The Dog of the North (9 page)

Guigot smirked. ‘Let her. Your endless catechisms bore me. Even timid Oricien threatens you. We have heard enough of your cant.’

Siedra sniggered. Arren looked on. Sleech’s lessons were tedious, and his doctrines difficult to master, but he had the ear of Lady Jilka. They had not heard the last of the matter.

7

That night all four children were summoned to Lord Thaume’s chambers. From behind his heavy desk he looked up with a dark face. In passing, Arren noticed the spartan
aspect of the room. There was not a picture of an ancestor to be seen.

‘Sit down,’ he said briskly. ‘Lady Jilka has brought me reports that I have not enjoyed hearing. Last night you consorted with rogues and harlots in a low tavern; today you
mocked and abused Viator Sleech. I intend to impose punishments. Tomorrow you will also be making the acquaintance of a new tutor.’

‘Is Viator Sleech to leave us?’ asked Guigot with a smirk.

‘Whatever punishments I decree, yours will be the heaviest, Guigot,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘Your guilt has been the most manifest. Viator Sleech has, at the express request of Lady
Jilka and myself, consented to stay and continue your education, which most clearly is needed. You will meet your new tutor soon.’

‘Oricien, I understand the spirit behind your remarks to Viator Sleech. Your sentiments in themselves were not blameworthy, but Viator Sleech represents the Way of Harmony, and his person
deserves respect. Siedra, Arren, your behaviour was not in itself at fault, but you contributed to the atmosphere in which it took place.

‘Guigot, you are to have six lashes of the whip; Oricien, three lashes. Siedra and Arren, you are to eat only bread and water for the next week, in which you will be joined by Guigot and
Oricien. The four of you will apologize in person to Viator Sleech. I will administer the whippings myself at dawn. That will be all.’

8

As Arren settled in to life at the castle, time began to pass more quickly. He made good progress with his lessons, especially combat and mathematics. Relations between
Oricien and Guigot worsened, and Arren, who had hoped to befriend Guigot as another outsider, found himself rebuffed at every turn. Oricien proved less hostile and the two boys began to drill
together outside of lessons. Siedra remained suspicious of Arren’s low birth, but as her detestation for Guigot grew she became more willing to treat Arren with civility. On occasion he was
also able to slip out, ostensibly to the Viatory, and meet Eilla.

The new tutor Lord Thaume had brought in was called Master Pinch. To the children’s wonder he was to teach them thaumaturgy.

‘Well, then,’ he said on the morning they were introduced, ‘who can tell me what thaumaturgy is?’

Arren looked at Master Pinch in amazement. Rather than standing in front of the class, he leaned against the window-sill with his arms crossed in a quizzical pose. Only his blue eyes, sleepy yet
wary, hinted at concealed powers. His plentiful hair was moon-white but his face was unlined, neither young nor old. Was he thirty, sixty, a thousand? Arren could not tell.

Guigot raised his hand. ‘It is the working of marvels, miracles and magic. It is abominated by the viators.’

Pinch smiled. ‘You are correct in the first point,’ he said in a soft voice with an accent Arren could not place. ‘As to the second, opinions differ. Some hold that the
thaumaturge can never approach Harmony, by virtue of his activities, others that he may achieve Harmony the same as any other man: with toil, good luck and the intervention of the viators. I myself
never trouble to think about the matter. Do not tell the viators I said so, but the most important thing is for a man to have food in his belly. If he starves to death, what then of
Harmony?’

Guigot grinned.

‘Is a thaumaturge a magician?’ asked Siedra.

‘Yes and no. “Magic” most specifically refers to manipulation of the Unseen Dimensions. A thaumaturge who cannot perform at least some such manipulations is a poor fellow, a
charlatan or mountebank.’ He unfolded his arms and paced the room. ‘But many of the effects a thaumaturge employs require no magic at all. You see this locket, Lady Siedra?’

‘It is the twin to the one I wear at my neck!’

‘Wrong, my lady.’

Siedra gasped. Her hand went to her neck and found her locket gone.

‘Strictly speaking,’ said Pinch, ‘that was not magic. Using techniques I will not outline, I was able to remove the item by directing your attention elsewhere.’

Oricien looked up. ‘Surely this was not thaumaturgy, but common theft. Footpads in the marketplace achieve as much.’

‘Just so. If I could only do such tricks, I would be no thaumaturge. In fact, I could have achieved the same end through a simple cantrap, which is more the kind of sorcery you would
expect.’

