“They didn’t waste much time, did they?”
“It’s been two months since the betrothal,” Stapes said with a hint of reproach. “Not a bit less than proper.” I saw him relax a bit, and he gave me a wink. “Which isn’t to say they weren’t both a bit eager.”
I chuckled as runner boys came through the open door with buckets of steaming water. The splashing as they began to fill the bath was like sweet music.
The manservant watched them leave, then leaned close and said in a quieter voice, “You’ll be glad to hear our other unresolved matter has been tended to properly.”
I looked at him blankly, searching through my memory for what he might be referring to. So much had happened since I’d left. . . .
Stapes saw my expression. “Caudicus,” he said, his mouth twisting bitterly around the name. “Dagon brought him back only two days after you left. He’d gone to ground not ten miles from the city.”
“So close?” I asked, surprised.
Stapes nodded grimly. “He was tucked away in a farmhouse like a badger in a burrow. He killed four of the Maer’s personal guard and cost Dagon an eye. In the end they only caught him by setting fire to the place.”
“And what happened then?” I asked. “Not a trial, certainly.”
“The matter was tended to,” Stapes repeated. “Properly.” He said the last with a great weight of grim finality. His normally kind eyes were narrow with hate. In that moment the round-faced little man looked very little like a grocer at all.
I remembered Alveron calmly saying, “take off his thumbs.” Given what I knew of Alveron’s swift and decisive anger, I doubted anyone would ever see Caudicus again.
“Did the Maer manage to uncover why?” Even though I spoke softly, I left the rest unsaid, knowing Stapes would not approve of my mentioning the poisoning openly.
“It’s not my place to say,” Stapes said carefully. His tone was slightly offended, as if I should know better than to ask him such things.
I let the subject go, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to get anything else out of Stapes. “You’d be doing me a favor if you could deliver something to the Maer for me,” I said, walking to where I’d dropped my worn travelsack. I rooted through it until I found the Maer’s lockbox down near the bottom.
I held it out to Stapes. “I’m not sure what’s in it,” I said. “But it’s got his crest on the top. And it’s heavy. I hope it might be some of the taxes that were stolen.” I smiled. “Tell him it’s a wedding present.”
Stapes took hold of the box, smiling. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”
Three more runners appeared, but only two of them ran past with steaming buckets. The third went to Stapes and handed him a note. There was more splashing in the other room, and all three of the boys left again, stealing glances at me
Stapes skimmed the note then looked up at me. “The Maer is hoping it would be convenient for you to meet him in the garden at fifth bell,” he said.
The garden meant polite conversation. If the Maer had wanted a serious discussion he would have summoned me to his rooms, or paid me a call through the secret passage that connected his rooms with mine.
I looked at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t a sympathy clock of the sort I was used to at the University. This was a harmony clock, swinging pendulum and all. Beautiful machinery, but not nearly as accurate. Its hands showed a quarter to the hour.
“Is that clock fast, Stapes?” I asked hopefully. Fifteen minutes was barely enough time for me to strip out of my road clothes and lace myself into some sufficiently decorous court finery. But given the layers of dirt and sour sweat that covered me, that would be as pointless as tying a silk ribbon around a steaming cowpat.
Stapes looked over my shoulder, then checked a small gear watch he kept in his pocket. “It looks about five minutes slow, actually.”
I rubbed my face, considering my options. I wasn’t simply mussed from a day’s travel. I was filthy. I had walked hard under the summer sun, then spent days trapped in a stifling-hot carriage. While the Maer was not one to judge things entirely by appearances, he did value propriety. I would not make a good impression if I showed up reeking and filthy.
Unbidden, the memory of the iron gibbet rose up in my mind, and I decided I couldn’t risk making a bad impression. Not with the news I brought. “Stapes, I won’t be ready for at least an hour. I could meet with him at sixth bell if he would like.”
Stapes’ expression turned stiff and affronted. Its message was clear. You simply didn’t request a different meeting time with the Maer Alveron. He asked. You came. That was the way of things.
“Stapes,” I said as gently as I could. “Look at me.
Stapes’ mouth firmed into a frown. “I’ll tell him you’re otherwise occupied.”
More steaming buckets arrived. “Tell him the truth, Stapes,” I said as I began to unbutton my shirt. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”
After I was scrubbed, brushed, and properly dressed, I sent the Maer my golden ring and a card that said, “Private conversation at your earliest convenience.”
Within an hour a runner returned with a card from the Maer saying, “Await my summons.”
I waited. I sent a runner to fetch dinner, then waited the rest of the evening. The following day passed without any further message. And, because I didn’t know when Alveron’s summons might come, I was effectively trapped in my rooms again, waiting for his ring.
It was nice to have time to catch up on my sleep and have a second bath. But I was worried about the news from Levinshir catching up with me. The fact that I couldn’t make my way down to Severen-Low to look for Denna was a vast irritation as well.
It was the sort of silent rebuke all too common in courtly settings. The Maer’s message was clear:
It was childish in the way only the nobility can be. Still, there was nothing to be done. So I sent my silver ring to Bredon. He arrived in time to share supper with me and caught me up on the season’s worth of gossip I’d missed. Court rumor can be terribly insipid stuff, but Bredon skimmed the cream off the top for me.
Most of it centered around the Maer’s whirlwind courtship and marriage to the Lackless heir. They were besotted with each other, apparently. Many suspected a child might already be on the way. The royal court in Renere was busy too. The Prince Regent Alaitis had been killed in a duel, sending much of the southern farrel into chaos as various nobility did their best to capitalize on the death of such a highly ranked member of the court.
There were rumors too. The Maer’s men had taken care of some bandits off in a remote piece of the Eld. They’d been waylaying tax collectors, apparently. There was grumbling in the north, where folk had to suffer a second visit from the Maer’s collectors. But at least the roads were clear again, and those responsible were dead.
Bredon also mentioned an interesting rumor of a young man who had gone to visit Felurian and come back more or less intact, though slightly fae around the edges. It wasn’t a court rumor, exactly. More the sort of thing you heard in a taproom. A low sort of rumor no highborn person would ever deign to lend an ear to. His dark, owlish eyes glittered merrily as he spoke.
I agreed that such stories were indeed quite low, and beneath the notice of fine persons such as ourselves. My cloak? It was rather fine, was it not? I couldn’t remember where exactly I’d had it tailored. Somewhere exotic. By the way, I’d heard quite an interesting song the other day on the subject of Felurian. Would he like to hear it?
We also played tak, of course. Despite the fact that I had spent a long time away from the board, Bredon said my playing was much improved. It seemed I was learning how to play a beautiful game.
Needless to say, when Alveron sent his next summons, I came. I was tempted to arrive a few minutes late, but I resisted, knowing no good could come of it.
The Maer was walking about on his own when I met him in the garden. He stood straight and tall, looking for all the world as if he’d never needed to lean on my arm or use a walking stick.
