The Queen's Necklace (39 page)

“Who is ultimately responsible, we may not know until he believes we are all too feeble to move against him. Indeed, why should he reveal himself too soon? If he waits—until our mines collapse, until volcanoes erupt in Winterscar, until earthquakes rock the foundations of Finghyll and the sea reclaims it—until we suffer all that we
must
suffer without the remarkable devices on which we depend for so much—then he will have very little to fear from any of us.”

But Will was shaking his head. “He may not have anything to fear from any of
us
, but there are a hundred kingdoms, duchies, and principalities. If a dozen nations are threatened in this way, then surely the rest—”

Rodaric stopped him with an abrupt motion of one hand. “
What
will the rest do? Will they ignore everything they have ever been taught to believe and form an alliance against this menace—whoever or whatever it is? Or will they be paralyzed by doubt into doing
nothing? We really can't know what they will do. As a Society, we have been forbidden to even think what ought to be done in the face of a threat like this one—as though the thinking might make something happen. And those who
have
thought, those who
have
dared to speculate, have all been punished!”

Will nodded glumly, remembering his student friends who had been disgraced and expelled—recalling that he, too, had been sent away from the university for nothing more nor less than incorrect thinking.

“You said once, that our ancestors had been naïve in setting up their scheme to protect the Jewels. It seems to me that they were actually unpardonably foolish and vain, thinking they could foresee and plan for everything that might possibly occur. We are paying for that vanity now.

“Because whether this plot succeeds or fails, I do know one thing,” the king continued grimly. “If the Jewels that are already missing are not recovered, if the Jewels in Rijxland, Finghyll, Château-Rouge, and the rest should also disappear, if all that power should come into the hands of one man or one woman, the world will be changed forever—and just as certainly, this Kingdom of Mountfalcon as we have known it will no longer exist!”

Wilrowan put his hands to his temples, which were suddenly pounding. “Who—no, that's not what I want to ask. Will you be warning them in Rijxland, Finghyll, and those other places on the map? Will you be taking them into your confidence? Surely the time for so much secrecy is past!”

“I will warn them, yes. I can't in good conscience do anything less—yet I can't be certain I should do anything more. Because the need for secrecy has only increased. I dare not risk starting a panic. If the people knew of this, some would start seeing plots where they don't even exist. The persecution of the Rowans would be nothing beside it! It would be like the end of the Empire all over again, except this time we would be hunting and murdering our own kind.”

Rodaric sat staring bleakly ahead of him, as though he were contemplating the direst prospects that the future offered. “And that's not taking into account the inevitable slaughter of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of perfectly innocent Padfoots and Ouphs if anyone begins to suspect there are Goblins behind this.”

“Shades!” breathed Wilrowan. The Padfoots and Ouphs were such small creatures—so easily recognized, so difficult to disguise—who had only a few harmless magics with which to protect themselves and a dreadful vulnerability to fire and salt. They were obvious scapegoats.

“I must admit,” said the king, “I have never felt any love for my Goblin subjects. Yet such as they are, they are my people; such as I am, I have a duty to protect them.” His grey eyes became suddenly fierce; one hand clenched into a fist and crashed down on his desk. “I will not have them brutalized, I will not have them hunted, terrorized, butchered—not if I have to shed my
own
blood to prevent it!”

He pushed back his chair, rose to his feet, and began pacing the floor with a swift, impatient step. “But there are any number of reasons for maintaining secrecy. Because in the light of all this, who can we trust? A notation on this map is no guarantee of anyone's innocence. You may have been
intended
to find it. And even if we could trust every single one of my fellow monarchs, can the same be said of everyone close to them? Indeed, how
could
so many of the Jewels disappear without considerable treachery in high places?”

“It seems to me,” said Will, watching his restless movements around the room, “that the people responsible for this monstrous situation are hoping to create exactly this kind of mistrust. In refusing to share everything we know, we are behaving exactly as they would wish.”

