12
Nana had precious little time left to find this Rorther Truth Stone. A few days after Cerúlia took the throne, the queen sent a messenger to Lord Marcot and Lady Percia on their honey trip in Maritima, informing them of events. They would be returning any day, and explaining to them why she, Nana, was pawing through Matwyck’s rooms and belongings would be awkward.
Though a Nargis Queen was more likely than others to sense her connection to the Spirit, Nana had not admitted to Cerúlia that she served as Nargis’s Agent. She had not told Hiccuth either. She had not told anyone. She would never tell anyone … and nor would any of the other Agents. Such things just could not be spoken, and few would believe an Agent if she did. To have Gunnit, Saulė’s Chosen Apprentice, close by her side these moons—to have someone who knew her—had been a treasure.
Obviously, this Stone would be well hidden away; Matwyck wouldn’t have wanted that strumpet Lolethia or one of his oily functionaries finding it. Nana searched every out-of-the-way corner of his business chamber without success. In his bedroom, she looked under the bed, inside his wardrobe, and in the drawers of his jewel chest.
Out of breath, she perched on a bench at the foot of the bed.
Use yer head not yer eyes, she chided herself. A Stone possessing Earth Magic would call out. Stop yer huffing and listen.
The Agent sat, unmoving, until she could hear the room’s quiet. Finally, she felt a pulse through the air.
She stood up, keeping her eyes shut, and moved one tiny step at a time in the direction of the pulse, which got stronger and stronger as she approached the window. When she put her hand on the sill, she could feel the wood vibrating. Opening her eyes, studying the sill, Nana realized it wasn’t nailed in. She pulled the saddle up: underneath lay a chamois bag, and inside of that a palm-sized, flat stone, smooth and cool to the touch.
“Ooh-ho, Master Matwyck,” she said aloud. “You must have been in very bad shape to leave this behind. I hope yer suffering, you shitwit. I hope you fester. I hope you bloat and crack with all the evil stuffed inside you. Well, I do!”
Chuckling, Nana tucked the stone into her apron; there was a particular someone she was dying to interrogate.
It took her an hour to corner Geesilla, the queen’s hair maid, in the servants’ common room, with its scuffed long tables and raw wooden benches, where the maid sat sipping a cup of tisane. No one else was about, at least for the nonce.
“Geesilla,” said Nana, pouring herself a cup and sliding next to her on the bench, “Strange that tides have dropped you back at the palace. You didn’t reckon I’d forgotten you, did you?”
Geesilla bit her lip. “Nana, you never forget anything, do you?”
“Not when it comes to my own darling. Tell me now, how much did you know about the plot against Queen Cressa?”
Geesilla’s eyes fixated on her cup. “I reported to Lord Retzel about her activities and meetings. I knew the councilors were watching her, but I chose not to think about why. When they tried to kill her, I was terrified and ashamed.”
“Where have you been since Cressa was forced to flee?” Nana pressed. “Why have you suddenly appeared again, right at the side of her child?”
“Retzel followed through on his promise to set my man up as overseer on one of his estates in Lakevale. We got married. I was bored away from the city, but thought I’d be content once kiddies came.”
Geesilla sighed and softly knocked her fist on her forehead, as if knocking sense into herself. “Then I found out that my husband chased anything in skirts—the scullery maids, the dairymaids, the village girls, teachers, even noble visitors—so I left him, by fortune’s grace before he could get me with child. About ten years ago I drifted back to Cascada, wanting to ply my trade, working first for one lady, then another. Until this spring I worked mostly for Duchess Latlie and her daughters. That’s how Mistress Editha knew my skill, because she dressed that family.”
“And now? Why is it that dogs haven’t sniffed out yer treachery?”
“Because I am loyal.” She looked up and met Nana’s suspicious glance. “Don’t you believe in second chances, Nana? I was young, greedy, love-blind, and stupid when I served Queen Cressa. Life has paid me back some hard knocks. Now, all I want is to serve Queen Cerúlia faithfully.”
“Huh,” said Nana. “If you be so regretful, you won’t mind being put to a test?”
“What kind of test?”
