smoke.
The choir of feminine voices grew louder, and the hard tapping of formal shoes came from the doorway, louder and then softer as they passed. They hadn’t come in. Geder moved toward the door, but Jorey waved him back.
“Mother will be seeing the others out,” he said. “She’ll be back in a moment.”
Geder nodded, and true to Jorey’s word, the footsteps returned, the voices reduced to a duet. When the women stepped into the room, Jorey rose to his feet. Basrahip followed suit a moment later. Geder had danced with the Baroness of Osterling Fells at his revel, but between the months and the whirl of drink and confusion that time had been, he wouldn’t have recognized her. He could see how her own features had influenced Jorey’s, especially around the eyes. Surprise touched her expression and vanished again, less than the flutter of a moth’s wing. Behind her, a sickly-looking woman with a pinched face and dark eyes had to be Phelia Maas.
“Oh, excuse me,” Clara Kalliam said. “I didn’t mean to intrude, dear.”
“Not at all, Mother. We were hoping you’d join us. You remember Geder Palliako?”
“How could I forget the man who held the eastern gate? I haven’t seen you at court this season, sir, but I understand you’ve been traveling. An expedition of some sort? Let me introduce my cousin Phelia.”
The dark-eyed woman came into the room and held her hand out to Geder. Her smile spoke of relief, as if she’d been dreading something that she thought she’d now avoided. Geder made his bow and saw Lady Kalliam’s eyebrows rise as she noticed the priest in the corner.
“Ladies,” Jorey said. “This is Basrahip. He’s a holy man Geder brought back from the Keshet.”
“Really?” Lady Kalliam said. “I hadn’t known you were collecting priests.”
“It came as a surprise to me too,” Geder said. “But please, won’t you ladies sit?”
According to his plan, Geder sat Phelia Maas on the couch with her back toward Basrahip and then took his own place across from her. Jorey resumed his place at the writing desk, and his mother took a chair near that happily didn’t block Geder’s view of the priest.
“Maas,” Geder said, as if recalling something. In truth, he’d planned precisely what to say. “I had an Alberith Maas serving under me in Vanai. A relation of yours?”
“Nephew,” Phelia said. “My husband’s nephew. Alberith has mentioned you often since his return.”
“You’re the Baroness of Ebbinbaugh, then?” Geder asked. “Sir Klin was my commander in the Vanai campaign. He and your husband are friends, yes?”
“Oh yes,” Phelia said with a smile. “Sir Klin is a dear, close friend of Feldin’s.”
Behind her, Basrahip gazed into the middle distance, his face impassive as if listening intently to something only he could hear. He shook his head once. No.
“There was a falling-out, though, wasn’t there? I’m sure I heard something like that,” Geder said, pretending a casual knowledge he didn’t have. The woman’s face went still, except for her eyes, which clicked from Geder to Lady Kalliam and back. There was fear in the way she held her hands and the corners of her mouth. Geder felt a slow, pleasant warmth growing in his chest. It was going to work. At his side, Jorey’s mother considered him with interest.
“I’m sure you misunderstood,” Phelia said. “Alan and Feldin are on excellent terms.”
No.
“I always liked Sir Klin,” Geder said for the simple pleasure of being able to lie to a woman who couldn’t lie to him. “I felt terrible when I heard he’d been blamed for the riot. Your husband didn’t suffer for that, I hope.”
“No, no, thank you. We were very fortunate.”
Yes.
“Sir Palliako,” Lady Kalliam said, “to what do we owe the pleasure of your company today?”
Geder looked at Jorey, then at Lady Kalliam. He’d meant to ask a few innocuous questions, get what insight he could, uncover what could be uncovered. He’d meant to move slowly. The way the woman held herself tighter and tighter, the fragility of her smile, and the scent of fear that came from her like the sweet from roses argued against. He couldn’t scare her so badly she left, but he could scare her badly. He smiled at Lady Kalliam.
“Well, the truth is I was hoping for an introduction to Baroness Ebbinbaugh here. I had some questions for her. I haven’t spent all the season traveling,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve been looking into the riot. Its roots. And its aftermath.”
The color had gone from Phelia Maas’s face. Her breath was fast and shallow, like a hand-caught sparrow about to die from fright.
“I can’t imagine what there is to look into,” she said, her voice thready and faint.
Geder found it was easier to smile kindly when he didn’t mean it. Outside, a wind chime was singing to itself in random, idiot percussion. Jorey and his mother had both gone perfectly still. Geder laced his fingers over his knee.
“I know everything, Lady Maas,” he said. “The prince. The riot. The Vanai campaign. The woman.”
“What woman?” she breathed.
He didn’t have the first idea what woman, but no doubt there was some woman involved somewhere. It didn’t matter.
“Say anything,” he said. “Pick any detail. Even things you don’t imagine anyone else could know, and I’ll tell you if they’re true.”
“Feldin isn’t involved in any of it,” she said. Geder didn’t even need to look at Basrahip.
“That isn’t true, Lady Maas. I know you’re frightened, but I’m here to help you and your family. I can do that. But I need to know I can trust you. You see? Tell me the truth. It doesn’t matter, because it’s all things I know already. Tell me how it started. Just that.”
“It was the ambassador from Asterilhold,” she said. “He came to Feldin a year ago.”
No.
“You’re lying to me, Baroness,” Geder said, very gently. “Try again.”
Phelia Maas shuddered. She seemed like a thing made of spun sugar, almost too delicate to support her own weight. She opened her mouth, closed it, swallowed.
“There was a man. He was going to be part of the farmer’s council.”
Yes.
“Yes. I know who you mean. Can you tell me his name?”
“Ucter Anninbaugh.”
No.
“That wasn’t his name. Can you tell me his name?”
“Ellis Newport.”
No.
“I can help you, Baroness. I may be the only man in Camnipol who can. Tell me his name.”
Her dead eyes met his.
“Torsen. Torsen Aestilmont.”
Yes.
“There,” Geder said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Do you understand now that you and your husband have no secrets from me?”
The woman nodded once. Her chin began to spasm, her cheeks flushed, and a heartbeat later she was bawling like a child. Jorey’s mother swooped to her side, putting an arm around her. Geder sat, watching. His heart was beating quickly, but his limbs were loose and relaxed. When he had denied Alan Klin the secret wealth of Vanai, he’d felt excited. Gleeful. When he’d come to the decision to burn Vanai, he’d felt righteous anger. Maybe even satisfaction. But he wasn’t sure that ever in his life before now-before this moment-he’d felt sated.
He rose and walked over to Jorey. The man’s eyes were wide. Impressed almost past the point of believing. Geder spread his hands. You see?
“How did you do that?” Jorey whispered. “How did you know?” There was awe in his voice.
Basrahip was fewer than three paces away. The bull-huge head was still bowed. The thick fingers bent around each other, hand clasping hand. Phelia Maas’s sobs were like a storm on the sea, and the murmured lullaby of promises and comfort from Lady Kalliam had barely thrown any oil on that water. Geder went to leaned so close his lips brushed the huge man’s ear.
“I will build all the temples you want, forever.”
