the stairs. At the top, Po knocked. A key was heard to turn in the lock. When the door opened, Bitterblue fell into Helda's waiting arms.
40
THE PACKETS OF seabane were in a cabinet in her bathing room. She hadn't imagined that she would feel so—lost—the first time she swallowed those herbs down.
Back in the corridor, she pushed toward the doors.
'A bath and breakfast would do you good, Lady Queen, before you face your staff,' said Helda gently. 'Clean clothing. A fresh start.'
'There's no such thing as a fresh start,' said Bitterblue numbly.
'Do you need to see Madlen for anything, Lady Queen?'
Bitterblue wanted to see Madlen, but she didn't need to see Madlen. 'I suppose not.'
'Why don't I ask her here, just in case, Lady Queen?'
And so Helda and Madlen helped her soak away sweat and dirt in the bath, helped her wash her hair, took her soiled clothing and brought her fresh, clean things to wear. Madlen chatted quietly, her familiar, strange accent grounding Bitterblue. She wondered if there were signs on her body of her night with Saf, if Helda and Madlen could tell. Signs of her struggle with Thiel. She didn't mind, as long as no one asked questions. She had a vague feeling that questions would shatter her shell. 'Are Bren and my guards all right?' she asked.
'They're extremely uncomfortable,' said Madlen, 'but they'll be fine. I'll go back to Bren later today.'
'I promised Saf updates,' said Bitterblue.
'Lord Giddon will check in on Sapphire after dark, Lady Queen,' said Helda. 'He'll convey all the news we have.'
'And is Death all right?'
'Death is deeply depressed,' said Madlen. 'But otherwise recovering.'
She didn't expect breakfast to do her any good. When it did, it was her first experience of a new kind of guilt. It shouldn't be so easy to nurture herself, her stomach should not be so comforted by food that was filling. She shouldn't want to live when Thiel had wanted to die.
IN THE INFIRMARY, her two Lienid guards seemed grateful for her visit and her thanks.
Death sat propped up in bed with a lopsided bandage around his head.
'All those books,' he moaned. 'Lost. Irreplaceable. Lady Queen, Madlen says I'm not to work until my head stops aching, but I believe it's aching from lack of work.'
'That sounds a bit unlikely, Death,' said Bitterblue gently, 'seeing as you were bashed over the head. But I do understand what you mean. What work would you like?'
'The remaining journals, Lady Queen,' he said fervently. 'The one I was working on survived the fire, and Lord Giddon tells me that a very few others did as well. He has them. I'm dying to see them, Lady Queen. I was so close to understanding things. I believe that some of his odder and more particular renovations to the castle and city were an attempt to bring another world to life here, Lady Queen. Presumably the world he came from, with the colorful rat. I believe he was trying to turn this world into that one. And I believe that it may be a land of considerable medical advancement, which is why he was obsessed with his mad hospital.'
'Death,' she said quietly. 'Have you ever gotten the impression, from reading about his hospital, that it was not him, but his staff, that did the hurtful things to the victims? That he often stood back and watched?'
Death's eyes narrowed. 'It would explain some things, Lady Queen,' he said, his eyes widening again. 'He speaks sometimes of the few victims he 'kept for himself.' That could mean, couldn't it, that he shared the others, presumably with other abusers?'
'The abusers were also his victims.'
'Yes, of course, Lady Queen. In fact, he speaks of 'moments when his men come to realize what they are doing.' It hadn't occurred to me until now, Lady Queen,' he said morosely, 'which men he was referring to, or precisely what they were doing.'
At this reminder of her men, Bitterblue stood, grimly preparing herself. 'I'd better go.'
'Lady Queen,' he said, 'may I ask you for one more thing on your way?'
'Yes?'
'You—' He paused. 'You will think it unimportant, Lady Queen, in the face of your other worries.'
'Death,' she said. 'You're my librarian. If there's something I can do that will bring you comfort, tell me what it is.'
'Well,' he said. 'I keep a bowl with water for Lovejoy under the desk, Lady Queen. It will certainly be empty, if it's there at all. He'll be disoriented by my absence, you see? He'll think I abandoned him. He can manage feeding himself quite well on the library mice, but he does not venture outside the library and won't know where to find water. He's very fond of water, Lady Queen.'
LOVEJOY WAS FOND of water.
The desk was a blackened, broken-down shell, the floor under it ruined. The bowl, green as a Monsean valley, lay upside down some distance from the desk. Carrying it out of the library and into the great courtyard, shivering, Bitterblue walked to the fountain pool. The bowl, once she'd filled it, was so cold that it burned her fingers.
In the library, she considered the situation, then knelt behind the gutted desk and placed the water under its corner. It didn't seem kind to draw Lovejoy to such a smelly ruin, but if that was where he was used to finding his water, then perhaps that was where he would look for it.
She heard a growl, in a feline voice she recognized. Peeking beneath the desk, she saw a lump of darkness and the dangerous flick of a tail.
Cautiously, she slid her hand halfway under the desk toward him, so that he could decide whether to approach or ignore. He chose attack. Yowling and swift, he swiped at her, then retreated again.
Bitterblue held her bleeding hand to her chest, biting back her cries, because she didn't blame him, and she knew how he felt.
ON A STAIRWAY, as she approached her offices, Po intercepted her.
'Do you need me?' he asked. 'Do you want me, or anyone else, to go in there with you?'
Standing before the strange light of his eyes, Bitterblue thought about that. 'I will need you,' she said, 'many times in the next few days. And I'll need your concentrated help at some point in the future, Po. Your help with my court and my administration and with Monsea alone, undistracted—not while you're also contributing to an Estillan revolution. Once Estill is settled, I want you back here for a short while. Will you agree?'
'Yes,' he said. 'I promise.'
'I think I need to do this thing now alone,' she said. 'Though I have no idea what to say to them. I have no idea what to do.'
Po tilted his head, considering her. 'Both Thiel and Runnemood are dead, Cousin,' he said, 'and they were always in charge. Your men will be looking for a new leader.'
WHEN SHE STEPPED into the lower offices, the room went still. All faces turned to her. Bitterblue tried to think of them as men who needed a new leader.
What surprised her was that it wasn't difficult. She was struck by the need transparent on their faces and in their eyes. Need for many things, for they stared at her like lost men, mute with confusion, and with shame.
'Gentlemen,' she said quietly, 'how many of you have been involved in the systematic suppression of truths from Leck's time? The killing of truthseekers?'
None of them answered, and many of them dropped their eyes.
'Is there anyone here who wasn't involved, in one way or another?' she said.
Again, no one answered.
'All right,' she said, a bit breathlessly. 'Next question. How many of you were forced by Leck to commit atrocities upon other people?'
All of them raised their eyes to her again, which stunned her. She'd been afraid that the question would
