37
Arcturus’s office was as cold as Scipio’s had been hot, with no fireplace and a glassless arrow slit in the wall. It was surprisingly bare, but then both he and Fletcher had only arrived a few weeks ago, hard though it was to believe. Fletcher felt like he had been at Vocans for years.
The minutes ticked by, and soon he got bored. Ignatius was sleeping on his neck, having exhausted himself in all the excitement earlier. Listening out for approaching footsteps, Fletcher walked around the large oak desk that seemed to be the only piece of furniture in the room, other than two chairs and a large cushion for Sacharissa in the corner. Papers were scattered haphazardly on the desk, yet one caught Fletcher’s eye.
It was a list of names, all beginning with Fletcher. He looked below it in confusion and, to his horror, found another list, this time all ending with the name Wulf. This was not good news. If Arcturus were to dig deeper, he might find out about Fletcher’s crime. Worse still, he might leave a trail that Caspar could follow to track Fletcher down. He wracked his brains, trying to remember if he had mentioned Pelt by name.
Footsteps rang in the corridor, sending Fletcher scurrying back in front of the desk. Moments later, Arcturus strode in, followed by a bounding Sacharissa. Fletcher could tell from his movements that Arcturus was agitated, though his face revealed nothing. He sat down at his desk and shuffled his papers, giving no sign that they had anything to do with Fletcher. Then he looked up and steepled his fingers.
‘Do you know why I sponsored you, Fletcher?’ he asked, looking Fletcher in the eye.
‘Is it because I already had a demon so you wouldn’t need to capture one for me?’ Fletcher suggested.
‘No, I do not mind doing that. Sacharissa is adept at hunting in the ether, though the Barkling did prove a tricky customer, didn’t it, Sacha?’ Arcturus said, ruffling the Canid’s head.
‘Guess again,’ he ordered, leaning back in his chair.
‘Ummm . . . my rare Salamander?’ Fletcher hesitated.
‘That was an added bonus, but it’s not why,’ he said, eyes twinkling with mild amusement.
‘My bravery in the face of certain death?’ Fletcher joked, catching Arcturus’s expression and hoping to lighten the mood.
‘No, not that!’ Arcturus replied with a chuckle. ‘Some might say that you made the wrong decision there. An officer must learn to sacrifice good men so that the rest of his command can survive. So too could you have given up your money in exchange for your life. But I must say I was impressed. You were cool under pressure and you took a calculated risk. Good officers are pragmatic and calm under fire. But the men and women who rise to greatness are the risk takers, the gamblers. Those who take all or nothing. Perhaps you too will rise to their station if you play your cards right.’ Fletcher grinned at Arcturus’s words, but then they took a more sombre turn.
‘Today you played your cards wrong, Fletcher. Very wrong. Duelling Tarquin could have resulted in instant expulsion.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I was only defending myself. If I knew how to shield myself I would have used that instead,’ Fletcher muttered, hanging his head.
‘A shield would not be much use against a demon, but that is neither here nor there. You need to understand that the nobles will do anything they can to get rid of you. Better to take a beating than rise to their bait. Trust me, I know.’ Arcturus sounded bitter. He looked as if he was going to continue, but then thought better of it and shook his head. He stood suddenly and beckoned Fletcher closer to the desk.
‘We need summoners, Fletcher, but they do not need to be battlemage officers. A summoner in the rank and file is just as good as one in the officer’s mess, in the grand scheme of things. Commoners being trained alongside nobles is not a popular practice. Many believe that you should have a separate academy. Do not give Scipio a reason to demote you.’
Fletcher nodded grimly. He couldn’t help but glance at the papers on the desk. Arcturus made no move to hide them.
‘The reason I sponsored you, Fletcher, was because you remind me of myself. More importantly, it is because I know who you are. Or what you are, at least.’
He swung the papers round for Fletcher to see and ran a finger along them.
‘There are few Fletchers of your age listed in Hominum, and none of them have the surname Wulf. You are not on any official census that I can find. Am I right in saying that you are an unregistered orphan?’
Fletcher nodded his head, not understanding.
Arcturus sat back down, nodding to himself as if Fletcher had confirmed his suspicions. He pointed at the chair opposite him. Fletcher sat and watched as Arcturus stared at him through hooded eyes.
