A Summer's Scheming

It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes

But it might just save your life

~ Huey Lewis

Chapter 4

Which, if not victory, is yet revenge. ~ John Milton

The carriage waiting outside the Ministry of Magic was anonymous enough. Clean, with paint covering the battering that would have inevitably been the case of a commercial carriage in the capital's streets, but not the immaculate condition and heraldry that would warn those watching that the carriage bore one of the nobility. A merchant might call for a carriage like this, or in this case a common born official of one of the kingdom's great institutions.

Larna Smith left the Ministry of Magic with her day's experiments concluded, the data being collated for her to review after a refreshing night's sleep, and the other paperwork of her position mostly done well enough to tide forwards another day… mostly because Kyle had filtered out the more routine requests and signed her name to either approval or rejection but it was the results that mattered. And even she could barely tell the difference between her signature and Kyle's copy of it these days. The boy was almost as great a find as his mother, in her opinion, even with all the favours the botanical department now owed her for Yumeria's assistance.

The driver knew her, knew the route and needed no instructions. He had the horses moving once Larna was seated and had closed the door. She raised the little curtain across the windows on one side, then went to the other and did the same. A crystal in the ceiling flickered to light at her command, providing a dim light but enough that the curtains did not leave the woman in complete darkness.

Taking hold of the front seat, Larna swung it up, revealing a compartment beneath that contained clothes and cosmetics. She braced herself against the carriage turning as it departed the gates of the Ministry and turned onto the street and then began the familiar dance of stripping, redressing and then applying her make-up while the carriage jostled and bounced along the streets.

She made a mental note to do something about carriage suspension one of these days. She'd made the same vow daily for several years now, but alas never put it to paper or remembered it when she was actually working.

At a certain turn, the young women closed the hidden compartment again and took hold of the door handle. She felt the carriage slow as they reached a junction where several roads met. Damping the crystal in the ceiling, she swung the door open right as they finally halted - waiting for the flow of evening traffic to let them pass.

A second carriage door faced her, the door already open, and she hopped across, leaving the door behind her to snap shut due to the spring securing it. Quickly, Suzanna Rafa Stuart closed the door to her new carriage and sat down. A snap of reins and this carriage, bright and shiny with the Stuart crest painted clearly on both sides, started back the other way. Pulling a hand mirror from the bag waiting for her, the duchess checked her make-up and verified that she'd managed it perfectly. "Every time," she mumbled to herself as the carriage took another turn, veering away from the Ministry building and towards the Stuart's townhouse.

This routine had been fun at first but there was no longer any real challenge to it. Maybe she should mix it up somehow?

Almost exactly on schedule, the carriage pulled up in front of the family entrance to the Stuart's mansion (as opposed to the main entrance, used by guests, or the tradesman entrance at the far end of the property). Suzanna dismounted and thanked the driver before entering the house.

Her husband was waiting in the drawing room. "Suzanna!" he greeted her warmly. "How was your day? Mine was magnificent. I had lunch with Ian, Gerald and Alan. They're looking healthy - although poor Gerald is pouty over Duchess Claes' letters."

Suzanna took a seat and waited for Jeffrey to finish gushing about his favourite topic in the world, bounding from one portrait of his brothers to another as his monologue touched on each. She'd had the maids leave a book for her on the coffee table and it still had her bookmark in it so she leafed through it until Jeffrey ran out of steam. It was exactly the sort of tedious and formulaic romance novel that did the rounds among the younger noble ladies, so Suzanna would be expected to be familiar with it.

"So they're doing well," she summed up when she finished a chapter and her husband paused for breath. "Someone delivered this to me earlier, more pestering about the elf issue." Opening the envelope she'd brought with her, she spilled the contents out onto the table."

Jeffrey crouched over the table and examined it. "Is that the detector that was stolen?"

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" she answered. "But it's a copy."

"So wherever this was found leads back to the thief?"

"I wish." She closed the book and leant back, resting her eyes. "Baron Gorton used it to justify divorcing his wife and throwing out their youngest son."

"Ouch." Her husband sat back on his heels. "How are the Durbays taking it?"

"Durbays?" Suzanna asked blankly.

"His wife's family?"

