Ch. 21: Expected State and Ch. 22: Questions with Better Stationary

Chapter 21 — Expected State

Two mornings after the gala, Yvander removed his spectacles, cleaned them, and discovered that the figures remained offensive.

Serali understood why.

She had checked the same comparison often enough to know that looking at it differently did not improve it.

Marielle sat beside her at the council table, her left arm supported and her notes arranged within reach of her right hand. Lia had cleared her to regularly attend meetings, with conditions.

Most of them involved sitting.

Marielle had complied in a manner that suggested she intended to contest any additions.

Allandra rested one hand beside the report. “Begin with what has changed since the winter findings.”

Serali drew the older diagrams from beneath the comparison sheets.

The first was the array Marielle had shown her during the test. The second was the distributed pressure grid they had examined after her appointment.

Neither had improved with familiarity.

“We began with these,” Serali said. “One interferes with communication and ward coordination. The other turns existing load-bearing wards against the structure.”

Marielle touched the margin of the first diagram. “The original damage could have passed for frost-fracture.”

It very nearly did.

A small irregularity. Marielle had looked closely enough to question an explanation everyone else could have accepted.

“Both use northern forms,” Serali continued. “Neither is reliable evidence of Lyehiran authorship. We established that in winter.”

Verya nodded. “And recommended inspection of the twelve primary convergence points.”

“Yes. The samples came from that inspection.”

The damage had given them somewhere to look.

The new problem was what the wall said about the places they were looking.

Marielle tapped the first column. “This is what the samples tell us about the physical condition of the wall.”

Then the second. “This is what the remaining ward structure reports.”

Yvander replaced his spectacles. “They disagree.”

“Yes.”

“How substantially?”

“Enough that they cannot both be accurate.”

Hagen took a drink of coffee.

Serali had not seen anyone bring it. She suspected he had obtained it before the meeting specifically to make the rest of them resentful.

She touched the second column.

“The magical readings are not identical across every sample. But they are much more consistent than the condition of the materials should allow.”

Daravan stood near the windows. “Collection error?”

“We checked the collection notes,” Marielle said. “Repeated the physical measurements. Compared the fragments with the repair records.”

“And your magical examination, Lady Serali?” Verya asked.

“Repeated independently of Marielle’s measurements. The discrepancy remains.”

Yvander leaned closer. “So the stone is deteriorating.”

“Some of it,” Marielle said. “At different rates. Which is normal.”

“And the wards do not reflect that.”

“Not reliably,” Serali said.

Merrow frowned. “The wall is maintained.”

“Yes.”

“Constantly.”

“Yes.”

“Then why should the readings not remain close to the specifications?”

“Maintenance does not make old materials new,” Marielle said. “Stone gets replaced. Mortar changes. Channels are repaired. Loads shift. Those changes should produce differences.”

She pointed to the physical measurements. “Here, they do.”

Then the magical returns.

“Here, several of those differences disappear.”

Verya’s pen stopped. “The reports are more reassuring than the materials justify.”

“Yes,” Serali said.

That was the useful sentence. The wall might be reporting something other than its condition.

Allandra looked at the comparison again. “Does this mean it is failing?”

“Not necessarily,” Marielle said. “Deterioration is expected. The measurements we have do not establish imminent structural failure.”

Daravan’s gaze sharpened. “The measurements you have.”

“Twelve sampled convergence points,” Serali said. “We cannot turn that into a guarantee about the entire wall.”

“Can you turn the wall’s own report into one?”

“No.”

Silence settled around the table.

Harrek leaned forward. “If another section worsens tomorrow, would we know?”

“We cannot promise the internal reports would show it,” Serali said.

Yvander took off his spectacles again.

Hagen watched him. “At this rate, Master Yvander, you will polish through the glass.”

Yvander ignored him.

Allandra did too.

“What explanations have you ruled out?”

Marielle shifted one page toward her. “Several mistakes in collection and measurement. We have not ruled out damage to the reporting channels, an unsuitable repair, or a problem in how the wards interpret the materials.”

