The Dragon of Despair (84 page)

“Grateful Peace looks horrible. I bet it really hurts him to have his arm twisted that way. And I bet he falls a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the way his robe is all dirty on the front. He’s fallen. He told you that his balance has been off ever since he lost his right arm. Now they took his left.”

So it went, the voices forcing Citrine to consider things she would rather not have noticed. When the others—Derian and Elise and all the rest—had talked about Melina being responsible for Edlin and Peace not coming back with Firekeeper, Citrine had ignored them. Hadn’t Firekeeper herself said it was someone else? Someone named…

Memory hit her with the truth before Citrine could flee from it. Someone named Idalia, Idalia who Firekeeper had said was Peace’s own sister who hated him. The same Idalia who Citrine herself had seen was Mother’s ally, the mayor of Melina’s underground town.

And now here was proof that Citrine could not evade. Melina stood talking to Edlin, not reprimanding the woman who had struck the young lord, not even offering him a cloth to blot his cut. There stood Peace, bound and gagged, treated like less than dirt.

With a chill certainty, Citrine recognized the man’s resignation as that of someone who already believes himself dead, who only looks to delay the inevitable execution. And Peace had been kind to her, kinder in many ways than Citrine’s real father, for Rolfston Redbriar had been a man too beaten by events to have much kindness left in him for a late-born, extra, extraneous daughter.

And Mother knew about this and Mother approved of this. Peace’s humiliation and dread was the coin in which she paid Idalia for her faithful support.

Citrine realized that the voices had drowned out a large portion of the discussion. She was brought back into the present by the sight of the guard wrenching the gag from Grateful Peace’s mouth.

“So,” Consolor Melina said to the Illuminator, “do you have any idea where treasure rests?”

“I have…” Peace coughed, a hollow sound from a throat dry as bone, but no one, not even Edlin, offered him water, “no certainty but a few ideas.”

Melina smiled.

“Very good,” she said. “Tonight is nearly gone, but tomorrow we shall see how your ideas manifest into reality.”

XXXII

EXHAUSTED FROM HER EXPLORATIONS
during the night before, Melina was not at all pleased when Tipi shook her awake near midmorning.

“Mistress,” Tipi pressed, “I think this is important. Your caller is Kiero, and despite his many reasons to stand in awe of your power and authority, he persists in insisting he must speak with you.”

Melina did not allow her sudden interest to show, but her head no longer felt so cloudy.

“Very well,” she said, covering a yawn. “Have Kiero attend upon me in my private sitting room. You may bring me hot tea and honey.”

Tipi abased herself out of the room, leaving Melina to perform her own ablutions, a time she used to arrange her thoughts as well as her appearance.

When she swept into her office some time later, Melina’s appearance in no way revealed her exhaustion. The omnipresent cosmetics worn by the New Kelvinese had more uses than she had realized when she had studied them from her unsophisticated Hawk Haven perspective. They could be as practical as any other form of attire when it came to concealment—and therefore certainly no more shameful than the wig King Tedric regularly wore.

Kiero had not the effrontery to sit without her invitation so awaited her standing. When she entered the room, he abased himself appropriately, not abbreviating one gesture or bow though his excitement radiated from him like heat from the sun.

“Speak,” Melina said, settling herself into a chair behind her reading desk and motioning for Tipi to pour tea and then leave them in privacy.

Kiero stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze directed respectfully toward her. Melina’s servants rapidly learned that she did not appreciate their studying the opposite wall or the carpet while they addressed her—a discipline she wished she could enforce on everyone with whom she must regularly interact.

It would make life so much easier.

“Consolor Melina,” Kiero began, “as I well know, I have been less than perfect in my service of you.”

He was not hoping for reassurance as a similar servant in Hawk Haven might have done. He really meant what he said. Such awareness that promotion was based upon personal achievement rather than inheritance was one of the things Melina greatly approved of in the New Kelvinese.

She sipped her tea, graced him with the faintest inclination of her head, and Kiero continued:

“After my attempt to bring Sir Jared Surcliffe into your personal service met with disappointment, I set myself with renewed enthusiasm to watching the foreigners in hopes that I might be offered some other opportunity to do you service.

“Yesterday, I believe that my fidelity met with some reward. I was observing the boardinghouse wherein the foreigners have residence when I noticed the arrival of messengers from the Hawk Haven embassy. One man went in, stayed only briefly, and then retreated.

“I sent one of my associates to follow him and kept my vigil on the foreigners. A short time later, Lady Archer and Counselor Derian departed. Although they were on foot, they had with them the large wolf which is their pet. Therefore, I made no move to agitate the population against them. In any case, I thought it would be interesting to learn what I could about their business.”

Melina awarded him a smile.

“Very good. We have already seen an alarming tendency in the legal system to tolerate misbehavior on the part of that beast. Information is of infinitely greater value.”

The tips of Kiero’s ears colored a deep red—the only part of his blush clearly visible beneath the burning Urnacia had inflicted on his skin.

“I am grateful that you approve,” he said. “When I arrived at the embassy, the associate I had sent in advance informed me that the messengers had returned directly from their errand. My associate had waited to see if anyone was sent out again. While he did this a visitor arrived at the embassy.

“The visitor was carried in a hired litter and wore a loose robe over his head and shoulders so that his features were not recognizable. At this point, I sent my associate to locate the hired litter and to question the bearers as to the identity of their fare. I took up the vigil at the embassy myself.

