Dancing on the Block

by Marina Barinova

  And she should have been prepared. After all, she’d left Givoi for Gregor.

  The Hundred had become the only purpose in Artanna’s life the moment she left Ellisdor. She’d poured herself into setting up her manor, and the people—seasoned fighters and green recruits, servants and lackeys, bookkeepers and stable hands, laundresses and blacksmiths—were the family she’d always so desperately wanted but not allowed herself to have. And it was only then that Artanna even admitted that to herself. There was no point lying to herself any longer, though that just made the loss hurt even more.

  She knew every soldier by name, remembered which of them had left behind a wife and children, and which had elderly parents. Now she was going to have to write a hundred letters to be sent to all corners of the continent.

  The facets of the diamond glinted in the light of the moon. Artanna pulled Guiro’s gift off her finger and placed it on the stone parapet.

  “Why the hell didn’t you surrender? Why did you have to fight it out? What was wrong with just swallowing your tongue and waiting out the storm the way you always did, Federigo?” she asked the ring quietly. “Idiot! Damn idiot.”

  They may not have loved each other, but Artanna had respected the viceroy’s aide and really had been planning on accepting his proposal. Ultimately, it might have ended up worthwhile. And she’d wished that kind of idiotic death for Federigo least of all.

  “That’s going to be on my conscience,” she sighed. “You have it easy—you suffered for a day or two and died. But I have to live with this.”

  A spasm clenched her chest. For the first time in years, since she left Ellisdor, Artanna felt tears welling up. She looked around and didn’t see anyone. There was no reason for her not to break down, letting her emotions out, but it wouldn’t have helped.

  Still, she wasn’t able to maintain control. Losing it, another spasm forced her right onto the rough stone of the castle wall. There she stayed, on her knees, fingers gripping the parapet, as she sobbed into a cold Highligland wind that carried the sound south.

  A couple minutes later, her hysterics were over. The Vagran stood up and hurriedly wiped the tears away, a gust of wind biting unpleasantly at her wet cheeks. Sniffing, she took a few deep breaths before putting on the ring.

  Nothing helped.

  On the other hand, Artanna nar Toll swore on that cold wind to destroy every last one of the Chironis’ men. Even if she had to wipe the entire free city from the face of the earth.

  Chapter 34. Missolen

  Sitting in the carriage across from Brother Lasius as it bumped across the pavement, Demos no longer paid attention to the shaking. It was his third trip into the unknown with the Collegium’s senior investigator. The clergyman, who boasted about as much eloquence as he had hair on his head, gazed at his own hands placidly and maintained a stolid silence. The silver disk on his neck bounced and twitched, constantly pulling Devaton away from his thoughts.

  Demos no longer even tried to start conversations. Every time, he was pulled unceremoniously from his work, a flawlessly polite tone that nonetheless brooked no objection telling him it was time to go. Judging by the fact that they ended up somewhere new each time, the great master had either an unquenchable thirst for variety or unbridled paranoia. And regardless of his assurances that he thought very highly of House Devaton, he clearly didn’t consider Demos a friend.

  This time, his escorts had at least tossed a thin pillow on the bench.

  How kind of them. They definitely need something from me.

  The second meeting with His Holiness had taken place within the walls of an ancient abbey outside the city right after Lord Irving’s death. Back then, Ladarius had pushed Demos to submit to the admonitions of the Small Council and take up the post of chancellor. Devaton heard him out and declined just as his predecessor had recommended. But he did not have the strength to hold back the will of the advisors for long—chaos ensued, and Demos finally relented.

  My passion for order will get the best of me yet.

  As they bumped from pothole to pothole, the new chancellor spasmically tried to guess what the great master needed that time. He was being taken outside the city once again, and the farther they went, the more nervous Demos got.

  Junior treasurer. Head imperial treasurer. Imperial chancellor. Enough to make your head spin!

