The Bitterbynde Trilogy (72 page)

‘You are leaving so soon?'

‘I will not squander more of your time, sir—Your Grace is a busy man, I know. Thank you for sparing me a moment.'

‘But your tidings …'

‘Will Your Grace take me to the King-Emperor?'

‘Before you stands his sworn representative. Is that not enough?'

‘No, sir.'

She curtsied. Beyond the palace walls, out in the gulf of night, the wind raged, hammering at the windows.

‘Good speed,' said Roxburgh, smiling slightly.

Rohain-Imrhien guessed he would not truly let her leave without divining her purpose.

She paused by the door, where two footmen of matching height stood poised to escort her. Then she turned and looked over her shoulder. The war-leader stood with his feet apart, arms folded. He nodded curtly. She walked back into the chamber.

Her bluff had not worked.

His had.

‘I will tell you, sir,' she said, since there was no option.

The wind sucked along corridors. It sang weird harmonies, flinging doors open and shut with sudden violence and setting every hound in the Royal Kennels to howling.

A sleepy young footman went around the Duke of Roxburgh's audience-chamber, lowering the gleaming lamps on their chains and trimming the wicks, lighting a score of candles slender and white like young damsels, now yellow-haired. In the tall hearth, the flames had simmered down to a wary glow, enlivened now and then by a sudden gust down the chimney. The hounds by the fire twitched, dreaming perhaps of past hunts.

Rohain fell silent, her story told. Long before this night, before she had become Rohain, she had held an inner debate on what she would say, should she ever reach Court. To reveal the existence and whereabouts of the hidden treasure was her purpose, and to uncover the corrupt Scalzo and his adherents so as to be avenged. But to disclose her own identity—insofar as she knew it—was not her intention. In truth, she was nothing but a homeless waif who had forgotten a past that possibly was best left forgotten. She was a foundling, an ex—floor-scrubber, a serf, a stowaway, a misfit, and an outcast. Now a chance to begin afresh had fallen like a ripe plum into her lap. The lowly part of her life could be swept away and hidden. With a new face and a new name, she who had first been nameless and then been Imrhien might indeed become Rohain of high degree.

To begin living a lie did not sit comfortably with her, but so many reasons made it the choicest path. A noblewoman could wield so much more influence than a servant. That power might be used to help her friends. With influence, she had also some chance of finding Thorn again, of at least seeing him, from a distance, one more time. Thirdly, having once tasted dignity and luxury, it would be hard to relinquish them.

And so she had told her story to Roxburgh not as it was, but as she wished it to be heard. He had listened closely throughout, and when she had finished had asked several pertinent questions. He was no fool; she guessed that he perceived some flaws in the web she had woven, but, perhaps out of tact, he chose to overlook them.

The story went that she had left the Sorrow Islands and begun a journey across Eldaraigne in a small, private Windship. A storm had wrecked the craft over the Lofty Mountains. She and a crew member had been the only survivors of the disaster. Wandering destitute and in danger through the wight-ridden forests, they had come accidentally upon a treasure hoard of unsurpassed magnificence, at a place they named Waterstair.

‘A treasure hoard? You say that it contains much sildron?'

‘Vast quantities, sir.'

‘Did you bring any with you?'

This might be a trick question.

‘Knowing that all newly discovered sildron is the property of the King-Emperor, I did not take any from this trove—nor did my companion. But those who discover such wealth are entitled to a share of it in reward, or so I am told. We took jewels and coin, to help us, should we find our way out of the wilderness and regain the lands of men, for we were destitute, as I have recounted.'

‘May I see these valuables?'

‘All is spent.' She added hastily, ‘We took so very little—we could not carry much.'

‘Spent? Where?'

‘In Gilvaris Tarv, when we reached it. Of course, my first thought was to send a message by Stormriders to the King-Emperor, to inform him of this find. However, I held back at the last moment. I was reluctant to let such precious knowledge pass out of my hands—not that I do not trust our most worthy Stormriders, but accidents may happen. I decided, then, to journey to Caermelor, in person, with the news. As I was preparing for the journey, disaster struck. My unwonted spending, and that of the aeronaut who had helped me survive in the forests, had not gone unnoticed. He was abducted, with a number of his friends, by a gang of perfidious knaves. They forced him to lead them to the trove, and there he was betrayed, slaughtered before the very doors of the vault. One of his companions escaped to tell the tale, but later perished. I barely escaped with my own life. Through adventure and misadventure I made my way across Eldaraigne until I came here, to Court. Even as we speak, those black-hearted murderers, Scalzo's men, may be raiding the King-Emperor's treasure at Waterstair—not for the first time—while the bones of brave fellows lie rotting in the grass.'

