Alicia had had time to polish her excuse. “A train of wagons went from Woldsgard some days ago. You told me to be aware of movements there. I thought I should find out where they were going and why. It seems a Tingawan soul carrier, some puling infant, was among the people. They said they were going to the abbey, where the child will be educated until she can complete her journey to Tingawa.”
“And Justinian was not with them?”
“I thought he might be in a closed carriage, so I followed them. It turned out he was not. Just the girl and some servants and several wagons of furnishings and supplies, and the child didn’t even make it to the abbey. It seems she had a fit of some kind and turned back. The servants are now saying, however, that the duke left Woldsgard in the care of Hallad, Prince Orez, and armed men from the abbey are in possession of Netherfields.”
“And you knew nothing of this?”
“Not a word until today. On the route I traveled, I did not see the troops.”
“And you have not visited Justinian?”
Here, Alicia was on solid ground. “You told me to leave him alone for a while after the Tingawan bitch died. I have done so.”
“Seemingly I instructed you wisely. You are not known for your warm, consoling personality. Why are you concerned about this soul carrier? Though we will dispose of Tingawa eventually, the Tingawan religion need not concern us.”
Why did she care, really? She attempted an explanation: “Something about the Tingawans itches at me.”
“Were they insolent?”
Without thinking, she blurted, “Their existence on our lands is an insolence!”
Mirami’s eyes narrowed as her lips smiled, such a smile as a serpent might make contemplating dinner. “When you wish to be affronted, Alicia, which, I may say, has been your preferred mood since we left Kamfels, you manipulate any chance word into an insult, any unconscious facial expression into an offense, any casual yawn into a deadly provocation, and no matter how slight the slur, you always pass a death sentence on the miscreant.” Her voice lowered, she whispered, a whisper like a knife. “Even when it is impolitic and stupid to do so!”
The duchess flushed. At this moment, she still felt that killing everyone for a mile in every direction would have been soothing. It would have been gratifying. No one ever served Alicia perfectly, and sooner or later she always rewarded imperfection with blood and pain. It made her happy. At least, this was the label she gave a certain draining feeling, as though all her furies were running out of her, leaving a strange satiety behind. It was a little like the effect of wine, or the juice of poppies, or that vanishingly rare sensation of sexual exhaustion. Though the feeling never persisted, she called it happiness.
The image in the mirror smiled again, an utterly ruthless smile. “I see your thoughts all too clearly, Daughter. Unfortunately, you have never learned to hide what you feel. You wish to kill someone, several of them, perhaps everyone within reach. But think a moment. Killing the populace of Altamont would leave you without farmers, horsemen, servitors, cooks, seamstresses, and smiths. The ones you have now are well cowed, too frightened to leave, but if you kill them, you will find no queue of eager but subservient lackeys to replace them.”
Mirami frowned, lifting one nostril as she did when she was raging silently. “The Old Dark Man left Altamont to me, my dear. When I no longer needed the castle or the things he left me—the things in the cellar, my dear, the ones I have yet to learn to use—I let you live in the place while we pursued other ambitions.”
“Mother, I know . . .”
“Oh, yes, indeed you know. You knew you had your own ambitions, and you used our dear Rancitor to get title to the place. I have not made a fuss about that, not yet; it did not seem worth my while, but the fact that I did not does not mean I cannot! When the Old Dark Man left me or died or whatever he did, he had lived a hundred and fifty years. Using what he taught me, I think I can manage at least that long myself. If you will choose to be wise instead of silly, I may help you to do the same. If you choose otherwise, I can always reclaim Altamont for myself. I have the means to do so. So, my dear, while you think repopulating Altamont might be only an inconvenience for you, please consider that I would find it more than merely annoying.”
Mirami’s anger was quiet where Alicia’s was furious, but it was as lethal.
Alicia pinched her lips, nodded, said nothing. She had learned long ago that any pain she could inflict, her mother could equal. Mirami was saying quite clearly that Altamont could be reclaimed when its current owner died, a death she could easily accomplish.
Mirami snapped: “Tell me, Daughter, what is our business?”
“Our business currently requires that I marry, by one means or another, Justinian, Duke of Wold, because my mother, the queen, wishes to take over the lands of Ghastain and Wold, plus all those now held by Prince Orez.” She knew the litany well.
“Exactly. That is still our business, despite this departure by the duke. I need to consult with others. Can you come to court?”
Alicia did not want to go to the court. She was safer where she was. “Only by the long way,” she said, temporizing. “It would take a long time. The Dragdown Swamps are with us again. There is one route that may possibly open to the tower near the abbey within a few days, but it may be very dangerous.” It was the way she had returned to Altamont from Benjobz Inn before the snow came. It was the way she had sent Jenger back to the Vulture Tower