  It couldn’t have been dumb luck. Somebody’s invisible hand was guiding him up the career ladder. And it couldn’t have been his mother’s doing—even with her love for intrigue, she didn’t wield that kind of power. It wasn’t some plan Irving had cooked up before his death, either. He had been far more concerned with his secret, one Demos still hadn’t been able to unlock. And it most likely wasn’t Ladarius, given that the great master made it clear he was staying neutral until a new ruler was selected.

  The carriage stopped. After opening the door, the brother protector helped Demos step down. The more often they saw each other, the more respectful his escort became.

  An idyllic landscape stretched off in every direction: a green meadow with gentle yellow flowers, a quietly gurgling brook, and a copse of trees with a small wooden house in front of it. Smoke swirled from the chimney, carrying with it the smell of herbs and freshly baked bread. Brother Lasius walked Demos to the door before heading back to the carriage. Shrugging, Devaton headed in.

  Ladarius, who was wearing a simple monastic robe, was scurrying around in front of the oven, almost perfectly blending in with the scene in the hut. It was almost as though he’d never worn a diadem sprinkled with crystal and diamonds.

  What’s the point of this show?

  “Chancellor! You certainly got here in a hurry,” the churchman said with a friendly smile. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  Food is the last thing I think about when I’m around you. Especially hot food.

  “I could eat a horse,” Demos lied as he kissed the master’s silver disk.

  Ladarius pulled a pot of fragrant stew out of the oven and hoisted it onto the oaken table, where it joined a ball of cheese and a round loaf of bread. There were also pitchers of water and wine. The great master sat down and motioned for Demos to join him, cutting off a healthy chunk of cheese as he did.

  “I hope the trip wasn’t too tiring to think of business?”

  “What was it they said about Daminius? ‘If it’s a peaceful life you’re looking for, stay away from politics,’ if I’m not mistaken,” replied the new chancellor. He poured himself some wine. “You never invite me without a reason. What happened this time, Your Holiness?”

  “With your new status, I imagine we’ll be seeing each other more often.”

  I can’t say I’m too thrilled about that.

  “Should that worry me?”

  “Not at all,” Ladarius said, shaking his head. “You’re climbing higher and higher—the only thing above you now is the crown.”

  “I’m incredibly flattered by the trust of the Council.”

  “I hope you’ll also live up to our expectations.”

  The duke looked up at the clergyman. Ladarius was staring directly at him.

  “Ever since I was born, I’ve only ever tried to justify the hopes of others,” Demos replied firmly.

  His Holiness tore off a piece of bread, placed some cheese on top of it, and stuck it in his mouth. Demos slowly chewed a crust of bread without taking his eyes off his interlocutor.

  “A courier brought this today,” Ladarius said, wiping his hands off, pulling a scroll out of the folds of his robe, and handing it to Demos. “I’d recommend waiting until you’re done eating to read it. It’s the kind of thing that could spoil your appetite.”

  “I’ll risk it,” Demos replied as he read the letter. The broken seal bore the shield and axe of Highligland.

  Engrossed in his reading, the farther he got, the more his expression changed.

  “Slander,” he said when he finished. “I wouldn’t have expected that kind of villainy from my cousin.”

 
; Ladarius simulated a sigh.

  “Lord Demos, I’ll admit, I like you. In fact, I like you so much that I reconciled myself to your family’s ties to Ennia, close my eyes on your slaves, and ignore Lady Eltinia’s eccentric escapades. There’s a lot I can forgive in exchange for honesty and selfless service to the state, but this…” The clergyman glanced pointedly at the letter. “This makes me wonder. Do you have anything to counter the accusations?”

  “I’m prepared to swear on the Holy Book that my house had nothing to do with the events described,” Devaton replied. “I have no idea what could have led Voldhard to draw his conclusions. Although, of course, this could be some kind of move—”

  “His Grace claims he caught one of the assassins sent after the Latanian ambassador. Lady Irital, who apparently has been in Ellisdor this entire time, was poisoned. Happily, she survived. The assassin who was caught turned out to be part of the Ennian guild Rex Gerifas, and when he was interrogated, he named your house the client in the terrible deed.”

