Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

She nodded, thinking Hax must have worked wearying hours doing all these tasks, as well as the others Lord Kosenmark had alluded to. The more intricate concerns of my household, as he had phrased it.

They had drained the first carafe of tea, and Hax rang for another, which Janna delivered. Ilse noticed a self-satisfied expression on the girl’s face and wondered what else had happened after she left the kitchen, but Hax was already talking again, his long expressive hands sketching out patterns in the air as he explained how he preferred the accounts to be kept. Ilse had some notion of accounts, but apparently Lord Kosenmark required very particular methods for tracking his investments and expenditures, and some of those methods left Ilse puzzled and shaking her head. Still, she made an effort to understand and remember.

“But all that is secondary,” he said at last.

“Secondary,” Ilse murmured faintly.

Hax smiled at her dismay. “Of course. All these duties come second to Lord Kosenmark’s correspondence.”

Lord Kosenmark received numerous letters from all over the kingdom, he told her. Letters from his family, from old colleagues in Duenne, from the inhabitants of his father’s duchy in the southwest. Her initial task was to separate the letters into three categories, depending on the sender. Those from Lord Kosenmark’s family or from the duchy of Valentain went into the first.

“Also a limited number of other correspondents,” Hax said. “Here are their names.”

He handed her several sheets of paper. Each page contained three columns of names. Lords. Dukes. Merchants. Scholars. The names and addresses ranged throughout Veraenen society and its geography. “What shall I do with letters that don’t match the list?”

“Those you bring directly to Lord Kosenmark. Do not use the house runners,” he added, touching his hands together briefly. “For the most part, these will be important documents for his investments, and he wishes to handle them himself. If Lord Kosenmark is not available, you bring them to me. If I am not available, you will lock them in my office in a certain letter box I will show you.”

“And what if the letters have no names?”

“Those belong to the third category. Bring them to Lord Kosenmark as well, but separate from the rest—it will save us time. Again, if Lord Kosenmark and I are both absent, place the unmarked letters in the letter box.”

Once she accustomed herself to that task, Hax said he would give her more details on how to subdivide them further. “You will learn the names that interest him most. Are you overwhelmed yet?”

She nodded, thinking that Lord Kosenmark attracted a huge amount of correspondence for a man dismissed from court.

“No matter,” Hax said. “We shall not expect you to remember everything the first day. Now …” He took a bunch of keys from his belt and removed one. “I had mentioned a letter box, which I keep in my office. Here is the key. Keep it with you at all times.”

Ilse turned the key over in her hand. It had a long notched blade and large octagonal bow stamped with a leopard. When she closed her hand over it, she felt the buzz of old magic.

“You must also have keys for my office and Lord Kosenmark’s,” Hax went on. “I shall send for the locksmith to make copies.”

“Is that enough?” she asked. “I mean … if Lord Kosenmark is anxious about his papers, would a lock suffice to keep out thieves?”

Hax kept silent long enough that she worried she had trespassed on a forbidden topic. “We have anticipated that,” he said slowly. “It comes from living at court, where there are no secrets except those fiercely guarded. We have magic safeguarding the doors and windows of both our offices. The same holds true for the strongboxes, which Lord Kosenmark had specially built by a friend. That key you hold opens the outer lid. You may then drop letters through the slot, but you cannot retrieve them. Neither can I. Only Lord Kosenmark can.”

Magic. She felt a ripple of anticipation. “Does Lord Kosenmark know that much magic?”

“More than most lords. Not as much as the King’s Mage, certainly. But he has made certain are

as of magic his specialty, and he has friends who assist him. Are you bothered by that? Lord Kosenmark said your father originally came from Duszranjo.”

Ilse shook her head. Briefly she thought how she would always need to explain how not all Duszranjo followed the old laws, only the most remote villages in the southern end, those who remembered the wars between Károví and the empire, when mages from both armies scorched the borderlands. And they weren’t laws, she thought. Only the natural response of someone once burned by fire, who starts at any spark or flame.

But like anything else about Duszranjo, the legends were more powerful than the dull shadings of truth. “I was born in Veraene,” she said finally. “Nothing about magic bothers me.”

Hax’s only reaction to that was a shrug. He then went on to explain the procedures for contacting Lord Kosenmark in emergencies—not mentioning what those emergencies might be—and how his schedule usually worked. Eventually the explanations came to an end, and Maester Hax took her across the foyer to her new study.

The room was smaller than Hax’s but comfortable-looking and furnished with a writing table and several chairs. Shelves lined the wall behind the desk. Most were empty, but the lower ones held boxes of writing supplies. Maps and charts hung from another wall; a long narrow table stood underneath. Like the one she had seen in Kosenmark’s office, the maps contained densely written notations in their margins and cryptic marks next to cities and ports. The third wall had a fireplace flanked by more shelves. Lamps hung from the ceiling above both the desk and the table. Someone had already lit the fire.

“You might make a list of your needs,” Hax said. “Tables. More comfortable chairs. Mistress Denk can help with ordering those. Kathe will come by to show you your new quarters. Ah, my lord. I thought we were to meet later.”

Ilse started. Lord Kosenmark had appeared, as silent as a prowling cat, in the doorway. “We were,” he said. “Jez arrived.”

That enigmatic reply meant something to Hax, evidently, because his lips parted in obvious surprise. “So soon. I had not expected—” Then he seemed to remember Ilse’s presence because he glanced at her with an troubled expression. “Mistress Ilse, I must leave you to your own supervision. Write out that list of supplies and wait for me to return.”

He hurried after Kosenmark, who was already mounting the stairs.

Ilse let her breath trickle out. Very strange. Very, very strange. Maybe they would tell her more later. For now, she had her first assignment.