Treacherous Witch

"James."

He meets her eyes when he says it. Her skin tingles, a strange, passing feeling. She doesn't know why.

"Although you shouldn't call me that out there," he goes on, indicating the tent flap. "Out there, I'm the General, Lord Avon or my lord."

"But you'll be James in here?"

In here where the lamp light flickers, where the two of them are cocooned from the outside world. He leans down and picks out a length of rope from a chest beneath the table before wrapping it around his wrist. She frowns, then—

*

Titus should not have been dumbfounded at his own representative coming to speak. Nor should he have regarded the Patriarch with any alarm. One or two of the senators gave her strange looks, and Valerie made an effort to control herself. Her heart was still pounding.

It was the shock she didn't like. She had believed the Duke of Hennich to be dead and so had not factored him into her plans.

The Duke began his speech, and she wondered what he thought of the fact that his father had brought him back from the dead but not his brother. Perhaps Mithras had made some excuse. But she was certain of the real reason: the Patriarch had used the younger Gideon brother's death as a catalyst to force Avon to step down from his seat. He was more useful dead than alive. Which meant the older brother served some other purpose. Perhaps only this one: to stand in front of the Senate and convince them to vote the way the Patriarch wanted.

It was a callous way to treat one's children, even if they weren't really his.

Still, she felt no pity for the Duke, who spent less than a minute extolling Titus's virtues before moving on to tear into Avon's character. His family were in thrall to a sorcerer, and he had done nothing about it.

"It's time for Maskamere to pass into new hands," the Duke of Hennich finished. "With the Senate's approval, I'll take my brother's place as Master of Justice and guide our new Chancellor in matters of governance. We will not tolerate the evil of witchcraft. We will see Maskamere put in its rightful place."

So that's his game, she thought. Mithras would replace one Gideon brother with another. Did that mean he had changed his strategy—perhaps he intended to possess his son instead? She looked again at the Duke, searching for a telltale sign of a glyph. She didn't find one. But he could cast the mark at any time, and Valerie had no idea if there were any limits to such a spell. What if Mithras marked hundreds of bodies? They'd never know who he might jump into.

The Patriarch called for the next speaker, and Valerie forced herself to concentrate. Lord Canwell, the Duke of Arden, stepped up as Avon's second representative. She hoped that was a strong showing, to have two high-ranking lords advocate on Avon's behalf.

But the next speaker for Titus matched that rank: Lord Seymour, the Duke of Caldry. She recalled that Caldry was one of the regions with strong ties to the Gideon family. Other than that, she did not know the man.

Their speeches offered little new, and judging by the faces of the senators, she did not think that anyone who had already made up their minds would be swayed into changing it.

So now it was up to her and Avon.

"Lord Avon." The Patriarch waved an idle hand, his mercurite ring flashing in the chandelier light. "Come and speak."

Once more, Avon stepped up to the podium to make his case, and Valerie's chest tightened. Her borrowed skin was getting more and more uncomfortable.

"First, I'd like to thank the Senate for giving me a month off my duties in Maskamere." Avon smiled as chuckles stirred the room. "It's allowed me to spend some quality time with my family and reacquaint myself with my favourite city in the world. It's also given me time to reflect. I understand the concerns that were raised in our last meeting. They were serious enough that I was asked to step back. I acknowledge that.

"My stance, however, has not changed. My intention this past month has been to demonstrate that the benefits of sorcery outweigh the risks. We are sleeping on a goldmine, gentlemen, and yet we dare not venture into its depths for fear of dragons. Well, I have tamed a dragon. A wyvern stands guard over this house as we speak. And I have tamed a witch, who is nearly as ferocious. Our understanding of the silvertrees has greatly advanced, thanks to the work of my good friend Master Anwen, whose excellent paper on the matter has been submitted to the Church for inclusion in the Chronicle of Nature. In only a month, this is progress. Think of what we could do in a year or ten.

"Think also of whom you would trust to guide Maskamere through its transition as a province of the Empire. You only have a choice of two candidates today, gentlemen: myself, or my honourable friend, Master Titus. While I respect Master Titus as a loyal representative of his people, Maskamere is not ready to govern itself. This post requires a strong and steady hand. I assure you, I'm committed to it."

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With that, he stepped down. It was a good speech, she thought. It would confirm to his supporters that they had made the right choice. She didn't think it would sway anyone who wasn't already wavering.

So. She was next.

Hot and cold shivers ran through her body—Titus's body. She was sweating badly, more than her own body did, or so it felt.

"Master Titus." The Patriarch smiled, but his eyes were murderous. "Speak."

She stepped up to the podium, tugged at her collar and cleared her throat.

The senators of Drakon had several reasons to mistrust Titus. He was a foreigner, a native Maskamery, and therefore automatically lesser in their eyes. He had no experience in governance or leadership. His standing in Drakonian society was comparatively low, though perhaps somewhat impressive that he had found such favour with the Gideons. She could play on any of these things to stoke their hatred.

She had decided that the one emotion she wanted to provoke was rage.

