Still, a baby of four months couldn’t rule, and no one’d want Myadar as regent, would they?
My thoughts were interrupted when Finnarún entered the salon, giving me one of her brilliant smiles.
She was dressed in gold, as she so often was, and it stuck me new how like the sun she seemed—a sun coming out of grey clouds to light the day. But she was false, and she’d stolen a baby, by Luka’s Chains. I’d not let her beauty dazzle me again.
Still, it’d never help to let her realize that, so I smiled back and made my shoulders relax as though it was a great relief to see her at last.
“Finnarún,” I said, and rushed to take her hands.
Her smile widened. Pleased I was back to my old fawning self, then. She must’ve found me a real bore when I kept asking her all them awkward questions.
“Dear Ginna,” she said, guiding me to sit beside her on a chaise. “I heard a terrible rumor that you’d been killed!”
And where had she heard that? How was she keeping up on such news when Leika kept me more or less a secret from any but them what come in person to have an audience with her? And even with them, I never opened my mouth. The most any of them knew about me was that I assisted the konungdis. It was too much of a tangle. Leika wanted to keep her blindness a secret from most, and near-to-none knew she had her episodes. She’d not have told a soul I was missing.
“Well, I’m hale as an oak,” I said to Finnarún. “And how are you? I’ve come to tell you what I know about the killings of the Officers—oh, I hope you’ve not lost anyone of your’n?”
“It is a frightening time,” Finnarún said, her voice taking on a bit of breathlessness I might have found very charming back when I first fell for her. “I’ve been fortunate not to have known any of those killed. The most recent deaths are quite shocking—they were very young. Five of them! Novices, I gather.”
Ah. Perhaps she’d merely put the pieces together—novices of Tyr weren’t prone to traveling in groups unless they’d some dirty business to carry out, as far as I knew, and Finnarún must’ve known I’d run afoul of Áleifer sooner or later. And there were them what might’ve seen me escorted through the Grand Hall. Sure, they’d had a bag over my head, but maybe she’d heard rumors of the incident and come to the conclusion the woman they had was me.
Still, she seemed to have some way of seeing into Leika’s private doings, and it made me nervous. I thought of the Machine and its boxes, with the flickering images I’d watched of Atli and his men in the palace ’fore the invasion. Did Finnarún have something like that, so’s she could spy on Leika? If she did, I’d no idea where. I’d lived in these apartments for weeks and never seen owt like it.
“The Group Leaders’ve been reporting to Leika,” I said, giving my voice an eager edge, so’s she’d think I was telling her what I thought she wanted to know from my spying. I knew she’d no interest in Group Leader reports, but she’d never told me what her real purpose for me was, after all. “They think it’s more’n one killer.”
“Do they? And are there suspects?”
I shook my head. “They’ve devoted as many men as they could spare—” from doing what? Mobilizing, in preparation for the confrontation with the resistance, maybe—“to searching for the killers. They think it’s ‘malcontents.’ What’re ‘malcontents’?” I asked all innocent-like. Course I knew what a malcontent was, but let her take me for an illiterate fool.
Her eyes glittered with amusement and she patted my hand. “People who aren’t happy with the regime. I suppose there must be a few, though I can’t imagine why. From what you told me, the city was in a terrible state before we returned to set it to rights.”
I’d a powerful urge to slap her right about then, but it’d only make my task that much harder if I gave into it.
“Sure enough, it’s a relief to have some order in the city again,” I managed, though it was a cutter of a joke, what with Ivarr shooting Officers left and right and Myadar planning an attack at any moment.
“Yes, well, was that all you wanted to tell me?” she said, her voice mild.
It itched me awful, to ask her about the baby, and see if she’d slip up and tell me something what’d give away her plan. But she looked fair pleased with me at the moment, and I knew that was more valuable.
Then I did have a thought.
“Finnarún, d’you know about Leika and Reister Sölbói?”
She rolled her eyes. “I do. Leika certainly is easily misled.”
“D’you think the court’ll let the wedding go forward? They all know Myadar weren’t killed in the bombing.”
Finnarún shook her head, her golden curls brushing her cheeks. “I’m not sure they’re all convinced of that, Ginna. I saw her just before I left the city, you know. I was probably the last person who saw her. But I can’t guarantee that she wasn’t killed a few moments later. And no one has heard a thing about her since.”
“So you think Leika might be right about her being killed in the bombing?”
“I know Myadar became something of a legend for… for your people,” Finnarún said in what she probably thought was a gentle tone. Condescending, more like, but I made myself give her a little smile. “I’m sure they all told stories of her grand escape from the burning city. But in truth, Ginna-dear, she may well have died under the rubble. We may never know for certain.”
I looked down at my hands, for I was too afraid my face’d show something.
“Even if she is alive, as long as she stays wherever she went to hide, she might as well have died as far as we know. Reister will argue that she did, in any case,” Finnarún said.
I nodded, still looking at my hands in my lap.
“Now, tell me, has Leika chosen a High Vigja?” she asked.
I frowned. I’d not thought to ask, but I suspected she might have, on account of her impending nuptials. Leika’d never accept being married by anyone other’n a High Vigja, of that I’d no doubt. “I’m not sure,” I said.
