Kitabı oku: «The Crimson Crown», sayfa 8

CHAPTER TWELVE
MEETINGS AT MIDDAY

Averill and Raisa walked through the ground-level gardens inside the castle close—one of their rare opportunities to be together these days. Though she’d given him a suite of rooms in the palace, he was rarely there. But today he’d come down from Demonai Camp because he had trader business with the steward.

“I wonder if the day will ever come that I can walk around the castle close, at least, without an entourage,” Raisa grumbled, glancing over her shoulder at her guard. “Nobody told me that being queen would be so … crowded.” It was just one symptom of the troubles that beset her.

“I had hoped tensions would ease after the coronation,” Averill said. “But the threat of war with Arden and Tamron keeps the pot boiling. And these street murders of wizards don’t help. I can’t seem to convince Lord Bayar that the Demonai have nothing to do with it.”

“Are you sure that they don’t?” Raisa asked. “There are hotheads on both sides.”

Averill winced, as if taking a blow. “Do you really think Elena Cennestre and I would sanction something that puts you in danger, Briar Rose?”

Raisa slid her arm through his. “No. I don’t.”

“Could it be Hunts Alone?” Averill asked. “Have you thought of that?”

Raisa resisted the temptation to withdraw her arm. “He’s a wizard himself,” she pointed out. “Why would he go out killing wizards, apparently at random?”

“He may see it as a way to get back at the clans, knowing we’ll be blamed,” Averill said. “The killings have taken place in areas he has frequented in the past.”

“You’re being unfair,” Raisa said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “First you ask for his help against the Wizard Council. Then you accuse him of conspiring with wizards. Now you accuse him of murdering them.” She searched his eyes. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“This is hard for me.” Averill shifted his eyes away, his jaw tightening. “Wizards are not like us, Briar Rose. They prey on each other as well as their more traditional enemies. You cannot assume that because we would not do a thing, that—”

“He says it’s not him,” Raisa broke in. “And I believe him. Why is it that when anything bad happens, Han Alister gets the blame?” She struggled to hide the feelings that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“He’s a killer,” Averill said. “And a thief. And a wizard.” He ticked off each fault on his fingers.

“And yet you made a deal with him,” Raisa said.

“Maybe that was a mistake.”

“Why? What has he done?” Raisa’s face heated, and she turned away so her father wouldn’t see.

“That’s just it—we never know what he’ll do next,” Averill growled. “Somehow, he persuaded you to appoint him your bodyguard, then moved in next door to you. Now you’ve appointed him to the Wizard Council.” Averill paused for a heartbeat, then added, “He’s ambitious.” The word was loaded with meaning.

My father is no fool, Raisa thought. On some level, he knows there’s something between me and Han. That’s what’s driving this enmity. When he looks at Han, is he recalling Gavan Bayar’s seduction of Marianna? If so, I might as well paint a target on Han’s back.

“He’s a man,” Raisa said. “He’s not just a weapon you can aim and fire. You’ve given him a job to do; you should trust him to do it.”

Averill shook his head. “That’s just it—we don’t trust him. Temporarily, our interests coincide. But we’re not naive. We’ve made sure he won’t betray us.”

Raisa wheeled around to face her father. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “What have you done? What are you planning to do?”

“It’s Demonai business, daughter,” Averill said.

“What. Have. You. Done?” Raisa glared up at her father, fists clenched, knowing she was giving too much away, but unable to help herself.

“Briar Rose,” Averill said, taking her hands, trying to soothe her. “Please. I’m just saying that we are keeping a close eye on him. As long as he does as he’s told, he has nothing to worry about.”

He’s lying to me, Raisa thought. My father is lying to me, and he thinks it’s for my own good. They’d always been so close, and it broke her heart that he wouldn’t confide in her anymore.

And she couldn’t confide in him.

“I’m glad to hear that, Father,” she said. “I just want to remind you that Hunts Alone saved my life. That has to count for something. And, just like everyone else, I expect the Demonai to adhere to the rule of law.”