“I don't dispute that. And yet, knowing I have already been betrayed—even by someone I regarded so little as Macquay—knowing
there may have been others even closer to me involved—I find myself looking at my own friends, my own advisors, and I do not like what I see. Consider, for instance, your friend Jack Marzden.”

Will shook his head, folded his arms across the front of his green coat. “Marzden was not even in Hawkesbridge, not even in the country, when the Chaos Machine was taken.”

“Precisely. And what an amazing number of important things just happened to occur while the Lord Lieutenant was so conveniently out of the way. Your duel and arrest. The theft of the Jewel. The murder of Macquay. This all makes me think I must have been mad to entrust this city to a man with so many vices!”

Will uncrossed his arms, stood up a little straighter. “Are we speaking of Jack now—or is this meant for me?” He had never imagined that Rodaric was aware that Marzden smoked hemp—or that he knew of certain vast sums the Lord Lieutenant had gambled away in houses like Silas Gant's.

The king collapsed in his chair. “We are speaking of Marzden. And yet I don't really mean to accuse him of anything. There has never been any hint of corruption in the City Guard. So long as that remains true, Lord Marzden may be sure of retaining his position—but that doesn't mean I would ever trust him with a secret as important as this one!”

Standing with his legs spread apart, his hands on his hips, Will scowled darkly. “I wonder,” he murmured, “that you are willing to trust
me
, since I also have—vices.”

“But not the same ones.” Rodaric's lips curled ever so slightly. “And the ones that you do have are conducted so openly—one might even say brazenly—you are virtually impervious to blackmail. Rather more to the point,” he added, with a shrug and a lift of one dark eyebrow, “you were admitted into this secret before I realized that you were even there!”

The eyebrow came down. Suddenly, Rodaric was very much in
earnest. “I wonder, Wilrowan, why you insist on thinking that I dislike you? If I did not trust you implicitly, if I had no high opinion of your courage, your loyalty, your devotion to the queen, is it likely, do you think, that I would have given you command of the men who guard her—no matter how Dionee begged me to do so?”

Will looked down as his feet. It was a new idea, and not a welcome one, that any trouble between him and the king might have been the result of his own intolerance rather than Rodaric's.

“Wilrowan,” said the king quietly, “I know it does sometimes suit Dionee's purposes to play us one against the other, but I wonder if we would not be very much wiser if we refused to oblige her?”

Will clasped his hands behind him, over the silver buttons at the back of his coat. He continued to study the toes of his well-polished boots. “You make me ashamed, sir.”

“Do not be ashamed. If there has been any misunderstanding between us in the past, the blame must be mine as well as yours. Let us simply resolve to do better in the future and leave it at that.”

Rodaric cleared his throat. “Although, now you are feeling somewhat chastened, I may take advantage of this softer mood, by giving you new orders.” Will glanced up. “The Chaos Machine has passed out of the country. I felt it go.

“No,” he added, at Will's hopeful look, “I can't say where it is now. It is just that the sympathy which existed before—is no longer there. It seems likely the Jewel is in Chêneboix, since the conspirators were seen so near our eastern border. But they might have passed the device on to others weeks ago, and it might have gone north—south—west—I simply can't tell. I only know that the Chaos Machine is out of our reach. This being so, we can only await further events. In the meantime, I want you to stay very close to the queen.”

Wilrowan stiffened; his eyes dilated. “Is the queen in danger?”

“The queen is in danger of doing herself some grave injury. You
are aware of her condition. This is not a time for—for what one can only characterize as madcap and reckless behavior in a woman four months gone with child. This is a time for moderation in all things.”

Will shook his head, gave a small bitter laugh. “But did you ever really think that when the time came she would—moderate her behavior? If so, I must say, you were doomed to disappointment from the very beginning.”

