Page 7 of Strange Familiar (Warriors of Magic #2)
~7~
C illian would have gone after Alise immediately, except that his grandmother forbade it.
Correction: his grandmother clucked in sympathy and made him his favorite hot chocolate, while Lady Harahel informed him in no uncertain terms that he would remain at House Harahel until she released him. She gave instructions that no one give him transportation out of Harahel, and it wasn’t as if he could snowshoe or ski out on his own.
“So I’m a prisoner,” he said with bitterness no amount of chocolate could alleviate.
“You’ll thank me some day,” Lady Harahel replied equably. “And try to be less dramatic. You’re hardly the first disgraced wizard to be safeguarded in the house of their birth following unpleasantness. Besides, it’s not as if you need to return to Convocation Archives, since you are no longer employed there.” She raised her brows at his surprise. “What—did you think Tandiya Uriel wouldn’t communicate your removal from employment?”
“I thought you didn’t care to use Ratsiel couriers,” he answered sullenly.
“You are correct that I don’t use them, but you’re making a careless assumption in that one must employ a Ratsiel courier in order to have timely communication. In addition, it’s insulting of you to imply that my choice to abjure the use of House Ratsiel products is a whimsical preference or a capricious choice. Using goods produced by other houses gives them entrée to ours, creates alliances we cannot afford to indulge and remain objective observers of history. If you had ever shown any interest in governance of this house, I’d have explained this before. Perhaps now that you’ve put your tenure in Convocation Archives behind you, that might change.”
Cillian didn’t reply to that bit of bait. Lady Harahel had offered him several thinly disguised bribes to cheerfully capitulate to her wishes. Not that she needed his cooperation as she controlled his fate with an iron fist. It turned out his parents weren’t even in residence—gone off to consult on library acquisitions for House Minerva—a coincidental absence Cillian found highly suspicious.
“Since you sacrificed your career and your integrity as an archivist to steal the texts regarding House Phel and bring them here, coding the folded archive to yourself alone, you may devote yourself to reviewing the materials.” She held up a hand when Cillian straightened at this. “With certain restrictions,” she added.
He’d thought she wouldn’t let him near that project, refusing to even discuss it when he’d asked. Coding the re-folded archive to himself had been expedient in the moment, then a disastrous choice in retrospect because what if he’d been killed? The archive would have died with him, all those texts lost forever. Now he was glad of it, not only because he’d lived, but also because he’d inadvertently made himself indispensable.
“What restrictions?” he asked, wary. He was accustomed to working within strict or externally imposed protocols, but this new face of his grandmother had him leery of agreeing to anything too quickly or easily.
“First, you agree to give up this nonsense of working at Convocation Archives and agree to remain here at House Harahel where you belong.”
“I thought I’d already sacrificed that career and irretrievably compromised my integrity as an archivist.”
The look she gave him was sour. “I don’t advise you be flip about your situation, boy. I’m not best pleased with you. I also know you. Even without reading your thoughts, I can predict that you will be scheming your way back to those archives you love so well, if you haven’t developed a plan already. You can abandon that tack immediately. I was never in favor of you going off to Convocation Center, being exposed to the corruption there, not to mention the poor food. You belong here. If you wish—and if you show sufficient interest and commitment—I’ll train you to be my heir.”
That startled him. “Father is your heir.”
She waved that off. “For now. However, I intend to live a good long life and when the time comes for my heir to take over heading the house, it will likely be better to skip a generation and install someone younger.”
“I would have to discuss with Father.”
“Do so. There’s certainly no rush. But you will agree to stay here at House Harahel or you will not be allowed access to any sensitive projects, most especially not the House Phel archives.”
She had him in a tight spot and she knew it. Though it wouldn’t take a mind-reader to know that Cillian desperately wanted at those archives, in part because any unsolved riddle plagued him mercilessly, but also for Alise. Alise. Who had left him without a word. He had been unkind to her in the carriage, he vaguely recalled, as if through the distortion of a fever. Perhaps he’d been worse than he remembered, hurting her enough that she didn’t care to speak with him again.