“Another deliberate alteration?” Daravan asked.

“Possibly,” Serali said. “The arrays already establish sabotage. We have not established exactly why the reporting is wrong, or whether the same person altered both.”

Merrow looked toward the older diagrams. “But the northern structure—after First Sun—”

“Still does not identify its author, Lord Merrow.”

Serali kept her voice level. “The agents attacked me. That does not make every spell that resembles Lyehiran work theirs.”

Allandra looked at the first diagram. “Your original concern was that the resemblance encouraged us to look north.”

“Yes. Enough familiar surface features to suggest an explanation. Not enough correct structure to prove it.”

Daravan studied the comparison. “The regular reports did not lead us to the first array.”

“No,” Marielle said. “The physical irregularity did.”

“And if you had accepted frost damage?”

“We might still be reading satisfactory reports.”

Yvander stopped cleaning his spectacles.

Serali looked at the two old diagrams beside the new figures.

There were two protections someone might want around sabotage.

One prevented discovery.

The other supplied a convenient explanation if discovery happened anyway.

“If the reporting problem is connected,” she said, “it could keep us from finding the wider pattern. Find one damaged section, and the northern forms give us someone to blame for that section.”

Verya’s gaze sharpened. “An isolated act by a foreign saboteur.”

“Rather than a reason to question the rest of the wall.”

Marielle nodded. “A satisfactory report would encourage us to stop looking.”

Allandra regarded the pages for a moment. “A possibility to investigate. Not a conclusion to publish.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Hagen set down his cup. “So we have a wall reporting that it is well, and materials suggesting it ought to be less certain.”

“Yes,” Marielle said.

“And we cannot yet tell whether that report is mistaken, damaged, or being made to mislead us.”

“That is adequate.”

Hagen brightened.

“High praise,” he said.

“No,” Marielle answered. “Adequate.”

Allandra looked at Serali. “The independent diagnostic you proposed.”

“The design is further along. It is not ready to test against the wall.”

“Why?”

“We need to know more about the existing system before deciding what can safely be isolated.”

Daravan unfolded his arms.

Serali brought out the revised sketch.

He looked at it with the expression he generally reserved for plans involving open doors.

“We could build something that avoids the wall’s reporting channels,” she continued. “But we still need to understand what those channels share with the defensive wards.”

“So you can stop asking the suspect whether it committed the crime without accidentally removing the guards,” Hagen said.

Marielle considered him. “Yes.”

Allandra studied the sketch. “Have you established the restoration procedure?”

“Not completely.”

“Then the test remains unauthorized.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Serali had expected the answer.

She found that helped.

Allandra was looking at the gaps Serali had marked herself. There was no accusation in it. No surprise that she had found a limit.

Only the requirement that she account for it.

“What do you need to finish the plan?”

Serali looked at Marielle.

This was the part she liked least.

Not because they disagreed.

Because saying it before the entire council would make it real in a way discussing it across a workshop table had not.

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“Outside review.”

Merrow’s eyebrows lifted. “From whom?”

“The Mage College.”

Something changed around the table.

Serali felt it before anyone spoke.

Royal Mage of Avalusia.

Foreign. Night Fae.

Appointed instead of any of the Avalusian mages the College might reasonably have expected Allandra to choose.

Now asking them to examine work she could not finish alone.

Verya asked, “What can the College supply that we do not have here?”

“Original ward schematics,” Marielle said. “Detailed revisions. Teaching copies that explain why particular connections were made.”

Yvander tapped the stack of records. “We have maintenance reports.”

“We have accounts of what was done,” Serali said. “Not always enough to reconstruct what was changed.”

Marielle nodded. “A record saying a channel was repaired does not necessarily describe every connection the repair retained.”

“Or what an earlier version was intended to measure,” Serali added.

The distinction had occupied most of yesterday’s review.

They knew what answers the samples returned.

They needed someone who could explain the questions built into the wall.