They began walking again, Raisa’s guard still trailing them. Averill glanced back at them, seeming eager to leave the subject of Han Alister. “As long as you remain single, the Wizard Council has hopes of marrying you to one of their own,” he said. “A wedding would take that option off the table. It might actually make you safer.”

Raisa knew where this was going. In a way, this was still about Han Alister.

“It might. Or, depending on whom I marry, it might make me less safe,” she said. “For instance, if I were to marry someone from the Spirit clans, the gifted might decide to assassinate me and try their luck with Mellony.” She paused. “Speaking of Mellony, I wish you would spend more time with her. She’s been lost since our mother died. She and Marianna were so close.”

“I know,” Averill said. “I think some time in the mountains would be healing for her. But Daylily resists my overtures. It’s almost like she blames me for Marianna’s death.”

“Keep trying,” Raisa said. “I’m worried about her.”

“I will,” Averill promised, then quickly returned to his favorite topic. “Now, back to the question of a marriage. I am hoping that you will seriously consider Reid Nightwalker. He’s a strong leader and a skilled warrior, well regarded in all of the camps. He’s of royal lineage through the clans, and my successor.”

“He’s headstrong, don’t you think?” Raisa said.

Averill laughed. “As I was, at that age. I think it’s that passion he has that attracts so many followers. And you like him, don’t you? There was a time, when you were at Demonai Camp, that—”

“I like him—most of the time,” Raisa admitted. There was a time I thought I loved him, she thought. What happened? Is it the comparison with Han? Or is it because Elena and Averill are pushing him on me? And, yet—they’ve known him all his life, and they would want the best for me, right?

“You think I should make a match like my mother’s, then?” Raisa said. That worked out well, she wanted to say. But didn’t. Instead, she squeezed her father’s arm to take some of the sting away.

Averill walked on a few more paces before he replied. “I know my marriage to Marianna wasn’t … everything it could have been,” he said at last. “But I genuinely loved your mother—you must know that. And I like to think that, in the absence of Lord Bayar, I could have won her love in spite of our age difference. And you and Daylily were worth any amount of pain.”

“So I’m to settle for pain and progeny?” Raisa said, trying for light, but her voice trembled. “In Nightwalker’s case, it would be me wondering whose bed he was sleeping in.”

“He will change his ways,” Averill said. “He really wants this, you know.”

“I know,” Raisa said. “I will seriously consider Nightwalker, but I can’t help wondering if he wants me, personally, or if he just wants to be married to the queen.”

“Does it matter?” Averill looked into her eyes. “One cannot be divided from the other.”

Raisa laughed. “Sometimes I don’t know if you are a cynic or a romantic.”

“Both,” Averill said. “That’s how you survive love and politics.” He embraced her, then turned away, toward Factor House.

Pausing in the corridor outside the door to her suite, Raisa could hear sweet basilka music from inside. Cat, she thought, smiling. When she eased the door open, she saw Cat sitting on the edge of the hearth, her basilka crosswise on her lap, her dark head bent over the strings. And next to her, Magret was sprawled in a chair drawn up to the fire, her head thrown back, eyes closed, a cloth across her forehead.

Cat looked up and saw Raisa, and the music broke off abruptly. She jackknifed to her feet and curtsied, holding the basilka by its neck.

When the music stopped, Magret opened her eyes and sat up, blinking. When she saw Raisa, she, likewise, leapt up as if they’d been caught in guilty pursuits.

“Your Majesty!” she sputtered, sinking into a curtsy. “I did not hear you come in.”

“Be at ease, Magret,” Raisa said. “It looks like you have one of your headaches.”

“I do, ma’am,” Magret said. She cleared her throat. “But the music, it seems to help,” she said. “The girl suggested it.” She tilted her head toward Cat.

“The girl has a name,” Raisa said, raising her eyebrows.

“Caterina suggested it,” Magret said dutifully.

“Continue, if you like,” Raisa said to the both of them. “I have some reading to do.”

