Page 12 of Strange Familiar

“What?” Alise pulled back in alarm. “The baby?”

“It seems so. Help me back to the manse, sweetheart, or I’m going to drop this baby on her head in the orchard and I’ll never hear the end of it from Gabriel.”

~ 7 ~

Cillian would have gone after Alise immediately, except that his grandmother forbade it.

Correction: his grandmother clucked in sympathy and made him his favorite hot chocolate, while Lady Harahel informed him in no uncertain terms that he would remain at House Harahel until she released him. She gave instructions that no one give him transportation out of Harahel, and it wasn’t as if he could snowshoe or ski out on his own.

“So I’m a prisoner,” he said with bitterness no amount of chocolate could alleviate.

“You’ll thank me some day,” Lady Harahel replied equably. “And try to be less dramatic. You’re hardly the first disgraced wizard to be safeguarded in the house of their birth following unpleasantness. Besides, it’s not as if you need to return to Convocation Archives, since you are no longer employed there.” She raised her brows at his surprise. “What—did you think Tandiya Uriel wouldn’t communicate your removal from employment?”

“I thought you didn’t care to use Ratsiel couriers,” he answered sullenly.

“You are correct that I don’t use them, but you’re making a careless assumption in that one must employ a Ratsiel courier in order to have timely communication. In addition, it’s insulting of you to imply that my choice to abjure the use of House Ratsiel products is a whimsical preference or a capricious choice. Using goods produced by other houses gives them entrée to ours, creates alliances we cannot afford to indulge and remain objective observers of history. If you had ever shown any interest in governance of this house, I’d have explained this before. Perhaps now that you’ve put your tenure in Convocation Archives behind you, that might change.”

Cillian didn’t reply to that bit of bait. Lady Harahel had offered him several thinly disguised bribes to cheerfully capitulate to her wishes. Not that she needed his cooperation as she controlled his fate with an iron fist. It turned out his parents weren’t even in residence—gone off to consult on library acquisitions for House Minerva—a coincidental absence Cillian found highly suspicious.

“Since you sacrificed your career and your integrity as an archivist to steal the texts regarding House Phel and bring them here, coding the folded archive to yourself alone, you may devote yourself to reviewing the materials.” She held up a hand when Cillian straightened at this. “With certain restrictions,” she added.

He’d thought she wouldn’t let him near that project, refusing to even discuss it when he’d asked. Coding the re-folded archive to himself had been expedient in the moment, then a disastrous choice in retrospect because what if he’d been killed? The archive would have died with him, all those texts lost forever. Now he was glad of it, not only because he’d lived, but also because he’d inadvertently made himself indispensable.

“What restrictions?” he asked, wary. He was accustomed to working within strict or externally imposed protocols, but this new face of his grandmother had him leery of agreeing to anything too quickly or easily.

“First, you agree to give up this nonsense of working at Convocation Archives and agree to remain here at House Harahel where you belong.”

“I thought I’d already sacrificed that career and irretrievably compromised my integrity as an archivist.”

The look she gave him was sour. “I don’t advise you be flip about your situation, boy. I’m not best pleased with you. I also know you. Even without reading your thoughts, I can predict that you will be scheming your way back to those archives you love so well, if you haven’t developed a plan already. You can abandon that tack immediately. I was never in favor of you going off to Convocation Center, being exposed to the corruption there, not to mention the poor food. You belong here. If you wish—and if you show sufficient interest and commitment—I’ll train you to be my heir.”

That startled him. “Father is your heir.”

She waved that off. “For now. However, I intend to live a good long life and when the time comes for my heir to take over heading the house, it will likely be better to skip a generation and install someone younger.”

“I would have to discuss with Father.”

“Do so. There’s certainly no rush. But you will agree to stay here at House Harahel or you will not be allowed access to any sensitive projects, most especially not the House Phel archives.”

She had him in a tight spot and she knew it. Though it wouldn’t take a mind-reader to know that Cillian desperately wanted at those archives, in part because any unsolved riddle plagued him mercilessly, but also for Alise. Alise. Who had left him without a word. He had been unkind to her in the carriage, he vaguely recalled, as if through the distortion of a fever. Perhaps he’d been worse than he remembered, hurting her enough that she didn’t care to speak with him again.

Where had she gone? Probably to House Phel. He wondered if he could find a way to message her, convince her to reconsider. Training as his grandmother’s heir would give him access to whatever communication system she was using—and agreeing to her terms would maximize his freedom.

“For how long?” he asked, then clarified. “How long would I have to remain at House Harahel?”

Lady Harahel looked almost sympathetic. “Cillian, my boy, don’t pretend to be dense. For the rest of your life.”

“But other Harahel wizards work in libraries across the Convocation,” he argued, “or in other related professions.”

“You are not just any Harahel wizard,” she replied calmly. “Even if you were not my favorite grandchild, eclipsing even my own children in my affections, I would be making this same decision. You are too soft, too sensitive for the harsh world of the Convocation. This is why the unprincipled are able to take advantage of you. Because of my affection for you, I capitulated to your wishes and allowed you to experiment with a career in the Convocation Archives. I had the idea that you might learn from the experience, gain a thicker skin, a more cynical understanding of life. That has not been the case, however, which is truly no fault of yours.”

She softened. “This is not a punishment, my boy. This is protection. You are uniquely valuable, as precious as a single edition from a rare collection. You belong in my archives, cared for, beloved, far from the ravages of the world.”

“So: forever,” he said slowly. “You want me to agree to never leave Harahel ever again. We’re back to me being imprisoned here.”

“Harahel is a big place,” she replied with impatience. “There are people in the Convocation who never leave their villages in all their lives, let alone a land as expansive and rich in varied ecosystems as all of Harahel.”

“I don’t believe it’s the size or variety of the cell that determines the level of imprisonment,” he countered.

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