The Tijervyn Chronicles
Chapter Four

story by
Richard Fife

art by
April Herron

Chapter Four: “The Meister’s Daughter”

Maaike took a deep breath and gained her composure, then walked into the salon. Numerous lords and ladies, not to mention their attendants, filled the large room, which should have been called a ballroom or hall instead of salon. People in the big cities always felt they had to make everything sound smaller than it really was.

She spotted Prince Dorian quickly and was somewhat disappointed in the size of the crowd around him. If it was not for the white suit he wore and the small circlet on his head, she might not have realized it was him. He could have been any other courtier, and not even an exceptionally pretty one.

Elsewhere in the room, she saw at least four other larger groups that were centered on other nobles, all of which looked far more grand than the prince. To her surprise, one of those groups surrounded the Sunset Count.

She was tempted to join Jaeger’s discussion. She could, seeing as he had greeted her at the dock yesterday, not to mention Duke Tonniger was in the crowd as well. But she was the prince’s guest, and she had yet to even see him since her arrival. Snubbing him, even if he was not apparently the most influential man in court, would not be wise. After all, influence was not the only measure of power.

She approached the group and curtsied. “My prince.”

Dorian looked at her in confusion for a moment then smiled. “Ah, my Lady Kanadis, of course. I’m so sorry I was unable to meet you at the docks. Affairs of state held my attention, else I would have been there.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” she said. “Count Jaeger and Duke Tonniger gave me an adequate greeting, though, and the rooms you had prepared are more than adequate.”

The prince smiled absently then turned to listen to what someone else was saying, and a lady next to Maaike smiled and turned to her.

“So, you’re Baroness Kanadis’s heiress?” she said. “A pleasure, I’m sure. I’m Becka DeRosa.”

Maaike smiled and nodded. “DeRosa? I can’t say I’ve heard of that house.”

Becka’s smile slipped only a hair. “We’re minor nobles here in town, although Count Jaeger is actually my uncle, not that he’s allowed to acknowledge it.”

“But of course,” Maaike said. “I must say, I’m glad only men can be appointed to the position. I cannot imagine giving up my family ties like the Sunset Count must.”

“He’s a man of duty,” Becka said. “He actually petitioned to be appointed to the position, wouldn’t you know. But still, he never did have a flair for adventure or travel, not like I’ve heard you do, my Lady. Is it true that you arrived on an Adervynian airship?”

“Yes, a gift from Duke Gerra.”

“I knew it!” Becka grinned in a very unladylike way and turned to another woman nearby. “Did you hear that, Ariel? I knew that was an Adervynian ship we saw yesterday.”

The other woman sighed. “I never said it wasn’t, Becka. I merely said that High Meister Barak could make better.”

“Hardly,” Becka said. “As I hear it, Adervyn’s High Meister did more than make revenants. His hands were in everything.”

“Adervyn doesn’t have a High Meister,” Maaike said. “In fact, they don’t even have a Meisters’ Guild. But, if they did, I am sure Quintin Lazris would fill the role. The man is a genius.”

Ariel scoffed. “A madman is more like it, what with those monsters he made. Tesma would never create such abominations.”

Becka’s eyes were wide. “Do you know Meister Lazris?”

“I met him in passing a few times,” Maaike said. “When I visited the Cloister. I also met Adervyn’s top general, Jareth Traval.”

Both women gasped slightly, and Ariel leaned in. “After he was . . . ?”

“Made into the first revenant?” Maaike smiled a hair when they flinched. “No, actually. After Lazris saved his life, General Traval stayed away from the city. I did meet several other revenants, though.” She paused and smiled more fully. “And I’m sorry, but we haven’t been properly introduced.”

Becka squeaked. “Oh, I’m sorry, my Lady. This is Ariel Dunny. Her father is a Lord under Duke Tonniger. Ariel, this is Lady Maaike Kanadis, the heiress to the Barony.”

