I posted this as a taster, but I am re-posting as a reminder, and will add chapter 2 right away as well. Bess is now on the faculty as more than an usher, but as a Knight of the Garter must also attend such things as the opening of Parliament on November 5th.
There are those disaffected traitors who do not trust to the tolerance promised by the Queen's grandson, and of course the Necromancer of Spain is still a problem, manipulating Spain's weak king. And as if that wasn't enough, there are always the generally nasty.
Chapter 1
“I have seen it working, but it still offends my sense of logic that astrology should work. I don’t see how the movement of the majestic heavens can affect our small lives below,” said Rafe Sackwild.
Roger Bray was working on astrological charts in the staff room.
“Well, now, it’s interesting that you should say so, for you accept that there is no logic behind some people being able to produce blue healing flame.”
Rafe sighed.
“Yes, I accept that some people have a talent, as some people have a talent with art or with music.”
Roger Bray smiled.
“Ah, now, music, my other love,” he said. “An excellent analogy. Some people can play music, others write it, a talent in degrees. Now as I am beginning to see it, the use of astrology to cast the future is but a form of meditation, and one might as well use a crystal ball or throw about seeds to read the patterns. The talent is in staring at the heavens and reaching an inner talent of seeing. I did once believe in the immutable message of the heavens, but since teaching, and seeing which scholars succeed, and which ones could barely prophecy that the sun will rise in the east to herald breaking their own fast, I have adapted mine own thinking.”
“Come, this is interesting,” said Rafe, pulling his chair closer. “We must infer that you have the necessary talent which is why you have always guided us so well in such matters as hatching and the attacks of enemies.”
“Yes, and I tested it by asking those senior scholars to read the heavens for interpreting the coming year,” said Roger. “Diccon de Bercy, in all seriousness, told me that the hens would be off lay, and that someone would have a display of fireworks. Tangwystl informed me that she had a tune in her head and could not listen to the stars without writing it down. Audrey said that she was afraid there might be something wrong with the dragon eggs laid this year, and Bess ... your good lady is very good, you know.”
“She is not my lady,” said Rafe, blushing fierily.
“Oh for goodness sake! You do realise we have, those of us who have noticed, a book on when your betrothal ring goes on her finger now she is essentially teaching full time, don’t you?”
Rafe went even redder.
“I have not asked her,” he said.
“I would if I was you,” said Roger. “You want her comfortable when Frostfire comes into season, don’t you?”
“Egad!” said Rafe. “And she has enough trouble from hearing all dragons.”
“Exactly,” said Roger. “However, when not distracted, she informed me that her reading of the heavens were that there were somewhere eggs which were neither alive nor dead, and that someone had deadly ideas involving gunpowder. She got quite upset; it appears to be some plot against the Queen and young Rob. Rob, incidentally, could not divine his way out of a burlap sack.”
Rafe laughed.
“Nor I; I feel for him.”
“It is not always comfortable, Rafe,” said Roger. “You see, I have another young sister and brother at my parents’ home, and I have been casting their horoscopes. And it seems likely that unless I help out, Peter is likely to die.”
“Had not you and Lil been considering rescuing them anyway, the way you rescued Joan?” asked Rafe.
“Lil mentioned this, too, and Joan is keen,” said Roger. “I cannot help thinking that it seemeth unfair to take children from their parents.”
“As I recall you saying that you took Joan because you feared she would be forced to be a lady in the household of a future husband. How old is your other sister?”
“Kate is eight ... you are right. I was disquieted about her ...”
“You can always call on us, you know,” said Rafe. “Don’t forget we now have portals at our disposal. We should not have to take all the dragons if you wanted to be a bit more quiet, though one person has to take the portal physically.”
“There is, however, nothing to stop me visiting, and installing a portal in place,” said Roger.
“A good idea,” said Rafe. “Place it in some little-used closet or on the back of a door to the jakes; I will set about designing one painted on cloth, or – even better, perhaps to gift your stepmother with it as a hanging, or a board, a painting of you with Skysong.”
“Indeed, it would be something to boast of, to have a son who is a draxier,” said Roger. “I do not think they have any idea that I have Joan, nor that Jennyth, my niece, survived when her parents drowned.”
“All the better,” said Rafe. “Isn’t there a girl in Joan’s year who is artistic?”
“Barbara Kett; yes, she is in Topaz house, and she has nobody to give her a lift home for the holidays and lives too far to go readily. I will offer her a trip home in payment for a painting.”
“That, I am sure, she will be pleased to accept as an exchange,” said Rafe.
Bess whirled into the staffroom.
“We are going to have to rescue Marjorie!” she declared, waving a letter. “Rafe, why are you laughing?”
“Because not so long ago you wanted to strangle her,” he said.
“Well, I’m not sure I’m ever going to like her, but good lack, she has had precious little guidance from her parents, and it would be poor spirited to abandon her when we had reached a level of understanding. She is to be married at harvest.” Bess passed over the letter.
“My dear friends and relatives at the school,
My parents have indeed arranged a marriage for me, and it is to a youth named Perkin Aston; I do not know if you recall, but there was a sister, Mary, who was at first with the paying students. My father formed a friendship with hers, and they plot to harm the school somehow, and marrying me to this Perkin is a seal of their friendship. I do not like him, he is arrogant and cruel, and I believe he might try to kill my little drakeling, Aurelius. I am sending him to Isobel to stay, and I beg you to help me. I do not want the school harmed, and though I know I should perhaps stay and marry Perkin to spy on him and his father, I do not want to do so, I am so afraid, and I am afraid for Aurelius.