Finnarún made a tutting noise. “I really must find out, as soon as possible.”
I’d an idea, then. “I’m sorry,” I said. “There’s no way she’ll let me out of her sight again anytime soon. I’ll be stuck in the royal apartments helping with her wedding plans, and that’s a fact.”
Finnarún peered at me, as if she suspected I was putting her on.
I pushed ahead, hoping to convince her. “You could tell her you want me back,” I said, trying to sound pathetic and in love with her. “You’d just have to tell her you needed me for something or other. And I’d go back just long enough to pack up my things, don’t you know. And find out about the High Vigja, of course.” And once I was back in Finnarún’s apartments, all I’d need to do was find a way to bypass Sigrid and Vinring and I’d make our escape.
Finnarún’s frown cleared, and her mouth twisted a bit in annoyance. “Oh, Ginna, you must believe that I long for your return as much as you do…”
It weren’t easy, hiding what I thought of that.
“…but I do so need your help, and you’ve done such a grand job so far, I can’t afford to take you out of the konungdis’s employ.”
I mustered all the desperation I felt, setting my thoughts on Ivarr, risking himself like he was, and Hardane maybe finding himself in Ivarr’s crosshairs, and never seeing Rokja again, and the rest of all of it, and sure enough, tears sprung to my eyes. “Finnarún, I want to help you, but how can I? She’ll not let me back out, not with the wedding coming, and I can’t send you anything written down. I’m sure there’s them what’re reading what I send out. It ain’t safe.”
Finnarún sighed. “Very well, Ginna. I’ll just have to show you something. Come with me.”
I weren’t sure my trick’d worked, so I put my mind on looking all surprised and innocent and following her down the corridor and through to her private rooms. She walked all the way into her bedroom.
I looked round like I’d never seen the place ’fore now, though course I’d
spent many a night and more’n one day in that bed, sometimes all on my own, in fact. Images flickered in my memory of loving Finnarún, and it was all I could do not to demand she tell me if she’d ever loved me as well. I knew the answer to that, didn’t I? And what did it matter anymore? My’n love for her was dead, weren’t it?
Finnarún come to a stop by her closet door. “Now, Ginna, what I’m about to show you is one of my most dangerous secrets. You cannot breathe a word about it, to anyone. Leika knows of it, but you cannot tell her I showed it to you.”
What was she on about? Leika knew of it? Knew of what? What was this secret?
Then it hit me: she was going to show me how she learned all of the goings-on in Leika’s apartments.
Except it made no sense. Leika couldn’t know about Finnarún spying. If Finnarún had a box like them in the Machine what showed the images of folk around the city, Leika’d never consent to Finnarún spying on her with it.
Finnarún stood there waiting for a response, and my face must’ve been slack as a cow’s for she made an impatient noise with her tongue. “You understand, don’t you? You must keep it a secret!”
“Course!” I said, giving my head a shake. “It’s just—I’m fair baffled as to what you’re on about.” Which was true enough.
Finnarún snorted and opened the closet door, pushing aside a rack hanging thick with frocks and such. She eased into the closet, and after another moment, she disappeared and the frocks shifted back where they were.
“Ginna,” she called, her voice muffled.
Well, I was feeling strange about it all, but I also knew this’d be the way in to saving Vinring, if I could manage it. So I pushed past the frocks and seen right away that the back wall of the closet weren’t no wall at all but a kind of door.
Finnarún was standing in a hall more narrow than any I’d ever seen ’fore now. In the tunnels of the Undergrunnsby there weren’t no narrow halls on account of you had to be able to move machinery through for the upkeep of the sewers; leastways, you used to back when the regime cared about that sort of thing. In the palace every corridor was wide enough for an automobile to drive through, don’t you know. And I’d seen some halls in buildings in the city what weren’t nearly so wide, but none so tight as this.
“It’s a secret,” Finnarún said, watching me take it all in. “It connects these apartments to the royal apartments. I imagine it dates back to some liaison or other a konunger or konungdis wanted to keep quiet.”
I stared at her. “D’you know about it ’fore you took these apartments?”
“If you’re asking whether these apartments have always been in my family, the answer is, in fact, no. Very astute, Ginna. My family’s apartments were destroyed when the bombings obliterated the northeast corner of the palace.”
“And you just happened to claim the only apartments in the palace what had this corridor?”
“If you must know, I did find the passage before the Uprising. I was often in the royal apartments back then, you know.”
“So you found it on that side.”
Finnarún inclined her head by way of a nod. “I made sure that the family who once owned these apartments heard about how modern and luxurious the restored sections of the palace were. The jarldis of that family is so very fond of new things…”
“She had to have them all move, didn’t she.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure she’s very happy they did. It was all true, everything I told her.”
“And she’d no idea about the hallway herself, then.”
Finnarún shook her head with a little shrug. “And what would she or any of them have done with the knowledge? They would have had to seal it off, if they’d known, or risk accusations of spying or worse.”
