She put the device into her pocket, put the table back up against the wall, lifted the bed, smoothed its cover, put the short board back into the floor, replaced the mat, relocked the door, folded the sheets of instructions into a deeper, more secret pocket, and returned to the hop-skip and her journey south. She was days behind Abasio and Xulai. If she did not catch up to them before she reached Elsmere, she would find them in Merhaven, probably with Genieve, Justinian’s old friend, Falredi’s sister.
For a moment loneliness had overwhelmed her and she had found herself longing for Bear’s company, forgetting, just for that moment, that Bear was no longer her—anyone’s—friend.
In Ghastain, Queen Mirami had held a dinner party to welcome Alicia to the court once more. Alicia had not been at court in a very long time, and it never crossed the queen’s mind that her daughter might have been involved in Chamfray’s death. Though Mirami was sly and clever, she had never been imaginative. She had been taught the use of poisons and told what to do with them, and what Mirami had been taught made up the sum total of the way things were to be. If she had been taught to kill in a certain way, it was because that way was the only right and appropriate way. She had never killed at a distance. She might occasionally use a disposable person to put some powder in a bowl of soup, but she was always nearby, pulling the strings. Even when disposing of King Gahls’s three wives, she had come to Ghastain, secretly, disguised as an old woman, to do the thing properly, and she always thought of herself as a person who acted alone, fully capable of making and carrying out plans without help. Blinded by this view, she had never seen that Chamfray’s seemingly casual comments and advice had contributed enormously to her success. She thought of him only as a companion who had a soothing effect upon her. Since his death she had found herself overtaken by a strange feeling that she only gradually identified as loneliness. She had never been lonely before. But then, Chamfray had always been there. Even back when she had been at the Old Dark House, Chamfray had been there. When the Old Dark Man had sent her to Kamfels, the Old Dark Man had sent Chamfray with her, to be her helper.
There was no lack of company in Ghastain. There were always people about, people courting favors, people eager to earn her thanks, but she could not speak freely with any of them. Hulix did not have enough brains to take Chamfray’s place, and though a number of brainy persons frequented the court, she knew she could trust none of them to support her aims and ambitions. The only one who had the same motives was Alicia. Chamfray had pointed that out, suggesting that Mirami and her daughter might be of great help to one another if Mirami would treat her daughter as she treated Chamfray, with something approaching friendship.
Mirami had not really liked that idea. To her mind, her children were creations, things to be used, even to be used up if necessary. They were game pieces to be moved hither and thither. The Old Dark Man had taught her this, and he had helped her create those children. Mirami had not enjoyed the process, but she had understood the necessity, and Chamfray had helped her tolerate all that had to be done. He had been generally useful, he had her interests at heart, and it would do no harm to follow his suggestion. If Alicia would be her friend, it might be pleasant. For a time, at least. Until she found another Chamfray.
For this reason and no other, Alicia was welcomed with unfamiliar solicitude. She was given the same suite she had occupied before, but nothing remained of its former comfortable shabbiness. The rooms had been refurbished in what Mirami had assumed were Alicia’s favorite colors. It was only a guess on Mirami’s part, for she had never taken trouble to actually inquire about Alicia’s favorite anything. She simply remembered that, given a choice, Alicia often picked clothing or ornaments of copper, or gold, or blue. Mirami had no idea why; she never asked herself why about anything. If she had known why, perhaps she would not have made the mistake of using them. As a consequence of her ignorance, when Alicia entered the suite and saw the blue carpeting, the fabrics woven with copper and gold thread, the gold-leafed headboard and chairs, the wall panels, each beautifully painted with an ornate copper urn holding varied bouquets of