  Well, we found our missing Latanian. What is she doing in Highligland? And why hide?

  “A good interrogator can get people to confess to anything,” Devaton said. “Heresy to the highest degree, the murder of Gillenai, you name it. You should know that. Again, the accusations are outrageous and baseless. They also just don’t make sense. Why would I need to kill the ambassador from Latandal? House Devaton doesn’t have a problem with the Latanians, and there’s even the blood of the Urdanan dynasty flowing in my veins, diluted as it may be.”

  Ladarius smiled gently.

  “Your Grace, I didn’t invite you here to level an accusation—that’s what the Collegium of Inquisition is for. Lord Gregor’s allegation threatens scandal. All I would like to do is understand who has the truth on their side.”

  “Again, I swear, I had nothing to do with this terrible incident,” Demos replied.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Oh, really? In that case, why the provocation?

  Demos rubbed his aching knee.

  “If I had the ability to harm someone in politics, believe me, it wouldn’t be the Latanians. For example, I might try to rid myself of my rival, Lord Gregor himself. Don’t you think that would be a much smarter use of my time?”

  “Of course,” the clergyman nodded. “I didn’t have any reason to doubt the purity of your intent, though I thought it important to warn you.”

  You also turned it into yet another farce, taking the opportunity to test my mettle.

  “How are you going to react to the accusation?” Devaton asked.

  “I’ll write a letter trying to calm Voldhard down, appeal to his voice of reason.”

  If Gregor still has one. From the sound of it, my cousin lost his mind.

  “He’ll barely give you a second of his time,” Demos replied with a forced smile. “Please, keep me in the loop.”

  Ladarius tilted his head to the side and gave Devaton a suddenly warm look.

  “Like I said, we’re going to be seeing each other more often.”

  ***

  “By our ancestor Flavies, I swear, I didn’t do it!”

  His mother measured the green office in long strides, wringing her hands and cringing under the enraged look of her son. Demos was furious. Glancing over at him, Lady Eltinia couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that in that moment he could have killed her. His feelings were no longer hidden, and he had only shut up and gotten himself under control when he felt the familiar shaking in the tips of his fingers.

  No, no, no… Easy, Demos. Fire and rage make for poor partners.

  The air was thick with nervous energy. A gentle breeze glanced furtively into the Devaton windows, playing ever so slightly with the light-green curtains. His mother looked alarmed and frightened—either she was displaying fabulous acting skills, or she really didn’t know. Anyway, Demos hoped he’d been able to knock her off balance for once.

  “Then, who?” he barked, gripping the head of his cane in pain. “Do you even realize the miserable position we’re in now?”

  “It wasn’t me,” his mother whispered. “It wasn’t me!”

  But there was no stopping Demos. The hate that had built up over years of animosity in the family finally spilled out.

  “Look what happens with all your intrigues!” he yelled. “Whatever idiocy you’re responsible for, I’m the one who has to answer to the Small Council and the great master. And do you know what’s going to happen? Our house is going to be accused of the assassination, they’re going to prove that it was us, the church will destroy us all, and His Majesty Eisval Urdanan, that little nitwit’s uncle, will have the time of his life spitting on our bones! I’ll get the executioner’s block; you’ll get the fires, since they’re definitely going to accuse you of sorcery. There are already rumors going around the palace. And they’re going to bring up all of our dear Lindr’s love affairs, you can be sure of that—Lisetta Tiare, too. Only Renar will get out of this unscathed thanks to father being smart enough to send him to the Order. Although, they’ll make life miserable for him there, too, I’ll bet.” Demos hovered over his mother, grabbing her shoulders. “If I find the slightest evidence that you were involved in the poisoning of the ambassador, I’ll turn you over to our fine friends in the Collegium myself without the slightest regret.”

