Fire Angels

Chapter 11 part 3 More family and more politics

I did my best to bring the subject up at dinner that evening when I was seated beside Lord-Elector Sandor Sercel. The minute he realized what I was trying to speak about however, he put a finger on his lips and told me softly, that there would be time to speak of such matters later. Still, on the whole I was not displeased with my effort. In the old days I would have been barely able to speak the Lord-Elector of Middle Moria without blushing and stammering incoherently.

Sandor Sercel was a tall grey haired man, still very handsome despite his age. His eyes were dark and clever. He had a wonderful deep and melodious voice, which was such a pleasure to listen to that it must have been a considerable asset to him, if only in the seduction of servant girls.

I found myself unwilling to like him despite his considerable charm. This was the man who had ruined my mother. Because of him, she had had an unhappy marriage and a life of drudgery. Though I had only been four when I left the inn, still I remembered how had she had worked and how poor we had been. Sandor had done nothing to help her. He did not seem to have paid at all for what surely was an equal amount of misdemeanor. At the same time, a part of me could not help feeling I was being a little harsh on the Lord-Elector. What had happened between him and my mother was a very common story and he had only acted like everyone else in his position. In fact, he had probably been too young at the time to have had much control over his fate

Both Tomas and Lucien bore a marked resemblance to Lord Sercel. Lucien looked more like him, while Tomas, who was much shorter and fairer, had the same quicksilver cleverness about him. I guessed that Tomas and his father had the same driving ambition, a quality which Lucien quite obviously lacked. I could not say I regretted the lack however. Lucien sat on my other side at dinner and was a charming companion throughout the whole meal.

Dinner that evening was an informal affair, if you can call something served on bone china and silver platters and in a magnificent tapestry hung apartment, informal.

"Just immediate family," said Lord Sercel. Apparently he regarded all of Marnie Holyhand's children as members of his family though Silva and I had no blood relationship with him. A number of Sercel aunts and cousins who lived at the White Tower were present along with a formidable looking matron, who was Lucien's older sister and a pleasant looking monk who turned out to be the Abbot of St Belkis of the Holy Healing hands in Annac and who was, fortuitously, Lucien's uncle.

"You will think this infamous, Dion," whispered Lucien in my ear, "but while you and Shad were dragging a wounded Tomas through the forest, Parrus and I were having wine and cakes with the children in the Abbot's private parlor. After the hue and cry died down, we were given priests' clothes and let out the back gate of the monastery. We strolled home throughout the forest, a group of children out walking with their tutors. Abbot Louis has been a good son of the church, but he draws the line at the arrest of relatives. Or children."

Parrus was at the table too. It was the first time I had seen him since the morning the fire angel had come to the inn and I was so relieved to see him well, that when we met before dinner I hugged him. I quickly realized that this was a tactical error. Though I did not know exactly I should do about Parrus, I was almost certain that the relationship between us could not continue. Parrus, however, had not changed. He nodded and smiled secretively at me throughout the meal. I could only be glad we were not seated together and that private conversation between us was impossible.

I was struck by how much younger and more ordinary he looked then Shad, who was also there looking extremely handsome in elegant new clothes. It was as if some artist had painted them both, using cool elegant pastels for Parrus and rich bold colors for Shad.

The third non-family member of the dinner party was Lady Blanche Shomnee, possible Lady-Elector for the south. She was only 17, tall and very thin with a wonderful smooth creamy skin and huge dark eyes. She hardly spoke throughout the evening. She had spoken to me very coldly when I had been introduced to her, but she probably had no need of my good opinion anyway for after dinner when we retired to another room to drink hot kesh and sweet wine with little cakes, she was very well supplied with male attendants.