Where had she gone? Probably to House Phel. He wondered if he could find a way to message her, convince her to reconsider. Training as his grandmother’s heir would give him access to whatever communication system she was using—and agreeing to her terms would maximize his freedom.
“For how long?” he asked, then clarified. “How long would I have to remain at House Harahel?”
Lady Harahel looked almost sympathetic. “Cillian, my boy, don’t pretend to be dense. For the rest of your life.”
“But other Harahel wizards work in libraries across the Convocation,” he argued, “or in other related professions.”
“You are not just any Harahel wizard,” she replied calmly. “Even if you were not my favorite grandchild, eclipsing even my own children in my affections, I would be making this same decision. You are too soft, too sensitive for the harsh world of the Convocation. This is why the unprincipled are able to take advantage of you. Because of my affection for you, I capitulated to your wishes and allowed you to experiment with a career in the Convocation Archives. I had the idea that you might learn from the experience, gain a thicker skin, a more cynical understanding of life. That has not been the case, however, which is truly no fault of yours.”
She softened. “This is not a punishment, my boy. This is protection. You are uniquely valuable, as precious as a single edition from a rare collection. You belong in my archives, cared for, beloved, far from the ravages of the world.”
“So: forever,” he said slowly. “You want me to agree to never leave Harahel ever again. We’re back to me being imprisoned here.”
“Harahel is a big place,” she replied with impatience. “There are people in the Convocation who never leave their villages in all their lives, let alone a land as expansive and rich in varied ecosystems as all of Harahel.”
“I don’t believe it’s the size or variety of the cell that determines the level of imprisonment,” he countered.
“I disagree. Humanity is unable to leave this world. We gaze upon the stars, but cannot reach them. Does that make this entire wild and wonderful world a prison?”
“I would argue that we only currently lack the ability to leave, not that we are being arbitrarily deprived of the freedom to do so,” he answered quietly. “Whereas you, Grandmother, are proposing to limit my freedom to live my life as I wish for the entirety of it. Or until you die, at which point I wouldn’t have to abide by your rule.”
“By then you will grasp the wisdom of my strategy. Do you see me leaving Harahel lands? No. That’s not an accident and this decision is far from arbitrary, boy. I don’t need to leave and neither do you.”
“I disagree, regarding myself.”
“Why?” she shot back. “Because you long to find yet another ambitious young wizard from a high house to trample your heart and abuse your trust?”
“No.” He allowed a smile. “Just the one.”
“The one who left you,” his grandmother pointed out with asperity. “Have you so little self-respect that you wish to go running after her, panting like a desperate puppy?”
His smile faded in the face of that marked contempt. No arguing with that. And there was no point in planning his escape—for escape he eventually would—until he had the information that would be his entrée to an audience with Alise. Once he knew what the Phel archives contained, he would go to Alise and give her those secrets. That would open a conversation and they could decide where to go from there. Capitulation would be the better part of valor in this moment. He allowed his very real heartache to show through.
“I can’t believe Alise left me like that, not even knowing if I’d recovered.”
“I’m sorry, Cillian.” His grandmother unbent, sliding him a plate of cookies. “She couldn’t leave fast enough.”
“I know she doesn’t love me like I love her,” he confessed, sticking to that painful truth. “But I thought we were friends, at least.”
“This is what I’m talking about. She used and manipulated your pure feelings. A friend wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re right,” he agreed on a sigh. Then made a show of coming to a decision. “The work is important to me. I risked a great deal to locate and extract those archives, not for Alise—no matter what you may think—but because I thought the importance of restoring the integrity of those texts, of the historical record, eclipsed any concerns about my job security. Because House Harahel, and all we stand for, matters more to me than anything else.”
