"Yet their magi partners are so upset at the idea of them being interrogated."
"Yes. I spent a brief period in the Sentene, many years ago. My partner was Korion Asaka. I swear he didn’t say two unprompted words to me during our first five assignments. Even when I asked him questions, his answers were so brief I felt I was being rejected. But – he made it is his business, first and foremost, to keep me alive. And I very quickly started finding Korion a most reassuring presence, his silence simply a part of his nature. After many assignments I was bold enough to ask him why he did not speak more, and he told me, I forget that I can. It wasn’t that he was blankly passive inside, either; he simply rarely brought any of himself to the surface. That is what the Kellian are. They behave the way they do not out of any belief in their superiority, or dislike of humans, but because smiling or laughing or even talking are not automatic responses for them. It doesn’t mean they don’t feel, or that they aren’t proud, or loyal. There’s not one among them who isn’t fiercely protective of Tyrland. Once they recognise that, most of the Sentene mages grow very protective of the Kellian in return."
"What’s the Queen’s attitude? She is allowing this."
"The Queen – Her Majesty’s reserve is born out of their origin, I believe. The Kellian are a remnant of the Montjuste-Surclere rule. And whatever else can be said of her, there’s few that will not acknowledge that Solace Montjuste-Surclere had a right to her throne. When the children of the original Kellian came to Tyrland, over one hundred years ago now, they asked to be allowed to serve the kingdom. They consider it their homeland. That was during a particularly bad outbreak of Eferum-Get, and the King of that time saw the Kellian as useful to his plans for a special force of hunters. And they are very useful to the kingdom, invaluable. But the Montjustes have always considered the Kellian a group with no loyalty to them."
"The uniform was specifically designed to distract from those wearing it, wasn’t it?" Rennyn had thought as much. "Though from what I’ve seen of them, I’d say the Kellian do keep themselves separate."
"To a degree," Lady Weston conceded. "They are not human: they live longer than all but the most skilled mages, their senses are sharper, they mature differently, respond differently. Even after three hundred years, there are only some sixty individuals. They will develop friendships and relationships with humans, and very occasionally they marry outside their kind. I believe they make an effort to avoid in-breeding. But to the casual observer, they must seem a closed community."
"Sixty deadly people loyal to each other," Rennyn said.
"Some are convinced that there is a Kellian ruler dictating the decisions of the group, and the re-emergence of the Black Queen only adds fuel to this fire. But there is no conspiracy to be found, and no leaders. A kind of unspoken accord, perhaps."
"No leaders? Truly?" Rennyn had not had that impression.
"Outside the structure of the Sentene, no. They’ll take ranks and give orders as part of their duty, but on a personal level Kellian strongly resist imposing their will on each other. The Illumas, for instance: it is immensely rare for Kellian to show the ability to be mages. Sarana is only the second, and all the Kellian were, I think, tremendously pleased when Sukata Illuma showed the same ability as her mother. But none would suggest that Sarana try and have another child for the sake of increasing the number of Kellian mages, or try to force the issue if Sukata chose not to study the art. It’s very rare that they’ll even give their opinion unasked, because an opinion is itself a kind of expectation, a suggested direction. You look sceptical, Lady Montjuste-Surclere."
"I can’t tell if you’re idolizing them or not. You obviously care about them greatly."
"Indeed. They are a complicated group, misunderstood by most. Perhaps I misunderstand them too. But I do trust them. And I do consider them a responsibility, even though they are, as you say, people. To me they are simply people worth protecting."
Rennyn was starting to see she should have paid more attention to Tyrland’s politics. It would probably not make a great deal of difference until the Grand Summoning was complete, but might complicate what vague hopes she had for the rest of her life.
"Do you have a map of the area around Sark?" she asked, deciding she really needed to stop talking about the Kellian. She’d asked to see the Grand Magister for an entirely different reason, and proceeded to further spoil Lady Weston’s day by using the measurements she’d been making to calculate the eventual diameter of the area of distortion emanating from Falk. While the expansion would probably not cross Sark’s circle, it would come very close. More people than Rennyn cared to imagine would need to be moved.
Lady Weston had barely time to call another secretary when two men dressed in the resplendent red and gold of the Royal Guard appeared with a summons for Rennyn. Unsurprised that they’d leapt at the chance to question her immediately, Rennyn followed obediently along behind.
The guardsmen took her deep into the Old Palace, to a room focused around a box-like podium constructed of marble heavily worked with sigils. This was the Hall of Question, where any injunction to tell the truth would be massively reinforced by this permanent working. It made even half-truths immensely difficult, though not impossible. Even the strongest-willed could not outright lie here. That was the risk in making this gesture. They might hit upon the right questions, and a refusal to answer could reveal almost as much as the truth.
Seated at the long table before this podium were the seven who were conducting the questioning, though a reasonable audience had been allowed in as well. Mostly Councillors, Rennyn assumed. There were also two powerful shields, one around the podium and one enclosing the section of seats to the right of the Hall. This area was half-filled with Kellian waiting their turn. Many of their mage partners had joined them, including Lieutenant Danress, face set beneath her bright hair. Captain Faille was currently being questioned.
Rennyn was immediately struck by the fact that none of the Kellian were wearing their uniform coat. She’d seen them remove it so it wouldn’t hamper them in battle, but never otherwise outside the Houses of Magic. A gesture, a very deliberate gesture: they had removed the Montjuste Phoenix. The Kellian might have accepted this questioning, but they were far from impressed by it.
Her entrance had caused a little stir, which was immediately overshadowed when below to the left a small but grand door was flung open and a very upright and decorative man strode in, crying: "All rise for Her Majesty, Queen Astranelle." Since Rennyn was already standing, she stayed where she was and curtseyed on cue when, after a stream of minor courtiers, the Queen entered the room.
Astranelle Montjuste was in her sixties, and had the timeless appearance that anyone with access to powerful magery could achieve, though Rennyn understood she was no more than a competent caster herself. She was small-boned, her ash-blonde hair drawn up into tidy confinement except for soft curls framing her face. She was not astonishingly beautiful, but looked…sweet. A lovely, blue-eyed delicate creature in floating blue and turquoise silks. Queen of Tyrland, and by all accounts an intelligent and practical woman.
Queen Astranelle surveyed the room until she found Rennyn, and then stood gazing at her. Given the foolery about challenges to the throne, Rennyn supposed it was unfortunate that she was standing at the top of the stairs, forcing the Queen to look up at her. Magic was not the only arena where symbols had power. With that in mind, Rennyn curtseyed again, as deeply as she was able without falling over. The Queen inclined her head in return, then sat down, and people began to move.