"Oh." She hadn't paid that much attention to that side of things, she'd mostly been interested in examining the copy… what had the messenger said… "I think they're mustering for war? Something like that."

"Ick." Jeffrey made a disgusted face. "At least they're nowhere near us. I'm surprised that either family can afford a war."

"You're asking me?"

"No, no." He waved his hands dismissively. "But if there are others then I may have to look at stepping in - at least for any lords near Stuart. Or on my lands, actually. Do you mind if I keep this - better to check my vassals next time I'm back there - if I know which of them are likely candidates then maybe I can pre-empt them."

"Go ahead. It works as far as I can tell. Will you be going back soon?"

Jeffrey shrugged. "Once Gerald and Alan have gone back to the academy. I hate to leave Ian on his own, keep an eye on him for me?"

"He's a big boy now, he's getting married this winter." Suzanna looked up and saw that her husband was making pleading eyes. "Oh alright. Did you find anything out about the dark magic side of things."

Jeffrey slouched into the chair facing hers. "Well, most of my contacts who might know something are the ones loath to share anything about me - in case I hurt myself thinking too hard, you know the ones. But just looking at what's widely known about Marchioness Dieke, there is one thing that does stand out for me."

"Oh?"

"Her son, Sirius - about six months older than Gerald and Alan?"

Suzanna drew a blank but she nodded anyway rather than let Jeffrey diverge into a longer explanation.

"He was badly ill about eight years ago. The doctors could do nothing, it seemed that he'd die. Rebecca was already estranged from her husband - you remember what he was like?"

"I don't." Oops, she realised her mistake. "Summarise, for me."

The duke made a distasteful face. "The sort of man who couldn't keep his hands off the maids or any other pretty young woman that wasn't his wife. He was asked to leave the capital by a number of offended husbands and fathers a year or two after the time I'm talking about. With his wife holed up on Dieke itself, he left the kingdom and no one's seen him since. Anyway, there was no real chance he'd give Rebecca another child - or at least, she hardly wanted him to."

Suzanna nodded. "I get the picture. So the boy was dying?"

"Exactly. With medicine failing her, the marchioness followed the traditional path and turned to religion. Prayers, donations, the whole nine yards. And, miraculously, Sirius made a full recovery. He's healthy as a horse, doing well at the academy. If his mother wasn't so picky he'd probably be engaged by now."

"So?" It sounded like something the temple would crow about, but medicine didn't really interest Suzanna. "Did they use light magic? Because, it's dark magic I'm curious about."

"No, they tried that and it didn't take. No one knows why exactly."

"Likely some sort of hereditary condition - light magic won't cure something you're born with, because it's what the body should have - however dysfunctional. Is the marchioness related to her husband?"

Jeffrey gave her a thumbs up. "That's my brilliant Suzanna. They're first cousins."

She nodded. "That's not too…"

"And third cousins. And fourth cousins a couple of times."

"Ah, congenital inability to find a spouse outside their traditional circle of neighbours. A common symptom."

Jeffrey's expression shifted and he leant forwards. "Go over my family tree, would you? Alan's illness…"

Suzanna raised her hand. "I've done so already, but both your grandfather and great-grandfather married outside of the kingdom. Alan being sickly is more a matter of your mother having a difficult pregnancy with twins. It's not likely that anyone in the kingdom is close enough as a relative to endanger your brothers, so their fiancees are safe enough. Just don't let any of your nieces or nephews marry back into the royal line for a generation or two."

Her husband sank back into his seat again. "Why isn't this warned of more widely?"

Suzanna sighed. "Because political alliances matter to the various feudal lords more than the health of their children. Between marrying before twenty and having to marry someone of similar rank tends to mean most people have a comparatively limited number of candidates." She shook her head. "So what's so odd about Sirius' recovery?"

"Besides the mystery of how he recovered at all?" the young duke smirked, his usual ebullience returning. "If his sudden good health was such a miracle, you'd think that the marchioness would be grateful - continued piety and the like?"

"Probably, yes? Was she not?"

He shook his head, silver-blond hair flying. "No, she went back to her previous token support and attendance. Which suggests to me that she knows exactly how her son recovered and it had nothing to do with the temple."

"That leaves a number of possibilities."

"Given she didn't disclose the method, it almost has to be something scandalous," Jeffrey pointed out. "Now I'm not saying that it's definitely dark magic… but it could be."

