The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars 3)

“It seems strange,” said Brother Marcus, but his lips quirked. “Yet there must be some satisfaction in setting the child of our enemy to work like a common laborer, to benefit ourselves. Perhaps it is a sign.”

Antonia sat down next to Liath, who was mute, picking at the edge of the table with a finger while she stared at the wall. A book lay closed before her; its ivory cover had been cleverly carved in miniature to show the famous episode of St. Valeria confounding the pagan astrologers in the city of Saïs the Younger. A few days ago Liath had begun wearing the gold torque, symbol of her royal kinship; her dark complexion set off the rich gold sheen more beautifully, really, than did Anne’s pale, fair skin. And although it was lowering to think that Sanglant had stumbled on the secret of Anne’s descent before she had, Antonia was not one to throw away information just because it came from an unlikely quarter. Indeed, what Antonia found most interesting was that not one of the other magi had ever commented upon Anne’s breeding, or Liath’s sudden adoption of the torque.

“You have come precipitously from Darre,” said Anne to Marcus. “Tell us your news, Brother.”

“Darre is not the place it was,” he said, glancing toward Liath as if he weren’t sure whether she ought to be there or not. Perhaps he found the gold torque gleaming at her neck disconcerting, but like the rest of them, he did not mention it. “There is a new power at work in Darre. That is why I dared not risk speaking through fire.”

“What can you mean, Brother?” demanded Zoë. “Surely you aren’t suggesting that some other person might without our tutelage have learned to listen through fire or travel within the crowns?”

“The veils grow thin,” said Anne. “Other creatures walk abroad in this time. Bother Marcus, I commend your caution.”

“Any man must walk cautiously in the presbyter’s hall. I learned that years ago.” He was sitting across from Liath, and he reached across the table to draw the ivory-covered book to him. He opened it and idly turned the pages, but he wasn’t looking at the text, only considering. Anne watched him. Liath said nothing. “Queen Adelheid fled Darre when her husband died and the last of her male relatives were killed in the south. No sooner had she run than Lord John Ironhead rode after her. His origins are questionable, to say the least. It is commonly known that he is the bastard son of a nobleman put into service in his guards. He rose to captain and steward, slew his own half brother when that man came into the title, and married his widow, taking upon himself the title of Lord of Sabina. Ironhead besieged Queen Adelheid at Vennaci. Soon after this, Princess Theophanu together with a small army of Wendish soldiers came south over the mountains. They claimed to be on a peaceful mission to Darre to bring certain petitions from King Henry to the notice of the skopos. Ironhead of course assumed that they, too, were after Adelheid, and he attacked Vennaci. Adelheid and Theophanu vanished in the wilderness and were rumored to be dead. Ironhead returned to Darre with Adelheid’s treasure and a new adviser, a Wendish churchman who had, so we heard in the presbyter’s hall, been sent south to stand trial for sorcery. Yet as soon as Ironhead came to Darre, Mother Clementia crowned Lord John king of Aosta. I believe that this churchman bound a daimone and that he now controls the skopos through its agency.”

“Can this be true?” demanded Severus. “How could he have learned of the binding of daimones? I traveled extensively in my youth from monastery to monastery to erase every reference to sorcery and the art of mathematici that I could find.”

Brother Marcus was enjoying himself. He closed the book and lifted a finger, as if to enjoin patience. “When spring came, a new rumor infected the city. Queen Adelheid had reappeared in the north, and some claimed that sorcery had aided her in her flight from King John. Some claimed that stone crowns had been seen gleaming with starlight and moonlight.”

Even Liath looked up, gaze made sharp by surprise. Severus grunted with annoyance. Zoë clapped a hand to her ample bosom, looking shocked. Meriam’s smile was thin and unreadable. Anne simply waited for Marcus to go on.

Brother Marcus suffered the failing of pride, and he was proud of himself now. Yet the sin of pride was not the worst failing a woman or man could have, reflected Antonia; not as long as she, or he, was right.

“He has Bernard’s book,” he said, and then sat back to enjoy the reactions this statement caused. Antonia, too, was free to study her companions because she had no idea what “Bernard’s book” was or why it mattered.

“Nay!” said Severus. “I thought it was burned.”