Allandra’s gaze remained on Serali. “And you want the College involved.”

“They know the wall’s history and help maintain the wards,” Serali said. “We know where its current reports disagree with the materials.”

Marielle straightened one edge of the sketch.

Neither of them knew enough alone.

That had been true from the first sample.

Refusing another person’s knowledge would not make Serali more competent, it would only leave her with the same unanswered questions.

“Yes,” she said. “I want them involved.”

Allandra nodded. “Then we request consultation.”

Verya drew a fresh sheet toward her. “Through the Headmaster’s office?”

“Yes,” Allandra said. “Send the findings to Master Halal.”

Something peculiar happened when Allandra said that name: Yvander’s hand stopped halfway toward his spectacles; Merrow looked down; Hagen’s mouth twitched; even Daravan’s expression changed.

Serali looked between them. “What?”

“No reason,” Hagen said.

Verya gave him a flat look. “There is very much a reason.”

“I was trying not to prejudice her,” Hagen said.

“Against the Headmaster?” Serali asked.

Hagen picked up his coffee. “Master Halal is extremely knowledgeable.”

“That was not an answer,” Serali said.

Hagen continued, undeterred. “He has overseen the College for a very long time.”

“Also not an answer.”

Merrow cleared his throat. “Master Halal is exacting.”

Verya sighed. “Difficult.”

“Very,” Yvander added.

Daravan said nothing.

Serali looked toward him. “You too?”

“I have met him,” Daravan said.

Apparently that constituted an answer.

Hagen leaned toward her. “He once made my father wait outside his office because the King arrived eleven minutes early.”

Serali stared. “He made the King wait.”

“He maintained that the appointment was for two,” Hagen said.

Serali looked at Allandra.

Her expression was perfectly composed.

Which meant she was amused.

“You are still sending the request, Your Majesty,” Serali said.

“Of course,” Allandra answered.

“To this man.”

“He is the Headmaster.”

Serali frowned. “I have survived worse.”

Hagen raised his cup. “The correct attitude.”

Verya began writing.

“Request consultation on the original ward architecture, maintenance revisions and reporting framework,” Allandra said. “Include Lady Serali and Lady Marielle’s findings and the proposed diagnostic design.”

“Shall I request his attendance?” Verya asked.

“Request appropriate specialists,” Allandra said. “Master Halal can decide whom the College sends.”

That eased something Serali had not realized she was preparing to argue.

The request did not require Allandra to turn a technical review into a contest of authority.

“Security?” Allandra asked.

Daravan looked at the sketch. “Records here first. Anyone attending is cleared individually. No general College access to the palace or the wall.”

Marielle opened her mouth.

Daravan looked at her.

“That is reasonable,” she said.

Daravan appeared briefly suspicious.

Marielle frowned. “I can be reasonable.”

“I have never said otherwise,” he replied.

Serali looked away before either recruited her.

Allandra turned to Harrek. “Existing patrols continue. No public announcement about the wall until we can state what the discrepancy means.”

Harrek nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Allandra turned to Yvander. “Master Yvander, have the relevant repair expenditures and authorizations assembled for the review.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Lady Serali. Lady Marielle,” Allandra continued. “Prepare what the consultants need, including the questions you cannot yet answer.”

Serali glanced at their notes. There were plenty of those. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The meeting moved on.

Verya continued drafting. Yvander began listing records. Daravan asked Marielle which workshop the consultation would require.

Nothing had been solved, but the uncertainty now had a task attached to it.

As Serali gathered the comparison sheets, Hagen leaned closer. “You asked for help.”

“They have information we need,” Serali said.

“Yes.”

“That is not the same thing.”

Hagen considered her. “Would you like me to agree?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” he said. “You did an excellent job independently deciding to obtain information from other people.”

Serali stared at him.

Marielle made a small sound suspiciously close to a laugh.

Serali tucked the sketch beneath her notes.

The wall could keep its reassuring answers.

She was going to ask better questions.