“I did
not
think that Dionee would change her ways merely because she was carrying my child. But is it like her, Wilrowan, to take long, exhausting rides into the country? To play raucous, romping, childish games on the grand staircase? To drink so much wine that she becomes tipsy?”

“No,” said Will, emphatically, “no, it is not like her! But do you actually tell me she is doing any—
all
of those things?”

“I do tell you,” said the king, “though with infinite pain and regret.”

Will blew out a long breath. It seemed that quite a lot had been happening while he was in the mining towns, when he was in Chetterly—even in the last few days, while he was searching the city for a suitable house to rent for Lili. “And what has been done to prevent her from behaving in such a reckless manner?”

“I have tried to caution her, others have tried as well. She does not listen. I might, of course, enforce her obedience, but that is something I'm reluctant to do, seeing that she is so desperately unhappy already.”

Will cocked his head. “You think that is the cause: desperate unhappiness? I must say, that would be my first guess as well. You think she continues to reproach herself for the loss of the Jewel?”

“Yes. And also, I think she suffers from an enormous dread of the future. At a time when she ought to be looking ahead with joy to the birth of her child, she can only see a world full of terrifying possibilities. It is to avoid thinking of these things that she has become so bent on diversion.”

“And I am to keep her amused?” said Will, leaning forward and putting the heels of his hands on the desk. “Or am I to scold and to lecture her into more seemly behavior?”

“You are to do both. Or to do neither. You must do anything you deem likely to be effective.”

The king shook his head sadly. “I have never understood why that is, but she never seems to take offense at anything you say, no matter how roughly you speak to her. Yet I have only to make the mildest criticism, and she either bursts into tears or flies into a fit of pique.”

“It is only that when
you
criticize her she begins to fear that you love her the less. And that my love, which is a brother's love, is not nearly so vital to her.”

“I believe you are being kind,” said the king, with a wistful smile. “And for that I thank you. But I am less concerned with my own heart-burnings than I am for Dionee and the child. And of course, she must
not
know anything of the other matters we have discussed here today. As distressing as her present uncertainty must be, were she even to learn the half of what you and I know now—”

“It doesn't bear thinking about.” The very thought of how frantic Dionee might become, how wildly self-destructive if she began to guess the truth, was enough to make Will feel queasy himself. “Though in the end, she may learn it all in spite of us—particularly if things go from bad to worse.”

“I have thought of that, too. But I am asking you to shield her from the truth as long as possible. I know this comes at a bad time for you, when you expect Lilliana within the fortnight. But I hope that Lili will understand and not feel neglected. And of course, you may feel free to bring her to visit me at any time.”

“Thank you,” said Will, frowning slightly. The offer was kindly meant, but he thought that Lili would be bored to tears, having no taste for life at court. He had intended something very different: to devote himself entirely to Lili's amusement, to do whatever pleased
her
, whether that meant walks and rides and picnics, romantic suppers, or nights at the theater. All of that was impossible now, if he must always be dancing attendance on Dionee.

Rodaric seemed to guess something of this without being told. “I have a high regard for Lilliana. If she grows weary of the usual amusements here—of gossip, flirtation, and politics—perhaps she would like to make use of my library, or engage in some other rational pastime. I would welcome her company.” He saw that Will continued to frown. “Still, I realize this is not like anything you have planned. I would not ask you to sacrifice those plans, if it weren't absolutely necessary. I know what your efforts have been these last months. I wish it was possible to ask less of you now.”

“I understand,” said Wilrowan. He was beginning to feel a grim inevitability, an exorable trend to events, which seemed to doom all his efforts toward a reconciliation with Lili. But the child that Dionee was carrying would be heir to the throne and so must be doubly precious to all of them. Will stood up straight again, saluted smartly. “It will be my honor to attend on the queen.”

“Thank you, Wilrowan. You'll not find me ungrateful or ungenerous, that I can promise. If we can bring this all to a favorable conclusion, there is very little you might ask that I would be unwilling to grant.