“The servant brought no report of the book,” cried Zoë. “Under such constraints, it couldn’t lie!”

“Can Bernard actually have had the power to conceal it and pass it on?” asked Meriam. But she seemed intrigued more than angry.

“Go on,” said Anne without expression. She alone seemed unsurprised. But then, Anne never seemed surprised. Yet neither did Liath seem surprised.

“Well, Bernard’s book. What was I to do? I made an effort to recover it, but, alas, I failed. He was more alert to magic than I had supposed. I underestimated him because it seemed obvious to me that he was working sorcery far beyond his understanding of the art. He was more cunning than I thought.”

Liath’s lips moved, forming a word or a name, but she made no sound.

Marcus drew out a scroll from his sleeve and displayed it almost in the way a boy teases his little sister with a toy she badly wants. “But I did manage to grab this before I had to retreat. I have no idea where he found it, but I think you’ll agree that it is of great interest to us.” With a flourish, he untied the ribbon that bound it closed, and unrolled it on the table, holding down the curling edges with his hands. Everyone leaned to see.

o;You have come precipitously from Darre,” said Anne to Marcus. “Tell us your news, Brother.”

“Darre is not the place it was,” he said, glancing toward Liath as if he weren’t sure whether she ought to be there or not. Perhaps he found the gold torque gleaming at her neck disconcerting, but like the rest of them, he did not mention it. “There is a new power at work in Darre. That is why I dared not risk speaking through fire.”

“What can you mean, Brother?” demanded Zoë. “Surely you aren’t suggesting that some other person might without our tutelage have learned to listen through fire or travel within the crowns?”

“The veils grow thin,” said Anne. “Other creatures walk abroad in this time. Bother Marcus, I commend your caution.”

“Any man must walk cautiously in the presbyter’s hall. I learned that years ago.” He was sitting across from Liath, and he reached across the table to draw the ivory-covered book to him. He opened it and idly turned the pages, but he wasn’t looking at the text, only considering. Anne watched him. Liath said nothing. “Queen Adelheid fled Darre when her husband died and the last of her male relatives were killed in the south. No sooner had she run than Lord John Ironhead rode after her. His origins are questionable, to say the least. It is commonly known that he is the bastard son of a nobleman put into service in his guards. He rose to captain and steward, slew his own half brother when that man came into the title, and married his widow, taking upon himself the title of Lord of Sabina. Ironhead besieged Queen Adelheid at Vennaci. Soon after this, Princess Theophanu together with a small army of Wendish soldiers came south over the mountains. They claimed to be on a peaceful mission to Darre to bring certain petitions from King Henry to the notice of the skopos. Ironhead of course assumed that they, too, were after Adelheid, and he attacked Vennaci. Adelheid and Theophanu vanished in the wilderness and were rumored to be dead. Ironhead returned to Darre with Adelheid’s treasure and a new adviser, a Wendish churchman who had, so we heard in the presbyter’s hall, been sent south to stand trial for sorcery. Yet as soon as Ironhead came to Darre, Mother Clementia crowned Lord John king of Aosta. I believe that this churchman bound a daimone and that he now controls the skopos through its agency.”

“Can this be true?” demanded Severus. “How could he have learned of the binding of daimones? I traveled extensively in my youth from monastery to monastery to erase every reference to sorcery and the art of mathematici that I could find.”

Brother Marcus was enjoying himself. He closed the book and lifted a finger, as if to enjoin patience. “When spring came, a new rumor infected the city. Queen Adelheid had reappeared in the north, and some claimed that sorcery had aided her in her flight from King John. Some claimed that stone crowns had been seen gleaming with starlight and moonlight.”

Even Liath looked up, gaze made sharp by surprise. Severus grunted with annoyance. Zoë clapped a hand to her ample bosom, looking shocked. Meriam’s smile was thin and unreadable. Anne simply waited for Marcus to go on.

Brother Marcus suffered the failing of pride, and he was proud of himself now. Yet the sin of pride was not the worst failing a woman or man could have, reflected Antonia; not as long as she, or he, was right.

“He has Bernard’s book,” he said, and then sat back to enjoy the reactions this statement caused. Antonia, too, was free to study her companions because she had no idea what “Bernard’s book” was or why it mattered.

“Nay!” said Severus. “I thought it was burned.”