"Yes, it could." She frowned. "Thank you. I'll see if I can come up with anything around that time period."

"Since you're not going to be digging into my family history for potential problems," he suggested. "You can repay me by taking a look at the Berg mansion."

Suzanna gave him a dry look. "Could you be more specific?" She had some vacation hours that the Minister kept reminding her she ought to take, and at least it would be a change of routine.

"The duke fired half the staff a few weeks ago," her husband reminded her. "And Selena was left to handle the replacements."

"Yes, is it going wrong?"

"That's the surprising part. She's managed to get it all done. But now she's started replacing the rest of the original staff or sending them back to the Berg estates." Jeffrey reached over and tapped the table. "It's almost like she's become decisive."

"Selena?"

He nodded.

"Something's very wrong. Sounds interesting!" This was one of the reasons Suzanna had married Jeffrey. He was good at finding things for her to poke her nose into.

Leon had envisaged taking his family back to the barony as more or less dropping them in the cabins and then relaxing on the navigation deck. Unfortunately, he'd planned this without considering his youngest brother Colin, who was enthusiastically searching the ship for the crew he was sure must exist. And that was provoking the rest of the family to think about how a seven hundred metre warship functioned when Leon appeared to be the only member of the crew.

Also someone had to follow the boy around to make sure he didn't fall off anything, trying to get to places he shouldn't. Their mother wasn't quite dis-enchanted enough with the social order to ask that of Jenna or Finley, while Nicks had elected to remain in the county with Dorothea. Rather than switching to the special class for his third year, Leon's elder brother had elected to withdraw from the academy to directly assist their parents manage the former Olfrey lands and get to know his fiancee.

As much as Leon was glad that the pair of them were getting along better, he had a sneaking suspicion that his brother's decision was a cunning revenge on him for something as much as it was a willingness to carry some of the duties of governing their new lands.

"Colin, if you fall into the sea from this height, you won't sink into the water, you'll splatter off it as if it was stone," he warned and pulled his brother back from where he was leaning over the ship's railing.

"I'm not going to fall," the boy insisted. "Are your crew all elves? Is that where they all went?"

"Get down from there and I'll tell you," Leon bargained.

The boy released his grip on the rail and let Leon move him back to the deck. "I knew it."

"I don't have a crew of elves," Leon corrected him. "Actually, what do you mean 'where all the elves went'? Have they been disappearing?"

Colin kicked at the deck. "I heard Jenna and Finley talking with some of the other girls about how elf servants aren't around any more."

"That'd be because no one is contracting them." He scratched his head. "I don't know what the elves are actually doing these days though. Maybe they are all crewing for someone, but it's not for me. I did have a couple of elves aboard once, but that was different."

"I knew it, where are they!" his brother grabbed hold of Leon's shirt.

"Back in Holfort, they were more passengers than crew. Kyle was about your age… I think he's working as a gofer in the Ministry, his mother's a gardener there."

"What's a gofer?"

"Colin, go for the spade. Leon, go for the bag of beans. Go for, gofer."

His brother nodded eagerly. "So who does crew your ship?"

"If I investigate too much, they might stop working. I'd rather not get stuck adrift on a ship that I can't operate so please stop looking for them."

"But Leeeeeeon!"

The older boy poked at his brother's forehead. "Have you practised your writing yet?"

"But we're on a skyship!"

"It's absolutely possible to write when you're on a ship," Leon told him firmly. "Get it done Colin, then if mother agrees I'll let you see the knight-armours."

Colin gave him a suspicious look. "Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"You gotta keep your promises," his brother insisted.

"I really promise that if you do your writing and if mother agrees, then you can see the knight-armours."

Finally convinced, the youngest brother ran back to the cabin he was staying in. Leon was surprised by a chuckle from above him, and looked up to see his father was on the next deck up, looking down at him over its rail. "You're getting better at that."

"I suppose I might have children of my own one day, if I ever break down and yield to social pressure."

His father snorted. "Hold on a moment." Barcus vanished from sight and Leon heard his feet on the gangway before the man joined him on the same deck. His father reached out and then cuffed him lightly over the ear. "Practically every person you mention in your letters from school is a girl, I don't think you'll have trouble getting married. If you keep making out that you can't be bothered, someone will hit you a lot harder than that."