"Thank you, Your Eminence," she began, speaking slowly and enunciating her vowels. If her accent slipped into something broader, well, she hoped the Senate wouldn't think anything of it. Perhaps it would even work to her advantage. "And my thanks to the Senate for hearing me today, and to Lord Gideon and Lord Seymour for their support. It's been many years since I last saw home. I believe it's past time for Maskamere to truly join the Empire.

"Some of you may think I lack experience. But I've learned much of the finer points of government here, thanks to the support of the Patriarch and his family. I wouldn't be here without them. I must thank Lord Gideon in particular for his generous offer to give up his position as Duke and serve me as my Master of Justice. I know we'll learn much from working together."

That caused a small murmur, a few frowns. The Duke's lip curled in disgust. Valerie resisted a smile and went on:

"I have credentials too that will ensure the native people of Maskamere accept my rule. Many of you already know this, but my father was Silas IV, the last king of Maskamere. I am a prince, and the people of Maskamere don't like to see an empty throne. They'll continue to resist until it is filled. I will fulfil their wishes to see a king crowned in Maskamere and your wishes to bring the realm under the Empire's heel. By voting for me today, you'll prove that Maskamery and Drakonians alike can work together for the betterment of the Empire. It's all we want."

Shock rippled through the audience. This was her big gambit, the revelation she had come armed with to disorient the senators. She guessed that none of them knew Titus's heritage. He would have kept that information to himself. So now every senator who had pledged their support would be wondering: Why wasn't I in the loop?

Already she saw disquiet and irritation on several faces. Senators whispered to each other. How arrogant they would think Titus to boldly declare that he was seeking the crown.

And there was little the Drakonians despised more than arrogance in their vassals. No, they expected subservience, gratitude, loyalty. Even the faintest whiff of entitlement got their lordly backs up.

"As for Lord Avon…" She threw a glance at Avon, who was watching her intently. "He has been given a fair chance to govern Maskamere. I'm sure he has done a reasonable job. But he is no prince. I hope the Senate will agree that now is the time to restore the Maskamery crown, for the sake of peace in the Empire and for the sake of the realm. Thank you."

She bowed and retreated. The noise in the chamber swung up at once, but the Patriarch raised his hand and it ceased like a man's head being separated from his shoulders.

"Gentlemen!" His sibilant voice rose above the crowd. "Eminent senators, that will be all. We'll proceed immediately to the vote."

As she had hoped, the senators wouldn't have much chance to talk to each other and possibly discover her ruse before the vote took place. They formed an orderly line, and while there were several muted whispers, the expectation of silence was clear.

Red-uniformed attendants rolled out the two giant hourglasses used for the vote. One by one, the senators dropped their chips into the corresponding hourglass—left for Avon, right for Titus.

Valerie watched, painfully anxious. Had she done enough? Had she judged it right? She couldn't be sure of how well-liked Titus already was among the senators. She had only guesses, assumptions, observations from both her own time in this court and hearing from Avon and his allies.

Part of her wondered if she should have made a complete fool of herself. But she could not have acted so badly that the Patriarch would have stopped her speech or cried sorcery. They had to reach the vote with both sides believing they could win, or else she felt sure he would have found a way to sabotage it.

Even now, she felt him glaring at her. She looked away.

The last senator voted, and the attendants removed the cloth covering the hourglasses to begin the count. The wooden chips piled up on either side, and she could not tell who had won. It was going to be close.

Valerie held her breath.

They counted the votes evenly, one attendant plucking out Avon's chips, another Titus's. One, two, three, four…

They reached fifty votes each, and she could not see any difference in the number of chips remaining.

One hundred votes each. Still, the pile in each hourglass appeared the same.

She risked a glance at Avon on the other side of the box. He stared down at the proceedings, oblivious to anything else. They were seeing their fate being played out in these wooden chips.

One hundred and thirty six… One hundred and thirty seven… Sweat stuck to her skin. To get a majority required one hundred and fifty one votes. She tried to count how many chips remained in Avon's hourglass, but she'd been staring so intently, the entire scene seemed a blur. Was she imagining it, or did Titus have fewer?

One hundred and thirty eight… One hundred and thirty nine… Murmurs broke out among the senators. Titus only had a few left! She craned her neck, trying to see.

The attendant picked up Titus's last chip. One hundred and forty six.

The other attendant continued counting. One hundred and fifty four votes for Avon.

"Well," said the Patriarch, licking his lips. "We have our winner."

Her heart felt like it might burst. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to shout. She wanted to dash over to Avon and hug him, but she couldn't do any of that—she couldn't even look at him. Valerie remembered that she ought to look disappointed and bowed her head.

"The Senate backs Lord James Avon as Chancellor of Maskamere." The Patriarch's voice was flat, giving little away. But she knew he must be fuming. "Congratulations. Gentlemen, we may adjourn."

Now she had to get Titus out of there.

Not waiting for Avon, she pushed through the gaggle of senators, head down, making a beeline for the exit. Let them think she was storming off in a huff. Several gentlemen called after her, but she ignored them.

"Titus!"

The Patriarch's voice cut through the chamber. It did not only reach her ears. His voice seeped into her skin, wrapped around her muscles, gripped her bones. Its power rooted her to the floor. Her footsteps halted. The exit to the chamber beckoned, painfully out of reach.

She couldn't move.