Page 76 of Seducing the Sorcerer
To sustain a lie.
“I let the horse go that day it came to you in the town,” Morgrim was saying. “You were so reluctant to let people see it. Gods, I tried to persuade you to fly over the city a hundred times. But you wouldn’t. So, I set it free. I knew it would fly to you. I knew what everyone would say.”
There was a strange hot churning in Fenn’s gut and maybe it was anger or maybe it was something else. The humiliation from that day in the city street still stung, but it was nothing compared to the idea that Morgrim had all this time been pretending, flattering Fenn like an insincere courtier. All this time using him.
Fenn took a step back. Part of him wanted to run downstairs, to fly off on Squab and never have to look at Morgrim or the inside of a cloud ever again. To forget all this.
But he didn’t run. Because he’d have sworn Morgrim had been sincere in the pub. And earlier when he’d called Fenn “perfect.” And last night too. There was something here that didn’t add up.
Fenn said, slowly, “You embarrassed me that day. Wasn’t ready to show that horse in public.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Fenn nodded. Not that Morgrim saw it; he was standing with his head bowed. But the apology made some of the heat go out of Fenn. He said, evenly enough, “So why’d you do it, eh? So you could stay in the tower? Keep your position?”
“What?” Morgrim gave him a blank look. “It’s not about my position. I told you earlier: we’re a small country with a valuable harbour. I’m Morgrim. The court sorcerer. What do you think would happen if it got about that I’d lost my power?”
“Someone will try to kill you,” Fenn said.
“Yes, that.” Morgrim waved an impatient hand, as though his own death was nothing but an inconvenience. “But once I’m dead, or shown to be powerless, then what?”
“You mean someone would try to take the harbour?”
“The harbour. And the rest of the country.”
“You mean invasion?” A creeping dread was in Fenn’s very marrow. “War. You really think that?”
“It happened on Mandillo when Madam Malovelent was dying. It’ll happen again.” Morgrim’s voice was chillingly matter of fact. “The best I can hope for is to throw everyone off the scent for as long as I can, give the government a chance to consolidate our position, secure allies, prepare troops. But we can’t do much or someone will suspect there’s something amiss. There are spies everywhere.”
“Spies.” Fenn echoed the word in disbelief. Gods, it was like something out of an adventure story. But there was nothing exciting about any of it. And something clicked into place in Fenn’s head. Something about the way Morgrim was with Jasper. Something about Jasper himself. Jasper climbing out of the library window. Jasper begging Fenn not to tell Morgrim what he’d seen. Jasper asking questions about magic, and offering sex for information. Fenn added, reluctantly, “Jasper?”
He waited for Morgrim to say “don’t be ridiculous”, but Morgrim nodded.
“Spying for the Lutians, who are in bed with Tullivo, Aramella’s brother. Tullivo wants the throne at any cost. Even as a Lutian vassal. But Jasper isn’t the only spy.”
Fenn glanced across the misty expanse of the room to the barred door as if he might catch a dozen masked figures peering around the edge of it. And to think, just an hour ago he’d been hugging Jasper, assuring the lad that Morgrim was all right.
All Fenn’s assumptions about everyone had been wrong.
In fact, everything seemed to be wrong. It really felt as if the solid wooden floor of the tower had turned to air. He was falling, floundering. He seized upon the fact that seemed the most wrong, as if understanding that might help him understand the whole sorry mess.
“You know? About Jasper? And you don’t get rid of him?”
Morgrim made an impatient gesture.
“I chose Jasper. Very carefully, too, so it wouldn’t seem suspicious I was letting him get close to me. I show him things I think Tullivo and the Lutians ought to know. Such as that I can still do magic.”
Fenn took another step backwards and sat down heavily in the chair. Treachery. Politics. War. He couldn’t take it all in. And Morgrim had used him. Morgrim was the scheming, lying, double-crosser that people said.
Fenn said, dazedly, “But Jasper knows the horse ain’t yours. He saw me fly in.”
“Yes, he knows. But everyone else thinks it is, so at least we only have Tullivo and the Lutians to worry about just now. Believe me, that’s an improvement on how the situation was a month ago.”
“I caught Jasper climbing out the library window last night,” Fenn said. “He told me he was desperate to learn magic and you wouldn’t teach him. Reckon that was a lie.”
“A lie, yes. He climbs in to read my papers. I leave cryptic notes on my desk about spells.”
“Wait. You know and you don’t stop him? Gods, apart from everything else, you know how dangerous that climb is? That window’s fifteen yards up above stone!”