“Ma’am, if it’s all right with you, I would like to go lie down for a while,” Magret said. “I’ll be feeling better by suppertime, I’m sure of it.”

“Of course,” Raisa said, waving her away. “Take all the time you need.”

After Magret left, Raisa sat down in the chair she had vacated and pulled some paperwork out of a portfolio. It was a survey of border fortifications she’d asked Klemath to put together. According to the report, the fortifications were in good shape.

Hmmm, she thought. Last I knew, the wall near Marisa Pines Pass was badly in need of repair.

It was difficult to focus, though, with the accusations against Han occupying her mind.

Meanwhile, Cat bustled about as if trying to find something to do, walking around the heaps of clothing that needed to be taken to the laundry or put away.

“Sit,” Raisa ordered, pointing at the hearth. Cat obeyed. “Tell me what’s going on in Ragmarket and Southbridge. What are you hearing about the wizard murders?”

Cat’s face went opaque, like a window misting over. “Nothing,” she said, picking at a scab on her arm. “I’d have brought it to Cuffs—Lord Alister—or Captain Byrne if I did.”

It was a quick answer—too quick to be the truth. Raisa tried to catch Cat’s eye, but her maid/spymaster refused to look at her.

“Surely you’ve heard something,” Raisa persisted. “Rumors, gossip …”

Cat shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Nobody’s seen anything—or if they did, they an’t saying. There’s no bagged flash come to market. The killers an’t even spoiled the bodies.”

“Well? Do you have any theories?” Raisa was growing impatient.

“I wondered if it might be somebody taking revenge for all the killings that was done last summer—the Southies and the Raggers.” Cat cleared her throat. “I mean, since they was done by wizardry, and it’s wizards being killed. But there’s no Southies left—and no Raggers, either, except the ones working for you and Lord Alister.”

A tiny suspicion crept in before Raisa could squelch it. Could Cat and her crew be involved somehow? Without Han’s knowledge? Could that be why Cat was so skittish?

“Would anyone speak up to the Guard if they knew anything about the killings, do you think?” Raisa asked. “If they saw anything?”

“Likely not,” Cat said. “Jinxflingers an’t welcome in Southbridge or Ragmarket. Most are happy to see them go down. Folks aren’t going to take risks on their account. The only one they fancy is Cuffs, because he’s one of their own. They respected him before. Now they think he can chew rocks and spit diamonds.”

“Do you think it’s someone acting alone?”

“Maybe. If it was the gangs, somebody would know something, and somebody would tell me. Whoever it is, they’re good at slipping around unseen.” Cat seemed to be choosing her words carefully, like she was stepping around some big secret.

Raisa’s thoughts strayed to her father’s accusations against Han. “Could it be a wizard?”

Cat finally met Raisa’s eyes, a miserable expression on her face. “I guess it could be, since they can hide themselves.” She paused. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Raisa said, unsure of how to interpret Cat’s signals. “I mean, none of the dead were killed with wizardry.”

“Well, that’d give it away, wouldn’t it?” Cat said, almost to herself. “Anyway, blades are quicker than jinxes. I guess it wouldn’t be hard for one wizard to stick another, since they likely trust each other.”

I don’t know about the trust part, Raisa thought. Could the shortage of amulets be playing out in this way—wizards killing and stealing them from each other? After all, some were willing to kidnap clan children to the same purpose. Could disputes on the council be spilling over into the streets? That didn’t make sense, though. None of the victims were particularly important. All they had in common was that they were wizards.

“Why don’t you play?” Raisa asked finally, nodding toward the basilka leaning against the hearth. But just then came a sharp rap on the door. Cat went to answer, and soon after, Raisa heard voices rising in an argument.

“She’s not here,” Cat was saying. “Come back later. Or never.”

“Who is it, Lady Tyburn?” Raisa called over her shoulder.

Cat flinched, as Raisa’s voice gave the game away. “Nobody,” she said. “Nobody you want to see.”