Leon rubbed the side of his head. "Did you have to hit me?"

"Sometimes you can be a bit dense." Barcus reached out again and Leon braced himself but this time it was just to ruffle his hair.

"I'm not sure I can ever see myself marrying," he admitted. "I mean, I could go through the legalities of it, and have children with someone - but that's not really marriage as I see it. It's not sharing my life with someone."

Barcus sighed and leaned on the rail. "I had this whole speech planned, the same one I used with Nicks about being realistic about your prospects. But given what you've done just in the last year, I have a suspicion you'll just exceed my expectations again."

Leon laughed. "Sorry, not sorry."

"Mmm. But at least I can honestly say that you've got a good idea of what a marriage should be." The older man looked out into the sky. "What your mother and I have, compared to Zola."

"I've never asked before, but why her of all people? Was there no one less poisonous?"

Barcus shrugged. "She wasn't always quite that bad. Or so I thought. For a while I blamed myself, thinking that falling in love with Ruth and having Nicks had been the last straw for her. But since Rudyard must have been conceived before that…" He shook his head. "I was around your age when your grandfather was stuck with becoming a baron. I didn't have much warning to start looking for a wife among the nobility and I probably didn't handle it all that well."

Leon nodded in understanding. "At least that's over now."

"Mmm," his father repeated. "Leon, I think you probably got a similar warning to the one I got, but have you told anyone about the elf business?"

"No. I haven't really been asked, actually. Jenna and I spoke about it once but there was no one else there."

His father sighed. "I have a nasty feeling that someone official will think that one of us did. Rumours are getting around that elves aren't safe, and I've heard at least one other household is squabbling over elf blood in their family. There aren't that many people who could have told them."

"It's kind of hard to prove a negative," Leon admitted, "but honestly? I'm not surprised that someone spoke up. It's a juicy secret and there only needs to be one person who can't resist telling a friend or relative 'in confidence'."

"You're probably right," the older Bartford agreed. "The reason we might come under suspicion is that the Colemans decided to throw Zola and her children out."

"Really?"

He got a nod. "And that will at least raise the possibility that one of our family explained the truth to them, to take revenge on her."

"I had my revenge when we got rid of her. As soon as she was out of our lives I didn't want anything more from her. Are you sure it was anything to do with the elf issue? I mean, Viscount Coleman has had to put up with her for months now and I doubt she was exactly at her charming best."

Barcus sighed. "She was officially declared a bastard, with the Viscount declaring he had evidence that his mother had dallied with an elf and Zola was the result. I assume that you knew that."

"I guessed. Rudyard and Merce weren't only one-half elf."

"And thus her reasoning for accepting the divorce." Leon's father sighed. "I'm surprised they don't look more like elves."

"My working theory is that the children of crossbreeds always share the visible traits of the mother - the one half-elf I know who looks like an elf is also the only case I'm aware of where the human parent was the father."

"I suppose that that makes sense. Unfortunately, it seems likely that Zola will suspect that her brother drew that conclusion because one of us hinted at her parentage. I don't know that she has any resources to put into revenge now, but she's certainly going to be motivated and I doubt she feels she has much to lose."

Leon considered that and then nodded reluctantly. "I'll keep my eyes open. I hope you'll be doing the same."

"Of course. That's one reason Ruth and I are going back home." His father smiled wryly. "The barony is my home, you know. The county is never going to be that for me, however prestigious it is. Our island, where we Bartfords have made our home for centuries."

"Ever since we left the continent," Leon agreed.

His father stiffened. "I don't recall ever telling you that story. For that matter, I don't believe I've mentioned it to anyone since my father told me."

The boy grinned. "I have another source of information. Biased, I will admit. And you just confirmed that there's something to it."

"Sneaky brat. Alright, I assume you know not to spread it around? Tell me what you learned and I'll correct you if I hear anything I'm sure is wrong."

Leon glanced around and made sure they were alone. "Once I pare away all the whining, one of our distant ancestors was part of the same adventuring group that founded the kingdom of Holfort. There was some falling out - over a woman, according to my source, and one of the others stabbed him in the back. His family decided it wouldn't be healthy to hang around so they fled out to a remote island and started homesteading it. After a few centuries, the kingdom expanded to the point they found us and grandfather was given the choice of swearing allegiance as baron over the island or being removed so one could be imposed."