‘Why did you not do so, then?’ asked Oricien.

‘Simple. The manipulation of the Unseen Dimensions is not without cost. The exercise of the skill is draining, and if I can achieve a similar effect through other means, I will do so.
There is a valuable lesson for you all in this, which I hope you are able to see.’

‘Will you teach us actual, practical thaumaturgy?’ asked Guigot, leaning forward in his seat.

Pinch chuckled. ‘Such a course would be inadvisable, even if feasible, which it is not. The essential gift of thaumaturgy cannot be learned, although it can be trained if the subject has a
latency.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Siedra, ‘one or more of us has a latent gift.’

‘You do not,’ said Master Pinch. ‘I can assure you of that. I can, and will, teach you some of the charlatan’s tricks, legerdemain and the like. But you will never be
thaumaturges.’

9

The reason for Master Pinch’s presence became apparent as the weeks unfolded. The sporadic war with the Northern Reach was entering an active phase. Lord Thaume had
received intelligence that Tardolio, the young Summer King of Mettingloom, was planning an assault on Croad. Lord Thaume had sent to his overlord, Duke Panarre of Lynnoc, for assistance, but he
thought also to hedge his bets by engaging the services of a thaumaturge. In this he was wise, since Panarre declined to send troops to Thaume’s assistance. He compensated by sending his good
wishes and sage advice: ‘Do not be affrighted by rumours from the North. They are as common as flatulence, and as enduring. In the unlikely event of attack, these dogs will scatter at the
sight of cold steel.’

Lord Thaume read Panarre’s letter to his council and threw it down. ‘He wishes Croad to come under attack,’ he said. ‘Then King Arren must supply him with troops and
money to defend us, and he will gain glory without the need to exert or impoverish himself. Do any of you disagree?’

He looked around the room, panelled in that gloomy dignity which was his hallmark. His advisers comprised Master Pinch, Darrien as Captain of the Guard, Sir Langlan and Thaume’s cousin Sir
Artingaume. A more formal body existed, but Lord Thaume disdained the military advice of the traders and guildsmen who comprised it. He had also taken to bringing Oricien, Guigot and Arren to his
deliberations, that they might begin to learn the business of statecraft.

Pinch responded to Lord Thaume’s assessment. ‘You cannot look to Lynnoc for succour,’ he said. ‘In the circumstances you are limited to looking to your walls, and you may
wish to consider some form of negotiation with Tardolio.’

‘Never!’ said Sir Langlan. ‘It is inconceivable that we should treat with brigands.’

‘They are only brigands once they enter Emmen,’ said Pinch. ‘The time to negotiate is now, before an assault is launched. Why do you not approach the Winter King? The way to
deal with Mettingloom has always been simple, if you would follow it: play off the Summer and Winter Kings against each other. Fanrolio has no appetite for a protracted war.’

Sir Artingaume, bluff and gruff, shook his head. ‘You have forgotten, Master Pinch, if you ever knew, that the northmen killed Lord Thaume’s father. You were invited to offer us your
skills of sorcery, not your counsels of defeat.’

Master Pinch gave the bland smile that Arren saw so often in lessons when one of his pupils had stumbled into fallacy or error.

‘I cannot imagine, Sir Artingaume, that I was engaged to smite the northmen with a bolt from the Unseen Dimension. The number of thaumaturges capable of such an act is limited, and almost
by definition, anyone with the capacity to do so would not be interested in such petty affairs. My involvement in events is more casual than you imagine.’

‘Gentlemen,’ said Lord Thaume, ‘we need not bicker. Artingaume, Master Pinch is able to offer advice and useful information from his recent visit to Mettingloom. On occasion he
can use the lesser thaumaturgical arts to help us. Let us be content with that.’

Sir Langlan cleared his throat. ‘On more practical matters,’ he said, ‘are we concerned that Tardolio can hurt us? If he sends a host, what then? Let him pass Jehan’s
Steppe. He will only come to our walls, which he surely cannot take.’

‘I would prefer to avoid a siege,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘Last year’s harvest was not good, and I do not want to lose this year’s because we cannot leave the city to
garner it. I should not like to be reliant on Duke Panarre’s assistance, which may well come too late to prove efficacious.’

‘Do you mean, then, to take the field?’ said Sir Artingaume. ‘A vigorous policy would be to assemble a host and interdict the passage of Jehan’s Steppe.’

