Free Untalented by Katrina Archer Page A

Eminence,” said Loric.
    “Do you have proof of her identity?”
    “It is only a matter of time before I do.”
    “Then why come to the Order with this information now?”
    “I propose an alliance. The support of the Order in exchange for certain powers I will be in position to grant once I gain the throne.”
    “What makes you think you can unseat Urdig?” Daravela steepled her fingers.
    “Once we unmask this girl, Urdig can be made to look complicit. Failing that, he looks like a fool. Taken alone, not enough to bring him down. But combined with his reaction to a few crises I intend to manufacture …” Loric leaned forward, leaving the thought hanging. Through the window behind Daravela, he saw gray-clad Adepts sitting on the lawns below, surrounded by clusters of teaching apprentices.
    “And in return?” Daravela asked.
    “The Order gets a seat in the Great Circle of Houses. Full voting rights.”
    “And a seat for each guild.”
    “Impossible.”
    Daravela stared him down.
    Loric grimaced. The Houses would fight dilution of their power. He’d need to call in all his favors. Finally he inclined his head. “Very well. Guild seats, too. I can count on your discretion?”
    Daravela nodded. She pressed gnarled hands onto the armrests of her chair, and seemed to will herself upright. Loric studied her as she shambled to the window and her gaze settled onto the distant pink stones of the castle. All the eminences preceding her had failed in their attempts to consolidate the Order’s power after the Great Plague. Power he’d now placed within her grasp. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
    Daravela summoned her assistant. “Contact the doyenne in Adram Vale. She is to assist Lord Dorn’s inquiries and then relay all information to the Order here in U’Veyle. Any other requests regarding either Martezha Baghore or Saroya Bardan are to be deflected. Any requests. Including royal ones.”
    “You know this borders on treason,” Loric said.
    “A calculated risk. Something bothers me about this Untalent in the Roshan family line.” Daravela turned back to the assistant. “And bring me all records of House Roshan Testings for the past three generations. Tell no one.”

    Saroya scratched her nose, leaving a smear of grain dust across her cheek. She puffed a strand of hair away from her face as she poured the oats into the trough. The head groom had no use for her as a trainer, and put her to work feeding the horses and mucking out stalls, muttering “those that gets foisted on me best not expect the pretty jobs.” Saroya wasn’t yet trusted to ride, but so much tack needed cleaning, with all the leather to soap and metal bits to polish, that her day was full.
    The feeding and stalls were her job when she first rose prior to dawn. If a large party of guards returned from a long patrol, she could spend her whole day in the barn, currying, combing, and settling the animals, never seeing the sun. She’d get back to her room in the early evening, sweaty and dusted with hay or smeared with muck. Her hair absorbed a semi-permanent odor of manure and saddle soap.
    The head groom shouted at her from the door to the barn.
    “Just me luck—His Majesty returns tonight and we have no carrots. He dotes on that stallion of his … Cook says the kitchens are out as well. Go to market to fetch me a dozen.”
    What luck! Saroya treasured these excursions. She only got one free day a month, and used it to explore the city. If she was quick, she could complete her errand and visit the library without leaving him the wiser. She wiped her face with the cloth she used to polish the saddles and took the coin pouch the groom held out.
    “Don’t dawdle. You’d better account for all the coins I gave you. And behave. Your own personal … situation is bad enough—I don’t know what possessed Weeda to think taking on an Untalent was a good idea.”
    Saroya gritted her teeth. The groom’s incessant sniping wore thin. Saroya knew