They exchanged a few inane niceties, and then Maaike allowed the discussion to go where the two women would take it, from the gossip of lesser nobles to their presumptions at power. She watched the prince from the corner of her eye, but she saw no easy opportunity to shear away from the drivel, and then something caught her attention.

“Did you say rebels?”

The two women looked at Maaike in confusion for a moment. Becka tittered. “Oh, of course, you’ve been out of the country for so long, and in Adervyn besides, you must not know. Yes, there are rebels plotting against the king. Sunset House can’t prove it yet, but Jaeger has told me he’s certain they’re behind the riots and protests.”

“Jaeger needs to stop looking for conspiracies and focus on real crime,” Ariel said. “Why, just last night, my manor was broken into by a band of rag-tag thieves while we were away at the opera.”

Becka gasped. “Oh, you poor thing. Did they take anything irreplaceable?”

Ariel smiled. “Not a thing, as it happens. They made it to our secure rooms, but then our security stopped them. One of them was left behind so badly wounded, I think he died. At least he was hit with one of Tesma’s shockrods, so he didn’t get any blood on anything.”

“Pardon,” Maaike said. “I can’t help but notice the familiar way you speak of the High Meister. Do you know him?”

Ariel laughed. “My family was one of the few to support him in his early days here in Tijervyn, so you might say that. Why, Becka and I are going on an outing with his daughter, Qristina, this afternoon.”

Maaike forgot about the prince and gave Ariel her full focus. The prince had never been her real goal anyway, even more so now that she had a feeling for how unstable the monarchy really was. Still, she knew he had some connection to the High Meister, so he had been a place to start. But, perhaps she could bypass the prince entirely.

“What is he like,” Maaike said. “The High Meister?”

Ariel pursed her lips in thought. “He is . . . intense. When he’s talking to you, it’s almost overwhelming, even if he seems to only be half listening. It’s like he can hear things we can’t, perhaps the very secrets of the universe, and he can never stop listening.”

“Was Lazris like that?” Becka said.

“Quintin?” Maaike said. “Oh, no. If you didn’t know who you were talking to, you might think you’d found some old, forgotten grandfather. He was prone thoughtful silences, but nothing like what Ariel just described. Of course, Lazris also was hardly the kind of man to be able to rise up to such a prominent position as Tesma has. Why, even after I found out who he was, I’d have thought Quintin would’ve always preferred to just tinker in his workshop than deal in the halls of power.”

“Oh.” Becka looked down for a moment then perked back up. “Wait, I know, why don’t you come with us on our outing with Qristina? I mean, Lazris is surely a contemporary to the High Meister. I’m sure you’d find it interesting.” She turned to Ariel. “Would that be alright with you?”

Ariel shrugged. “I don’t see why not, provided you aren’t already engaged for the afternoon, my Lady.”

Maaike kept her smile restrained, a mere curl at the tips of her lips. “I would be honored. It is always a pleasure to meet new and interesting people.”

“Then there it is,” Becka said. “We’re taking a carriage over just after lunch. Meet us in the main courtyard?”

“Of course,” Maaike said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

* * *

Despite the pallet consisting of little more than some old straw and a worn blanket, the bustle of morning in The Hole did not wake Markus. It was not until someone actually started screaming out in the common room that he came to and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and realize just how noisy it had been before.

“You promised me, Bryon!” Was that Kira screaming? “I don’t want to hear technically or realistically. You said you wouldn’t—”

“Kira!” That was Gavrial. He was having to shout just to be heard over her. “Leave off. He’s fine, and he asked to go. And honestly—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Gavrial.” There was a moment of silence, and then she let out a wordless screech of exasperation.

Markus pulled himself out from under his blanket and poked his head out into the hallway. From the sound of it, they had been screaming in the front room, but now there were only children running a few morning chores before they went out on the streets.

