Canticle

If these assassins were truly Marshers, she not only had trouble within her borders but would soon have it without. Turam would not take well to the death of their future king, despite the internal troubles they had themselves.

And Rudolfo’s kin-clave with the Marshers would need to be honored, pulling the Ninefold Forest Houses into a political situation that was tenuous at best.

But before all of that, there was another matter to attend to.

He went to his father’s wardrobe, the one where he’d kept those few personal belongings of his parents that meant something to him. His father’s sword hung there, along with the emerald-encrusted scabbard. His mother’s hunting bow hung near it. On the shelves within stood a scattering of their favorite books-some that they had read to Rudolfo and Isaak when they were young boys. And behind those books lay the box.

He stretched up on tiptoes, reaching over those bound volumes, to find it. Then he pulled it down and opened it.

He’d not looked in the box for twenty years at least, though he’d known for nearly a year that he would need to. For the briefest of times, he’d looked forward to this. Then, that day at Vlad Li Tam’s bonfire had burned that hope away, turning it into something different.

Until the boy arrived.

Surprised at the trembling of his hands, Rudolfo reached into the box and lifted out a smaller box. Within it lay the two simple bands of silver that his mother and father had exchanged upon the day of his birth, even as the Gypsy Kings and Queens before them had done. Slipping the smaller box into his pocket, he carefully closed and replaced the larger back in its proper place.

As he left the dressing room, he thought about what came next.

He paused in the large bath chamber that separated his suite of rooms from those of Jin Li Tam. He splashed his face in water touched with lilac oil, pausing to take in his hollow eyes in the small mirror.

It wasn’t that he did not love Jin Li Tam, he thought, though it was a different love than what it might have been. It was a love having more to do with trust and effectiveness than passion or romance. Though there were times, as during her labor, where those feelings of intense longing would take him and he would find joy in her form, in her way with words, in the brightness of her eyes.

But those feelings, he reasoned, were not required. And if anything, they were not to be counted upon when it came to matters of state or duty. Still, he held hope that one day, what had started between them with the fire of a sunset would rekindle.

He went to the door on the other side of the bath chamber, the one that led to her room. He knocked lightly, and when she bid him enter, he pushed aside his introspection.

Jin Li Tam was not alone with Jakob-but he had not really expected her to be. A young woman who looked ill at ease was there with the River Woman, and the three of them were gathered around Jakob. He closed the door behind him.

As he approached, a look passed between Jin Li Tam and the River Woman. He’d seen the look before-from the River Woman, admonition and from Jin Li Tam, resolution.

Jin Li Tam looked to him now, and he watched her hands move, low and to her side. I have a difficult matter to discuss with you.

Soon, he replied. He forced a smile. “How is our son this evening?”

“As well as can be expected,” the River Woman said. The old woman looked tired, but that did not surprise Rudolfo-she’d spent the last three days at the manor, grabbing a few hours of sleep where she could but working night and day to care for the infant.

Jin Li Tam tried to return Rudolfo’s smile, then turned to the young woman. “Lynnae,” she said, “I would like to introduce you to Lord Rudolfo.” She looked to Rudolfo again. “I’ve taken the liberty of securing Lynnae’s help with our child. I hope that is acceptable.”

Odd, he thought, that she would seek a stranger with a house of servants at her disposal.

Rudolfo studied the girl. She was young, her dark, curly hair spilling out from beneath a scarf, offsetting her olive skin. Her clothing was simple fare, though it was taking on a threadbare quality from constant use; she shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She was pretty, he noted, but haunted by grief and too little sleep. Like the rest of us, he observed.

He stepped forward with a flourish and inclined his head toward her. “Lady Lynnae,” he said. “If Lady Tam requires your assistance, then my House is at your beckoning.”

She blushed and curtsied. “Thank you, Lord. You have already been a gracious host to us.”

Entrolusian by her accent, he thought, with a touch of the Southern Coasts. Most likely a refugee from the Delta, then. He watched her leave, and after another glance between the remaining two women, he watched the River Woman leave as well. Suddenly, for the first time since the night of the birth, Rudolfo and Jin Li Tam were alone with their baby.

Jin Li Tam patted the bedcovers beside her. “Come and hold your son, Rudolfo.”

Come and hold your son. The words stirred something inside of him to life again, like that night she had labored for the baby’s delivery. He went to the bed and sat next to her, receiving the bundle that stirred slightly in his unexpected arms. The skin color was more pallid than gray now, but the hollow eyes were the same. Rudolfo looked up. “Do you know what ails him yet?”

Jin Li Tam nodded. “We do.” He read the grief and worry on her face and steeled himself. “It was the powders,” she said.

Rudolfo’s heart wrenched. “The powders?”

“Yes. The ones I gave you.” She paused. “The ones my sister provided the scrip for.”

Rudolfo blinked. “Will he improve?”

She shook her head, and when the last light of the evening sun caught her face, Rudolfo saw the shame in her eyes. “No, he will not. I must find my sister.”

Jin Li Tam’s words elicited his memory of those iron ships at anchor and the lines of servants who loaded up the docks for the long boats to ferry what goods they could out to the deeper waters where Vlad Li Tam’s fleet awaited. “She is with your father,” he said, though it was more a question than a statement.

“I think so,” Jin said. “But I’ve sent a bird to be certain.”

“If she’s left with him,” he said, “it’s a vast ocean.” He studied the small face, watched the tiny chest labor for breath, wanting to ask how much time they had but afraid to. “Only the gods know where he’s fled to.” But even as he said it, the words felt wrong. Not fled.

He glanced over to his betrothed as she spoke. “I will find him,” she said. “I have to.”

There was resolve in her voice, and it camouflaged a desperation that Rudolfo doubted others would hear in her. He heard it, though, and knew to go carefully over that ground. “Have you discussed your travel plans with the River Woman?”

Her eyes narrowed and her jawline set with determination. “There is nothing to discuss.” She paused. “I can do this, Rudolfo. I’m getting stronger every day.” But her pale skin and her hollow eyes suggested otherwise.

He smiled and tickled the infant’s chin. Even as the words formed themselves in his mind, a strategy- haphazard and impossible to measure success against-formed in his mind. “I do not doubt that you can do this,” he lied. “I merely inquire as to how you would accomplish this while caring for our son. I only question whether or not this is a journey he should make. Your father and his household have been at sea for seven months. They could be anywhere by now.”

He could hear the anger rising in her voice. “You suggest that we simply send our scouts to find him?”

He shook his head. “No. I suggest that we not send you and our ill child. Think for a moment,” he said, “and you will see the logic in my words.” He slowly counted to ten and then continued. “It would be a better use of our resources to have you remain in the Ninefold Forest and see to our interests here, caring for our boy.”

For a moment, the spark in her eye turned to panic, and Rudolfo first saw the danger of a cornered mother whose child is threatened. Then, it subsided. When it did, he continued. “There is a storm brewing here,” he told her. “Ansylus’s death and that of Hanric, even, are going to put all eyes upon the Marshers during a time when the world needs a scapegoat for its woe, and we are the Marshers only kin-clave. Your skills in that dance far outstrip mine, though certainly I know the steps.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you proposing?”

He played out the strategy, testing the corners of it in his mind. There were certainly other ways, but he