“Hmm.” Brill clammed up, her face as straight as a gambler with an inside flush. “Oh look,” she said, glancing behind Miriam. “Isn’t that-”
Miriam glanced around, then turned, startled. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she said, trying to pull herself together in the aftermath of the duchess’s attack.
The duke’s keeper of secrets nodded. “Neither was I, until yesterday,” he said stone-faced. He looked her up and down. “You appear to be settling in here.”
“I am.” Miriam paused, unsure how to continue. Matthias looked just as intimidating in Niejwein court finery as he had in a business suit. It was like having a tank take a pointed interest in her. “Yourself? Are you doing all right?”
“Well enough.” Matthias noticed Brilliana. “You. Please leave us, we have important matters to discuss.”
“Humph.”
Brill turned and was about to leave. “Do we?” Miriam asked, pointedly. “I rather think we can talk in front of my lady-in-waiting.”
“No we can’t.” Matthias smiled thinly. “Go away, I said.” He gestured toward the wall, where secluded window bays, curtain-lined against the cold, provided less risk of being overhead. “Please come with me.”
Miriam followed him reluctantly. If they ever make a movie about the Clan, they’ll have to hire Schwarzenegger to play this guy, she decided. But Arnie has a sense of humour. “What is there to talk about?” she asked quietly.
“Your uncle charged me to deliver this to you.” Matthias held out a small wooden tube, like a miniature poster holder.
“For the king, a sworn affidavit testifying to your identity.” His expression was unreadable. “I am to introduce you to his majesty on behalf of my master.”
“I, uh, see.” Miriam took the tube. “Any other messages?”
“Security.” Matthias shook his head. “It’s not so good here. I gather that Baron Hjorth assigned you no guards? That’s bad. I’ll deal with it myself in the morning.” He leaned over her like a statue.
“Um.” Miriam looked up at him. “Is that all?”
“No.” His cheek twitched. “I have some questions for you.”
“Well. Ask away.” Miriam glanced around, increasingly uncomfortable with the way Matthias had corralled her away from the crowd. “What about?”
“Your upbringing. This is important because it may help me identify who is trying to kill you. You were adopted, I believe?”
“Yes.” Miriam shrugged. “My parents-I was in care, the woman I was found with was dead, stabbed, a Jane Doe. So when Morris and Iris went looking for a child to adopt, I was around.”
“I see.” Matthias’s tone was neutral. “Was your home ever burgled when you were a child? Did anyone ever attack your parents?”
“My-no, no burglaries.” Miriam shook her head. “No attacks. My father’s death, that was a hit-and-run driver. But they caught him; he was just a drunk. Random chance.”
“ ‘Random chance.’” Matthias sniffed. “Do not underestimate random chance.”
“I don’t,” she said tersely. “Listen, why the third degree?”
“Because.” He stared at her unblinkingly: “I take a personal interest in all threats to Clan security.”
“Bullshit. You’re secretary to the duke. And a member of the outer families, I believe?” She looked up at him. ‘That puts a glass ceiling right over your head, doesn’t it? You sit in Fort Lofstrom like a spider, pulling strings, and you run things in Boston when the duke is elsewhere, but only by proxy. Don’t you? So what’s in it for you?”
“You are mistaken.” Matthias’s eyes glinted by candlelight. “To get here, I left the duke’s side this morning.”
“Oh, I get it. Someone gave you a lift across and you caught the train.”
“Yes.” Matthias nodded. “And here is something else you should understand, your ladyship. I am not of high birth. Or rather, but for an accident of heredity… but like many of my relatives I have reached an accommodation with the Clan.” He took her arm. “I know a little about your history. Not everyone who lives here is entirely happy with the status quo, the way the Clan council is run. You have a history of digging-”
“Let go of my wrist,” Miriam said quietly.
“Certainly.” Matthias dropped his grip. “Please accept my apologies. I did not intend to give offence.”
Miriam paused for a moment. “Accepted.”
“Very well.” Matthias glanced away. “Would you care to hear some advice, my lady?”
“It depends,” she said, trying to sound noncommittal, trying to stay in control. First a hostile grandmother, now what…? She felt slightly dizzy, punch-drunk from too much information, much of it unwelcome. “In what spirit is the advice offered?”
Matthias’s face was as stiff and controlled as a mask. “In a spirit of friendly solicitude and perfect altruism,” he murmured.
She shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, then, I suppose I should take it in the manner in which it is intended.”
Matthias lowered his voice. “The Clan has many secrets, as you have probably realized, and there are things here that you should avoid showing a conspicuous interest in. In particular, the alignment of inner members, those who vote within the council, is vulnerable to disturbance if certain proxies were realigned. You should be careful of embarrassments; the private is public, and you never know what seeming accidents may be taken by your enemies as proof of your incompetence. I say this as a friend: You would do well to find a protector-or a faction to embrace-before you become a target for the fears of every conspirator.”
“Do you know who’s threatening me? Are you threatening me?” she asked.
“No and no. I am simply attempting to educate you. There are more factions here than anyone will admit to.” He shook his head. “I will visit you tomorrow and see to your guards-if that meets with your approval. I can provide you with a degree of protection if you choose to accept it. Do you?”
“Hah. We’ll see.” Miriam backed away from him, trying to cover her confusion. She retreated back into the flood of light shed by the enormous chandeliers overhead, back toward the torrent of faces babbling in their endless arrogant status games and power plays, just as Brilliana came hurrying up to her. “You have a summons!” Brill said hastily. “His royal highness would like you to present before him.”
“Present what, exactly? My hitherto-undiscovered family tree, a miracle of fratricidal squabbles and-”
“No, your credentials.” Brilliana frowned. “He gave them to you?”
Miriam held up the small scroll and examined the seal. It was similar to the one Olga had shown her, but different in detail.
“Yes,” she said, finally.
“Was that all he wanted?” Brilliana asked.
“No.” Miriam shook her head. “Time for that later. You’d better take me to his majesty.”
The royal party held their space in another window bay backed by curtains and shutters. All the cloth didn’t completely block the chill that exuded from the stonework. Miriam approached the long as she’d been shown, Brilliana-and a Kara she’d found somewhere-in tow, and made the deepest curtsy she could manage.
“Rise,” said his high majesty, Alexis Nicholau III. “I believe we have met? The night before last?”
He smelled of stale wine and old sweat. “Yes, your majesty.” She offered her scroll to him. “This is for you.”
He cracked the seal with a shaky hand, unrolled it, then nodded to himself and handed it to a page. “Well, if you’re good enough for Angbard, you’re good enough for me.”
“Um. Your majesty?”
He waved vaguely at the curtains. “Angbard says you’ll do, and what he says has a habit of sticking.” One of the two princes sidled up behind him, trailing a couple of attendants. “So I’ve got m’self a new countess.”
“It would appear so, your majesty.”
“You’re his heir’,’ said the king, relishing the last word.
Miriam’s jaw dropped. “M-majesty?”
“Well, he says so,” said King Alexis. “Says so right there.” He stabbed a finger at the page who held the parchment. “ ‘N, who d’you think really runs this place?”
“Pardon me, please. He hadn’t told me.”
“Well, I’m telling you,” said the king. The prince-was it Creon or Egon? She couldn’t tell them apart yet-leaned