‘The name of this aeronaut?'

‘Oh—the Bear, he was called,' she stammered, fearing she might somehow betray Sianadh by revealing his true name.

‘The Bear, indeed?'

‘Yes.'

‘And the haunts of these brigands?'

‘Gilvaris Tarv, near the river. On the east side. I know no more.'

The Dainnan Chieftain called for more wine. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘But if all is as you say, my lady, then this is a very serious matter. We are talking of treason.'

She made no reply.

‘Treason, perpetrated by those who have concealed and appropriated the property of the Crown. The punishment for that is severe.'

‘As I imagined.'

‘You will understand, my lady, that you must remain, as it were, under royal protection until your story can be verified. This is for your own safety as well as for reasons of security.'

‘Of course.'

This had been half-expected. Besides, where else would she go? It had been in her mind to ask her coachman—by now no doubt comfortably ensconced in some downstairs pantry with a tankard in his hand, waiting for her—to take her to the nearest reputable inn for the night. Beyond that, she had formed no plan.

‘You must bide here, at the palace, until transportation to the Lofties can be arranged. Since you know the way, you must lead us there. Your reward shall be substantial—more than a few jewels and coins easily spent.'

Untruthfully, she said, ‘Sir, knowing that I serve my sovereign is reward enough. Nevertheless I accept your offer with gratitude. I hope for every success in tracking down the treasoners.'

He laughed humorlessly. ‘So, 'tis retribution you are after!'

Truthfully, she said, ‘Yes, but that was not my primary goal. I came here to fulfil a promise to a friend, and that I have done.'

He shrugged. ‘I will have that wag Wilfred call your servants to bring your accoutrements. Your horses and carriage shall be accommodated in my own stables, your coachman in the grooms' and equerries' quarters behind the Royal Coach-Mews, and your maidservant in a chamber off the suite to be prepared for you.'

‘I have no handmaiden. The coachman and equipage are hired.'

‘What? No maid?'

The Dainnan scowled. He left his seat and again paced restlessly before the fireplace.

‘My lady Rohain, you are a most singular noblewoman. You come here, unannounced; nobody has ever heard of you. You come masked and maidless, bearing a most extraordinary tale. You speak with disarming plainness, unlike a courtier or any member of the peerage. Are you in fact a spy?' On the last word, he spun on his heel and glared at her accusingly.

Outraged, Rohain jumped up. Her overblown skirts knocked the table. A goblet fell to the carpet, scattering its contents like spilled blood. Angry words sprang to her lips in the heat of the moment.

‘Now you accuse
me
of treason! Indeed, sir, it seems you have been in the King-Emperor's service for too long—you have become suspicious of all strangers who set foot in the palace. I have come here in good faith, to carry out my duty, only to be called an infiltrator. My mask disturbs you? Well then!' She tore off the domino and threw it on the fire. Was it a sigh of the wind she heard, or the sudden intake of her host's breath? The hounds lifted their heads, snarling.

‘If I speak too plainly for your Court manners,' she cried, ‘teach me otherwise! And as for your treasure, I will prove that it exists. What more would you have me do?'

Her knees trembled. Abruptly, she sat down. The blood drained from her face. How had she possessed the temerity to dare such an outburst? What would happen now—would she be hanged for insolence? She fixed her eyes on the fire. The fragile mask had already been consumed. She was exposed, vulnerable.

Out across the city, a bell tolled. Unquiet fingers of air slid under the door and plucked at the curtains.