Barcus nodded quietly. "I don't know about a woman, my father believed that our ancestor was the leader of the adventurers and Holfort killed him to take over. Otherwise it might have been the Bartford kingdom and who knows what would have happened. I doubt anyone in Holfort still remembers that, it's not the sort of legend to be passed down with pride."

"Contradicting the entire founding myth of the kingdom?" Leon laughed. "Yeah, I can't see some little conspiracy of the founding families keeping that fact around. If nothing else, if they did then grandfather would probably never have been offered the chance to be a baron. The Holforts took a foothold on the continent and turned it into one of the largest realms I know of. Whatever our ancestor did, we can't claim credit for any of that work."

"Good thinking. But it's still a good lesson to remember. There's never anyone more dangerous to you than someone you trust."

The boy smiled. "Trust and you can be betrayed, but don't trust and you might wind up betraying yourself."

"I haven't heard it put quite like that." His father shook his head again. "So, your source said that a woman was involved?"

"Well, you know how the Saintess vanished after the kingdom was founded?" Leon smirked. "Allegedly, she was hung up on Lia Bartford and the first Holfort thought that getting rid of our ancestor would mean he'd be rid of his rival for her affection. It didn't work out that way."

Barcus made a pained noise. "You definitely shouldn't tell anyone that. The temple would want to burn you at the stake…"

"Leon!"

His mother's voice drew Leon out of a rather pleasant dream, the details of which escaped him as he was jarred back to wakefulness.

For a moment he thought that everything over the last year might have been a dream - he was back in his bedroom back in the Bartford's small stronghold in their ancestral barony, the same bed he'd used for as long as he could remember. Any moment now, his mother would tell him he was late for his chores.

Then reality set in. Nicks wasn't there, and most of his brother's possessions were also gone. And the school uniform hung up on the wardrobe ready to be packed was something Leon hadn't had until after the brief war against the Olfreys.

"I'm awake," he managed. Glancing at the window, it wasn't really late in the morning. He might have overslept a little, but a few matters had fallen into arrears with his father's absence and they'd both returned late from visiting some of the baronets who had been truculent about making good some of their obligations. Backing Barcus up was his duty now that Nicks was away.

His mother pushed the door open and then sighed. "Do put something on."

Leon looked down and realised that the light sheet covering him had been kicked away at some point during the hot summer night. "I'm fairly sure you've seen it all before." But she was his mother, so he grabbed the previous day's shirt and shrugged it on. There was no point getting clean clothes until he'd washed off some of the sweat.

Covered almost to his knees by the shirt, the boy stretched. "Am I late for something?"

"You have a letter," she told him. "The mailship arrived last night but I'd gone to bed before you got home."

Leon raked his hair back and grabbed his hair tie. "Alright, just a moment."

The water in his washbasin wasn't really cold, but it was refreshing against his face anyway and he felt far more awake once he'd towelled it off. Yesterday's trousers were good enough for now and his mother finally forced the letter into his hand. Leon glanced at the seal and realised why she was so anxious - it had the seal of the academy on it.

"I wonder how long this has been chasing me around the kingdom," he wondered and broke the seal.

Inside were two sheets of paper. Unfolding them, Leon saw that from the date this had been sent two weeks ago, while he'd been in the county. That was a bit longer than he'd expected, even this far away from the continent. From the postmarks it had first gone to the barony, then passed them on the way to the county before being forwarded back here.

The first half of the front page was taken up with a list of courses and his final grades, including exam results and various coursework. He wondered how Scarlet would react to seeing that he'd managed a few perfects in theoretical or purely academic classes. Even his swordsman score was almost that high - competitive with her own initial assessment.

Seriously, Scarlet and Gerald were scary. Even when they weren't top of a subject they were almost always in the top five.

"Could be worse," he said out loud.

Ruth Fou Bartford was almost hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. "Oh honey, I know it's tough without magic but…"

"I came twelfth," he cut her short.

"Twelfth?" she froze. "You're… twelfth… You mean, from the top?"

