The magical keys were a combination of gestures and spoken charms. Crow traced Han’s path on the map, noting the places where charms would be required to pass through.
“Here. Try this.” Crow spoke a series of charms, and layer after layer of magic went up, delicate as Tamric silk. Beautiful and deadly. “Now take it down.”
Han poked a magical hole in it, and the barrier erupted into flames.
“No, no, no,” Crow growled, squelching the flames with a gesture. “One layer at a time, Alister. Again.”
This time, Han teased the magical wall apart.
“This takes forever,” he complained when it was down.
“As it is meant to,” Crow said. “It will slow your enemies down, if it doesn’t kill them.”
After an hour’s work, Han’s head was crammed full and swimming. “How did you remember this stuff for a thousand years?” he asked.
“I’ve had little else to do but practice charms and dwell on the past,” Crow said. “It’s kept me from losing my tenuous hold on sanity.”
Eventually, Han managed to get through the sequence correctly. Twice more.
“What happens if I get one wrong?” Han asked.
“You will be reduced to ash,” Crow said bluntly. “So best study up. And keep to the path I’ve laid out for you. Do not stray into any side tunnels, or you’ll be sorry.” Crow set the maps aside as if that were all settled. “If you do make it to the meeting, what do you intend to do? I assume you have a goal in mind, or you wouldn’t have asked for the appointment to the council.”
“Lord Bayar is High Wizard now, but they’ll need to elect a new one for Queen Raisa,” Han said. “I want that job. Otherwise, likely Micah Bayar will get it—and maybe the queen as well.” He paused. “The problem is coming up with the votes.”
“That’s always the problem, isn’t it? Who’s on the council? Have you looked into that?”
Han nodded. “There’s six members, plus the High Wizard. As I said, one is appointed by the queen, and one is elected by the assembly, all of the gifted citizens of the Fells. Four are inherited spots, assigned to the most powerful wizard houses—the Bayars, the Abelards, the Kinley/deVilliers, and the Gryphon/Mathises.”
Crow grunted. “That’s virtually the same as it was a thousand years ago, when I tried to change it. Only, in my day, the king was in charge of the council.”
“Bayar’s had a placeholder on the council in the Bayar spot, waiting for his twins to turn eighteen. Now Micah’s taking that spot. Lord Bayar hoped the queen would pick Fiona as her representative, but Queen Raisa put me on instead.”
“What is your relationship with the queen?”
“Well.” How should he answer that question? “I’m her bodyguard.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“None of your business,” Han said, thinking there’d never been so many people poking into his personal life before.
“I don’t care if you are,” Crow said, “Just don’t fall in love with her.”
“I’m not here for advice on my love life,” Han said, thinking it was a little late for that, anyway. “Thanks just the same.”
“As your many-great-grandfather, I feel I should at least put my dismal experience at your disposal.” Crow laughed at Han’s scowl. “All right. Back to the council.”
“Adam Gryphon is on, now that Wil Mathis is dead,” Han said. “Gryphon was my teacher at Oden’s Ford.”
“Would he be willing to support you, do you think?” Crow asked.
Han shook his head. “Best I can tell, he hates me.”
“How does he feel about the Bayars?” Crow asked.
“I’ve never seen them together outside of class, but I think he’s sweet on Fiona Bayar.”
“That’s unfortunate. She might persuade him to vote for her brother.”
Han’s mind wrestled with this possibility. Maybe there was an angle he could play.
“Who else?” Crow asked, breaking Han out of his reverie.
“Randolph deVilliers represents the Kinley House, and Bruno Mander was elected by the assembly. Mander will vote with the Bayars.” Lady Bayar was a Mander; it seemed the two families intermarried regularly.
“As I said. Some things never change.”
“Dean Abelard has had a placeholder on council too, since she’s dean of Mystwerk House at Oden’s Ford,” Han said. “But now she’s home, and she hates the Bayars.”
Crow nodded. “So deVilliers and Abelard are your best bets.”
“That’s still only three, counting me, and Abelard has her own plans,” Han said. “She means to go for High Wizard herself, so why would she support me?”
“Well, then,” Crow said. “Do you have leverage against any of the others?”
“After the first meeting, I’ll have a better idea of who the players are,” Han said.
“I’m not sure I should be giving anyone political advice,” Crow said. “But it’s easy to get so mired in the mud of day-to-day politics that you never get anywhere. It’s not enough to be against something or someone. What do you really want?”
“What do I really want?” Han looked Crow in the eye, took a deep breath, and said it aloud. “I’m going to marry the queen myself.”
Crow blinked at Han. His image brightened and solidified, and a brilliant smile broke across his face. He extended both hands toward Han, resting them on his shoulders, gazing fiercely into Han’s face.
“I believe you may be my descendant after all,” Crow breathed, his eyes alight with a feral joy.
After speaking with Crow, Han spent most of the next day conferring with his eyes and ears, moving horses around, and laying plans for Raisa’s protection while he was gone to Gray Lady. He let Amon Byrne know of his plans, and gave Cat orders to stick close to the queen, since Lord Bayar would know Han was away.
That evening, he was on duty in Raisa’s chambers. He’d hoped for a chance to talk to her—they hadn’t spoken since that desperate dance at Marisa Pines. But she was embroiled in an endless meeting with Delphian officials over border security. Delphi was in a precarious position, sandwiched between the Fells and Arden, but the queendom couldn’t afford the wagon-loads of money the Delphians demanded.
Raisa looked tired, her eyes smudged by shadow, her shoulders rounded under the weight of multiple demands. As her hands skittered restlessly across the tabletop, Han noticed that she still wore his ring next to her running wolves.
The Delphians blustered and bullied, but Raisa stood her ground. The meeting dragged on. Han stood against the wall, seething, wishing he could throw them out the window. In the end, he had to leave for Ragmarket, where he’d meet up with Dancer to travel to Marisa Pines.
The next morning, Han and Dancer rode out of the city hours before the sun grazed the top of the eastern escarpment. It was good to be riding with Dancer again. Han could almost pretend that all of the tragedies and triumphs of the past year had never happened,