It didn’t sound like imminent danger, anyway. Raisa stood and looked toward the door. Beyond Cat, filling the doorframe, was Micah Bayar, one hand on his amulet, the other extended toward Cat.

A different kind of danger.

“Call off your attack dog, Raisa,” Micah said.

Cat waved a knife at Micah. “Try me. We’ll see who’s faster,” she said, eyes glittering. “It better be a quick jinx.”

“I thought Alister killed you,” Micah said to Cat. “He told me he did.”

“When it comes to people Lord Alister wants to kill, I wouldn’t be first in line,” Cat said.

“Stop it, Caterina,” Raisa said. “Let him in. I told him he could call on me.”

“What?” Cat’s expression said that Raisa was likely impaired. “Why?”

“That’s my business,” Raisa said.

Micah cut his eyes toward the door, trying to nudge Cat out of the room. “Now, if you don’t mind …”

That was not going to happen. Like always, Micah was pushing Raisa’s limits.

“Caterina, could you play while we talk?” Raisa said, running her fingers along the neck of the basilka. “Or would you rather hear the harp?” she asked Micah.

“I’m not in the mood for music,” Micah said, looking furious.

“Trust me, Micah, Lady Tyburn will change your mind.” She handed the basilka to her glowering maid. “Why don’t you begin with ‘Hanalea’s Lament’? That’s my favorite.” She motioned to the chairs in front of the fire. “We can sit right here.” She plopped herself down on the cushions and gestured toward the other chair.

Micah grudgingly lowered himself into the other chair. Cat settled onto a side chair behind them, near the door, her basilka on her lap.

“What is she doing here?” Micah asked in a fierce whisper. “When I saw the old hag leave, I assumed you were alone.”

“Were you lurking outside my room, Micah?” Raisa asked. “That’s disturbing.”

The first few notes of the familiar song floated up. There followed a spate of tuning, with loud, angry discordant notes. Cat was skilled at speaking through her instrument.

“Speaking of disturbing, do you know who your servant is?” Micah asked, thrusting viciously at the fire with an iron poker. “She used to be in a street gang with Alister. She’s a thief and likely a murderer. But lately those seem to be the qualifications you are looking for. I hope you have your jewelry locked up.”

Finally, Cat began to play in earnest. First, “Hanalea’s Lament,” and then “High Country Air.”

Micah sighed. “If we can’t be alone, then can we talk about the Wizard Council?”

“What about it?”

“What has Alister told you?”

“What Alister told me is between the two of us,” Raisa snapped. “Why don’t you say what you have to say, Micah? I’m not going to spar with you.”

Micah combed his fingers through his hair, then settled both hands in his lap. “Our next order of business on the council is the election of a High Wizard to serve with you. Unfortunately, that was tabled until our next meeting.”

“I suppose there’s no rush,” Raisa said, “if your father continues to serve.”

Micah reached out and touched her hand, as if uncertain what her reaction would be. “Listen,” he said in a low voice. “The sooner my father steps down, the better—and the safer for you and your line.” He paused, as if debating whether to continue. “I’m going to stand for High Wizard, and I have a good chance of winning. That will put me in a better position to protect you. Perhaps then you’ll agree to dismiss Alister as your bodyguard.”

Raisa pulled her hand back. “Why would I want to do that?”

Micah leaned closer. “I just don’t understand it. I can’t imagine why you allow Alister so much access. If he has threatened you, or blackmailed you, or is somehow forcing you to accommodate him, tell me. I will handle it.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Raisa said. “Your lack of confidence in me is patronizing.”

“You are not confident, you are foolhardy,” Micah said.

“Oh? Who should I be wary of?” Raisa said. “Han Alister saved my life in Marisa Pines Pass. And you? Let’s see—you bewitched me at your name day party, tried to force me into a marriage, and then kidnapped me from school. Not a great record.”

Micah looked down at his hands. “I’ve tried to explain, but it’s like you don’t hear me.” His voice tremored slightly.

“I believe what I see.”