"Uh-huh. It's a rotten shame, they're going to stick me with…"

"Leon!" his mother exclaimed and grabbed him in a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

The boy sighed and leant into the hug. He wasn't going to pass up some maternal approval, even if he'd rather have come a place or two lower.

The second half of the first page had informed him that as one of the top scorers within the special class, he had been chosen to serve on the Student Council through the rest of his time at the academy. While the phrasing had lauded this as being a great honour, what it meant was that he would be stuck with quite a bit of extra-curricular work that would cut into his free time.

Had he ever asked for responsibility? He had not! Why was he therefore being given it?

There was a list of the other students who would be joining him as the junior members of the Student Council from the start of the term. Scarlet and Gerald were unsurprisingly at the head of the list, along with Olivia and Alan. The other seven students were also known to him - Mary, Sophia, Keith and Angelica would be no problem but there were three names that Leon regretted bitterly.

Julius Rafa Holfort, Jilk Fia Marmoria and Brad Fou Field had also made it into the top twelve.

It was some small comfort that the object of their affections hadn't made it in, and at least two of the prince's friends hadn't received the honour, but it would still mean years of having to meet with them regularly. That was going to be awkward at best.

"At least I'll have some friends on the council," he noted. "I get along with most of the other students that qualify for it."

"It's wonderful that you've made so many friends," Ruth told him as she released him at last. She wiped away tears of happiness. "I must tell everyone. Do get cleaned up and dressed. I'll see if we can have something special for dinner. News like this deserves celebration."

"I'll try to be ready before Jenna's irate howling," he told his mother. "Did she get her grades as well?"

"Yes. They're… adequate. I do think she'll have to try harder. Perhaps this will motivate her."

"It's possible," he admitted. "I suppose if she had made the top twelve last year she would have had the chance to spend time with Lord Ascart, and if that doesn't motivate her I don't know what will."

Ruth gave him a puzzled look.

"The student council president," he explained. "Universally agreed to be the prettiest boy in the school. And unengaged at the moment."

"Really? That's strange."

"Apparently the young ladies have a habit of fainting before they can convince him to propose to them." Leon shrugged. "I'm going to be honest, if I'm going to be his subordinate on the council then I can't really push Jenna off on him."

"Leon, that's your sister you're talking about!"

"I know." He shuddered. "Such an embarrassment."

His mother swatted at him. "Alright, get it out of your system. You've still got almost two years at the academy with her so try to get along."

"I'm trying, but so is she." He shuffled the letter to look at the second page and his stomach fell out from under him. "Oh no."

"Is something wrong?"

Leon closed his eyes, prayed and opened them again. His prayers had not been answered and he'd read the letter right the first time.

"Oh no," he said again.

"Leon, what's wrong?" Ruth looked worried.

"Apparently there will be a princess attending the academy for part of the next term," he told his mother. "It's for diplomatic reasons, but she's residing on campus and auditing some classes. As part of the student council I'll be expected to escort her at times."

His mother frowned. "The king's daughter… Erika? I thought she would be a little too young for the academy."

"A foreign princess," Leon clarified. "A ruling princess."

Ruth Fou Bartford was many admirable things, but high level politics and diplomacy were not her forte. "I have no idea who you mean, Leon."

"Hertrude Sera Fanoss, the ruling princess of Fanoss will effectively be joining the student body." Leon remembered that pale face, lit by the moon as he escaped the castle. "And I'm likely to have to escort her at times."

"I don't see why that has you so bothered? You've made friends with several young women of rank, and it's not as if you'd be expected to court her."

"It's about ten years since the last war with Fanoss," he reminded his mother. "Not long enough for grudges to fade on either side. And I believe it's an article of faith in the principality that her parents were assassinated by Holfort as soon as they'd signed the peace treaty."

"But she's come here in peace, hasn't she? And she'd hardly start a war while she's a guest in Holfort."

"Diplomacy, mother, is war by other means. I just hope she isn't planning to provoke a diplomatic incident she can use to demand concessions from the kingdom. And with the succession in doubt, I'm sure King Roland would be more than willing to sacrifice a minor student at the academy in order to keep the peace on one border."

"Leon." His mother hugged him. "I know you're being a worrier, like your father. But you're being paranoid."

I know, he thought. But am I being paranoid enough?