But not her. She’d gone and used the damned passage, and made it known to Leika. I frowned. “It makes no sense. Leika’s frightened of Raud Gríma climbing in through barred windows. She’d never consent to leave open a passage to your room without some sort of lock, and even then…”
Finnarún sighed. “Really, Ginna, your questioning can become so tiresome.”
“You’ve used it somehow… she don’t really know about it, is that it? That’s why you won’t have me talk to her about it.”
“Oh by the Hand. Please desist in this infernal cross-examination,” Finnarún said. “Leika does know about it. Never mind the rest. You mustn’t speak to her about it because she mustn’t have any idea you mean to use it—to come see me with word about the High Vigja.”
“Ah,” I said, and then I bit my lip on account of the half dozen questions what wanted to keep bubbling up. She’d not tell me the truth, no matter what, and antagonizing her weren’t the way to saving Vinring. Using this tunnel was, though, I knew. She’d handed me the way back into her apartments, and a perfect reason for using it if I misjudged my timing and she caught me at it.
I’d come back in just a few hours, if I had my way. Leika’d mentioned there was a big “soiree” tonight—it’s what she called one of them big to-dos the courtiers threw for each other regular-like. I just needed to confirm Finnarún’d be there, and then all I’d have to worry about was Sigrid.
“I’ll come back right away, soon’s I find out who she’s chosen,” I told Finnarún, who gave me a little laugh.
“Oh, you are such a dear,” she said, and kissed my cheek. Her fingers traveled down my spine in a soft caress that made things happen in places that’d been quiet for some time now. I shivered. “But you can wait until tomorrow. I shan’t be in tonight, in any case.”
Perfect.
“Right then,” I said. “Tomorrow it is.”
Only by tomorrow, me and Vinring’d be long gone.
Her hands kept at the stroking and though I’d not have chosen to bed her again, I’ve a fair long history of bedding them I’d rather not, so off I went, and enjoyed myself, too, nice as apples.
~~~
Of course, me and Vinring weren’t long gone by the morrow, more’s the pity.
I don’t think Finnarún was ever suspicious of my’n plans, though in the end, it doesn’t matter. She’d plans of her’n, and they’d been unwinding like a snake for months, and I got caught up in them just as I’d feared I might.
When I come back to the royal apartments Sölbói’d gone off somewhere, for which I was fair grateful. Leika was sitting in her parlor, listening to Áleifer on the radio. I was all set to rush over and shut the radio off—I’d no room for one of her fits in my plans for the evening—when I caught a phrase from what he was saying.
“…and it is my most unfortunate first task, listeners, to have to share with you news of much less glorious nature. I must announce that the Temple of Tyr has caught a heretic within its own order. The former vigja, Sigmarr Liniblaudr, is suspected of hiding his true allegiance to the lesser gods, and after an inquiry, has been sent to Grumflein pending a full investigation.”
Pending a full investigation? Who were they trying to fool? They’d never investigate another bit of this nonsense. Áleifer’d sent him to Grumflein to get him out of the running for High Vigja, and for no other reason’n that.
Leika tilted her head towards where I stood. “He’s gone now,” she said, and her voice was fair odd.
“That he is,” I agreed.
“It’s a relief, you know,” she said.
I frowned. “A relief, your Majesty? I thought you favored Liniblaudr?”
“Oh, I did,” she agreed, then gave a nervous little laugh and shook herself. “Isn’t it surprising how wrong one can be about those one trusts?” She tilted her face towards me then, and my heart dropped into my belly. Had Sölbói talked to her? “Well, Reister has shown me my errors.” I felt sick. “And just in time. I was about to stop the inquiry, can you imagine? But he stayed my hand. And I’ve chosen Áleifer, as he has advised.”
“You’ve chosen Áleifer as High Vigja?”
“Well, of course. Had you not heard? I suppose he only just made the announ
cement, right before you came in. The ceremony will be held in a week, of course, so it’s not really official yet. But he is ‘acting High Vigja’ until then.”
I stared at her, the disappointment I felt over the way she was giving up everything—she’d chosen Reister as konunger and she would turn everything over to him, now, I could see, and she’d never reach for a true reign as dróttning no more—struck me with another wave of nausea. I’d not forgotten my own danger, now that she seemed to have gotten hold of the truth about me, you mind. But I also had to give up the last threads of my hopes for her, and it weren’t as easy as you might expect.
Course, I’d one last card to play what might save me and my dreams for her, with Frigga’s mercy.
“D’you feel you’ve been wrong about others you trusted, then?” I asked.
She looked right at me, and if I’d not known better I’d have sworn she could see me. “It would seem so.”
“Might I ask, who?”
She made a disgusted noise and looked away again. “You take me for a fool, perhaps? Or a madwoman, no doubt. I know I have had moments of… clouded judgment. But Ginna, I never thought you were some spy of Finnarún Vaenn! In my naivety I thought you my friend, someone I could trust. And the truth is you were a snake at my bosom!”
“And who told you that, might I ask?”
“Why, Reister, of course! He’s the only one to tell me the truth in—in—since Eiflar died!”
“What did he say about me? That I was Vaenn’s spy, is that it?”
After the Fall (Raud Grima Book 2) Page 29
