‘Repressive number of plates of dry crusty things those sendings put out,’ interrupted Mogget again. ‘I trust they’re looking after you? That one there can be a bit pushy.’
‘What?’
Clariel turned around. Her attendant sending, who had silently followed her from the house, was standing two paces behind her back. It bowed, the strange face inscrutable under the cowl.
‘Oh, do go away,’ said Clariel.
It didn’t move.
‘It won’t,’ said Mogget. ‘Ordered to watch you. Guard you too, I suppose.’
‘Will it report what I say to the Abh— to my grandfather?’
‘Yes,’ said Mogget. He bent forward and suddenly scratched at the ground, clearing away some leaves and fallen acorns to the bare earth. Then, extending one claw, he scratched something in the dirt. It took Clariel a moment to understand that he was writing something. She knelt down to see it better, and briefly saw the words: Sme cn’t read.
‘Ah,’ said Clariel. She arched her eyebrows and jerked her head back a couple of times, indicating the sending behind her.
‘There’s a fungus on bread that will make you do that,’ said Mogget. ‘I believe it is curable.’
Clariel sighed and, holding her hand close to her stomach, pointed with the tip of her forefinger at the sending.
‘Oh, yes, I think that does apply to the one in question,’ said Mogget, scrabbling for a moment in the earth as if he’d spotted a tasty-looking bug, but in fact writing another message in shorthand: I can shw yu how to gt rid of them.
‘I think I’d like to look at the study in the tower,’ said Clariel. ‘I have some letters to write.’
‘After you catch me a fish, surely,’ said Mogget. ‘It’s easy enough, because of the spelled currents. The fish get drawn in around the southern end of the island. There’s a pole and hooks and such in the tower, and a sending will bring worms from the kitchen garden.’
‘I see,’ said Clariel, who saw very well that Mogget would answer no questions unless she did catch him a fish. ‘I’ll catch you a fish.’
Two hours and three long but slim silver fish that Mogget called ‘skinnerjacks’ later, they were crossing the southern lawn going back to the house when the cat suddenly stopped, ears flicking.
‘Someone’s coming,’ he said.
‘The Abhorsen?’ asked Clariel.
‘No,’ replied the cat. ‘There would be more sendings coming out. I suspect it is your lover. Belatiel.’
‘He’s not my lover,’ protested Clariel. As the actual catching of fish had only taken up some fifteen minutes of the two hours spent fishing, she had spent a lot of the time talking. Mogget was interested in everything that had happened, though every time Clariel had tried to move on to questioning him about the House and how to get out of it he’d changed the subject, apparently because the sending was listening. But she hadn’t mentioned Bel’s romantic intentions, so either the cat had read more into what she’d said, or he was just making fun of her.
‘Your friend, then,’ said Mogget, as they turned left and followed the path towards the western gate. ‘Particular friend.’
‘He’s not a particular … Oh, never mind,’ retorted Clariel. She looked down at the cat. He blinked his eyes at her, pretending total innocence. ‘You just like to stir up trouble, don’t you?’
‘Not as much when it is so remarkably easy,’ said Mogget. ‘Though you do offer slightly more of a challenge than Belatiel.’
Clariel hoped the visitor was Bel, because he would be vastly more preferable than Tyriel, or, Charter forbid, Yannael.
The sending with the two-handed sword opened the gate as they walked up, and it was Bel. He looked pale and drawn, but better than he had when they’d landed the day before, not least because he was wearing fine clothes, similar to the outfit Clariel had seen him in when they first met at the Academy. He smiled as he saw Clariel, a full-hearted smile, which retreated somewhat when Mogget slunk out from behind her legs.
‘Clariel! And Mogget …’
‘Hello, Bel,’ said Clariel. Mogget merely winked and tilted his head to look at the fish Clariel held by a string through their open mouths. His pink tongue protruded just a fraction as if he couldn’t quite hold it back.
‘I see you have met Mogget,’ said Bel. ‘And he’s talked you into fishing for him already.’
‘She volunteered,’ said Mogget. ‘You look sick.’
‘I was wounded,’ said Bel. ‘Clariel saved my life.’
Mogget looked up at Clariel, emerald eyes inscrutable.
‘You didn’t tell me that.’
‘Twice, really,’ said Bel eagerly. ‘First from the crossbow bolt, then she stopped a Free Magic creature that was about to kill me.’
‘Stopped a Free Magic creature?’ asked Mogget. His eyes gleamed in sudden interest. ‘Fascinating. I wondered how you came to be … That is, I understood you are not much of a Charter Mage, as such …’
‘I held its feet,’ said Clariel, uncomfortably. ‘They were like blades
… Anyway, what am I supposed to do with this fish? And what are you doing here, Bel?’
She did not notice Mogget’s eyes widen as she spoke, or the calculating glint that came into the cat’s eyes.
‘I came to see you, of course,’ said Bel, as if there could be no question that he would do so at the first opportunity. ‘I would have come earlier this morning, but, ah, I didn’t think the Abhorsen would … um … make you stay here and no one would tell me where you were. I had to go and ask Tyriel himself, which let me tell you wasn’t easy. I had to submit to a lecture about flying low over horses and dogs.’
‘Well, here I am,’ said Clariel. ‘A prisoner again, as I foretold.’
‘He told me it’s for your safety,’ said Bel awkwardly. ‘But it shouldn’t be for very long, only until Kilp is dealt with –’
‘And how soon is that going to be?’ asked Clariel bitterly. ‘Tyriel isn’t going to do anything. Not with the Summer’s End Hunt to get through first, and who knows what else he thinks is more important.’
‘He says the King is safe enough in the Palace,’ said Bel. ‘And he doesn’t take Kilp seriously anyway. I’m sorry, all right?’
‘Sorry for what?’
‘For not flying you to Estwael like you asked,’ said Bel. ‘Though I guess with your aunt being arrested there –’
‘What!’
‘Maybe not arrested exactly; being taken to Belisaere for her own safety,’ said Bel quickly. ‘Didn’t the Abhorsen tell you?’
‘No.’
‘Maybe he only found out this morning. There have been so many message-hawks flying back and forth all the pigeons have fled Hillfair …’
‘She was arrested by Kilp?’
‘On the orders of the Governor,’ confirmed Bel. ‘The story being that her safety was at risk, with the “rebels” threatening Queen Jaciel … There’s still no public sighting of her by the way …’
‘There won’t be. She’s dead,’ said Clariel, stony-faced.
‘You can’t be absolutely sure of that,’ said Bel awkwardly.