He slipped into his coat and went to the lavatory to relieve himself and fetch some water in his tin pot. By the time he had finished refilling his tank, most of the urchins had left, and Gust was the only one in the front room, and when Markus greeted him, he only received a cold glare in return.

He went back to the dining area, and there he saw Kira sitting at one table by herself and Gavrial and Vlad were at another on the other side of the room. The two men stopped their conversation long enough to nod as Markus entered, and Kira gave him a worried frown. He went to the back, where Cook gave him some stale bread and a bowl of porridge, then went over and sat across from Kira.

“What was that about,” Markus said. “All the screaming?”

Kira spared a glower for Gavrial’s back. “Bryon promised me he wasn’t going to ask you to do any work until I had a chance to talk to you. Oh, he claims he never actually promised, but he might as well have.”

“He didn’t ask,” Markus said. “I offered.”

“He still shouldn’t have. I love him like a father, but sometimes the way he can talk out of both sides of his mouth make me want to strangle him.” She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Markus said. “Not a scratch or dent, surprisingly. I was half expecting to break something, jumping from the roof like I did.”

She shook her head then looked at him wide-eyed. “Wait, you jumped off the roof? And you’re not hurt?”

“Well, I caught the wall, so I didn’t really fall all the way,” Markus said.

She leaned back in her chair. “Gavrial said you saved his life, but he didn’t say anything about jumping off a roof.”

Markus rubbed his right arm self-consciously. Not only had he fallen back into the habit of skulking in the night easily, he also seemed to have forgotten that his being a cyborg was still something of a novelty to The Hole. Not to mention they still didn’t know exactly how much of him was mechanical.

“I just did what I had to do,” he said. “Gavrial said we’d been sold out, and then there was that man that killed Jak. In all honestly, we all probably should have died. It was dumb luck that got us out.”

“Never discount dumb luck,” Gavrial said from behind him. He and Vlad sat down at the table.

Kira scowled at the large man. “Don’t count on it, either.”

“Kira,” Vlad said. “You’re tense. You need to stop worrying. I should teach you the Rasputnik Mind State. It would really help you, I think. And, if it doesn’t you can always just have a drink.”

“Keep that rotten potato juice to yourself,” Kira said. “And I’ll pass on the lessons, Vlad.”

“Good, more Vladka for me,” Gavrial said.

Kira groaned. “Don’t use his name for it. It’ll only encourage him.”

Vlad grinned and turned to Markus. “What about you? Want a drink?”

“Hey now,” Gavrial said. “Don’t give him that stuff. Might break his parts.”

“You’re just trying to hog it,” Vlad said. “But look at me, I want to share. That’s how we do it in Rasputnik.”

“That’s alright,” Markus said. “I’ll pass on the drink. But, for the record, getting drunk doesn’t do anything more to a halfman than it does to a wholman.”

“Is that so?” Gavrial rubbed his chin. “Hey, look, I’m really thankful for you saving my life last night, and I know you you’re kind of shy about it, but, well . . . .”

“How much of me is mechanical?” Markus said.

“Yeah.”

Markus rubbed his arm again. For as much as he did not want to tell them, they did probably have a right to know. If he was going to stay with them, at least. He took a deep breath.

“My entire right arm, including the shoulder,” he said. “Both my legs through the hips. Part of the right side of my body, and most of heart.”

The others stared at him quietly, Gavrial as if he was just looking at Markus for the first time, Vlad in wonder, and Kira in shock. Markus then took off his glove, revealing his mechanical hand. Overlapping brass plates hid most of the internal workings, but at the joints, one could see tiny gears and springs, hoses and hinges.

“It all runs off steam,” he said. “Not like a normal steam engine, but off the heat and pressure in my tank. The hotter the steam, the less it takes to run the machinery.”

“Well,” Gavrial said. “That’s, um . . . .”

“It’s beautiful,” Kira said. “I’ve never see craftsmanship like that, even from the stuff Gavrial cons out of the meisters.”