“After a long time, the foreigners emerged. Their bearing and what I could hear of their parting comments to the doorkeeper seemed to indicate that they intended to return to their dwelling. My associate had not returned from his errand, therefore I let them depart unescorted. I waited instead to follow the unidentified visitor.

“Shortly following the foreigners’ departure, the doorkeeper sent a runner for a litter. Despite the local unhappiness regarding the foreign presence in Dragon’s Breath, a litter was found borne by menials willing to trade their self-respect for the inflated prices foreigners are willing to offer.

“I positioned myself so I could follow the litter without myself being noticed. At Ronorialla Market Square, the passenger ordered—speaking very good New Kelvinese—the litter to halt. At Ronorialla he was able to acquire another litter without difficulty, and did so. He was borne directly to Thendulla Lypella.

“Using the pass given to me by Your Gracious Ladyship, I entered after him. Following him within the Earth Spires without being detected was more difficult, but I succeeded and saw him admitted without question to White Rock Spire, the tower occupied by the Dragon’s Claw. After the man had passed within, I came up, moving as if I carried a message. When I queried the door guard if his master was within, the man replied easily that I was in luck, that Xarxius had just returned. I then created some fairly routine message to be passed onto the Dragon’s Claw and departed.

“I intended to report to you immediately, but a message from the associate I had sent to trail the litter was waiting for me at my quarters whence I had gone in order to make myself fitting for your august presence. It requested that I meet with him immediately at the watch house we had established across from the foreigners’ residence. I hastened there and learned two things.

“One, the litter bearers reported that they had acquired their fare at another of the large market areas. Two, the foreigners had returned from the embassy and had apparently gone into private conference—this being judged by the closing of windows in one of the more secure rooms, a thing that would not be usual on such a warm evening.

“Even as my associate related this, we saw a lantern blossom behind one of the shutters, a clear signal to someone without. Although we saw no one react to this signal, it was not difficult to assume that Xarxius had—as your esteemed self has had the foresight to do—posted watchers on these uncertain elements. Clearly, some message was being sent.

“By the time I had acquired this information, the hour was past that which I had been told I could bring to you anything but the most dire information. I therefore waited until this morning. I hope I have judged correctly.”

Melina nodded almost absently.

“You have behaved fittingly,” she said. “Who knows of this?”

“Only I know the entire story,” Kiero replied promptly, “though my associate knows much.”

Melina sipped her tea, no longer in the least sleepy.

“This is interesting, Kiero, but I will need to consider how to act. Speak of this to no one.”

“I will not.”

“Have someone you can trust to be subtle keep an eye on Xarxius. I want a record of where he goes. I want warning if he makes any plans to leave the city.”

“Yes, Consolor Melina.”

“Very good, Kiero. For now you are dismissed, but leave word of where you may be found. I may have an essential task for you.”

“Should I wait here within Thendulla Lypella?”

“No. You may go about your duties, just make certain that you can be found if I want you.”

Kiero heard the dismissal in her tone and began the departure ritual. Melina hardly paid him any mind—a thing perfectly fitting given the difference between their ranks. A few moments later, she rang for Tipi.

“Prepare my breakfast,” she commanded, “and learn for me where the Healed One may be found.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

BY THE TIME SHE’D FINISHED
a grilled lamb cutlet and several cups of tea, Melina knew what must be done next.

“Tipi, did you learn where my husband is?”

“In his studio, Mistress. Dancing.”

Melina frowned slightly. Toriovico was always most difficult to deal with when he had been dancing.

“Bring a message asking him to call upon me when he finishes his rehearsal. Then inquire when the Dragon Speaker can see me. Don’t make an appointment, just learn Apheros’s schedule for the day.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And, Tipi?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Where is Citrine?”

“I believe she is at a dance rehearsal.”

Melina nodded, satisfied.

“Leave a message for Citrine’s maid telling her that Citrine is not to bother me today. I will do my best to stop by before the child is put to bed.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Melina next retrieved her research from the double-locked box in which she kept it. Last night’s prowling had tickled some memory of what she had read and she could do nothing on the Xarxius problem until she had spoken to Toriovico—or rather she could, but she preferred to keep her involvement shielded under proper forms. This was not a land that would be comfortable with a woman ruler.

Melina wondered how Hawk Haven would take to Sapphire when she was queen. After all, both of Zorana’s successors had been male: her son Chalmer, her grandson Tedric. Still, Sapphire should do well. After all, wasn’t she her mother’s daughter? And it wouldn’t be long before she had her mother’s help in that difficult task.

Melina turned over her notes. Something Edlin Norwood had said made her want to look at these again, something about treasure….

For a long while Melina turned over page after page, reading her own thin, spidery handwriting, trying to remember her own abbreviations. She’d taken her notes in Pellish, but knowing this would not be precaution enough against determined snoops she’d created her own cipher. Nothing more than abbreviations and word substitutions, but enough to slow someone down.

Even herself.

Melina’s broad grin would have surprised all those who perceived her as cold and humorless. Perhaps that grin was what slowed Toriovico as he stepped over the threshold.

“Melina, darling?” he said. “Tipi said you wanted me.”

Melina looked up, biting her lower lip to keep from reprimanding him for entering unannounced. The Healed One was the single person with whom she must observe the forms—at least before witnesses, and who knew what escort had trailed him here?

“Yes, Torio,” she said, filling her voice with warmth and enthusiasm. “I see you came straight from practice.”

“My lady called,” he replied warmly, lifting her hand and nibbling along the back of her wrist beneath the form of a polite kiss. “How may I serve you?”