  I even have contacts there now.

  His speech complete, Demos let his mother go and collapsed onto a settee. Eltinia finally regained control of herself and sat down next to her son.

  “Yes, I heard about what happened from my sources before you did,” she said. “And I didn’t say anything, because we don’t have any interest in Latanian ambassadors. Yet. But, Demos, this wasn’t me. What do I have to do for you to believe me?”

  He struggled with himself, his entire being hating his mother for the methods she used to achieve her goals. On the other hand, he also hated himself for how he wobbled back and forth between decency and a desire to reach his ends no matter the cost. But there was one thing he was sure about: everything Lady Eltinia did was for the family. He also understood that she was smart enough to cover her tracks.

  “Let’s say you’re innocent,” the duke said quietly. “In that case, tell me who you think could be trying to frame us. And don’t even think about lying—I’m going to check everything.”

  “Show me the letter with the accusations.”

  “Ladarius took it, though I remember everything, almost to the letter. Lord Gregor claims they caught someone from Rex Gerifas.”

  His mother’s plucked and slender brows shot upward.

  “That can’t be!”

  “The assassin said the Devatons hired the guild.”

  “That’s unthinkable! Rex Gerifas never gives out names. That’s their main draw, and it’s always been that way.”

  Demos shook his head.

  “They tend to be very liberal in their interpretation of that vow. No, that’s not the surprising thing. As a rule, the guild and its clients tend to have contacts between them that can quickly disappear if something goes south, protecting both sides. But here,” Demos said, twirling his cane in his hands, “here, they named the final link in the chain. You know yourself how unusual that is. It smacks of a provocation.”

  “Agreed,” Eltinia nodded. “It’s also strange that the killers were caught in the first place. They tend to work delicately and without being noticed, especially in a place like Highligland… By the dead gods, it’s simpler than simple there!”

  “We may be underestimating Lord Gregor,” Demos said thoughtfully. “I imagine whoever availed themselves of the services of the guild also hoped everything would go well in Highligland. But they were wrong. A quiet affair became a scandal, and now we’re being dragged into it. Alternatively, the actual client may have really wanted the assassins to be caught.”

  “Could it have all been arranged by Gregor himself?”

  The chancellor’s shoulders nervously twitched.

 
“I don’t think so. He’s made of a different cloth, not the type for intrigue. Voldhard is a straight shooter who isn’t well-versed in the art of politics.”

  His mother absentmindedly played with a bracelet decorated with emeralds that was on her arm.

  “But he’s still just a barbarian, only with the good fortune to be born nephew to an emperor,” she said disdainfully. “And that Highligland of his is nothing more than the plug in the gap holding back the Runds. It’s a shame he forgot his place.”

  That may be true, but he’s now a full-blown player flipping the board instead of playing by the rules.

  “He has a battle-hardened army that numbers in the thousands, and they say his soldiers adore him,” Demos replied.

  “And we have Osvendis, just as battle-hardened.”

  “I’m not so sure about that after Irving’s death. Bryce Allantain still hasn’t decided what he wants, I don’t think. But there is one thing I know: Voldhard can’t be controlled. The only factor holding him back so far is the church and Ladarius personally, though he’s going to be chomping even at that bit soon enough.”

  “In that case, we need to make a deal with the great master.”

  “He’s sitting this one out,” Demos replied. “His Holiness is going to keep a close eye on our house. We need to figure this out on our own, especially since I don’t want him involved in our business any more than he has to be.”

  “In that case, we’ll go it on our own, with the elegance that befits our position.”

  The chancellor stood up and began pacing the room to stretch his leg. Walking was getting easier, and some days, it seemed like the pain was lessening, too. His mother nodded to a servant who walked over silently, and the latter placed a tray of light snacks on the table before disappearing just as silently as he’d appeared. Lady Eltinia picked a treat up carefully with two fingers, depositing it in her mouth. Demos didn’t touch the food.