And how long has it been now? Just a month, slightly more or less? Barely enough time to see beyond the fog of shock that hemmed them all in. “The rumors will settle down,” Petronus said.
“Aye,” Gregoric said. “But unless something changes, the truth may be buried before they do.”
Shine the light of knowledge upon the sins of past, the Twelfth Gospel of P’Andro Whym said, that you may be watchful for the morrow. The scrutinized truth is the safest path to follow.
But how much light and how much truth?
What would Whym do with this? Of course, that ancient founder of the Order knew nothing of Popes and crowns and rings. He was a scientist-scholar who raised his fist against the Wiz?agahisard Kings and, when that brought down the world around him, helped to dig what he could out of the ashes.
“What of the Marsh King?” Petronus asked, but his heart wasn’t in the question. It was sinking fast, like skulls in the river, and he wondered how deep it would sink before it dragged the bottom.
Gregoric stood from where he crouched. Petronus felt his movement more than he could see it. “I’ve attempted parley with him. He will only speak to Rudolfo.”
“He realizes that Rudolfo is Resolute’s guest for the time being?”
“He does. One of his captains told my scout that the Marsh King dreamed Rudolfo will return to us shortly.”
Marsher mysticism. As if somehow that ragamuffin king had heard his name, his voice boomed out again in the Whymer tongue. Time again for the nightly sermon, the admonitions and warnings, threats and promises.
“It’s time for me to make the rest of my rounds,” Gregoric said. “We expect Marsher raids on the Queen of Pylos sometime before dawn. We’ll keep the Entrolusians distracted if they attempt to come to their aid.” He was quiet for a moment, and Petronus felt his eyes upon him. “You’re looking tired, old man. You’re not resting enough. If you fall, this work of yours will end.”
Petronus forced himself to his feet, his legs numb from the rock he’d sat on. “I thought you wanted me to pull my workers back?”
“I do.” Gregoric laughed, but it sounded hollow and devoid of any real humor. “Forget I said anything.”
Petronus heard the slightest of splashes, barely discernable from the sound of the rain. Once he knew he was alone, he cursed Vlad Li Tam loudly.
Then he returned to his tent. He’d hoped to sleep, but now, while the stub of a candle guttered at the small crate he used as a table, he carefully crafted a proclamation he had hoped he wouldn’t have to write.
Chapter 17
Rudolfo
Rudolfo picked at his dinner, thinking of the night to come. He’d dressed in his darkest clothing. He’d stretched, listening to his joints pop and his muscles crack as he loosened himself up.
He saved the game hen for last, then ripped into it with his hands. He found the small pouch hidd¦h='en in the carcass and put it beneath his red cloth napkin on the off chance that his dinner was interrupted.
I did not want this, he told himself. He hated that violence was now necessary, but Oriv brought it on himself. Rudolfo preferred stealth-particularly in a sensitive matter of state. Tonight’s antics would not look good for him nor his Ninefold Forest Houses.
Still, he hoped Vlad Li Tam’s revelation of another successor to the Windwir throne would work to his advantage. Perhaps it meant that the world would not stand against him after all.
Rudolfo took the pouch into his bedchambers and finished packing what few belongings he’d brought. Then, he took the pouch and dumped its contents into his hand. He stared at the mixture of powders with open distaste.
It was unseemly for a lord to magick himself, even under the most dire of circumstances. His father had insisted that he learn the way of the scouts-including the proper application of the magicks-but had also insisted that if he did his work well, he would never need to use them. Rudolfo counted it as a personal failing that now, in this moment of need, he had come to this place.
He flung the powder at the five points-forehead, shoulders, feet. Then, bracing himself, he licked the bitter powder from the palm of his left hand, and felt the world shift and bend around him.
The colors around him leapt out in dazzling force, an explosion of light that narrowed until he could pick out a crumb on the carpet in the dining area beyond his open bedroom door. Sound exploded too, as his own heartbeat filled the room. He felt the first wave of nausea and swayed slightly on his feet. His Gypsy Scouts practiced with the magicks, forcing their bodies to adjust to them. They could wear them for months on end with only the slightest discomfort. But he’d been closer to ten the last time he’d used the River Woman’s powders.
He remembered throwing up on his father’s boots that cold morning so far back in his memory.
He steadied his breathing, waiting for the room’s movements to stop. When it did, he moved through the room, dimming the light as best he could.
When he heard the commotion in the hall, he went to the door.
It opened, and a breeze that smelled of lilacs moved over his face. “Are you ready?” Jin Li Tam asked.
He moved in the direction of her voice, leaning in to see the faintest outline of her against the dim light. “I am. Where are my Gypsy Scouts?”
The slightest of stirrings. “We are here, General,” a voice said.
Rudolfo looked into the hallway at the body of the Gray Guard, stretched out on the floor. Already, one of the scouts pulled at it. Under any other circumstances it would be comical, watching the corpse slide-seemingly of its own volition-across the threshold and into the Prisoner’s Quarters. Once it was in the room, he stepped over the body and into the hall.
Invisible hands closed the door and locked it.
A belt was pushed into his hands, and he felt the sheathed scout knives, magicked with the oils that kept them as silent and invisible as the scouts that danced with them. He pulled the belt around his narrow waist and buckled it.
“What of Isaak?”
Jin Li Tam’s voice was near his ear now, her breath warm on the side of his face and smelling like apples. “He is with the archbishop.”
“Excellent.”
Rudolfo let the Gypsy Scouts lead the way, staying to the sides of the long, wide halls, finding the shadows where they could, and quickly dowsing lamps where the light was most likely to betray them.
They slipped past acolytes and scholars, guards and servants. Once, he and Jin Li Tam waited in an alcove while the two scouts found a better route. Once more, when no better route could be found, they waited while another Gray Guard was killed.
The Palace went to Third Alarm just as they reached the middle point of the stairs that swept up to the Papal Offices. Below them, the main doors burst open and a squad of Gray Guard, led by that ancient captain, poured in. They locked the door behind them, posted sentries, and scattered.
Rudolfo grinned at the danger of it. When two guards pounded up the stairs, he crouched and pressed himself against the hand carved railing. Once they passed, he continued up, feeling Jin Li Tam’s hand on the back of his knife belt.
The four Gray Guard at Oriv’s door did not have time to shout. Blades whispered and two of them fell, their shouts muffled by the scarves shoved quickly into their mouths. Rudolfo felt Jin Li Tam move past him quickly, and watched as the third guard’s throat opened to her knife in a red line that moved with a quick, careful stroke. Blood spilled onto his gray uniform.
When the fourth guard hesitated, his mouth opening, Rudolfo danced forward with his own blades, pushing