Your sister, cousin and friend, Marjorie.”
“Marry! But that’s a pretty pair of villains come together,” said Rafe.
“Yes, and right glad I am that neither has the ear of anyone powerful,” said Bess. “I wish we might manage to send fabric or paper gates by drakeling, but the risk of what might happen if they twist or bend is too great.”
“I was going to send a portrait with the runes on it, if you will place them, to rescue my sister and brother,” said Rodger Bray. “Plainly it is a time for rescues!”
“A time for rescues indeed,” said Lord Essex, grimly, coming in on this sentence. “I just had a drakeling from my sister, who was one of the first to have them. She is married to Northumberland, the so-called ‘Wizard Earl’. She just had time to send a message ere they were all dragged off, her drakeling was very upset, he was sending pictures of them being bundled under blankets and thrown into coaches.”
“Her own drakeling has an inate sense of where she is,” said Bess. “Marjorie and the little Brays must wait, for this is urgent. When the drakeling has rested and eaten, he shall ride on the head of one of our dragons, and we will go in immediate pursuit.”
“Could this be what is intended? To lure us?” asked Rafe.
Essex shook his head.
“My sister said she hid in the priest’s hole in order to write the letter, and her drakeling remained invisible when they forced Percy to tell them how to open it, by threatening one of my nieces; she could hear it through the panelling. They do not know she has a drakeling, nor that we have message. You overthink things, good Rafe.”
“I’m a philosopher, not a soldier,” said Rafe. “But I’ll willingly fight for the lives of innocents. I was taught the sword. How old are your nieces, Essex?”
“Dorothy is the oldest child, she is six; Lucy is but four. Algernon is two and Henry is a babe in arms, born this very year when the queen tried to get my sister Dorothy and Percy to reconcile. It has not succeeded,” Essex said. “Dorothy was going to bring her children to live with Frances and me, until Algernon is old enough to need more of his father.”
“Aye, that seemeth meet to me,” said Bess. “I will ask my coruscation to speak with this drakeling. Rodge, Lil will wish to come, and perchance other dominies?”
“No,” said Essex. “Let us warn them, but not leave the school entirely unprotected lest it be a feint, and any force in place watching for many dragons leaving. We five will be sufficient, methinks, four dragons to take me as a passenger, and on return, another five adults, for they have taken three servants as well as my sister and brother-in-law, I seem to understand from the pictures of Spellweaver, the drakeling, and four small children. You can do it, can’t you?”
Bess was later to say that he had put her strongly in mind of a puppy with the look he gave.
“Frostfire informs me that she can take three adults and a child without trouble, maybe more,” said Bess. “I believe her estimate to be accurate. Lil Bray’s Glitterwing can carry as many. Duskwing and Skysong can carry two adults easily,” she added the two youngest dragons, Bonded to Rafe and Rodge Bray. “We shall be able to carry as many as need be,” she said.
Essex nodded.
“Then let us array for war,” he said.
Bess had a hollow feeling in her belly. It was not exactly fear, though she would admit to being a little afraid. It was ... apprehension, worry more than fear for herself. She was going to war, and she was not sure how well she would handle it. Though she had defended the school more than once, somehow it was different taking the fight to others. But those innocent children must be rescued.
Rafe gave her a tremulous smile.
“Only Essex amongst us is a warrior,” he said. “But Duskwing says that those who have taken his relatives will see only dragons attacking, and not our cringing hearts.”
“Certes, I hope so,” said Bess. “At least Frostfire is certain that she can follow Spellweaver’s thoughts of where to go for her mistress. They are remarkable little creatures to find places by pictures of people, without anyone sending them having to know where they are going.”
“It is some innate clairvoyance, perchance,” said Rafe.
“I had not thought of it, but you are likely right,” said Bess. “And how do we discuss this so calmly, Rafe?”
“Because the alternative is screaming in terror,” said Rafe. “Why are we going to do this, not the Ruby Knights?”
“Because Essex wants gentle people around his sister and her children,” said Bess, who was quite good at divining the way Essex thought. “I think from what pictures Spellweaver sent, he thinks it not a large band, and so something we might deal with easily, and he wants clever, not martial, and friends not underlings.”
Rafe nodded.
“I don’t say you are wrong, Bess,” he said. “And perhaps it is as well for us to be tried and tested in such a mission, for the thoughts Rodge has reported on his horoscopes which you, too, have returned are sobering.”
“I fear a mass of gunpowder somewhere, perhaps one of the palaces,” said Bess.
“I wager it would either be Richmond, or the Palace of Westminster when she opens Parliament,” said Rafe.
“That’s it!” said Bess. “Good; now I might write to Salisbury and tell him to be on the watch.”
“There are altogether too many traitors,” said Rafe. “And ambitious men as well as those whose religious affiliation ties them too tightly to a foreign power.”
“Yes, and why anyone should put a fat old man with too many rings and more lace gowns than a London courtesan above their rightful monarch I don’t know,” said Bess.
Rafe laughed.
“Now that’s about as unflattering description of the Pope as any I’ve heard,” he said.
“I feel uncomfortable that Catholics appear to give a form of worship to a man, not God-made-man like Jesus, but a man who is elected by other men,” said Bess. “I may have misunderstood it, of course.”
“It is of no import, so long as any worship God, but as the Bible tells us, ‘render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and unto God, that which is God’s,’ our queen being our Caesar,” said Rafe.
“True,” said Bess. “It is only some who would see her usurped and under the orders of the Pope.”
“And I wager Philip of Spain does as he pleases, whatever the Pope says,” said Rafe.
“I won’t say you’re wrong,” said Bess.