“I am going to lay yer hand on a stone and ask a few questions.”
“A stone? I don’t see how this—”
“Just do as I say, or I will call the Queen’s Shield and have you arrested,” snapped Nana. She pulled the Truth Stone out of its bag and laid it on the table between them.
“Put yer hand here and keep it there.”
Geesilla complied.
“Did you spy for Lord Retzel?”
“Aye,” admitted Geesilla.
“Did you do anything else for those Usurpers? Did you help the assassins?”
Geesilla tried to take her hand away from the Stone. Under Nana’s glare she placed it back. “I did nothing for the assassins.… But twice, I pleasured Councilor Prigent. With my mouth. I didn’t want to, Nana, but he cornered me and threatened me!”
Nana’s face softened for the first time. “I don’t care about that, Geesilla. You should have reported him to Chamberlaine Teonora.”
“I was afraid to. He was a councilor, Lord Matwyck’s friend, and I—I am just a hair maid.”
“Yeah, well. You were a foolish, pretty young thing, and Prigent’s a pig-fuckin’ worm. That doesn’t count as treachery. What do you intend in regards to our new queen?”
“To serve her faithfully, to make her hair look beautiful, to be a comfort to her if she ever needs me in any way.”
“What would it take to turn you into a spy or make you disloyal once more?”
“Oh, no! I wouldn’t; I couldn’t. I’d sooner die. This is a chance to earn back my own respect. And I’m good with her hair, Nana, you must agree. She’s pleased, isn’t she? Not everyone knows how to handle a queen’s hair. And often, I know how to soothe or distract her.”
Nana repocketed the Stone. “I’m going to keep my sharp eye on you, Geesilla. But for now, I’ll not bring up bygones.”
Geesilla burst into tears and tried to kiss Nana’s hands in gratitude.
“Now, none of that. Drink yer tisane and buck up. I must be off.”
Nana left the servants’ quarters in search of the queen. She found her in her closet in conference with Duke Naven and Seamaster Wilamara.
Their discussion continued a long time; weary from these stressful days, Nana dozed in her chair until Kiltti, who had been reassigned upstairs, gently shook her shoulder. “The queen will see you now.”
When she entered the small chamber, Cerúlia greeted her. “Good day, Nana. You wanted to see me? Are you all right? Is anything amiss?”
“Yer Majesty,” curtsied Nana. The main dog, that Whaki with the curious line of fur, leaned against her leg affectionately, half knocking her off-balance, so she steadied herself with a hand on his head.
“Why does he pester me so?” Nana asked. “Doesn’t he know I don’t like dogs?”
“He has good taste,” Cerúlia smiled. The water feature in the room sounded Plink!
The queen continued, “Nana, people are expecting me outside to survey the fire-damaged wing. What can I do for you?”
“Yer Majesty, I’ve found something important.” Nana placed the Stone out on the table.
Cerúlia recognized its shape. “The Truth Stone! Where did you find it?”
“In Matwyck’s quarters.”
“Does this one work? The one Lady Tenny used on me did nothing.”
“Aye, Yer Majesty. I tested it.” Plink!
“Ah! Wouldn’t I like to question our stable guests!”
“Yer Majesty, this is Magic; it belongs to the Spirit ‘Chamen. The Rorthers want it back. Think how angr
y we would be if the Rorthers stole Nargis Water. You can’t keep it hidden from them, because we need all the Spirits’ favor.”
“I understand,” she responded. “I won’t keep it hidden; I’ll contact the Rorther envoy immediately.” She raised her voice to call, “Darzner!
“And thank you, Nana. This is a boon indeed.”
Nana spoke to the dog. “Not a bad morning’s work for an old lady, eh?” Whaki nuzzled her hand, and she gave him a grudging pat.
* * *
Perchance because Nana had found the Truth Stone, the queen made a point of inviting her to observe the hastily arranged proceeding that took place the next day.
A crowd of people had gathered on the chairs and settees set up in random rows in the Salon of Cinda. Nana recognized Duke Naven, Seamaster Wilamara, Chronicler Sewel, and Captain Yanath. She guessed that the jowly gentleman seated near the front was Duke Burdis and the elderly lady by his side, Duchess Pattengale. She looked for the Duke and Duchess of Maritima, but they were absent; then she recalled hearing that they had departed to return to their duchy.