Chapter 22 — Questions With Better Stationery

By early afternoon, Allandra had answered the same question six different ways.

None of the letters had technically asked it.

She sat in her office with Verya opposite her and the morning’s wall report still occupying one corner of the table.

Hagen had claimed the window seat, three pieces of correspondence, and one of Allandra’s pens.

She had permitted two of those things.

Verya held up a sheet. “The Cyrathene delegation requests updated assurances concerning freight movement.”

“They want to know whether the armistice will hold,” Hagen said.

“They ask whether the eastern roads will remain open.”

“Yes.”

Verya looked at him.

Hagen tapped the lower paragraph. “And whether merchants should bring their spring consignments forward. They want to move grain before the roads become military routes.”

Allandra reached for the letter.

There it was.

Not an accusation. Not even an unreasonable concern.

Just another way of asking whether the people who had attacked her family would succeed in making war seem inevitable.

“State that no closure has been ordered,” she said. “Use the current transport notices. We will not guarantee what we cannot control.”

Verya made a note.

Hagen lifted the next page. “Rothmark’s representative wants to know whether increased patrols indicate preparations for renewed fighting.”

“They indicate four armed fugitives,” Allandra said.

“Then we should make that distinction.”

“Without giving him the patrol arrangements,” Verya added.

“Naturally.”

She took the letter from him.

Allandra watched them work.

Hagen identified the fear. Verya removed every word that might accidentally confirm it.

It was an effective partnership.

Both appeared irritated by that.

“Lady Talienne?” Allandra asked.

Verya passed over a shorter note. “She requests guidance for Aurenne’s merchants currently in Myrae.”

The ambassador had spoken with her at the gala. This was the practical consequence of assurances made between dances and donor ledgers.

Ships could wait.

Cargo could spoil.

Crews could hear a rumor and decide a distant queen’s diplomatic position was less important than departing before trouble.

“Have Master Yvander provide the current harbor notices,” Allandra said. “And a contact for any captain who has questions.”

Hagen nodded. “A person is better than another proclamation.”

“Especially if the person knows the answer.”

“An ambitious standard for government.”

Verya continued writing.

Allandra took up another page. “Someone has asked whether the gala means we consider the danger ended.”

Hagen looked over. “Who?”

“One of the Vardheim delegates.”

“Tell him he attended a charity function, not a military assessment.”

Verya’s mouth twitched. “I will phrase it differently.”

“You generally do.”

Allandra set the page beside the others.

The gala had reassured some people. Unfortunately, others had apparently regarded every guard at the doors as confirmation of an approaching catastrophe.

A normal evening could not bear quite that much interpretive weight.

“The investigation continues,” she said. “Protective measures remain in place. Anyone seeking more certainty will have to wait until we have it.”

Verya nodded. “That can answer three of these.”

“Excellent.”

Hagen glanced toward the wall report. “And the College?”

“The request has gone.”

“Then we may briefly enjoy waiting for someone else’s answer.”

Allandra looked at the correspondence still before them. “I am not enjoying it.”

“No. But you are becoming very practiced.”

By late afternoon, Allandra had had enough of foreign ministers and their carefully inherited anxieties.

She found Hagen in the family sitting room.

Traitor.

Pella sat near the hearth with an open book in her lap. Lessa sat beside Everly on the rug, where four more books had been arranged in a row.

“I thought you were helping,” Allandra said.

“I was dismissed,” Hagen replied.

Verya had almost certainly done that.

Everly looked up. “Mama.”

Allandra crossed the room and kissed her hair. “What are we doing?”

“Choosing.”

“The next book,” Pella explained.

She held up the one in her lap. “This has a dragon.”

Everly considered the cover. “Is there romance?”

“There is a dragon.”

“That was not my question.”

Lessa covered her mouth.

Hagen looked delighted.

Allandra sat down. “What happened to liking dragons?”

“I still like dragons.”

“But?”

“I want romance too.”

Of course.

Lessa’s suitor had created a problem.

Flowers. Dancing. Walking together. Holding hands. Why some stories ended with weddings.

