Page 30 of Seducing the Sorcerer
“Well...”
Fenn wasn’t used to thinking in grand terms like this. Trade deals could benefit a lot of people. But on the other hand, using magic on someone without telling them seemed a bit like getting a bloke drunk so he’d do things he’d never agree to sober. That was dead wrong. But then, what was a little secret magic if it meant a whole lot of ordinary folk could get jobs and feed their children?
Morgrim was watching him, head tilted slightly, eyes bright and intent in the gloom under the loggia. And Fenn knew there was something going on beyond a simple question. Morgrim was sparring with him in some way, daring him to put his morals on display.
Perhaps courtiers and politicians did this kind of thing all the time? It was bloody exhausting. Fenn already felt like a wrestler at the end of a match, but all the same he rallied. Because disappointing Morgrim was somehow unthinkable.
“Disloyal or not don’t really matter anymore, do it?” Fenn said.
“No?”
“Secret’s out. You told. Pointless now to debate whether you should’ve or not.”
“You’re a pragmatist, Mr. Todd.”
Morgrim smiled and something seemed to spark in his eyes. Fenn felt that even if Morgrim vanished in a puff of magic, there’d still be something left behind, some quicksilver energy, some essence of the man. It was a bit overwhelming, like so much about the sorcerer.
But Morgrim wasn’t going to leave the topic alone. “But what if I had not yet told? What would you advise me to do?”
“It’s hard to say.”
“You’re right.” Morgrim arched an eyebrow in expectation.
“I wouldn’t want to make ordinary folks’ lives harder,” Fenn said slowly. He felt as if he was navigating his way through a thorn thicket.
“So, you think I did the wrong thing?”
“Didn’t say that. I wouldn’t want to make folks’ lives harder, but I don’t know as you did in the end.”
Morgrim raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No. Take me, for example. I’m right glad you told me about that there spell. You were up front. That’s fair. So, I’d want to be fair with you if we were making a bargain.”
“Mm. But what about all the old treaties, all the old agreements that have had to be renegotiated. We have now got a reputation for duplicity, because I was honest. Ironic, is it not? And I have brought the names of my predecessors into disrepute.”
Morgrim’s expression hadn’t changed, but something about his dispassionate tone rang false and Fenn reckoned he understood only too well: Morgrim had done the right thing and been vilified for it. And though Morgrim stood there, gloves in his hand, examining now Fenn, now the rain-swept courtyard with mild interest, Fenn wondered if the vilification had hurt.
“But I reckon the truth would’ve come out one day,” Fenn said. “Ain’t it better people heard it from you than discovered it from someone else? That would’ve caused even more stink, surely?”
“Maybe.” Morgrim sounded sceptical.
“You told me this spell works on everyone?”
“It does.”
“Well, then maybe our folk were more generous too when they made these deals? No, I reckon you did the right thing.”
This time Morgrim’s smile seemed a relenting one. Apparently, Fenn had conducted himself acceptably. He realised he was gripping his reins as if he’d throttle them and relaxed his hand.
“I’m glad you think so,” Morgrim said. “And thank you for the tips on riding. Anyway, tomorrow I’m sure you’ll prefer to fly. A quick tour over the palace, perhaps? I look forward to seeing that! For now, I’m afraid I must leave you, but Jasper is at your disposal. Please, choose a room in the gatehouse and Jasper will see that it is appointed as you wish. You may like to see about some bespoke tack? There’s a saddlery on the Accas Road that still makes such things. Zabrisi’s, it’s called. Why not ride there today, select it yourself? Jasper will show you the way. Just tell them you’re my guest and put it on account.”
Fenn opened his mouth to say I can’t do that but the sorcerer held up a hand to stop him. “Jasper will give you some petty cash, too. For tipping or sedan chairs or whatever you will. Now, I must go. But I hope you will join me for dinner? At seven. Is that convenient? Feel free to bring the horse.”
“Seven...I...thank you,” Fenn managed, and Morgrim nodded and was gone into the tower in a swirl of black, leaving Fenn staring at the tower doors in the rain, more confused than ever.
A ride was one thing, so was a place to stay. But dinner?
Chapter 8