‘Do you remember Tarquin suggesting that I am a half-noble?’ Arcturus asked, smoothing his hair back and readjusting the bow that held it in place at the back of his neck. Fletcher assented and, after a long pause, Arcturus continued.
‘Ten years ago, a young noble was on his way to Vocans, coming from his home in the northern territories that border the elven lands. He was spending his first night in Boreas which, as you know, is not too far from your Beartooth Mountains.’ Fletcher was not sure if he should be glad or upset that Arcturus had mentioned Beartooth instead of Pelt. There were hundreds of villages there, but word travelled fast. Arcturus would put two and two together if he found out a young fugitive had escaped from there.
‘This noble boy had been gifted a Canid by his father, Lord Faversham,’ Arcturus continued. ‘But he did not want to read his summoning scroll until he arrived at the school, where the teachers could supervise the transfer. He therefore left his summoning scroll in his saddle bags and bedded down for the night.’
Arcturus stopped for a moment, rubbing Sacharissa’s ears. The demon rumbled with pleasure and nuzzled his hands.
‘That night, a stable boy decided to rob the noble for all he was worth. He had nothing to his name. He was an orphan who had been raised in a workhouse, then sold to the stable master for twenty shillings. He didn’t even own the clothes on his back. The theft was a last, desperate bid to get enough money together to escape and make a new life for himself. But fate had a different plan for him.’
Fletcher furrowed his brow. This story sounded familiar, but he could not place where he had heard it before.
‘The boy could read somewhat. He had taught himself so that he could learn about the world, devouring every book left abandoned by passing travellers in the tavern that owned the stables. So when he found the scroll and summoning leather that came with it, he laid them out and read them, more out of curiosity than anything else. Fortunately for the boy, he still struggled with his reading, so he said each word under his breath as he read them. Nobody was more surprised than him when he summoned a Canid pup, with black fur and shining eyes. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.’
Fletcher looked from Sacharissa to Arcturus, then realisation dawned on him.
‘You were the first commoner to own a demon since . . . well, since forever!’ Fletcher gasped. ‘If it wasn’t for you, none of us would be here! Your discovery tripled the number of battlemages!’
Arcturus nodded gravely.
‘But hang on,’ Fletcher said with confusion. ‘What does this have to do with me? Or you being a half-noble?’
‘That is the story you already know, with a little more detail. But there is a second half to it, one that is only known by the nobility and a few select others. You see, some years after I was discovered, there was a great meeting between the noble houses, the generals of Hominum and King Harold. The war was going poorly in its first year, the orc shamans were uniting under the albino orc’s banner and they outnumbered our own battlemages many times over. The nobles were loathe to put their firstborn sons and daughters in harm’s way, for with each heir’s death their bloodlines would come under threat. They were being forced to have several children, so that if the firstborn died, there might be a sibling with the ability to summon. After the firstborn, there is only a one in three chance of a noble child being an adept. Many noble houses will have three or four children in case of a death, so that the next adept can become the heir. On top of this, many young nobles are forced to marry and have children as soon as they graduate from the Vocans, so that if they die fighting they leave an heir to take their place.’
Fletcher had never given much thought to the idea of succession and noble bloodlines. He could imagine the noble families, desperately aware that with a single death, their entire house could disappear in one generation. For a moment he pitied Tarquin and Isadora, with all the pressures that their noble blood brought with it. But only for a moment.
‘Believe it or not, it was Obediah Forsyth – Tarquin’s grandfather – who was the noble who led the charge on introducing commoners into the ranks of battlemages, using his own money to fund the great Inquisition, bringing children in from across the land and looking for hints of mana in them. He was the most powerful and wealthiest noble at the time, and still is today. His son, Zacharias, married another firstborn from another great house, Josephine Queensouth, uniting their neighbouring lands under the Forsyth banner. This effectively dissolved the Queensouth house. Usually heirs will marry a second- or third-born from another noble house so as to keep their legacy, but the Queensouths were near bankruptcy and were close to selling off their land. It was the only solution for them at the time. I explain this to you, Fletcher, because nobility, marriage and succession are key to understanding who you are.’
Fletcher nodded sagely, trying to keep track of it all. The political machinations of the nobility were interesting, but he still did not understand what it had to do with him, or Arcturus for that matter.