“Quintin Lazris himself worked on me,” Markus said. “I was one of the first halfmen made, but he did experiment with doing more than just replacing missing limbs with me.”

To demonstrate, he worked the switch on the back of his hand, popping out the lockpick from his index finger and a glass cutter from his middle finger.

“Wait, Lazris?” Vlad said. “But he worked for Adervyn. How’d—?”

“It’s complicated,” Markus said. “I wasn’t a traitor, though, so just forget that thought.”

“Never said you were,” Gavrial said. “But thanks for letting us know. Any other useful features, like those lockpicks?”

“My legs have some places in them to hide things, like documents or a gun,” Markus said. “And I have a few files in my forearm, and there’s a grappling hook in my leg that I can attach to my arm. Otherwise, all of it is just designed to make me stronger.”

“It’s like they wanted you to be a thief,” Kira said.

“Quintin was, well, unique.”

“Right. Thanks for letting us know, and we promise not to spread it around, right?” Gavrial gave a meaningful look to the others. “Now, finish eating, we need to get over to Tesma’s tower.”

Markus blinked. “Why are we going there?”

“I have an in with one of the meisters,” Gavrial said. “I want to go find out what that was we fought last night. Kira, Vlad, you coming?”

Vlad shook his head. “Not me. Those meisters send chills up my spine. I’ll go work the bridge with Margot. Least she will only likely put a knife in my ribs, not—” He looked at Markus and coughed. “Right.”

“I’ll come,” Kira said.

“Right,” Gavrial said. “I’m going to get a few things from my room. See you up front.”

Markus gave his food his full attention. At least this time Gavrial had given him the chance to eat before they left, but that did not mean Markus would take his time. They would be waiting on him; Kira had already finished her meal before he showed up. Gavrial had hardly left the room by the time Markus had finished.

“Hungry?” Kira said.

“Not anymore,” Markus said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Tesma’s tower looked even more formidable up close. It still had the faintest blue glow to it, almost more of an impression that it should be glowing. The compound itself, a massive thing that covered the space of several city blocks, was surrounded by a tall, black wall that was lined with stone spikes. There was only a single gate in, but it was open, and in fact a fair amount of traffic was coming and going into the complex. On the arch above the gate, the words “Meisters’ Guild” were carved large enough to be seeing a block away.

“What do they need with all this space, anyway?” Markus said. “When I left, the meisters had a medium size mansion in the royal district, and that seemed to do them fine.”

“Oh, they use it,” Gavrial said. “You’ll see when we get to Torbit’s workshop. He’s only a minor meister, but he still takes up a space as large as The Hole to himself.”

Gavrial led them through the gates and deeper into the compound. Men and women in simple work clothes darted all about, but it was easy to tell who was a meister, and how highly ranked they were, by the emblazoned bracers they wore on their left arms. None of them seemed to care that three fairly ragged looking people were walking in the middle of their enclave, but then again, there were plenty of other people not wearing the bracers as well.

The building Gavrial eventually led them two was butted up against the large watermill. Out in the river, Markus could just see the massive waterwheels churning in the flow of the Sygrid River, and again he wondered what the meisters needed them for.

They went inside and immediately turned off the main hall into a large, cluttered workshop. Wires, coils of metal, and enamel covered cylinders were scattered about numerous benches, but so were more reasonable contraptions, such as clockwork machinations, although Markus still had no clue as to what they did. One corner of the workshop had a device that filled from ceiling to floor and looked like an only slightly ordered jumble of gears. In the middle of all this mess as a scrawny, brown-haired man with slightly over-sized ears and a smudged, leather apron, and a stout, short man with black hair and an even dirtier apron.

“Torbit!” Gavrial said. “I need to talk to you.”

The scrawny man looked up from his work. “Thrust? What are you doing here? You know you just can’t come barging in!”