The men and women with long, blue, fringed scarves hanging around their necks had to be judiciaries summoned from Cascada; they conferred animatedly with one another. And a table had been set up for several scribes, complete with vellum and paper, penknives, quills, and a line of ink pots.
Chamberlain Vilkit gestured that Nana should take the chair beside him—this was above her station, but Vilkit, who to give him his due had always been respectful, was now unctuously solicitous of the queen’s intimate companion. This afternoon the chamberlain rubbed his hands together as if expecting a very fine show and winked at Nana, which was such a departure from his normal demeanor that Nana had trouble keeping a straight face. He pointed to a well-dressed, intense man sitting a few rows away who had paper on a portable writing desk, several quills at hand, and others stuck behind his ears.
“The best writer for the Cascada News,” he mouthed.
“Why does he have so many quills?” she whispered.
“So he doesn’t have to stop to sharpen them.”
In the front row of the room, in an upholstered chair, sat a woman who must be the envoy from Rortherrod. Her hair shone bright red, and she wore a black, ministerial robe.
The queen entered, accompanied by two dogs, two shields, and the Zellishman who always shadowed her. The assembly stood as she paused by the envoy for a few whispered words and then seated herself in her chair in the front.
“You may be seated,” Queen Cerúlia called out in ringing tones. Nana noted, with a bit of a pang, that her little girl gained confidence and presence by the hour.
“We are gathered here today for an important and unexpected development,” she said.
“Among Lord Matwyck’s many crimes lies the theft of a priceless treasure from our ally, the kingdom of Rortherrod. We have recently located this treasure in his quarters.
“We are returning it forthwith to its rightful owners, as represented by Envoy Rakihah of Feldspar.”
Sergeant Athelbern approached, carrying a golden tray, on top of which sat the Stone on a bed of velvet. He brought it to the envoy and took a knee with stately solemnity.
Envoy Rakihah stood and spoke. “Thank you, Your Majesty. This is one of the Three Stones of my country blessed by ‘Chamen. It had been lodged in our royal treasury. I am most curious as to how it came to be here in Cascada; perchance this is one of the mysteries we can unravel. I have sent a letter to King Kentros the Third, telling him of its recovery, and His Majesty will no doubt dispatch a ship to retrieve it.
“However, in celebration of Your Highness’s safe return, and in gratitude for your prompt recovery of our sacred treasure, I have agreed to allow a demonstration of its Power. We—the Rorthers—are most pleased to showcase ‘Chamen’s most Sacred and Enduring Strength.”
Cerúlia inclined her head to Envoy Rakihah. “And Weirandale will be forever grateful for Rortherrod’s generosity. Be it thus and ever so.” She nodded to a judiciary to begin the proceedings.
The judiciary called, “Bring in the first prisoner.”
Soldiers brought in Councilor Prigent. After days in the stables, bits of straw stuck to his hair and clothing. His skin and hair had taken on a layer of grimy sweat.
One of the judiciaries, a woman of about thirty summers, with a sharp chin and smart eyes, opened the ritual.
“As it pleases Your Majesty.” She bowed to the queen and then turned to the prisoner.
“Councilor Prigent, this proceeding is a questioning, a gathering of evidence that will later be used to determine the charges and which will feature in your trial. We often hold such procedures to examine the contours of major crimes. Today, however, because of the Rorther Stone, we will have the rare surety that those questioned will speak truthfully.
“Sergeant, place the Stone on top of the table in front of the councilor. Hold his hand on top of the Stone, gently but firmly.”
She waited while her commands were followed.
“First, Councilor, while in the captivity of Queen Cerúlia, has anyone inflicted bodily harm to your person?”
“No,” he answered.
“You have not been tortured in any way?”
He shook his head.
“Please describe to this assembly the conditions of your captivity.”
“We are lodged in stables—men and women separated from one another. They brought in clean straw the second day. We’ve been fed water, bread, dried apples, and raw carrots. Porridge is served for fastbreak. There are horseflies, though, and these plague us.”
