"Soon, I promise. But first, please tell me of your evening."
After a brief hesitation, I launched into a retelling of what had happened since I'd seen her last. I held nothing back. Constans had been present for most of the really interesting parts, so there was no benefit to be had from omitting details.
Arianwyn listened silently for the most part, though she did shift uncomfortably at the mention of Solomon's catspaws searching her at the Silverway. The strawjack's reappearance she took in her stride, but then Constans had already revealed that detail. The mention of Jack, on the other hand, provoked a startled response. "Jerack? He's real?"
"So it would seem." I'd had several hours to come to terms with the idea, but still had difficulty accepting it myself. Whether it's Jack or not, there's clearly a third party involved in whatever you've dragged me into."
"Yes, I'm sorry for the danger I've put you in," Arianwyn said contritely. "I never intended for that to happen."
"Then prove it," I said. "Tell me the truth. Constans told me some of it, but perhaps you'd explain the rest."
She sighed. "Where would you like me to start?"
"How about who you really are? You're not Stefan's niece."
She nodded. "Sorry, it seemed the easiest way to avoid a lot of questions. How did you know?"
"I didn't. Not at first, but then I realised I'd never heard Stefan talk about his family, which seemed strange given the details you spun for me back at the Silverway. But I had no proof, so I assumed I was simply being too suspicious. Then I found a letter in Stefan's bureau, a letter asking him to study an unusual find."
Arianwyn grimaced. She knew where this was going.
"The letter promised the opportunity of a lifetime, as well as generous payment. It also requested Stefan burn the letter, which clearly he hadn't. But that wasn't the most interesting thing. That particular honour goes, I think, to the signature. Wouldn't you say, Lady Arianwyn?"
"I can see why you'd think that."
"Stefan didn't steal the fragment from Solomon. You did."
"Yes."
"Why? Solomon spoke of a project related to the fragment, but he didn't go so far as to say what it was."
"We don't know either," said Arianwyn. "But once we learned of Solomon's interest, we had no choice but to take an interest of our own. Whatever he seeks to achieve, it can't be allowed."
I held up my hands. "You'll have no argument from me. That I'm still prepared to work with you, despite your quite splendid range of untruths, should be proof of that." I paused. "But you just said 'we'. This isn't just about you and Constans, is it?"
"Not quite. Sadly, we're far fewer in number than we would like. Solomon has made it his business to eliminate us."
"How is it that you and Constans survive? I've seen firsthand his reluctance to move against you, but I don't understand why."
Arianwyn smiled thinly. "Constans, as you've probably seen, is remarkably difficult to kill, though this hasn't stopped Solomon from trying. As for myself? You have to understand, Edric, that Solomon practises a very careful sort of power. He's very good at judging which lines he can cross with which people. He uses blackmail and threat, yes, but he's careful never to do so if the victim might refuse. His power is vast, but brittle. Were word ever to get out that someone had challenged him and survived, that power would shatter and never be fully recovered. It would take time, of course – revolutions don't happen overnight – but it would happen."
"An interesting philosophy," I mused, "but it doesn't answer my question."
"Oh, but it does. You asked if my family had fallen on hard times, and it has. But not so long ago my father was a member of the council – the continuation of a long and noble history of service. So noble, in fact, that even Solomon doesn't dare move directly against me. He kills my friends and imprisons my allies, but I am beyond his reach."
"But why? I don't understand. I know for a fact that Solomon has eliminated others of your rank."
"Not so. True, he's murdered councillors. Oh, not with his own hands, of course, but the trail of blood leads back to him every time. But I have an advantage that others do not possess. My family's name is not Kallindri – though that is how most people know me. It's Trelan."
With that, everything was suddenly clear. "You're a descendant of Sidara." No wonder Solomon couldn't touch her.
She nodded. "The last of her line, since my father was lost at sea. I don't use the name, you understand. Father left these shores to be free of the Sidarists. They expected him to solve their every problem, you see, convinced of his divine descent. He could have ruled like a king had he wanted to, but he believed too much in the Republic even to consider it. That's the reason he kept me from the public eye, so that I might live unmolested by those who wanted to make use of my lineage. Solomon knows, of course, and so do most of the other councillors, but as I've never claimed my father's position, I've largely gone unnoticed. But that would quickly change if Solomon were to have me killed or even if I were to die in unusual circumstances. I've quiet allies enough for that."