“Do you?” Micah straightened. “Then take a hard look at Alister. I see a whole different side of him. I think he’s the one who’s bewitched you.” He stood. “I should go.”

Raisa stood as well, frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken. “You have no reason to act as if I’ve been leading you on,” she said in a low, fierce whisper. “You told me I’d be safer if I allowed you to court me in public. I told you the rules when I agreed to play this game.”

“It’s not a game,” Micah said. “Not for me.” He inclined his head. “Your Majesty.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AT CROSS-PURPOSES

When Han met with Crow after the Wizard Council meeting, Crow seemed moody and uncommunicative—more so than usual. He paced back and forth, distractedly pushing his fingers through his hair while Han described his journey through the tunnels.

“The passages were intact, then,” Crow said, swinging around to face him. “There was no evidence they had been breached during my absence?”

Han shrugged. “Hard to tell. There were some magical barriers you never mentioned. Still, I don’t see how anyone could have gone in that way without coaching from you. Even with your help, disabling the barriers burns a boatload of power.”

“As it is intended to,” Crow said, looking momentarily pleased, as if his unbreachable tunnels were a kind of legacy for a wasted life.

“It’s not looking good on the council,” Han said. “Right now, Bayar has the votes to win, since he casts the tiebreaker.”

Crow had to point out one more time that had Han gone along with his plan in Aediion, the two Bayar offspring would be dead, and so no trouble at all.

Han bit back a nasty retort. He wasn’t in such a good mood himself. He’d always had confidence that he could find a way to win in any fight, but just now he couldn’t see a path that would lead him there. He’d be nothing more than a temporary bump in the road for the Bayars’ ambitions.

He’d been second-guessing himself ever since he’d said no to Raisa in her bedchamber two nights before. His body complained to him all night long. And a voice in his head whispered, Fool! Who do you think you are? A romp on the down-low is the best you can expect from a blueblood queen.

To make matters worse, he’d said yes to attempting the impossible—winning the vote for High Wizard.

“Alister,” Crow said softly, startling Han back to the present. He looked up to meet unexpected compassion in his ancestor’s eyes. “Think. There must be something you’ve overlooked—some way to win.”

“There’s this,” Han said. “The Bayars have plenty of enemies, but for centuries, nobody’s dared take them on because they seemed invulnerable to attack. If I discredit Bayar, it puts a chink in that armor. It may be enough to persuade people to vote my way.”

“And how do you propose to do that? Discredit him, I mean.”

“I need to get Fire Dancer and his mother into the Council House on Gray Lady,” Han said. “You need to tell me how.”

“You’re going to bring copperheads onto Gray Lady?” Crow lifted an eyebrow. “They’ll never make it out alive.”

“We have to risk it,” Han said. “We’re going to confront Bayar in front of the council.”

“To what purpose?” Crow asked. “Aside from the entertainment value, I mean.”

“This is about justice,” Han said. “It’s about righting a wrong.”

Crow laughed. “Politics is not about justice. It’s about the settling of personal vendettas, under a thin veneer of civilization. All politics is personal.”

“No problem,” Han said. “This is personal.”

“Even if you discredit the Bayars, even if you win the post of High Wizard, the Bayars will find a way to win,” Crow said softly. “The only way they’ll give is if the alternative is too terrible to contemplate.” He put a hand on Han’s shoulder. “Trust me, I know. I was the last person to confront the Bayars, and look what happened to me. Now you have both the Spirit clans and the Wizard Council to contend with. If wizards support you, the copperheads will oppose you. And the other way ’round.”

Right now, neither one supports me, Han thought. “What do you suggest?”

“The only way to get what you want is to make them more afraid of you than they are of each other. Give them a demonstration. Destroy the Council House. Blow up one of the copperhead camps. Show them you mean business.”

“My first priority is winning over the queen,” Han said. “She wants to bring the factions in the Fells together, not split them apart. Blowing holes in the queendom is unlikely to help my case.”