Lady Harahel eyed him shrewdly, no doubt reading his thoughts for the veracity of his words. He focused on the inherent truth of what he’d said. None of it was a lie.
“I am impressed by what you managed to do,” she said at last, almost grudgingly. “And I admit some of my motivation in keeping you here with me, derives from that. You achieved a feat of library magic that my best wizards have been unable to comprehend or replicate. You have displayed hidden depths that make you an enormous asset to House Harahel. I’m proud of you.” She smiled faintly. “I apologize if I failed to recognize that before.”
“And yet you require a test of loyalty from me.”
Her smile faded. “If you regard being asked to cleave to your house and homeland as a test of loyalty, then yes. You have abilities I hadn’t guessed at, my boy, which is on me. I underestimated you and allowed you to take yourself and your skills to Convocation Center. Now I must make the best choice for the house I lead, which means protecting our assets.”
“I’m a person, not an asset,” he retorted, bitterness in his voice. So much of this hurt far more than he’d expected. He’d been granted permission to cultivate a career in Convocation Archives not by an affectionate grandmother as he’d assumed, but by the head of his house who’d weighed his value and found him expendable. It was an uncomfortable irony that finding Alise, that his love for her, had been the incentive to push himself to strive for more than he’d ever imagined himself capable of accomplishing. He also hadn’t shared that Alise, herself, had literally made that feat possible. She’d inspired him, yes, but she’d also shared her magic with him.
“You are wrong, Cillian,” Lady Harahel said, not unkindly and not without a hint of regret. “You will begin to understand this as I train you to be my heir. Some high houses count their assets in their trademarks, their warehouses of produced widgets for sale, the wealth they’ve accumulated and invested. At House Harahel, our greatest asset lies in the intellect of our wizards.”
“Also in the libraries and archives we maintain,” he countered, and she accepted that with a nod.
“But the true value of what we bring is our ability to catalogue, index, read, collate, and analyze that information. And to do whatever it is that you managed to do.” She smiled again, this time warmly. “I know I’m placing difficult restrictions on you and, in time, we can revisit them if you truly wish to travel beyond Harahel. You should know that this is all because your grandmother loves you and the head of your house values you. I’m asking you to give me your time, your presence, and the gift of your wizardry.”
He believed her—and that she firmly believed in her decisions and the motivations behind them.
“Agreed,” he said, careful not to make his agreement too specific. “I’ll work on the Phel archives and take training with you.”
“And you won’t leave Harahel lands?”
“I will stay here, yes.” For now. He suppressed the though as quickly as it bubbled up, concentrating on meaning what he’d said.
She inclined her head, accepting his words. He wouldn’t make the mistake again of underestimating her. Lady Harahel would be keeping tabs on him, no doubt about it. Time to plant some seeds for the future.
“You should consider this, however,” he said, allowing himself to look as troubled as he felt. “What I managed to do with those hidden Phel archives… I did that by undoing what someone else did. Only a wizard with powerful skills and magic in Harahel proprietary archival tools would have been able to hide that volume of information and make it undetectable.”
Lady Harahel drummed her fingers on the table. “I had already thought of that and those considerations factored heavily into my decisions regarding you and my requests.”
Cillian raised his brows in mute question, not trusting himself to speak and be caustic about her choosing the word “request.” Probably extortion sounded too harsh in her mind, however accurate it might be.
“The perpetrator isn’t necessarily one of ours,” she mused. “The library magic itself isn’t damming, as those skills can crop up in any number of wizards.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “Though I concede the power and skill needed are unusual, as is access to our proprietary tools. Still—it could be an outside wizard operating with intelligence from someone within.” She leveled a stern look at him. “Perhaps in this light, you will reconsider condemning me for declining to give unnecessary access to outsiders.”
“You are wise, Grandmother,” he replied, trying to sound rueful. Instead he could only think of House Phel and how they embraced everyone who came to their door.
Which made him think of Alise, wondering if she’d gone there and what she was doing.
And if she was thinking of him.