Everly had developed standards.

Hagen surveyed the books. “Have you abandoned spiders in favor of romance?”

Everly looked scandalized. “No.”

“My apologies.”

“Master Ilovian teaches me one spider every day.”

“Every day?”

“If I finish.”

“Her lesson,” Allandra clarified.

Hagen nodded. “A ruthless educational philosophy.”

“Today was a jumping spider,” Everly said.

“Excellent.”

“And yesterday was an orb-weaver.”

“Your interests have merely diversified, then.”

Everly went very still.

Allandra knew that look.

So did Hagen.

“What?” he asked cautiously.

“How do spiders get romances?” Everly asked.

Pella lowered the book.

Lessa made a noise into her hand.

“That is an excellent question for Master Ilovian,” Hagen said immediately.

“Do they bring flowers?”

“I truly hope not.”

“Do they dance?”

He paused and looked to Allandra. She had no assistance to offer.

Everly looked between them. “Someone has to know.”

“Master Ilovian,” Allandra and Hagen said together.

This was apparently unsatisfactory.

But temporary.

Pella opened the book again. “There is a princess.”

Everly brightened. “And romance?”

Pella checked a page farther in. “Yes.”

“Good.”

The matter was settled.

Hagen leaned back. “You have created a monster.”

“I did not introduce Lessa to her suitor,” Allandra said.

Lessa looked offended. “I did not acquire a suitor for the purpose of educating Her Highness.”

“You should have considered the consequences.”

Pella began reading before anyone could make them worse.

Within three pages, the princess had met a traveling musician.

Everly immediately demanded to know whether he was “the romance.”

Pella told her to wait.

Everly regarded this as unreasonable.

Allandra listened while the princess discovered that the musician had lost his way.

A promising beginning, apparently. Everly approved of the princess supplying directions.

The musician gave the princess a flower.

Everly nodded approvingly. Then she turned very deliberately toward Hagen. “You should not bring Serali flowers.”

Hagen looked up. “I should not?”

“She does not like them in her hair. Or on her dresses,” Everly explained. “You could bring honey buns.”

Allandra decided not to interrupt the expansion of Serali’s objections to decorative flowers into a comprehensive courtship policy.

She did wonder whether Serali would object to flowers she was not required to wear.

Flowers from Allandra, for example.

Perhaps she would ask what she was supposed to do with them. Perhaps she would smile.

Allandra found herself wanting to know.

Everly considered another possibility. “Or a book. Serali likes to read.”

Hagen’s gaze moved to Allandra.

Again, she offered no assistance.

“You should ask which book,” Everly continued. “So you do not bring one she already has.”

Hagen lowered his hand from the arm of his chair. “Wait. Are you trying to arrange a romance between me and Serali?”

She brightened. “Yes.”

Hagen stared.

Allandra covered her mouth. She had known that Everly would not last long without bringing up her romance proposal directly.

Apparently, a few days was the limit.

Lessa failed entirely to hide a smile. Pella abandoned even the attempt.

“For how long?” Hagen asked.

“Since the ball. You danced.”

“Yes.”

“And you both like each other.”

“We do.”

“And Serali needs a romance.”

“Does she?” he asked Everly.

“She does not have one.”

“I see.”

“And you do not have one.”

Hagen sat back. “This is much more serious than I realized.”

Everly nodded. “Exactly.”

“No, sunbeam. You see, my position is rather complicated.”

Allandra narrowed her eyes.

Hagen ignored her.

“As Prince of Avalusia, I occupy a very important ceremonial role.”

Pella looked suspicious. Lessa did too.

Everly leaned forward. “What role?”

Hagen straightened his coat. “The handsome and romantically available prince.”

“Hagen,” Allandra said.

“It is important.”

“No.”

“There are traditions.”

“There are not.”

Everly frowned. “What does romantically available mean?”

“It means,” Hagen said gravely, “that the ladies of the court must be permitted to maintain a reasonable degree of optimism.”

