I was absolutely sure she remembered it right.
‘How did they die?’ I asked. ‘The duke and his son?’
‘The duke fell in battle,’ she said. ‘Heroic charge, leading from the front and all that. Got blown across the river and into Our Lady’s arms by a cannon for his trouble, and he’s a big part of why they don’t do that any more. The major’s death was a strange one, though. An enemy assassin got into his tent one night and slit his throat while he slept. We never did catch the bastard, and the whole camp was in mourning for a week. Imagine if he was still alive today, and ruling as the regent from the Prince Consort’s throne where he was supposed to have been? I’d wager the situation in Dannsburg wouldn’t be how you say it is now, Tomas, if he had ended up on the consort’s throne and not his halfwit little brother. Vogel got promoted into his position and that was the last I saw of the bastard, and well rid of him. Our next captain was called Royce, and he had been one of the sergeants before he was promoted. Decent old bugger, he was, liked to play dice and . . .’
But I had stopped listening by then. Had this been going on for so long, in Vogel’s mind at least? Had he seen the opportunity in the duke’s death and murdered his son in his tent one night, to force the younger, weaker Wilhelm into inheriting his betrothal to the then-Princess Crown Royal, our late monarch?
Could anyone truly play a game so long, and see it through to conclusion over decades?
I honestly didn’t know, but I thought that if anyone could then that person was Dieter Vogel. Or Sabine. She would have been the Provost Marshal back then, of course.
Mother Ruin.
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb, and tried to keep my hands from shaking.
‘When was Krathzgrad, exactly?’ I asked her. ‘I know I should know this, but we didn’t really cover history in what little schooling I had.’
‘History?’ she snorted. ‘This was my life, lad. I’m still fucking here so how can my life be “history”? Anyway, not so very long ago. A little under forty years. Thirty-eight, maybe thirty-nine years ago. Just before you were born, in fact. Your da fought in that war too, did you know that?’
I hadn’t, and I didn’t care and I didn’t want to hear him mentioned any more that night, or ever again, for that matter. Whatever my da had done in Aunt Enaid’s war, whatever he had been through, none of it excused what he had done afterwards.
Nothing did.
That didn’t matter, though. Krathzgrad had been less than forty years ago. Vogel must have already been Sabine’s lover by then, from what Sasura had told me. He had already been a Queen’s Man, and yet had been serving at the front with the army and had been a direct subordinate of the man betrothed to the Princess Crown Royal. How very fucking convenient.
What in Our Lady’s name had I uncovered?
Chapter 42
A few weeks after my return to Ellinburg I was invited to the governor’s hall. Not summoned, mind, nor arrested, as Hauer had done whenever he wanted me.
Invited.
I was shown into Governor Schulz’s office, and she rose to her feet and gave me a stiff bow.
‘Sir Tomas,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming.’
I had thought perhaps that she hadn’t fully known who I was the first and only time we had met, when I handed the governorship of Ellinburg over to her. Many people serve the house of law, of course, whether they know that they do or not, but very few of us carry the Queen’s Warrant. It was clear that Schulz knew now all right, and I could see the quiet fear behind her calm grey eyes.
I inclined my head to her, but chose not to bow in return.
‘Governor,’ I said. ‘To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’
‘Sir Tomas,’ she said, and spread her hands. ‘Forgive me if I was perhaps brusque with you when we last spoke. I fear my . . . our superiors in the house of law failed to mention one or two key facts to me. I meant no disrespect.’
‘None was taken,’ I assured her. ‘We both serve the same house, Governor, after all.’
‘Yes, quite,’ she said. ‘Will you take brandy?’
‘Aye,’ I said, and seated myself in one of the chairs across the desk from her without waiting to be asked.
In matters like this, of hierarchy and respect, it is best to assert yourself early and firmly. Governor Schulz walked to the cupboard and poured for us both herself rather than ringing for a footman to do it, and once more she bowed slightly as she put the glass in my hand.
‘My thanks,’ I said. ‘So, I ask you again: why am I here?’
‘I have received a message for you,’ she said. ‘It came with a military patrol from the capital so is written in plain, but our master in Dannsburg had no address for you. Shall I read it to you?’
‘I would be grateful,’ I said.
She took a small key from her pouch and unlocked a drawer in her desk, and removed a folded paper. Holding it close to the light of her desk lamp, she cleared her throat and began.
‘Tomas, it begins,’ she said. ‘You need fear no more bombings in Dannsburg. Archmagus Reiter may have been innocent, as you told the
