“And the Diamond Protector just happened to be extravulnerable? Really, now. And I suppose his cousins and nephews all died of bad colds at the same time.”
“They seem fairly open about there being an uprising after Saul’s death. My information—”
“I know you always seem to acquire these remarkable sources, Hartley, but in this case you’ve only got to use your head to see what happened. The Mercati boy wormed his way into Saul’s affections—bearing in mind that the Mercatis have always started to rot, morally, at a young age—and then, as soon as he felt old enough to get away with it ...”
“I see. Of course, sir, that must be what happened.” Hartley’s voice was toneless. He pressed for the lift that would take them off the admin decks and down to Residential. “I trust the lady Iolanthe hasn’t heard any rumors regarding her husband’s character. It would explain her unhappy humor.”
“I can’t imagine anyone would be fool enough to tell her.” Amo frowned. “I’m sure it’s just a bout of nerves. Her mother’s a fine woman in her way, but she tends to the dramatic. Iolanthe will be all right.”
“I’m glad to hear it, sir. Seventeen-year-old girls are generally … unreliable in their duties.” They entered the lift.
“Oh, she’s not unintelligent, for a female, and she’s a good, obedient girl. A bit high-spirited at times, but that’s all to the good for what we’re asking her to do. Believe me, Hartley. I was her confessor for eight months.”
“A touch of spiritual pressure?”
Amo glanced sharply at his assistant, and met clear, open brown eyes. He relaxed, smiling. “Nothing one would object to.”
“Of course not, sir.”
“And we do need her help very much.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Those remarkable sources you have are forthcoming enough with information, but not with the strategy behind the information.”
Hartley made a sound that might be taken for assent.
“It’s all very well to learn that Adrian pressured the Diamond council to change the trading schedule. It’s all very well to know he moved the rendezvous to Baret System. But in God’s name, why? What’s in Baret System but two fairly forgettable planets? Why go to all that trouble?”
Hartley was silent.
“Perhaps you don’t feel that it’s important to get the answer to these questions. Perhaps you think it’s not very significant?”
“Oh, no, sir.” The lift opened and Hartley gazed thoughtfully out at the cultivated trees and decorated streets of Opal Residential. “I do want to know why.” He turned to blink up at Amo, his eyes half-closed against he strong lights. “Quite definitely, I want to know why.”
They reached the Pelagia suite of apartments within a quarter of an hour. “My Lord Cardinal,” said Vivian Pelagia, curtsying deeply as she admitted them herself. Vivian always did get carried away, Amo reflected; but one could hardly object, as her flattery was so well-delivered. Iolanthe’s mother was not quite forty, undeniably pretty, wearing an electric blue gown that would have been appropriate on a girl of her daughter’s age but which she could, just, get away with.
“My assistant,” said Amo, presenting Hartley Quince.
Amo hoped that Vivian was unaware of how her face lit up when she took in Hartley’s perfect features.
“Officer Quince,” said Hartley, with the smile of a trained killer.
“Officer,” she breathed. She gave him her hand, and actually took an unconscious step back when he kissed it, as though she’d stepped too close to explosive material.
Amo cleared his throat. It wasn’t Hartley’s fault, the boy didn’t encourage them, but …
Hartley let go of her hand. He kept his eyes locked on hers, though, until she took another step back and Amo said, “I hope Iolanthe’s well?”
“Yes,” said Vivian, flushing slightly as she shifted her gaze to him. “Er, of course.” She paused then, with the uncertain air of one who hopes the question will be repeated. Amo sighed.
“Iolanthe. Perhaps I should go in and speak with her?”
“Oh, yes. I told her you were coming. Would you like any refreshment before we go in?”
She gestured toward a sideboard, where a girl in yellow and white, evidently one of the household slaves, was standing by a selection of cold meats and breads. “Thank you, I’m not hungry. You know, I don’t think, my daughter, that you should come with me; I believe it would be better if I spoke to the child alone.”
She blinked. “But, my Lord Cardinal, she’s been in a stubborn mood for days now. Her father won’t do anything, he won’t even come home and talk to her. I don’t think you’ll get far with Io unless I’m there to—”
“My dear.” He forced a smile. It did not seem to affect her the way Hartley’s had. “I’m sure that as a mother, you’re quite properly concerned. But I think that as her confessor, we should be alone.”
That ought to be enough for any church-going woman, he thought. She frowned. “There’s nothing Iolanthe can say to you that I, as her mother, shouldn’t know as well.” Amo prided himself on patience in dealing with the laity. “Officer Quince, perhaps you could stay out here with Lady Pelagia and fill her in on some of the customs of the City of Diamond.”
“I would be happy to, sir.”
“Well, I suppose that would be all right,” admitted Vivian, dropping her maternal concern like a piece of fruit that had been kept a few days too long. “You’ll let me know, Lord Cardinal, if you want anything.”
“Of course.” He hoped Hartley could deal with the situation. Naturally, the boy was essentially chaste, or he wouldn’t have asked to take deacon’s orders; such encounters must be tedious for him. The trouble is that he’s just too obliging, thought Amo. I take advantage of him.
Behind him, he heard Hartley’s voice saying, “Would you care to sit, my lady? This may take some time.”
The Cardinal knocked on Iolanthe’s door.
Iolanthe was lying in the dark, feeling miserable. Her headache had passed two days ago, but a bad medical history presented such a handy excuse for