“Your Highness,” Lessa said.

Pella added, “Perhaps we should continue the story.”

“Many of them,” Hagen continued, “have invested considerable time in—”

“No,” Allandra said.

“—developing a fondness for—”

“Hagen.”

Pella snapped the book shut.

Everly looked between them. “Fondness for what?”

“Nothing,” three women said at once.

Hagen appeared wounded. “I was explaining court culture.”

“You were explaining your reputation to a four-year-old,” Allandra said.

“Five later,” Everly corrected.

“Five later,” Allandra agreed.

“My reputation is excellent,” Hagen said.

Allandra stared at him.

Lessa looked carefully at the floor.

“I am beloved,” he added.

“That is not the same thing.”

Everly tugged at his sleeve. “But you could still have Serali as your romance.”

Hagen looked down at her.

His expression softened. “Ah.”

The teasing eased.

He slipped from the chair and crouched beside the rug. “Serali and I are friends.”

“I know.”

“And I like her very much.”

Everly nodded eagerly.

“But liking someone very much does not always mean you want them for a romance.”

“Why?”

“Because there are different kinds of liking people.”

Everly frowned. “That is complicated.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what kind?”

Hagen smiled. “I do.”

“And Serali?”

“I think she does too.”

Everly looked disappointed.

Mostly inconvenienced.

“But then how will she stay?”

Allandra felt that one.

So did Hagen.

His eyes lifted briefly to hers.

“Serali does not need a romance to stay here,” he told Everly.

“She does not?”

“No.”

“She can just stay?”

“If she wants to.”

Everly looked toward Allandra.

Allandra nodded. “She already has her rooms, sunbeam. And her work. And people who like having her here.”

“Me.”

“Certainly you.”

Everly considered the answer.

Then leaned against Hagen’s arm. “All right.”

Pella reopened the book.

The princess was still waiting beside the lost musician, who had apparently been holding the flower for a considerable time.

Everly studied the picture. “Did Papa bring you flowers?”

Allandra’s smile softened. “Yes, sunbeam. He did.”

“Did you like them?”

“Very much.”

Finnian had liked to give them to her himself. Even when an attendant could have brought them. Even when he had only a few minutes before some duty took him away again.

She remembered him waiting while she unwrapped them, pleased before she had said anything.

Everly leaned more comfortably against Hagen. “Papa was good at romance.”

Allandra looked down at her daughter. “He was.”

“You don’t need another romance. You already had Papa.”

Her hand stilled against the arm of the chair.

Everly looked up, waiting for agreement with the same confidence she brought to identifying spiders.

Allandra reached over and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “I loved your papa very much.”

Everly smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the book.

That was true.

It was not quite an answer to what Everly had said.

Pella adjusted the open pages in her lap.

“Should we find out what happens?” she asked.

Everly nodded.

Allandra settled back.

She would not have minded staying there until the story ended.

A knock interrupted them.

Verya entered carrying a folder.

Hagen looked up from the rug. “I was dismissed.”

“You were.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I am not here for you, Your Highness.”

“Cruel.”

Verya turned to Allandra. “The College responded.”

That brought her upright.

“So quickly?”

“Yes. Master Halal has accepted the request for consultation.”

“Who is he sending?”

Verya paused. “Himself.”

Hagen stopped stroking Everly’s hair. “Oh.”

Serali appeared in the doorway behind Verya, Pell waiting in the corridor.

Verya opened the folder. “He will attend tomorrow morning with Dean Arvellan.”

“Both of them?” Allandra asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Halal had taken the findings seriously. Or taken the request personally.

Possibly both.

Hagen stood. “Apparently we frightened him.”

“Or offended him,” Verya said.

“With Master Halal, there is considerable overlap.”

Serali looked toward Allandra.

Allandra tried not to smile.

Failed.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

Serali sighed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Everly looked up from the rug. “Does Master Halal know about spider romance?”

Everyone turned toward her.

Hagen took one step toward the door. “I am leaving.”