“Your Excellency.” They bowed each in their own ways, Rubine with the frown of weighty doubts, Vitari with the slightest, lingering smirk.
Monza watched them file out. She might have liked to put aside the sword and make things grow. The way she’d wanted to long ago, after her father died. Before the Years of Blood began. But she’d seen enough to know that no battle is ever the last, whatever people might want to believe. Life goes on. Every war carries within it the seeds of the next, and she planned to be good and ready for the harvest.
Get out your plough, by all means, Farans wrote, but keep a dagger handy, just in case.
She frowned at the map, left hand straying down to rest on her stomach. It was starting to swell. Three months, now, since her blood had come. That meant it was Rogont’s child. Or maybe Shivers’. A dead man’s child or a killer’s, a king’s or a beggar’s. All that really mattered was that it was hers.
She walked slowly to the desk, dropped into the chair, pulled the chain from her shirt and turned the key in the lock. She took out Orso’s crown, the reassuring weight between her palms, the reassuring pain in her right hand as she lifted it and placed it carefully on the papers scattered across the scuffed leather top. Gold gleamed in the winter sun. The jewels she’d had prised out, sold to pay for weapons. Gold, to steel, to more gold, just as Orso always told her. Yet she found she couldn’t part with the crown itself.
Rogont had died unmarried, without heirs. His child, even his bastard, would have a good claim on his titles. Grand Duke of Ospria. King of Styria, even. Rogont had worn the crown, after all, even if it had been a poisoned one, and only for a vainglorious instant. She felt the slightest smile at the corner of her mouth. When you lose all you have, you can always seek revenge. But if you get it, what then? Orso had spoken that much truth. Life goes on. You need new dreams to look to.
She shook herself, snatched the crown up and slid it back inside the desk. Staring at it wasn’t much better than staring at her husk-pipe, wondering whether or not to put the fire to it. She was just turning the key in the lock as the doors were swung open and her chamberlain grazed the floor again with his face.
“And this time?”
“A representative of the Banking House of Valint and Balk, your Excellency.”
Monza had known they were coming, of course, but they were no more welcome for that. “Send him in.”
For a man from an institution that could buy and sell nations, he didn’t look like much. Younger than she’d expected, with a curly head of hair, a pleasant manner and an easy grin. That worried her more than ever.
The bitterest enemies come with the sweetest smiles. Verturio. Who else?
“Your Excellency.” He bowed almost as low as her chamberlain, which took some doing.
“Master…?”
“Sulfur. Yoru Sulfur, at your service.” He had different-coloured eyes, she noticed as he drew closer to the desk-one blue, one green.
“From the Banking House of Valint and Balk.”
“I have the honour of representing that proud institution.”
“Lucky you.” She glanced around the great chamber. “I’m afraid a lot of damage was done in the assault. Things are more… functional than they were in Orso’s day.”
His smile only widened. “I noticed a little damage to the walls on my way in. But functional suits me perfectly, your Excellency. I am here to discuss business. To offer you, in fact, the full backing of my employers.”
“I understand you came often to my predecessor, Grand Duke Orso, to offer him your full backing.”
“Quite so.”
“And now I have murdered him and stolen his place, you come to me.”
Sulfur did not even blink. “Quite so.”
“Your backing moulds easily to new situations.”
“We are a bank. Every change must be an opportunity.”
“And what do you offer?”
“Money,” he said brightly. “Money to fund armies. Money to fund public works. Money to return glory to Talins, and to Styria. Perhaps even money to render your palace less… functional.”
Monza had left a fortune in gold buried near the farm where she was born. She preferred to leave it there still. Just in case. “And if I like it sparse?”
“I feel confident that we could lend political assistance also. Good neighbours, you know, are the surest shelter in a storm.” She did not like his choice of words, so soon after she’d used them herself, but he went smoothly on. “Valint and Balk have deep roots in the Union. Extremely deep. I do not doubt we could arrange an alliance between you and their High King.”
“An alliance?” She didn’t mention that she’d very nearly consummated an alliance of a different kind with the King of the Union, in a gaudy bedchamber at Cardotti’s House of Leisure. “Even though he’s married to Orso’s daughter? Even though his sons may have a claim on my dukedom? A better claim than mine, many would say.”
“We strive always to work with what we find, before we strive to change it. For the right leader, with the right backing, Styria is there for the taking. Valint and Balk wish to stand with the victor.”
“Even though I broke into your offices in Westport and murdered your man Mauthis?”
“Your success in that venture only demonstrates your great resourcefulness.” Sulfur shrugged. “Men are easily replaced. The world is full of them.”
She tapped thoughtfully at the top of her desk. “Strange that you should come here, making such an offer.”
“How so?”
“Only yesterday I had a very similar visit from a representative of the Prophet of Gurkhul, offering his… backing.”
That gave him a moment’s pause. “Whom did he send?”
“A woman called Ishri.”
Sulfur’s eyes narrowed by the smallest fraction. “You cannot trust her.”
“But I can trust you, because you smile so sweetly? So did my brother, and he lied with every breath.”
Sulfur only smiled the more. “The truth, then. Perhaps you are aware that the Prophet and my employers stand on opposite sides of a great struggle.”
“I’ve heard it mentioned.”
“Believe me when I say you would not wish to find yourself on the wrong side.”
“I’m not sure I wish to find myself on either side.” She slowly settled back into her chair, faking comfort when she felt like a fraud at a stolen desk. “But never fear. I told Ishri the price of her support was too high. Tell me, Master Sulfur, what price will Valint and Balk ask for their help?”
“No more than what is fair. Interest on their loans. Preference in their business dealings and those of their partners and associates. That you refuse to deal with the Gurkish and their allies. That you act, when my employers request, in concert with the forces of the Union-”
“Only whenever your employers request?”
“Perhaps once or twice in your lifetime.”
“Or perhaps more, as you see fit. You want me to sell Talins to you and thank you for the privilege. You want me to kneel at your vault door and beg for favours.”
“You over-dramatise-”
“I do not kneel, Master Sulfur.”
It was his turn to pause at her choice of words. But only for a moment. “May I be candid, your Excellency?”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“You are new to the ways of power. Everyone must kneel to someone. If you are too proud to take our hand of friendship, others will.”
Monza snorted, though behind her scorn her heart was pounding. “Good luck, to them and to you. May your hand of friendship bring them happier results than it brought to Orso. I believe Ishri was going to start looking for friends in Puranti. Perhaps you should go to Ospria first, or Sipani, or Affoia. I’m sure you’ll find someone in Styria to take your money. We’re famous for our whores.”
