Vengeance

grapes. Blood on his hands and arms. Most horrible and inexplicable of all, blood being rubbed into a wound in his side.

At noon he hurled the covers away, stalked into the scalderium and, for the first time in his life, ran a bath for himself. After turning on all twelve taps he sat on the travertine floor, watching cold water flow down over a heatstone so thick and heavy that it must have cost the lives of dozens of Pale slaves to mine it. Until a few years ago heatstones had been unnecessary here, since endless hot water had flowed from the tubule network, but the underground source had gone cold.

It was another omen.

By the time the water poured from the grooves on the lower end of the heatstone it was steaming and in twenty minutes the tub was full. Rix sank beneath the water and scrubbed himself with a scouring cloth until the top layer of skin was gone and he throbbed all over. He still felt dirty, tainted, bloody.

He lay back, staring at the scintillating heatstone, which was already dry. By edict which, according to Tobry, Lady Ricinus had bribed to have passed, everyone wealthy enough to afford heatstones was required to use them for heating and hot water, a measure to cut down on Caulderon’s deadly smogs. Those few houses permitted to share in the heatstone monopoly, including Rix’s own, had made fortunes from it, and the trade disgusted him.

But since they were at war, all commerce with the enemy was banned. What would happen when the heatstones ran out? They only lasted a few years and the winters were getting ever colder. Rix shivered, though the water was still hot, then yanked the plug and went to his studio without taking breakfast. Food would have choked him.

The portrait accused him of neglect. He had redone the mountains in the background, turning them into a tortured landscape inspired by the volcanic ruin of the Seethings. He had also touched up the mighty wyverin. Now, instead of a savage predator rightfully slain, it was a noble beast, perhaps the last of its kind, cut down for the glory of killing.

But his father still eluded him. There was something about the man that wasn’t right -

Tobry burst up the stairs, panting.

‘Can’t you knock?’ Rix snarled.

‘Sorry,’ said Tobry, unrepentantly. ‘I know how you hate being interrupted when you’re working.’

‘I hadn’t started.’ Rix tossed the brush down. ‘What’s up?

‘Lady Ricinus is in an almighty flap. She’s ordered a search of the entire palace.’

‘What for?’

‘Good question.’

‘Could she know we sneaked out last night?’ said Rix. ‘Maybe she thinks I smuggled something in.’

‘No, I think she’s looking for — ’

There came a thunderous rapping on the entrance door and Rix heard a snick. ‘I’ve had the locks changed a dozen times. I don’t understand how she gets a key — ’

‘Who pays the locksmith?’

‘Ah. I see.’

‘Where’s your sketch?’

‘In the storeroom. I always paint over it when I’m finished. Sit down and read a book. I’d better look busy.’ Rix picked up his brush. ‘I’m a grown man. I’ve fought a wrythen and cut down a caitsthe. I’ve killed more of the enemy than our First Army has, so why does she make me feel like a naughty schoolboy?’

Tobry settled himself on a couch with a ribald tome called War and Wantonness. Rix reached towards the portrait as if touching up his father’s uniform.

Lady Ricinus’s heels tapped up the steps. She inspected the painting and snapped, ‘You haven’t done a thing since I checked last night.’

‘I’ve been working on it all morning,’ Rix said.

‘Never lie to me, Rixium. All your brushes are clean.’

‘Can I help you?’ he said, matching her coldness with his own. ‘It’s impossible to work with constant interruptions.’

‘Artists!’ She went to the top of the steps and called down. ‘Up here. Search the upper tower first. Lagger, don’t move from the couch until we’ve finished.’

‘Your wish is my command, Lady Ricinus,’ said Tobry with an ironic bow.

She curled her razor-edged lip. ‘If it was, you’d be hunting walrus on the polar ice in a scorpion loincloth.’

Four servants came up, two men and two women. ‘Begin up there and work down,’ said Lady Ricinus.

They went up the next flight and began opening doors and checking cupboards and storerooms.

She turned away. ‘Rixium, come with me. We have matters to discuss.’

‘Can’t we do it here?’ said Rix.

‘In public? Certainly not.’

‘I’ll need a note in your hand to get past your gorms on the door,’ he said sarcastically. Annoying her was never a good idea but Rix was beyond being sensible.

‘Don’t act a bigger fool than you already are.’

He followed her out. Should he ask about Luzia’s murder? No, she would spend the rest of the morning interrogating him as to how he knew about it.

Lady Ricinus was walking faster than usual and breathing noisily. To have rattled her, it had to be something serious, but Rix did not think it was the murder. To her, servants were cut-out humans, pressed into place to do a job. If one failed, ran away or was murdered, another would take the place. Not that Luzia had left any place to be filled. Once Rix married, gulp! his wife would pick her own nurse. Assuming she could stand up to his mother.

He contemplated the grim prospect. Did Lady Ricinus have the candidates lined up for his inspection? Unless, he thought hopefully, all the girls she’s picked have refused me.

As if that would happen. Their families would decide and the money would clinch it. Nothing short of a reputation for disembowelling young women and brushing his teeth with their blood would get the selected girls out of a liaison with House Ricinus.

They passed a cringing orderly. In the distance, a slender, red-haired maidservant girl was sobbing. Lady Ricinus froze for a second, then strode on.

‘What’s the matter with Glynnie?’ said Rix.

‘I put her little brother in the month’s flogging tithe.’

‘Why? Benn’s a hard worker, always eager to please.’

‘The boy brought me cold tea. It won’t happen again.’

‘You can’t do that, Mother. It’s not right.’

She did not bother to reply. Rix stopped next to Glynnie, turned up her tear-stained face and said quietly, ‘It’ll be all right. I’ll fix it.’

She gave him a tremulous smile and he continued.

‘What’s the matter, anyway?’ said Rix. ‘What’s going on?’

Without answering Lady Ricinus stalked into her chambers, waited until Rix had passed through and slammed the door, which started another frisson of disquiet. He had never known her to slam a door before — quiet, viperish deadliness was her style.

‘If you ever undermine my authority with the servants again,’ she hissed, ‘they will suffer.’

‘Take Benn off the flogging tithe,’ he said coldly, and forced himself to meet her eyes, to break her dominance, even if only for a minute.

After a pause, she said, ‘Very well. That’s one favour wasted. Sit down.’

His heart hammered as he went by. What was Lord Ricinus doing here? Mother only wheeled him in for emergencies, and this must be worst than most, for he was sober. Rix had not seen his father in that state since he was ten.

He gulped. His father was bad enough when drunk, but when stone sober he was an angry, bitter terror. Rix looked around for a flask but all were locked away. Lady Ricinus had planned for this meeting.