“I can when I barely escaped with my life because you didn’t tell me something I needed to know,” Gavrial said.

“Calm down Gavrial,” the other meister said. “What’s this about?”

“I’ll tell you what it’s about, Jasyn,” Gavrial said. “Last night, I was nearly killed by one of your toys!”

“I somehow doubt it was one of ours in particular,” Jasyn said. “And I also doubt you were just minding your own business when it happened.”

Kira walked over to Jasyn. “Ignore the oaf, but we are curious about something. Do you know about a gadget that stops bullets?”

“The shockshield?” Torbit said. “That’s—”

Jasyn silenced Torbit with a glare. “There’s a device in the works. But neither of us is on that project. In fact, we aren’t even supposed to know about it. I’m curious how some people do.” He gave Torbit another glare.

“I heard some of the higher meisters chatting about it,” Torbit said. “That’s all.”

“Sure,” Jasyn said. “Anyway, it isn’t ready, as far as I know. As I hear it, Tesma himself is working on that project. Whatever you saw, it couldn’t have been that.”

“It’s ready enough,” Markus said. “We were shooting at that man point blank, and each time there was a blue flash and he wasn’t shot. And, he was wearing a meister’s bracer.”

Jasyn looked at Markus. “And who might you be?”

“New recruit,” Gavrial said. “Saved my life last night, and saw this shockshield of yours that isn’t supposed to work.”

“A meister’s bracer, eh?” Jasyn said. “Did you get a look at the emblem on it?”

Markus shook his head. “It didn’t have one”

Torbit and Jasyn shared a look, and Jasyn frowned. “It wasn’t a meister’s bracer then.”

“What was that about?” Gavrial said. “You two know something you aren’t sharing.”

Torbit wringed his hands. “Oh, um, well—”

“Gavrial,” Jasyn said. “I like you. You’re fun to drink with, and you can tell a raunchy story. But don’t think you can just come in here and act like we owe you something. We aren’t even supposed to deal with you as it is. Now, do you have any real business besides trying to act like our boss?”

Gavrial grunted and pulled out a large gun, or at least Markus assumed it was a gun from the shape. It was not exactly like any weapon he’d seen before. For one, he had no clue where the bullets went in.

“This jammed up on me,” Gavrial said. “Can you fix it?”

Torbit, who looked rather relieved for the change of subject, took the gun and looked it over. “Hmm, looks like the action just got filthy. I know you live in the dirt, Gavrial, but don’t you ever clean this thing?”

“He can’t remember to clean himself,” Kira said. “What makes you think he’ll clean a gun that he probably couldn’t even put back together afterwards?”

Gavrial glowered at her, and Jasyn snorted a laugh. “Careful there, Kira. He might knock you out. With his stench, I’m sure, but still.”

“I don’t see the point in cleaning if you’re just going to get dirty again,” Gavrial said. “What about you, Markus? Surely baths were few and far between out on the battlefield.”

“Oh, you’re a soldier?” Jasyn said.

“Was,” Markus said. “And actually, Gavrial, I bathed fairly often in the field. It’s amazing how a good scrubbing can keep a person in good working order.”

“Oh,” Torbit said.

“Oh?” Markus looked at Torbit for a moment before he realized the man was not even paying attention to the conversation. His focus was on the gun.

Jasyn opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when he heard the sharp clack of heeled boots out in the hallway. A moment later, a slender woman walked in and looked the entire shop over. She wore a finer dress, the kind nobles might have for an outing, but she also had the bracer of a meister on her arm. From the look of the sigil, she was extremely high ranked.

“What’s this, now?”

Jasyn, who had a decently complex sigil on his bracer, looked like he wanted to squeak. Torbit, whose sigil was little more a few lines, did.

“Meister,” Jasyn said. “These are just some porters that we know. They came to see if we had any work for them.”

