Free Lightborn by Alison Sinclair Page B

di Studier, last evening I commissioned Lord Ferdenzil Mycene to travel down to the Borders and apprehend him.”
    Telmaine heard herself gasp. She swept Vladimer’s face with sonn, demanding explanation. His face was still and his grip on his cane, knotted. The announcement had surprised him, too, unpleasantly. She felt ill, remembering Ferdenzil Mycene, when he had paid court to her, or rather to her bloodline and properties. Herself, he had perceived as no more than a pleasing female shape and a vessel for his dynastic ambitions. She had seldom touched a man so potent and so cold.
    “I thought it more than likely Ferdenzil would take matters into his own hands,” the archduke said. “And Ishmael di Studier loose in the Borders is too much fox for any city agent. I was quite explicit that di Studier is to be returned alive, and frank in my displeasure if any harm comes to him. If he is innocent, then I wish his name cleared; if guilty, then he shall be punished by law.”
    The Duke of Mycene seemed to be examining his son’s commission like a gift of dubious providence, uncertain as to its hidden purpose or price. The Strumheller representative raised his jaw from his fist. “It might seem t’me that you do not trust Bordersmen t’respect th’law.”
    “Lord di Gruner,” the archduke said, gravely, “I trust the majority of Bordersmen to respect the law, but there are precedents when fugitive Bordersmen have been sheltered within the Borders.”
    “Aye, and northmen have hidden in the north from retribution from their crimes,” di Gruner said, in a Borders accent achingly like Ishmael’s. “Th’baron near died three times in th’cells. It needn’t be guilt that makes him shy t’return.”
    “Then set your mind at ease; he will be well protected until the truth of the charges is known.”
    “Yes,” said Vladimer, one spare word, heavy with the weight of his reputation.
    “Now, I had thought to have Superintendent Plantageter report to you on progress with the investigation of the Rivermarch fire, but decided to defer that report. In brief, the fire started simultaneously a dozen places and burned extremely fiercely. Since it started in daylight, we asked for reports from the Lightborn. There was suspicious activity near two of the locations, but it proved to be ordinary criminal activity. There is no evidence of coordinated arson.”
    “They would say that,” said Kalamay.
    “A second such incident involved a fire in a warehouse in the Lower Docks, this time at night. The warehouse had been largely unused for some time, except for illegal purposes. Again it appears that the fire started in several places at once and burned extremely fiercely.
    “A third such incident occurred this evening, on a train newly arrived at Bolingbroke Station.” He clearly did not want to mention whose train. “Fortunately, the fires were contained before great damage was done or injury sustained.”
    Claudius said slowly, “Janus, are they saying the fires were unnatural?”
    There was an uneasy, shifting silence. “I know,” the archduke said, “you find mention of magic distasteful. You do not believe it exists; it offends your piety and your sense of the order of things; it seems too much like wish fulfillment, bringing a man too easily things he should achieve only with effort or not at all. It is an invitation to corruption and a childish gratification of whim.”
    Telmaine realized she was hearing Sejanus’s own convictions. That might be said of her, whose power came so easily, but Ishmael di Studier’s magic had taken everything he had. “But there is another aspect of magic, a part that we prefer not to acknowledge: it is potentially very dangerous. An attempt—two attempts have been made on my brother’s life. And a little while ago, Vladimer received word that an attempt was made on the Lightborn prince’s life, and was successful. Isidore is dead.”
    Not a man spoke. Lightborn or no, the prince