Gargarin tried to shove him away, his movements furious.
He pulled Gargarin back to the grate and forced him down the hole. Froi followed closely behind. In the narrow tunnel he watched as Gargarin rested his head against the stone, wearily.
‘Lean on me,’ Froi said. ‘Lirah’s dagger wound must have triggered off spasms.’
‘Really. You’re gods’ touched, are you?’
Froi ignored the mood. ‘Not sure whether you noticed that I saved your life, fool.’
‘Not sure whether you noticed that I didn’t ask for saving, idiot!’
Gargarin was still clutching the dagger in his hand.
‘And where did you manage to get hold of that?’ Froi asked.
‘I’m not here to answer your questions.’
‘Then what are you here for, Gargarin?’
Gargarin stumbled away, his movements even more awkward in his fury. Froi grabbed him by the coarse woven cloth of his shirt, but Gargarin pulled away again.
‘Is this where you break your bond and kill me slowly?’ he asked.
‘Not today,’ Froi said. ‘I’m feeling too inquisitive.’
‘About?’
‘You. Your brother. The whore,’ he provoked.
Gargarin stopped and Froi walked into him. There was no room in so narrow a space for Gargarin to turn, but Froi saw the whipcord fury in the hands against the wall, the way they tightened on the staff and the dagger.
‘You watch what comes out of your mouth,’ Gargarin warned coldly. ‘Lirah of Serker was thirteen years old when she was sold to this godsforsaken rock. She deserves no one’s scorn.’
Froi reached forward and pounded the hand holding the dagger into the wall. Gargarin’s fingers convulsed and let go.
‘You’re nothing but a pathetic shell of a man who can hardly hold a weapon, let alone a woman such as Lirah of Serker,’ Froi said, picking up the dagger.
‘A pathetic shell of a man?’ Gargarin asked. ‘Is that what you call those from wherever you come from who don’t have power in their stride?’
Suddenly Gargarin twisted around, slamming Froi against the wall, the staff under Froi’s chin, the space so narrow they could hardly breathe.
‘See, now we’re speaking the same language, Gargarin,’ Froi said, excitement making his blood pound. They struggled for a moment until Froi had the upper hand, his arm pressed against the other man’s windpipe. ‘If you answer my questions, I promise I won’t snap your neck,’ Froi said.
Gargarin was silent.
‘Waiting for the nod.’
‘Well, you’re not going to get one. What’s your name?’ Gargarin demanded.
‘Doesn’t matter what my name is,’ Froi said, irritated. ‘I’m the one asking questions.’
‘There’s something you need to know about me,’ Gargarin said in an even tone. ‘Despite the wretchedness of this body, I stopped being frightened of thugs some time in my youth. The only people who frighten me are those who are smarter, and thankfully in this palace, there aren’t many of those, so I’ve managed to find some peace in this wretched life of mine.’
‘Would you consider me smart for wondering how you would possibly know where the King’s chamber is?’ Froi asked.
‘Because I once lived in the palace, idiot.’
‘You lived here eighteen years ago when his chamber was in the keep. Twelve years ago he was moved to the fourth tower. It’s where your brother was chained to his desk. Not the kind of information they hand out readily around here.’
Gargarin’s expression was bitter.
‘But perhaps your brother wasn’t chained to the King’s desk. At first I thought he was the grumpiest, meanest man in the land of Skuldenore. Who wouldn’t want to wave to Quintana, especially when years ago he wept while clutching her and Lirah in his arms, as though he was in love with Lirah? But, despite the fact that Lirah’s face makes one ache, Arjuro prefers the company of men in his bed, although these days I don’t think anyone is enjoying Arjuro’s presence in their bed. Then when I asked Arjuro to describe the King’s chamber where he spent two whole years chained to a desk, he claimed never to have been there. Said the Reginita was lying. Perhaps she was lying. Deep down, I think she’s telling a story or two.’
‘You have a lot of time for thinking. Is that what you do back wherever you come from?’ Gargarin asked.
‘Am I right?’
Gargarin’s eyes flickered with some sort of triumph. ‘And what would you say if I told you I’ve worked you out?’ he asked.
‘Be my guest,’ Froi said, ‘I could do with some entertainment.’
‘You’re an assassin made up of the garbage of this kingdom. You have Serker eyes and you have the face of scum from Abroi. I should know. I grew up amongst it. We’re probably related, most of Abroi is, and the reason I don’t look like the rest of you inbreds is because my brother and I took after our mother, who came from a nomadic tribe of pig-ignorant Osterians, who thankfully were blessed with refined features, but little else. You were taught to speak Charynite in the classic way, probably by a Priest or a scholar, and you’ve spent some time in Sarnak because when you curse, you say
Gargarin waited. ‘Did I get any of it wrong, whatever did you say your name was?’
‘I didn’t,’ Froi said, impressed. ‘Anything else you’d like to add, you lying scum?’
‘I don’t lie. I just kill women and babies, remember.’
Froi pressed him harder into the stone. ‘How could you jest about such a thing?’ he said.
He felt Gargarin search his face.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Olivier of Sebastabol.’
‘Tell me something, Olivier of Sebastabol. Was the other Olivier murdered to fulfil what it was you were sent to do?’
Froi hadn’t given the other lad a thought since he had entered the Citavita.
‘If I knew what you were talking about, I’d say no. Why kill an innocent lad, regardless of what an idiot he is?’
There was relief on Gargarin’s face.
‘Tell me, Gargarin of Abroi, did you throw the Oracle Queen and the babe from the balconette?’
‘Yes, I did,’ he said. ’And no, I didn’t. I’ll swap my truth for yours.’
Froi shook his head.
‘Who sent you?’ Gargarin demanded.
‘Why would I tell you that?’
‘Because I think we want the same thing.’
Froi remembered Trevanion’s warning about not trusting those with the same desire to kill the King.
‘You and I are not the same, Gargarin. I would never take the life of a babe.’
‘Is that what Lirah told you? Arjuro too?’ Froi’s grip loosened and Gargarin broke free, hobbling away as though he wanted to put the greatest of distance between them. ‘At least Arjuro saw events that tricked his eyes. Lirah made her decision based on hearsay,’ he said bitterly.
Froi wanted to inflict as much pain as possible. Gargarin was every man he trusted who had turned their back or betrayed him on the streets of the Sarnak capital.
‘Makes no difference to me because a child died that night,’ Froi said, coming up behind Gargarin. ‘But it makes a difference to her.’
He placed his mouth close to Gargarin’s ear so he would hear the words whispered for the rest of his days. ‘You killed Lirah’s son, Gargarin. They swapped the babes.’
