Chương 7

Mirelle held the cracked seal beside the Vey signet and turned both towards the window. Daylight reached the breakfast table in a narrow strip. It showed the old flaw below the divided shield, shallow enough to vanish under poor wax. The flaw appeared in both the cracked seal and the registered impression on Elara's admission papers. Mirelle shifted the casket another inch, checked the wings and the border, then replaced the signet in its fitted blue velvet.

"It looks genuine," she said. Elara thought about the closing lines again. Each sentence carried the clipped courtesy Lord Vey used when he wanted obedience and saw no benefit in explanation. That was almost reassuring. An attack upon his daughter could become a public scandal. A public scandal could draw Church enquiries into the household.

Her father had spent years keeping certain questions outside his gates, and recalling an inconvenient daughter would require very little thought from him, even if it could come at the expense of her future as a mage. Elara could picture the letter placed among estate reports and toll accounts, signed before the next document was presented. Mirelle unfolded the lower portion again.

"The countermark troubles me."

"What is it?" Elara asked. Mirelle turned the page so the final courtesy faced her. The phrase sat above the secretary's signature, ordinary enough to escape notice among the formal lines.

"Under the Michaelmas mark of the house," Elara read.

"It should be 'under the Lady Day mark'." Elara looked at the date.

"Michaelmas was the previous season."

"Yes." The household used a closing phrase in correspondence carrying direct authority. It changed with the season and was recorded separately from the cipher books. A copied hand and stolen paper could pass inspection. The phrase was meant to catch them. Elara moved her chair closer. She read the line again. The ink remained dark and even. No correction had been scraped away. No second hand had crowded words into the margin. Whoever had written the order had used the winter countermark in spring.

"A forger may have copied an old household letter," Mirelle said.

"Or the secretary used the prior form from habit."

"The household secretary does not make that error."

"His assistants might."

"On an order bearing my father's name?" That brought a frown to Mirelle's face. Truly, no one would be so bold as to make an error like that. A bell sounded somewhere beyond the chamber wall. Gowned students passed through the corridor in a loose rush, their shoes and voices fading towards the stairs. Neither woman moved until the sound had gone.

"A forgery," Elara said.

"Possibly." Elara folded the order once, matching the existing crease exactly. Her thumbnail stayed against the paper after the fold lay flat. A pale crescent appeared beneath the nail. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"Mr Dorr should see it," she said. They crossed the Academy after midday and reached the registry between bells. Dorr received them in a small side-office off the outer room. A tall narrow window admitted enough light for the shelves of bound roll-books and the ink-stained writing slope. Two straight petitioner chairs faced his desk. Outside, a junior clerk entered marks in a ledger at a high desk while a person with a sealed pouch waited on the bench. Dorr read the recall order without comment.

"You say you suspect forgery?"

"Yes," Elara replied, though she did not provide exact details and reasoning for her suspicion.

"The attack was seven days ago," Dorr said, as he drew a blank sheet, ruled a line down its centre and wrote the day of the attack on one side.

"When could House Vey first have received reliable news?"

"Two days ago, at the earliest," Elara said. The wardens had needed the rest of that night to understand what had happened. Even if a messenger had left at dawn the following morning, four full days separated Asterhall from Veymoor. Dorr wrote the stages beneath the date. Four days outward. Time for the order to be prepared. Four days back with a properly authorised escort. His ink callus pressed against the quill.

"A hard-ridden relay might shorten the journey," Mirelle said.

"It might shorten an ordinary journey," Dorr replied.

"Four days is already the registry's fastest estimate, assuming fresh horses are waiting at every recognised post. It cannot be done in less." He marked the earliest possible arrival at Veymoor, then counted forward from it.

"The first reliable report could have reached your father two days ago. Even if his secretary prepared this order immediately and dispatched it within the hour, the returning messenger would still be only halfway here." He put down the quill.

"This order arrived this morning. One dispatched after word of the failed attack could not have reached Asterhall before two days from now." The clerk's pen scratched in the outer office. Somewhere farther down the corridor, a door shut and a row of student voices passed towards the next stair. Dorr turned the recall order around so that the seal faced Elara.

"That leaves us with a seemingly authentic household seal attached to an instruction whose timing cannot be reconciled with the event it addresses."

"What would you advise?" Elara asked. Dorr rested both hands on the writing slope.

"The Academy cannot disregard a noble seal on the strength of an unclear suspicion of forgery and a difficult timetable. The registry would record your withdrawal, so I would advise against that. Also, remember, you are an accepted candidate resident within the walls. Until the Roll is entered, you may still request provisional sanctuary while the registry seeks independent confirmation from House Vey.

Though I would advise you to consider the risks: if the recall is authentic, Lord Vey may regard the request as an insult to his authority. The admissions council may also consider a dispute with your household when reviewing any later petition. You have yet to attend a class, my lady. Some members will find that relevant." Elara and Mirelle returned to the dormitory without discussing it. Nessa was absent, perhaps gone again for her gossips.

Mirelle shut the door, removed her gloves and placed the recall order on the table. The room had been put back into its usual condition. The breakfast tray was gone. The water jug stood over the inventory sheet, and the three chairs had been returned to their assigned places. Elara remained beside the table.

"What do you plan to do?" Mirelle asked as she settled into one of the chairs. The question required an answer by the end of the afternoon. A short one, preferably. Obedience would have been easier. She could pack the blue document case, present herself at the south gate and allow the letter to decide where she went next. Her father's authority would cover every uncertainty. She would never have to say that she distrusted the seal, the escort or the people who had arranged either.

Her hand settled on the back of a chair, and she sighed, feeling particularly discontent. One household knight on the road with her from Concord would have prevented much of this. A man bound to House Vey, carrying his own authority and answerable for her safety. Her father had spared none. Now she had to petition strangers for time to determine whether his order was his. The Academy offered limited protection. If she judged wrong, she could anger the old lord.

Elara looked at the narrow bed, the plain washstand and the door with its assigned number. Temporary things. Even so, she was already inside the walls. Leaving them at dawn would only place her at risk of abduction once more. Her safety remained hers, even when House Vey found it inconvenient. The thought left her apart from them. From her father, from the House with which she felt increasingly alienated. There was no clean side to stand on.

Only the room, the order and the time remaining before the registry closed.

"I will request provisional sanctuary," she said. Mirelle gave a single nod.

"Then we should submit it before the bell."