“Has anyone offered you a bribe or inducement to testify one way or another or pressured you in any way?”
“No.”
The lead judiciary turned to the assembled onlookers. “Each of my colleagues will concentrate on a particular period or crime. We will start furthest back in time, with the circumstances that caused Queen Cressa the Enchanter to flee the realm. Sir, you may begin.”
An old man wearing judicial robes stood up. He had so many years, he could have known her darling Cressa. Nana’s mind wandered a bit, wondering whether this man grieved for the former queen.
“Councilor, who was responsible for the attempt on Queen Cressa’s life?” The man’s voice was weak and reedy with his age.
Prigent sputtered, but words came out. “Lord Matwyck.”
A general gasp came from the audience at hearing the statement, long suspected, actually spoken out loud.
“Not the Oromondians?”
“No.”
“Why did the Lord Steward turn to high treason?”
“Because his term on the Circle Council was drawing to an end and he knew he was better at governing the country than Queen Cressa.”
“Whom did Lord Matwyck conscript in his plan?”
“General Yurgn, Lord Retzel, Lady Tenny, Duchess Latlie, and me.” More gasps and an audible buzz of conversation.
Cerúlia broke in, “Lady Tenny was a full conspirator?”
“Well, she was and she wasn’t. She said no at first, but after Matwyck had a private talk with her, she agreed. But afterward she immediately regretted her involvement and we mistrusted her.”
The judiciary continued, “What was your role in the conspiracy?”
“I was the paymaster, so I negotiated deals and paid the mercenaries we hired. I paid the member of the Queen’s Shield who spied for us. I tricked the queen into signing a document appointing Matwyck as Lord Regent.”
“What did the others do?”
“General Yurgn hired the mercenaries, and he made sure the palace guard would not interfere. Lord Retzel bribed many of the servants. Lady Tenny talked with Envoy Thum from Oromondo; I’m fairly sure she manipulated him into sending the letter. Latlie kept a close eye on the gentry, reporting on any royalists.”
Vilkit made a loud “ahem” noise. Nana wanted to hide when all eyes turned in their direction.
Cerúlia said,
“Chamberlain, do you have something to add?”
“Your Majesty, I beg pardon for this interruption. Duchess Latlie did not reside in the palace during the wedding because her city mansion is so nearby. If I may be so bold as to suggest…”
Captain Yanath took his meaning and nodded at a Queen’s Shield at the door.
“What was the involvement of the Oromondians in the treason?” continued the judiciary.
“Well, because of their plagues, certainly they would have liked Cressa dead. But they didn’t set up that assassination attack. And they wouldn’t have wanted the princella to assume the throne with Lord Matwyck as regent. They hoped to wipe out the line of Nargis Queens forever and”—he tried to take his hand away, but Athelbern would have none of it—“take our Waters.”
The room fell dead silent, contemplating this prospect. Nana silently blessed her fortune that she had not been Nargis’s Agent during such a perilous moment. She wondered, not for the first time, who had preceded her.
“So Queen Cressa was wise to flee—there would have been more attacks on her royal person and the princella if she had stayed?”
“Undoubtedly.”
The man nodded. “I concentrate on the coup. My colleague will take over now.” He sat, and another judiciary claimed the front of the room.
“Councilor, what actions did the council take once Queen Cressa fled the realm?” she asked.
Prigent was led through the bounty the council had placed on the heads of Lord Ambrice and Queen Cressa, and through their various attempts to track down the princella with magicked bats, searches, and bounties.
Nana noticed that Missus Stahlia looked very peaked during this part of the hearing; she hoped that Duke Naven was spry enough to catch her if she swooned. She looked around the room for someone to send for smelling salts, finally spying Gunnit in a corner. She beckoned the lad close to her.
“Gunnit,” she whispered. “There’s a bottle of smelling salts in my room. Run and fetch them.”
Vilkit had overheard, and he grabbed the boy’s sleeve. “Best bring a flask of brandy too,” he whispered, and he winked at Nana again, “just in case.”
The Cerulean Queen Page 8