The woman looked each of them over in turn. Gavrial earned an approving smile from her, or perhaps it was amused, but it quickly disappeared when she looked at Kira. Kira, for her part, returned the scowl pound for pound. When the woman’s gaze landed Markus, her eyes slightly widened then gained an almost predatory cast to them.

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen a porter company such as this,” the woman said. “But no matter. Tesma has been looking for you, Jasyn. He says the output is noticeably down, and is curious as to why. Somehow, I feel I shouldn’t be surprised to find the mill-master down in a novice’s workshop.”

“I was helping Torbit out,” Jasyn said. “The Sub-meister should have been able to handle anything in the small amount of time I’ve been gone.”

“We’ve been looking for you since this morning,” the woman said.

Jasyn scratched his head. “What time is it?”

“After lunch,” she said.

Jasyn paled slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Meister. I’ll return to the millhouse and see if I can find out what’s wrong.”

“You do that.” She turned to Torbit as Jasyn left. “And you, I want to receive a report on your projects later today. I’d ask for it now, but I have other pressing business. Come to my office after dinner.”

“Tonight?” Torbit said. “But, Meister, I don’t, I mean, that is—”

“You will be at my office on time and prepared,” the woman said. “I would hate to see you end up a failure like your brother.”

Torbit paled more than Jasyn did. “Yes, Meister.”

The woman gave them another look-over, and Markus would swear her eyes lingered on him longer than the others, and then she left. The workshop stood in silence for quite some time before Markus finally spoke.

“Who was that?”

“That,” Torbit said. “Is Qristina Barak, Tesma’s daughter. And she wants a report from me? Tonight? I don’t know whether to jump for joy or into the river.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gavrial said. “Fix that gun?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Torbit handed the reconstructed weapon back to Gavrial. “Anything else?”

“Can you tell us anything more about those shockshields?” Gavrial said.

Torbit paled again and shook his head. “No, Gavrial. No! I’m serious. I don’t know anything more than Jasyn already told you. They aren’t supposed to be working yet, but it’s all super hush-hush. Mums the word and all that.”

“Alright.” Gavrial pulled out a few bills and pushed them into Torbit’s hand. “Thanks for the work. Come on, you two. Let’s go.”

* * *

Maaike conversed with Ariel and Becka without really hearing what they were saying, or even what she was. In Voxfeld, she had quickly mastered the art of knowing how to say just enough to be in a conversation without having to really pay attention. It freed her mind for more important things, like considering what she was going to say to Qristina when she met her.

She had tried to get some feel for the High Meister’s daughter from her two companions, but they were vague at best and contradictory at worst. She was a brilliant meister, yet neither could name anything in particular that Qristina had made. She was nothing like her dad, yet she was exactly like him. Not having any clue made it harder to plan her words, but not impossible.

When she had been in Adervyn, Maaike had arrived as an unimportant noble that everyone assumed was from Voxfeld, and she had left to a grand ceremony in Duke Gerra’s personal airship, a gift. If only she could have predicted the war, or else she would not have spent all her time there. As it turned out, all of the strong political ties she had developed there would do nothing to help her now, or her estate.

Well, there was the other souvenir she had taken from the city. He was in Tijervyn, hiding and waiting, but she would prefer to not have to use that particular trump card unless she had to. That one would have to be played most carefully, else it would just explode in her face much like a dirigible that had been hit by artillery fire. And that was why she had not brought him, even disguised, on the airship. He was close enough if she had need, but not too close to burn her if he was discovered.

By the time the carriage arrived at the Meisters’ Guild, Maaike had planned out several different possible ways to ingratiate herself to Qristina and form a tie to the meisters, and she was fairly sure she had spoken about the high fashion in Voxfeld and Adervyn, as well as had made non-committal responses about the eligible bachelors in court.

They came to a stop in front of the main building in the complex, and Maaike took a deep breath and collected herself while the other two women were maneuvering their dresses out of the carriage. She would succeed, she knew it. Kanadis was on the edge of ruin from her inept mother’s handling, but she would bring it back with an alliance from the meisters. And the meisters would gain, or at least would think they did, from the alliance as well.

