The Assassins of Thasalon

by Lois McMaster Bujold

  “I know you had my letter yesterday,” said Pen to Nao. “But we’ve not received much news from town or court so far today. Minister Methani’s funeral was scheduled despite all for this morning, we did hear of that, but nothing of how it went.”

  “Very privately,” sighed the archdivine, “at a minor temple near his palace. I officiated. We knew going into it that the rites were futile, but we had to try.”

  “He’s stayed sundered, I gather.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Fading fast, my Sighted tell me. I read your letter, and have had a copy of Magistrate Pasia’s depositions, so I can’t say I’m too surprised. Lord regent Bordane was grim about it all, but seemed reconciled. He’d been deeply upset with the sundering when he came to me about it day before yesterday. And, ah, its cause.”

  “He told you about that?” said Pen, astonished.

  “Begging for my spiritual and other guidance. He wished to establish clearly that he’d had no part in or prior knowledge of his uncle’s uncanny political murders.”

  Because a lord regent was not above a charge of treason if his target was another lord regent, Pen was reminded, and the assassination of Prince Ragat qualified. Hence this whole arcane demon-scheme in the first place. And maybe it wasn’t just the secular charges alone that had unnerved Bordane?

  He’s smarter than Tronio, then, said Des.

  He must have come to his decision of how to handle Tronio and Rach’s news very quickly, before dismissing them to work upon Bosha and turning to his appointment with the archdivine about the sticky matter of his uncle’s funeral. Unlike Tronio, he’d presumably seen at once that continued secrecy was not going to be possible. What way had he found to run through this collection of political, legal, and theological caltrops? The anticipatory assassination of enemies, or, worse, imagined enemies, seemed more his late uncle’s style, but Bordane had been freed to find his own way now.

  “Lord regent Bordane,” said Nao, “has proposed a compromise for the regency council that I think will satisfy all parties, as well as restoring its proper numbers. Laris to take one empty seat, and the archdivine as a neutral party to take the other.” He nodded to the prelate, who nodded back, not exactly joyfully. The man already filled a more-than-full-time post, after all. “Laris and Bordane have gone to discuss it with the empress-mother, along with the offer of that betrothal if she would be reassured by it. Both of these had been mooted before, mind you, but blocked by Methani when he was alive. He sought a fellow regent he could control, not one that no one could.”

  Nao’s gaze slid to Adelis. “Once all are installed, clearing General Arisaydia from prior charges and restoring him to his post in the Western Army should be a matter of talk, not arms.”

  “False charges,” Pen put in. “I can give you a sworn deposition about that if you need it. Having been a close eyewitness.” Pen winced at the inadvertent pun as Adelis’s garnet irises glinted.

  “Mm, yes,” said Nao, “you were the Adriac agent who carried the incriminating documents, I understand?”

  And where had he learned that? Adelis, maybe. “At the time. The root forgery that started it all came from Methani, and that letter is still in the archives of the duke of Adria. Should anyone need to examine it.”

  “Good to know,” said Nao.

  “I saw it myself. It was expert enough to pass the inspection of the Lodi chancellery, Cedonian paper and ink, although really, there wasn’t much to work with. It was in a scribe’s hand, with only Adelis’s signature, which could be easily copied if they had samples.”

  “Quite,” agreed Bosha, with professional interest.

  “That it was in a scribe’s hand should have been your clue,” rumbled Adelis. “If ever I’d sent such an incendiary thing, I’d have had the sense to write it out myself.”

  “Well, I’d not yet met you, then,” said Pen. He turned to Nao. “I don’t know what else Methani’s scriptorium may be found to harbor. Those archives are in Lord Bordane’s hands now, are they not?” Along with the rest of the haunted palace.

  “Yes. Mucking them out is also, shall we say, going to be a topic of discussion soon.” And not with foreign agents, his tone implied, however holy their mission.

  Be glad of that, Pen, said Des. I am. The impression of a shudder.