‘In any case, Obediah’s search bore fruit and commoners were introduced to Vocans, myself included. The old King’s Inquisitors took over the search, but they noticed a curious trend, one that Obediah had missed. There were strange clusters of adepts, most noticeably in the orphanages in the northern cities. Now why do you think that is, Fletcher?’ Arcturus asked him, the milky orb of his eye staring unseeingly through Fletcher’s head.
But Fletcher’s mind was blank. What was so special about orphans?
‘What differentiates the orphans from everyone else?’ Arcturus asked, parroting Fletcher’s thoughts.
‘Nobody wants them?’ Fletcher suggested.
‘That’s right, Fletcher. Now who usually don’t want their children?’ Arcturus murmured, talking him through it.
‘People who can’t afford to keep them.’ Fletcher’s memory flitted to the long, lonely nights where he had wondered about that very thing.
‘True, Fletcher, there are some who abandon their children for that reason. There are also orphans whose parents have died. But there is another group who abandon their children regularly. The Inquisition found this was the one commonality between almost all the orphaned adepts.’
Arcturus took a deep breath. ‘Almost all of their mothers were courtesans. Including mine.’
Sacharissa whined, and Arcturus hushed her gently. Fletcher could see that he was touching upon something that caused him great pain.
‘You see, Lord Faversham was . . . shall we say . . . an insatiable man. His wife could not bear him children for a long time. Lady Faversham eventually grew cold and distant, turning him away from her bed. So he sought the beds of those who would not.’
Fletcher sunk into his chair, finally understanding.
‘So the firstborn children of the courtesans he slept with became adepts? Is that how it works?’ Fletcher asked, trying not to think about what it might mean about his own heritage.
‘Yes, although he had mistresses as well. A man can have adept children with several different women, as long as it is the woman’s first child too. So too can a woman have several adept children with different fathers, if the men are yet to father a child. It was pure coincidence that a small number of commoners were also being born with the gift. I set the search in motion, but I was not born with the gift independently, like other commoners are. I was an adept because I was one of Lord Faversham’s firstborn sons.’
Fletcher’s mind raced, thinking of the circumstances of his abandonment. Not even a blanket to protect him from the cold. It seemed a fitting explanation. Arcturus interrupted his moody thoughts.
‘Of course the discovery caused a scandal. Proof of infidelity cast shame over various noble houses, especially the Favershams. Noblewomen went on strike and refused to go to war unless a law was passed that orphans could not be tested by the Inquisition. They could not bear the shame, to see their husbands’ other children fighting alongside them and their true-born sons and daughters.’ He whispered now, his voice layered with complicated emotion.
‘I hear Lady Faversham was aggrieved when she learned that the demon meant for her son was actually passed on to me. Her hatred for me is even greater than that of the other noblewomen. She has only given birth to one child, meaning that should her son die, I will be next in line as Lord Faversham by Hominum law. She was forced to request special permission from the old King to take her son from the front lines, in case I should try to murder him and take his place as the next heir. You won’t be surprised to hear that she was the one who organised the strike.’
Fletcher was shocked by the cool way Arcturus spoke about the suspicion he was under. He wondered whether Arcturus would be capable of such a crime. Lord Faversham owned most of the lands around Beartooth and was a rich and powerful man.
‘Of course, most orphans had been identified and trained up by the time they found out about all this, so as a compromise those that had already been discovered were allowed to stay,’ Arcturus continued. ‘The only condition was that we would not be referred to by our noble surname, hence why I am known as Captain Arcturus, my first name. I have three half-brothers of about my age, also fighting in the army. There are probably more out there, completely unaware of who they are. I am not allowed to test children in the orphanages, much as I would wish to. Yet somehow, fate has brought you to me.’
Fletcher barely comprehended these last words. He was too deep in thought. Could his father be Lord Faversham? Did that mean his mother had been alive in Boreas his whole life?
‘Fletcher, I may be wrong,’ Arcturus’s voice floated by. ‘You may be just another orphan, you are many years younger than me after all. I don’t even know if Faversham continued his infidelity after he had his first child with Lady Faversham. But what are the chances of an adept orphan that was abandoned near Boreas being one of the few not descended from the nobility?’
‘So you are saying I am the bastard love-child of Lord Faversham, and my mother is either a mistress at best or a courtesan at worst?’ Fletcher said bitterly, coming out of his reverie.
‘And my half-brother . . .’ Arcturus Faversham said.