The vast and cavernous kitchens were swarming with servants and courtiers, preparing, transporting, and consuming a variety of fine foods. One table was roped off, with a guard standing nearby-that was where the master chef was making the overlord’s dinner.
The overlord was traditionally expected to dine in the great audience hall, with his family and courtiers gathered about him, but Azrad VI had never wanted to put that much effort into his meals; he preferred to eat in his apartments with a few close advisors-usually his brothers and Lord Faran, if Faran was around. That left the other occupants of the Palace free to make their own arrangements.
Lord Faran often dined elsewhere, in the mansions of various important figures or the homes of various women, but Hanner’s sisters were only rarely invited, and Hanner himself even less often. Helping themselves from the stocks of food in the kitchens had become commonplace.
The party of four collected a roasted hen, a bottle of Aldagmor wine, and a plateful of vegetables and sweet rolls, then found themselves a quiet corner and settled cross-legged on the floor. There they ate, chatted, and watched the bustle around them. Hanner noticed buckets of offal being dumped out a window into the canal and remarked, “There’s one reason the water stinks.”
“It certainly does stink, doesn’t it?” Mavi said. “I think the last cleaning spell didn’t work properly.”
“You can’t trust magic,” Nerra said. “It’s unreliable. At least, Uncle Faran says it is.”
Alris snorted derisively.
“Maybe that’s another reason the Wizards’ Guild wants to keep magic and government separate,” Mavi said.
Hanner shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it,” he said. “Wizardry isn’t any less reliable than anything else, really.”
“That’s wizardry,” Nerra said. “What about the other mag-icks? Uncle Faran is obsessed withall of them, even if it’s the wizards who particularly annoy him.”
“The Guild doesn’t wantany magicks combined,” Alris said.
“Butis wizardry less reliable?” Mavi asked. “I hadn’t heard that.”
Hanner turned up a palm. “I think it depends what you want to do,” he said. “The theurgists certainly don’t claim to be infallible, and plenty of prayers go unanswered, but they always seem to be able to get certain things done. I never saw anyone die of a fever in a theurgist’s care.”
A sudden brief silence fell, and Hanner realized what he had just said. Nerra and Alris stared at him in silent shock, but Mavi asked, “How many people have you seen die of fevers anywhere?”
“Ourmother,’” Nerra said angrily, shoving her plate aside. “He saw our mother waste away with a fever. And the magicians wouldn’t help because she was Lady Illira, Lord Faran’s sister. They would have used their spells for a shopkeeper or a sailor or even some stinking beggar from the Hundred-Foot Field, but anyone with a hereditary title or ties to the overlord, no-the wizards wouldn’t allow it.” She glanced at Alris, who looked down at her own supper and picked at a chicken bone.
“That’s another reason Uncle Faran’s obsessed with magic,” Hanner said quietly.
“I’m done eating,” Nerra said, getting to her feet. “I’m going.”
“I’ll come with you,” Alris said, putting her own plate on the floor.
“ButI’m not finished!” Mavi protested.
Nerra didn’t answer; she stomped off, with Alris close behind, leaving Hanner and Mavi seated on the flagstones.
“I’m sorry,” Hanner said. “I wasn’t thinking. I should have known better than to remind them about Mother.”
“Well, it didn’t botherme” Mavi said. “My mother’s alive and well. But itwas a bit...”
“Tactless?”
“Something like that...”
“Insensitive?”
“Maybe...”
“Unbelievably stupid?”
“I think that describes it, yes,” Mavi said, smiling.
“I’m good at that,” Hanner said. “I never know what to say, or when to keep my mouth shut. That’s one reason I’m still my uncle’s errand boy, instead of holding a post in my own right.”
“You could do worse than be an assistant to the overlord’s chief advisor.”
Hanner grimaced. “And as that advisor’s nearest surviving kin, I ought to be able to do better. Uncle Faran always knows what to say.”
“Your uncle’s had twenty years of experience in government.”
Hanner had no good reply to that. He picked up his remaining piece of chicken.
The two of them finished their meal in companionable silence. When both had eaten their fill and wiped or licked away the last of the grease, Hanner frowned. “I don’t know whether Nerra would want to see you again yet,” he said.
“I should be getting home in any case,” Mavi said.
“I don’t think Nerra will want to see me, either, and I’d enjoy a walk,” Hanner found himself saying, even though his feet were still slightly sore from the day’s excursions. “May I escort you home?”
“I’d be honored,” Mavi said.
Chapter Two
Hanner and Mavi were in no hurry as they made their way out of the Palace, across the plaza, and up Arena Street into the New City. The torches and lanterns in the gateways and intersections provided plenty of light, but the daytime crowds had thinned to almost nothing; the dust of the streets had settled and the night breezes, blowing south from the sea, were salty and pleasantly cool-though the Grand Canal still stank. Once they had gone a few blocks that smell faded, and they slowed even more.
They paused in front of one of the larger mansions and admired the fountains and statuary visible through the wrought-iron fence. Hanner found himself holding Mavi’s hand and seriously considering kissing her.
But then she pulled away to point out a particular piece of sculpture, the marble figure of a sleeping cat, and the opportunity had passed.
“Do you think that might have been a real cat once?” she asked.
“Why would anyone petrify a cat?” Hanner asked.
“For practice, maybe?” Mavi suggested. “Or for revenge against the cat’s owner? If you’re asking that, then why would anyone carve an image of a cat?”
“To put in his yard, like that,” Hanner said, gesturing at the little statue.
“Ithink some magician did it for practice before setting out to avenge some slight by turning ahuman to stone.”
“If it was just for practice, wouldn’t the wizard have broken the spell afterward?” Hanner asked.
“Are petrifaction spells reversible?” “Some are, some aren’t,” Hanner admitted. “Wizards usually call the reversible spells ’superior,’ and the irreversible ones ’irreversible,’ so I think they prefer the ones that aren’t necessarily permanent.”
“I suppose,” Mavi admitted, her head tilted thoughtfully as she studied the cat. “But maybe this particular wizard didn’t know the superior ones. Or his vengeance failed and his enemy killed him before he could undo it.” She frowned. “Would the magician have to be a wizard?”
“Ithink so,” Hanner said. “A theurgist wouldn’t do something like that, and I never heard of witches doing anything that unnatural. I suppose there might be some way for a sorcerer or demon-ologist to do it, but I never heard of such a thing.”
Mavi turned and looked at him curiously. “Why do you know so much about magic? I thought you said your family wasn’t allowed to study it!”
“We aren’t allowed touse it,” Hanner corrected her. “The lords of Ethshar are not permitted to learn magic, nor to use magic for our personal benefit-though of course we’re free to hire magicians if it’s for thecity’s benefit, or else the whole government would fall apart. But we can learnabout magic all we please, and that’s what I do, ever since my mother died-I talk to magicians for my uncle. He’s obsessed with magic, and whenever he’s not actively working on the overlord’s business or chasing women, he’s out trying to learn everything he can about it.” He sighed. “And when heis busy with his women or the overlord’s business, I go out and try to learn about magicfor him.”