‘I hope that diplomacy bears fruit,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘I intend to dispatch an emissary to the Winter King proposing a treaty to end the war – wait, Artingaume –
but I am not hopeful. At the same time we must mobilize our forces and march on Jehan’s Steppe. The northmen are more likely to prove amiable if they see our steel.’

Sir Artingaume nodded in satisfaction. ‘This is true statesmanship.’

Lord Thaume turned to the end of the table where Oricien, Guigot and Arren sat. ‘Lads, the day must come when we are all blooded in war. That day has arrived. We march in a month: the
three of you will come with us. Sir Langlan says you are ready.’

Arren looked across to Darrien, who had sat quietly following the debate. He nodded at his son. ‘It is time,’ he said, ‘although I do not relish telling your mother.’

10

Arren took the first opportunity to slip out and find Eilla. They had discovered an unoccupied building belonging to the wealthy vintner Foulque, and here they met to
exchange tidings.

‘There will be war with the North, and Lord Thaume is taking me with him,’ said Arren.

Eilla was sitting on Foulque’s red chaise, her muddy shoes dirtying the fabric. She looked down at her skirts. The late afternoon sunlight slanted in low through the window, casting one
eye into relief. ‘Are you sure? And why so delighted?’

‘Master Pinch says that Tardolio plans an assault on Croad, and Lord Thaume means to march against him on Jehan’s Steppe.’

And what does Master Pinch know? He is a thaumaturge, not a general. You seem in a great hurry to get yourself killed.’

‘I am sixteen, old enough to fight and to be a man. Sir Langlan says I am ready for war.’

‘If you say. But don’t expect me to rejoice.’

‘Not even if I win renown and come back “Sir Arren”?’

‘I will rejoice if you come back, knight or no knight. Perhaps I could dress as a boy and sneak along as your page.’

Arren surveyed her figure. ‘Eilla, you could no longer pass for a boy.’

‘Fah!’

‘You are out of spirits today.’

‘Nothing is like it was when we were young,’ she said, drawing her knees up to her chest and leaning against the arm of the chaise. ‘Do you remember when we used to play
raiders? We did whatever we wanted, and the worst that could happen was that our fathers would beat us. Now you’re off to fight real raiders, my father is threatened with attainder . .
.’

‘Attainder? Why would anyone attaint Jandille?’

Eilla gave a weak smile. ‘Our family has always followed the Wheel.’

‘So what? Half the families of Croad follow the Wheel. Lord Thaume does not care.’

‘Maybe not, but Lady Jilka does. She is most orthodox, and close to the viators.’

Arren stepped across to lean on the window-ledge next to her chaise. He could sense the warmth of her body a few inches away. She had never used to confide in him like this. ‘Lady Jilka
does not rule Croad.’

‘Lady Jilka is not going to war. And they say that the Consorts have challenged Thaume’s Statement of Orthodoxy.’

‘I don’t understand what that means,’ said Arren.

‘Doesn’t Viator Sleech teach you anything? Every city has a Statement of Orthodoxy, issued by the Consorts, signifying that it follows the Way of Harmony. The Consorts can revoke the
Statement and depose the ruler.’

‘King Arren would never allow Lord Thaume to be deposed.’

Eilla shook her head. ‘Never be sure. The viators have great power, particularly at court in Emmen. It is best for Thaume that his Statement of Orthodoxy is not challenged. They say he may
make an example of some the Spokes of the Wheel, and my father is foremost among them. Why do they care so much? It is all nonsense.’

Arren wanted to take her hand – but this was Eilla. It seemed no time since they had been wrestling in the dirt together, but now he was conscious of something new in their relationship,
part constraint, part – he could not define what else. However much he wanted to comfort Eilla, touching her like that would be flowing downriver; he would not be able to go back against the
current. He scratched his chin.

‘Eilla,’ he said eventually. ‘You must trust Lord Thaume. He is a good man, and a just lord. He will not allow the Wheel to be persecuted.’

Eilla gave a half-smile. ‘I only hope you are right, Arren. There are times of change ahead.’

Arren looked back into her eyes. He could feel the cool sweetness of her breath on his face. ‘Some changes are good, Eilla. Don’t fear for Jandille, and don’t fear for
me.’

Eilla jerked her head away. ‘You are a boy, Arren. You know nothing and you control nothing!’

‘Eilla! I am trying to—’

‘What are you trying to do? Impress me with your mature wisdom? You are skipping in delight in going to war to get yourself killed, telling me of Lord Thaume’s plans as if you are
his closest counsellor, explaining his policies of religious tolerance, and you know nothing about anything!’