“You must demonstrate that you are powerful enough to risk supporting. And too powerful to oppose,” Crow said. “Trust me—the assembly will fall into line, as will the queen.”

Crow is used to wizards running things, Han thought. He’s not used to taking into account the clans and the queen. And he doesn’t know Raisa at all.

“Even if I wanted to destroy them, I wouldn’t know how,” Han said. “The Council House is loaded with wards against magic. Else it would have been destroyed long ago.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Crow said. “You just need better weapons.” He paused, as if weighing whether to continue. “And I know where they are.”

Han’s mind stopped racing like a mouse in a maze, and focused on Crow. “What? What are you talking about?”

“First, I need to know that you’re willing to do whatever is necessary to win,” Crow said.

“Look,” Han exploded. “I’m not making a trade for a pig in a sack. Quit talking in riddles, or I’m gone.”

Crow finally gave. “I happen to have a few weapons put away,” he said, folding his arms and broadening his stance, as if anticipating a challenge.

“Weapons?” Han repeated. “What weapons?”

“Have you ever heard of the Armory of the Gifted Kings?” Crow asked.

Han stared at him. “Everybody’s looking for it—the Bayars, Dean Abelard, maybe even the clans.”

“Really. They all know it exists?” Crow frowned. “The Bayars, I would have expected, but …”

“Well, it’s more a legend than anything else,” Han said. “Some don’t believe it still exists. Are you saying you know where it is?”

Crow shrugged. “Who was the last of the gifted kings?” he said, straightening the Waterlow stoles he’d taken to wearing since the big reveal.

“Where is it?” Han asked, his heart accelerating. “Where’s the armory?” He’d learned on the streets that sometimes only a massive show of strength could force his enemies to give. And right now he couldn’t think of any other way out of the thicket he was in.

“Hold on,” Crow said, raising both hands as if to ward Han off. “There’s a price.”

“What do you mean, there’s a price?” Han said. “If I win, the Bayars lose, and that’s what you want, right?”

“I want to talk to Lucas,” Crow said.

“Lucas?” Han shook his head. He hadn’t seen Lucius since he and Dancer had confronted him weeks ago.

“That’s my price,” Crow said. “As you would say, take or leave.”

“But—how would that work?” Han said. “You only exist in Aediion.”

“There is a way,” Crow said, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on Han. “You know as well as I do there’s a way.”

And then it came to him—what Crow was suggesting.

“No,” Han said, backing away. “I’m not going to let you possess me again. That’s off the table.”

“Come, now,” Crow said. “Don’t be a coward. I used to possess you at least twice a week, and you’re none the worse for wear.”

“No,” Han said. He cast about for an alternative. “You can give me questions, and I’ll ask them and bring you the answers.”

Crow shook his head. “Not good enough. I want to see his face. I want to see his reactions. I don’t want it to pass through the filter of you. I’ve got to get to bottom of all this.”

“Sorry,” Han said. “I’m done being used.”

“I see. Well, being as you feel so strongly …” Crow shrugged, flicking imaginary dust from his coat. “Too bad. You’ll never find it on your own.”

“I don’t believe this. You’re saying you won’t help me because I won’t let you—”

“I need to speak with Lucas,” Crow said. “Those are the terms.”

Han liked Crow, was trusting him more and more, but … if Han accepted his proposal, Crow would be set loose on Gray Lady with the armory at his disposal and his enemies at hand. Could Crow—could anyone—resist the temptation to take revenge? It could be the Breaking all over again. Only, this time, Han would get the blame.

Still. There must be some way he could protect himself. “Let me think about it,” he said finally.

“Don’t think too long,” Crow said. “I thought I had time to negotiate with my enemies, and I’ve been paying the price ever since.”

“This isn’t the same situation,” Han said.

“Isn’t it?” Crow laughed bitterly. “You’ve already earned a slow, unpleasant death, from the Bayars’ point of view. I speak from experience when I tell you that if you go up against them, you had better be willing to do whatever it takes to win. And even that may not be enough.”