  Pen, allowing his curiosity to overcome his caution, asked Nao, “So… was Prince Ragat planning to seize the throne for himself and his son? Tronio genuinely seemed to think so, but I couldn’t tell if he knew of evidence, or he’d just let himself be persuaded by the minister. Who was noted for preemptive attacks upon persons who, if not yet his enemies, were soon made so.” A nod at Adelis, who snorted. “The physicians’ word for that is iatrogenic, a cure that creates a disease.”

  “A just term,” said Nao. “I shall have to remember it. That Ragat was suspected of such aims in the court of gossip and rumor almost goes without saying. It was plain he would never be Methani’s hound. All I can say is at the time of his death, he’d not yet approached Laris with the idea. He’d certainly have had to assure her compliance before he made a move. What plans were in his private mind, and perhaps in discussions with his son Ello, well, only the gods know now.”

  “I’m hard put to decide if Tronio was an honest loyal fool, or as wily as his master,” said Pen. “Though I’m not sure it makes a difference at this point.”

  “For his soul, it may,” said the archdivine thoughtfully. “His body, I fear, is forfeit.”

  “However it came about,” said Adelis levelly, “I must say I am ecstatic to find that my first task upon returning to Cedonia will not be to make war upon a nine-year-old.”

  Nao smiled. “A number of earless men await you to lead them against better enemies.”

  An accepting nod.

  Nao then turned to Alixtra, who stiffened but held her ground. Pen couldn’t help noting that while the lord regent took the risk of being in the same room with the uncanny assassin, he had not risked his wife. Her choice or his? And for fear, or for anger?

  Prudent in either case, said Des.

  Both secretaries unshipped their writing boxes—Bosha looked vaguely envious—and the archdivine himself swore both Alixtra and Pen to their oaths. Though not Iroki, naturally. Prompted by Nao, she launched once more into her story and confession, supported as needed by Pen. Practice had made her succinct and clear, which must be appreciated by the scribbling scribes. Nao’s questions were incisive, as were the archdivine’s—Pen had heard the man had started his long career as a judge, some half-a-century ago, before rising into the Temple hierarchy. He was somewhere in his mid-seventies now.

  When her tale came up to the events on Jurgo’s front steps, Adelis put in a few words as well. He seemed to regard Alixtra with that, in Pen’s view, mildly insane respect of a military man for an enemy who had almost succeeded in finishing him. As he didn’t leap up and attempt to behead her at once in revenge, she gradually relaxed. Somewhat.

  Nao touched on the events at Methani’s fatal reception more lightly—he’d had Pen’s earlier verbal account, if not sworn and transcribed, and Pasia’s depositions, which had been. Alixtra hewed precisely to what she’d seen herself, ending with her departure with her rescued son. Iroki put in only a brief description of their first encounter with the sundered ghost in the cisterns—the archdivine must have plenty of confirming testimony about the revenant from his own Temple sensitives by now. The genial saint had left almost all the talking to the other two. Either he was secretly shy in this high company, or he really was the laziest man in Pef.

  At this point, Nao brought the afternoon’s proceedings to a conclusion. The lord regent—both lords regent, Pen was reminded—must have half a thousand other tasks waiting on their plates as a result of the recent upheavals. Adelis as well, even if he wasn’t to be plunged into a messy civil war. Pen could write out his promised deposition about earlier events at his leisure back at Lady Xarre’s, Nao told him. He and his party were not to leave Thasalo
n yet. At a reproving look from the archdivine, he amended prudently, “The saint, of course, may go where he wills.”

  “And please take Master Bosha back to Lady Xarre’s with you,” Nao added with a thin smile as he beckoned to his majordomo. “He’s been alleviating his boredom by drifting through my scriptorium correcting my people’s work, which is somewhat disruptive.”

  I’ll bet, said Des.

  “I observed a number of efficiencies and checks you might institute to improve its productivity,” said Bosha, with a helpful air.

  Yes, and Pen was also reminded of Lady Tanar’s brag to Nikys about her secretary’s ferocious memory.

  “Another time, perhaps,” said Nao politely. “We know where to find you, after all.”

  Bosha’s crooked smile stretched in appreciation of the veiled threat. “You may be sure I’ll be waiting at my lady’s side.”