As she stepped out of the carriage, a willowy woman in a narrow dress and wearing a meister’s bracer was descending the steps from the tower and coolly greeting Ariel and Becka. When the woman saw Maaike, a ghost of a smile touched her lips.

“And if this isn’t just a day for surprises,” the woman said. “Ariel, who have you brought along?”

“Qristina, this is Maaike Kanadis,” Ariel said. “She just flew in yesterday from—”

“Adervyn,” Qristina said. “Yes, I saw the ship. Kanadis, you say? What brings you to the capital?”

“Well, Prince Dorian invited me to attend court,” Maaike said. “But, aside from that, I’m looking to make some new trade arrangements for Kanadis.”

“Trade?” Qristina laughed. “And what could a backwater, snow-covered province like Kanadis offer? Right now, it’s the southern goods that are in demand, what with how the war had choked the trade from that direction.”

“Kanadis has many untapped resources,” Maaike said. “In fact, I think the Meisters’ Guild might be wise to investigate the unseen wealth to the north. With the right technologies, it would be profitable for both the holders of resources and the ones who could bring them out.”

Qristina frowned and turned to Ariel. “I could see some interest in spending a day with a backwater bumpkin, Ariel, but you know it vexes me when people pretend to have knowledge.”

Maaike forced herself to not respond to the insult. “I am hardly pretending, Meister. I studied for many years in the universities of Voxfeld, and then I spent quite some time in the courts of Adervyn, even during the war.”

“Oh, forgive me,” Qristina said. “A foreign backwater bumpkin.”

“You insult me,” Maaike said. “I can see no reason to it. I think you’d find me pleasant enough conversation, perhaps even stimulating. Why, in Adervyn, I often conversed with Quintin Lazris, and—”

Red filled Maaike’s sight, and it took a moment for her to realize that Qristina had slapped her. How had she moved so fast?

“Do not say that name in my father’s house,” Qristina said.

Maaike touched a hand to her cheek. “You . . . you struck me? Peasant! How dare you strike me? I’m the heiress to a duchy! I could see you hanged for this!”

As Maaike spoke, she noticed the embarrassed looks on Ariel and Becka’s faces. Qristina appeared wholly unimpressed.

“I’d like to see you try,” Qristina said. “Ariel, I’m sorry, but my temper has soured. I don’t think I’ll be coming on our outing today. Perhaps we can reschedule for later this week. And, when you leave, please take your odd idea of entertainment with you.”

Ariel demurred, and Qristina went back inside, leaving the three of them standing in the courtyard. The other women mutely returned to the carriage, and Maaike followed them, blustering.

“She wants to see me try, does she? Once I tell Prince Dorian about this—”

“Don’t,” Becka said. “It’ll only further embarrass you. Ariel and I will forget what happened today. Just forget it yourself, and it’ll be for the best.”

“But she’s a commoner,” Maaike said. “I haven’t been gone so long that the laws have been rewritten that commoners can strike nobles, have I?”

“She’s the High Meister’s daughter,” Ariel said. “And the highest ranking meister in the country under him. Nothing will come of it; Becka is right. Just forget it. It’s our fault. I thought we had warned you about saying Lazris’s name.”

Ariel bit her lip and looked at her hands in her lap, and Becka just watched the city roll past. Maaike stopped protesting, but she would not forget. She knew the meisters would be powerful, but that they stood on equal footing to nobility was unexpected. And if Qristina was so brazen that she did not even care be civil to a future duchess, then she was too powerful.

At that moment, Maaike made a decision. She would not strive to seek an alliance with the meisters. No, she would instead engineer their fall and help return the power in the city back to its rightful place: the nobility. And then, once order was restored, they would all know who had led them. Kanadis would be saved. One way or the other.