‘Your pardon, lady,' said Roxburgh at length. ‘I stand chastised.' He bowed. His visage softened. ‘Pray do not think me unkind. It is my way, to test others at first meeting. Surely I have this night learned not to taunt the ladies of the Sorrows, should I ever meet another! Prithee, rest by the fire awhile.' He paused for another moment, as though savoring some anomaly or bizarreness, then summoned his pages. ‘Lads! See to Her Ladyship's belongings and pay off the driver. Have lodgings made ready. Find a lady's maid.'

Two or three young boys hastened to do his bidding.

This Dainnan lord speaks forthrightly to say the least
, thought Rohain-Imrhien.
He is a man to place faith in
.

‘You are His Majesty's guest now,' Roxburgh informed her.

And prisoner? What if my ruse were to be discovered
?

‘Gramercie. I am weary.'

‘Wilfred—play.'

The multiskilled squire took up a lyre, checked the tuning, and began expertly to coax a melody from the strings.

The wine, the warmth, and the music were sweet. Rohain may have dozed; it seemed no time had passed before a knock was heard at the door. There entered a damsel of her own age, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years, her hair corn yellow, half-encased in a crespine of gold wire. She curtsied, peeping at Rohain out of the corners of her eyes, blinking.

‘Mistress Viviana Wellesley of Wytham at your service, Your Grace.'

‘You are to be servant to the Lady Rohain Tarrenys,' said Roxburgh.

‘Even so, Your Grace.'

‘Lady Rohain,' he said, ‘I beg you to dine in the Royal Dining Hall tonight.'

‘Sir, I am honoured.'

Roxburgh again addressed the lady's maid. ‘Miss, is the suite of chambers ready?'

‘Yes, Your Grace.'

‘Then pray conduct Her Ladyship to them with due consideration!'

Accompanied by a footman four paces behind to the right and the new personal maid four paces behind to the left, Rohain-Imrhien was verbally guided through a gridwork of resplendent corridors to her lodgings. The footman waited outside the door, holding it open for them to enter. She caught him staring at her and he blushed to the roots of his powdered wig.

A small, neat woman awaited them in the rooms, a bunch of jangling keys attached to her belt. She curtsied. Her mouth hung open, until she snapped it shut like a frog catching flies. After an awkward pause, Rohain concluded that servants were not permitted to speak first.

‘Speak,' she offered lamely.

The Chatelaine of the King's Household introduced herself and indicated an anteroom where a bath awaited. Rohain dismissed her without thanks. The little woman bustled out with a rattle and a clash of stock, ward, and barrel. The footman closed the door and the sound of his steps echoed away.

Sixty candles lit the scene, rising from their brackets like tall yellow flag-lilies. Rohain stood staring. The opulence of the palace suite forced Isse Tower's decor into insignificance. These rooms burgeoned with decor in shades of emerald and gold, from the patterned carpet like a soft expanse of lawn studded with buttercups, to the gilded walls covered with plaster frescoes and the velvet hangings in apple green and lemon, their lush tassels dangling in bunches like ripening fruits. The bed's four posts were carved in the likeness of flowering wattle-trees whose boughs soared to a canopy of green brocade fringed with round gold beads above a matching coverlet and cushions. The windows were draped, swagged, and pelmeted in green and gold; daffodil tiles framed a niche wherein a fire blazed bravely, gleaming on a burnished grate and fire-irons. Rohain's fur-lined cloak, which had been urbanely subtracted by a butler as soon as its wearer had entered the palace, had been placed on a gilt chair next to her few pathetic belongings—the boxes from the carriage and, absurdly, the foot-warmer.

A soft clearing of the throat from the new personal maid drew Rohain's attention.

‘Ah—what was your name again?'

‘Viviana, m'lady. Vivianessa, in sooth, but I am called Viviana.'

‘Well, Viviana, would you—ah—put away my traveling cloak?'

This was all that, came to mind, on the spur of the moment. What in Aia was she to do with this girl? Were the Court ladies expected to be incapable of dressing and undressing themselves? What a nuisance, to have someone constantly bothering and fussing around!

The young servant folded the cloak carefully into a camphorwood chest carved with woodland scenes. Rohain went into the small room indicated by the Chatelaine. Therein stood a copper tub on lion's feet, lined with white cambric that draped over the sides like falls of snow. The tub was filled with steaming water tinct with sweet oils and strewn with unseasonable primrose petals like flakes of the sun.