  He rose with well-concealed eagerness to be gone from here. Alixtra’s was less well-concealed. With his usual abstracted amiability, Iroki accepted an open invitation from the archdivine to call upon him later. Pen recognized a certain god-hungry look in the old prelate’s eyes that promised the topic wouldn’t be politics this time.

  Under the majordomo’s escort, Adelis walked with them to the palace door.

  “I trust Lady Tanar continues well, after all this unpleasantness,” he said to Pen and Bosha. “Please tell her I’ll attend upon her and Lady Xarre as soon as I may. Which may not be as soon as I’d like, but I’ll do my best.”

  “She awaits you eagerly,” Pen assured him.

  “Well.” Adelis’s hand drifted to his disfiguring burn scars, which Tanar had not yet seen. “We’ll find out.”

  Bosha smiled—all right, that one really was a smirk—and advised, “Do not underestimate her, General.”

  While the Xarre wicker carts were called for, a palace servant delivered Bosha’s scant belongings from the infirmary, and he promised to send his borrowed clothes back in due course. Pen set him with himself in a cart for the return trip, giving a chance to work on his hands, for which Bosha gave thanks a trifle dubiously. The healing effects of the treatments were not, after all, instantly apparent. Apart from that Bosha was rather silent, as his extreme tension of the past days seeped away to be replaced by understandable deep fatigue.

  He roused himself back to a simulation of his usual sly humor when they were anxiously met at the mansion door by Lady Tanar, who carried him off on a cloud of care that dismissed the simulation for exactly what it was. It won from him a rare smile of secret softness as he surrendered, however briefly, his accustomed armor to her.

  I’m a bit glad Adelis didn’t return with us, said Des. Tanar would have had to face that dilemma of the hypothetical cliff for real. Which beloved fellow to grab first?

  I trust she’ll be able to save them both, said Pen. We should not, after all, underestimate her.

  * * *

  The Xarre garden nook, in the soft if overwarm shade of a late afternoon, was every bit as idyllic as Pen had pictured. He sat back in his cushioned chair, took a sip of his lemon water, and thumbed to the next page in the book of tales he’d selected from the mansion’s library. At a yip and a young shout, he looked up to watch his companions.

  Kittio had reacquired the puppy from the kennels today, and they were playing together on the nearby patch of lawn under Alixtra’s close supervision. She laughed as the puppy and Kittio tugged for possession of the stick she’d thrown. The beast had mastered chase and catch, but was having trouble with then bring back and return. When it was older, it would doubtless fetch entire legs.

  Tanar was dividing her attention between a sheaf of reports from the Xarre captains, and feeding Bosha, who protested unconvincingly. Pen had rewrapped his hands this morning in new batting, replacing the old which had grown dingy in the four days he had been home, less to protect them than to dissuade the man from premature attempts to use them. A periodic tremor, lingering aftereffect of Tronio’s torture, would pass off on its own as his irritated nerves calmed, Pen judged.

  “Really, I can do this myself,” Bosha said to Tanar, as she made another dive on his mouth with a grape.

  “You dribble, Sura dear.”

  “A preview of my repellent old age. Soon to be upon us.”

  “Stuff,” said Tanar. Pen wasn’t sure if she meant nonsense, or keep eating. Maybe both.

  Pen returned to his book. He’d not read three more pages when a voice broke into his admittedly lax concentration—the Xarre porter, grown familiar by now. The man’s normally routine tasks had grown much too exciting in the past weeks of these Orban visitors, but Pen thought he could remove the bandages from his healing head wound very soon now. The splints on his broken arm must stay a little longer.

  He looked up as the porter said, “Lady Tanar, here is General Arisaydia to wait upon you.”

  Sheets of reports scattered on the flagstones as Tanar leaped up emitting an unladylike shriek. Bosha sat back with a long exhalation through his nose, placing his hands in his lap, and produced a good imitation of a welcoming smile. Pen tucked in his bookmark and closed his volume.

  With a flurry of skirts, Tanar flew to Adelis, who advanced upon her. They met midway. An attempt on Adelis’s part at a polite handclasp was overborne by her embrace, as swiftly returned, pulling her off her feet. No man, Pen thought, should have such a private expression on his face be witnessed.

