“Morgan.” Venette’s scolding tone was softened. “This distresses you. I am sorry. I know you long for Luzena by your side and your father hale and hearty, no thought of crypting him for years. Alas, like poor Luzena, that dream is dead. My dear, let it go.”
He looked at the hand she’d let rest on his arm. “Why do you embroil yourself in my troubles?”
“Because your mother was like a sister to me,” she said simply, and let her hand drop. “Besides. If I don’t, who will?”
“I can find my own wife.”
“I never said you couldn’t. But isn’t my way more convenient? Why quibble over fribbles, Morgan?”
“Because I’ve learned that little in our magic-charmed lives is free,” he said, prepared for once to let her see behind his careful mask. “Everything I’ve achieved I have worked for, very hard. I’ve had to. The Danfeys are only ranked middling high. In the past year I’ve submitted six incants for Council ratification. The one I’ve had sanctioned I was forced to resubmit twice, three were dismissed out of hand and two are yet pending, even now.”
The musicians in the gallery finished their jig with a lively flourish, then shifted smoothly into the warning ta-ta-ta that heralded a rantina, the stately, patterned measure taught to every child old enough to walk without a nurse. On the dance floor the smiling, breathless guests broke out of their close couplings and took their places. Abandoning Venette’s husband, Stim and Harele Boqur joined them.
“I hope,” said Venette, as the musicians launched into the rantina proper, “you don’t blame me for that. I am no paragon of virtue, nor have ever claimed to be, but not for any reason, petty or grand, do I play parlour games with another mage’s lifework.”
She sounded genuinely hurt, and it wasn’t what he’d intended. “Of course I don’t. You’ve always been my steadfast supporter. It’s Sallis Arkley and Shari Frieden behind it, I know.”
“Morgan…” Venette stared at him, frowning. “You do understand why Sallis and Shari delay a decision on your patents? They seek to keep you uncertain, and in doing so control you. Because your talent is such that once it has fully flowered, your ranking won’t matter.”
It was odd, hearing his suspicions confirmed. “And how do you suggest I counter their strategy?”
“With patience, of course,” she said, impatient, glass lifted to her lips. “You seem to have forgotten that time is on your side.”
No, he’d not forgotten. He was just tired of waiting.
“I’m sorry,” he said, forcing a smile. “I thought I was fit for polite company, but clearly my temper remains uncertain. I’ll excuse myself to Orwin and—”
“No, you won’t,” she said, catching his sleeve. “Not when the Garricks promised to be here in the hope I’d convinced you to come.”
Surprised, he let her keep hold of him. “Maris’s parents pursue the match?”
She made no effort to hide her gently scornful amusement. “Morgan, don’t pretend to a modesty we both know you lack. You’re not unwed because you’re unweddable. You might only be singly patented, but that’s more than most mages will ever achieve. Add to that your Council appointment and the fact you were chosen to stand in for Brahn Sorvold at Winsun and, well, take my word for it. You are eminently eligible. So ask Maris to dance. If you should take her in dislike there’s no need to think of her further. But if she doesn’t instantly repel you, then perhaps tonight might be the start of a new and happier chapter in your life.”