horrible cases like that. They have some good sorcerers helping them, and some White Sisters, too. And the Old Blades, of course. You must’ve heard of Sir Snake, who used to be Deputy Commander of the Royal Guard? He’s their leader…. Officially they’re called the Commissioners of the Court of Conjury—but they’re all knights in the Order, so everyone calls them the Old Blades—and they go in and investigate the elementaries. But often the sorcerers fight back with monsters and fireballs and terrible things. They’re doing a wonderful job, and—” His baby face colored again. “I’m raving, aren’t I?” he muttered. “But you have heard about the
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