  Well, don’t look away, said Des. After all this, I want to watch. Pen grinned.

  As Adelis put her down, her soft hands rose to capture that face and hold it for her critical inspection, turning it in the bright light. “That’s not nearly as bad as I was led to picture,” she said judiciously. “Rather striking, in an odd way. Do the scars hurt?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “And you can see again all right?”

  He cast Pen a wry twist of his lips. “My restored vision is excellent. Possibly better than before.” He looked down at her. “Especially right now.”

  “Good,” she said, nodding firmly. And that was that. A slight release of pent breath was all the sign he gave of his relief.

  Not letting go of his hand, which did not let go of hers, she led him into the shade. Bosha made to rise and yield his seat to this most honored guest; Adelis waved him back down. The Xarre servant attending upon them from a discreet distance hurried off to fetch an extra chair.

  The puppy, chased by Kittio, tumbled up in curiosity to sniff this new person’s sandals, followed by some exploratory licking. Adelis muffled a snort. Kittio arrived to worriedly pull the beast back by its scruff, but Adelis merely bent and gave it some expert patting, to which it surrendered instantly, rolling on its back and waving its oversized paws about in canine bliss. Kittio, reassured, stood up and smiled shyly at the big stranger.

  “This must be Kittio,” said Adelis, as Alixtra hurried warily up. He eyed her warily back.

  “Yes, sir. Kittio, make your bow to General Arisaydia, who is…” She foundered on the complexities.

  “My betrothed,” Tanar supplied in rescue, earning a grateful look.

  Kittio, who had become a Tanar devotee over the past days, brightened still more, and managed a not-too-awkward bow. “How do you do, sir.”

  “Very well, thank you,” Adelis returned gravely. “And yourself?”

  Kittio was a little flummoxed by this unexpected return, but rose to the challenge. “There’s dogs here. And an old pony. And wicker carts. And the cooks will give you any amount of sweets, if you ask please. And Lady Tanar has a treehouse! Not just some boards nailed to a tree, but a real house! With two rooms, and steps, and little furniture!” He waved his amazement.

  “You still have that left from your girlhood?” Adelis asked Tanar in surprise.

  “My mother has maintained it, for the use of occasional young guests,” Tanar told him. “And possibly in hopeful anticipation.”

  “Remarkably hopeful, considering my late exile.”

&
nbsp; “Her trust is never unfounded, as our captains can testify.” She squeezed his arm.

  The puppy took off again, with Kittio in hot pursuit.

  “Nice lad,” said Adelis to Alixtra. “I see your point.”

  And that, too, was that, apparently.

  The extra chair arrived, and Adelis allowed himself to be seated, receiving a cup of lemon water from Tanar’s hands, welcome in the heat of the afternoon. He looked around. “So where is your tame saint today?”

  “Gone fishing,” said Penric. “Rather unexpectedly. A certain petty saint of the Father in the city guard, whom we met the other day, turned out to have a brother who fishes out of a little port just up the coast from Thasalon. He offered to take Blessed Iroki out on his brother’s boat. They went off day before yesterday. I gather sea fishing is a new experience for him. Villager from Pef, you know, which is pretty far upriver, past Dogrita. I’m not sure if they’re going to talk fish, or talk shop. Or both. We expect him back shortly.” Pen leaned back. “So. What news from town today?”

  “Not much. Legal matters are grinding away at the usual speed for legal matters, roughly that of a crippled ox. My reinstatement has been confirmed by the full regency council, however, and I’m shortly to start settling myself in my new army headquarters.” A glance at Tanar.

  “I understand senior officers’ lodgings in the capital can be quite comfortable,” she said tranquilly.

  And at Adelis’s level, not limited to army issue, though Pen didn’t expect he could recover more than a fraction of his pre-exile wealth. A frugal point Tanar already understood, it seemed, though her own resources could buy them a minor palace if desired.

  A nice delicacy, said Des. Did I mention I like this girl?

  Several times. Which is good, as she is to become our sister-in-law.

  “My sharpest legal concern is Alixtra,” said Pen. “That there not be any reneging upon her fate. I bear a responsibility for her issued… from a source above all argument.”