“So it’s about politics?” I was surprised. Bright had always denied any interest in such things.
“Guess I’m my mother’s son after all. We need to open up to the ghosts. Trade with them. Maybe follow your mother and travel to their land. They’re a clever folk and they have lots of good inventions we could use.”
“Radical! You are your mother’s son. Still, can’t see why you would help Great Uncle out. He didn’t help you.”
“He did help me. There just wasn’t much he could do by the time he found out.”
“Really? You didn’t tell me this.”
“Hey—you drained those fields by the river. When did you do that?” asked Bright. Apparently, the subject of Great Uncle Lucient was closed.
I told him how I’d paid the peasants a small money wage to help me with the ditch digging. “Eff’s right about that. They worked so much harder for a money wage. I wish I could persuade Impi to switch from indenture farming to money. The estate would run so much better.”
“You shouldn’t be spending your money on that. You’ll need it when you leave,”
“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t leave your mother alone. She’d have no one to talk to, and you know she’d never cope with the estate.”
Immediately I’d said it, I was sorry, because Bright flushed with guilt.
“She’s got Thomas,” he retorted. “He’s trustworthy and great with numbers. If you stay here because of me I’ll never forgive myself. Or you.”
“No, Bright. Really. I’m not staying because of you. I... haven’t decided what to do.”
This was an arrant lie. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Just before Bright had been disinherited, I’d accepted an apprenticeship with a merchant friend of Eff’s and was already packing to go on my first trading journey along the Spice Road. My noble family would never have stood for one of their own going into trade, but Eff and I hoped that I’d be away across the sea before they knew anything about it. I’d even bought a journal, intending to write a really exciting travel book like the ones I was addicted to. The apprenticeship was still a possibility and I longed to go, but I knew I wouldn’t.
After Bright had been disgraced and left us for the frontier, Eff had gone to bed for days. Her correspondence had gone unread, her students at the peasant school had gone untaught, she’d even stopped eating. She was better now, though still inclined to wander sleeplessly about the house at night. No way was I abandoning her when Bright was so far away.
The trees opened out to reveal the final stretch of driveway up to the manor house.
“Willow-in-the-Mist!” Bright sighed. “I love this place.”
I shot him a startled look. As children, we had talked incessantly about getting away from here and going somewhere exciting.
“You’ve no idea what a lovely place this is till you’ve left it,” he said.
Willow-in-the-Mist was pretty. The original towering six-storey stone eyrie, the traditional sort of dwelling for mages, was almost seven centuries old, built in the time of Civilising when mages first settled in this country. About two centuries ago, some surprisingly capable member of the family had added a long double storey wing so that the mundane members of the family didn’t have to climb endless flights of stairs to get to their bedchambers. She’d built a deep summer veranda along the front using similar coloured stone so that the whole place had weathered to a warm tan colour. It was one of the most graceful and comfortable manor houses in the district, enhanced by the delicate tendrils of wistful vine that covered it and the backdrop of orchards, forest and the jutting peaks of the Secret Mountains.
In the olden days, members of the family had retired here annually to escape the summer heat of Elayison, but during my lifetime they’d always preferred to go to the coast. Ladybless! At least we only had to put up with them for short, infrequent visits.
“I shouldn’t say that sort of stuff,” said Bright. “I’m still hoping you’ll come up to the frontier and join my regiment. I could get you a good position in the quartermaster’s office. We could really use someone organized. I could be Uncle when you started your family. The way we always planned.”
That old dream.
“Thanks for the offer, cousin dear, but to be honest, burying myself in some dusty little military outpost isn’t my idea of seeing the world,” I said.
“You’re sure that’s what it is?” he asked. His face was pinched and the phaeton jerked to a stop and thudded to the ground as he turned to me. “Your sons would be perfectly safe. I’m not what they say.”
“Bright, how could you even think such a thing?” I was shocked and hurt. Then understanding dawned. During the scandal and the disinheritance, family members had said outrageously horrible things about him. Clearly they’d said them to his face as well.
“I’d never... Of course I trust you,” I put my arms around him and gave him a good hard squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Look, I could ask for no better Uncle for my children, but I want... I’m not ready to settle down. And don’t say you’ll wait for me. If you find someone else who wants you to act as Uncle, go ahead.”
My words seemed to reassure him. The phaeton rose into the air and continued its onward course.
“I can’t see that happening,” he said, smiling wryly. “Not to me. Now look, promise me you’re not staying here. They’re never going to pay you, you know. As long as you run this place for free, Impi will let you. You ought to stop. Let the place go to pieces. Go on strike the way Mother’s friends are always saying people should. They’d have to hire someone and they’d stop taking you for granted.”
“Oh, Bright, you know I can’t do that. The peasants rely on the place. I couldn’t bear to see them go hungry.”
“Well, promise me...”
“I promise, I promise. Give me time to work something out.”
“If you start your family here, you’ll get stuck and you’ll always be at their mercy,” muttered Bright darkly, as we reached the house.
Servants had been hanging out of all the windows watching us come up the driveway. As we reached the stairs, a couple of footmen ran down to meet us. They looked remarkably fine in the tight trousers and low cut jackets of their Blessing uniforms.
“Hmm, nice,” murmured Bright, appreciatively. “Graceson, see to the luggage, will you?” A couple of flustered-looking stablehands rushed round the side of the house dragging a chariot cart. Clearly they’d been caught on the hop without enough time to harness horses to it.
“Take it away,” called Bright. “I’m not staying long. Merely a flying Blessing visit.” He climbed out of the phaeton. As he landed on the ground, he staggered and slumped back against the blue side panel with a huff of exhaustion. His face gleamed with sweat.
“Bright, how long have you been driving?”
“All night.”
I was impressed. For a lone male mage to carry himself and a phaeton for so long was quite a feat. No wonder Bright was exhausted. Mages, especially males, usually marshalled their power by sharing a long journey with another mage and taking regular rest breaks.