"You and Constans are family, then?"
"Of a very distant sort. The bloodline has diverged a great deal since Sidara's time, but that heritage still binds us. Unfortunately Constans is fair game in Solomon's eyes. Sad to say, his passing wouldn't attract any attention at all."
I stood up and paced. "I assume it's that same heritage that grants you your magic." Arianwyn raised her eyebrows. "Please. Lanterns don't simply explode, and certainly not with enough force to wake half the city."
Arianwyn smiled. "Probably. No one knows how much of Sidara's legend actually happened, and how much grew out of myth, but she certainly had some power. But you know how it works. Some families pass their gifts down from generation to generation, in others they die out and never return, or were never there in the first place. My abilities are feeble. Father's were stronger, but I've no idea if that's because he'd learned how to use them properly, or a simple accident of blood."
"Even so, you've enough ability to get yourself into a great deal of trouble if you attract the wrong kind of attention."
"You mean the abjuration decrees?" She shook her head. "Again, my bloodline would have protected me. After all, those laws were put into force as an excuse to eradicate the magi bloodlines corrupted by Droshna. The worst that would happen to me is that I'd be forced to reveal my true identity." She winced. "They'd not execute me, but..."
"...the Sidarists would beg you to lead them?"
"I fear so. Queen Arianwyn of the former Tressian republic," she grimaced. "A particularly ghastly outcome. I think I'd rather face the executioner's axe." A faraway look came into her eyes. "Can you imagine the horror of it? Everyone begging you to solve their problems, cure their ills, and deliver them from the woes of the world." She broke off. "Sorry. Of course you can. That was insensitive of me."
"It doesn't matter," I lied. It did matter, and I was heartily sick of people accidentally finding ways to remind me of it. "Why have you dragged me into this mess?"
"We knew you shared some of Dalrand's interests, and with the fragment of this 'portalstone', I believe you said Solomon called it?" I nodded. "...this portalstone originating in Hadari territory, I thought you might have some insights. But that wasn't the main reason. I told you we were few. In fact, counting Constans and myself there are now only two of us. We can't easily recruit anyone else as Solomon has spies and informants everywhere. Any Tressian is a risk and the two of us alone can't stop him."
"I'm sorry, but even if a third would make that much difference, I still don't see why you need me."
"Look," she was talking passionately now. "Whatever this portalstone is, Solomon's expended an insane amount of effort to seize it. This piece alone cost him dozens of his most trusted enforcers – the others never came back from the City of the Dead. Most of the rest of his men are spread across the Toriana Plains looking for the remaining pieces. We think he has another already, but
there's at least one more out there somewhere. Those men you fought this evening were about the last of the enforcers Solomon had in the city. He still has plenty of influence, but few will obey him without question. Remember what I said about the nature of his power? Solomon would never expose himself this badly except for a really important prize. Whatever it is, he can't be permitted to have it."
She stopped, and took a deep breath. "The truth is, Edric, that we don't need you. We need anyone we can trust. Ideally, I'd like a host of angels, but there isn't one available. Right now you're the only person in this city, outside of my allies, who I can be sure isn't in Solomon's pocket."
"What about Quintus?"
"Quintus enforces the law, first and foremost, and Solomon controls the law. I know he's helped you in the past, but sooner or later there's going to be a line Quintus won't cross for you."
I didn't believe her. I couldn't imagine Quintus taking Solomon's side in anything.
"Please Edric." Arianwyn pleaded. "Something terrible is coming, I can feel it. We have to stop it."
I sat back down and sighed. "You might be right. But if Jack is involved, other powers might be too. If that's the case, we won't need three of us, but three thousand, or three hundred thousand. We can't fight the great powers of the world with swords and smoke bombs."
Arianwyn smiled sadly. "Don't give up hope so quickly. If there's one thing my lineage has taught me, it is that the separation between gods and men is never quite so rigidly defined as priests might have you believe. Besides, we have to try, do we not?"
There was that, I conceded silently, there was indeed that, but I was spared having to answer Arianwyn's question by the sound of knocking on the front door.
"Ah." Arianwyn moved to answer, "that will be Constans."
She wasn't entirely correct. When Arianwyn re-entered the room, not only was Constans with her, but so was Jamar.
"I asked you to take word," I growled at Constans, getting to my feet, "not bring him back here with you."
Jamar said nothing, but stood quietly to attention near the doorway. I should have noticed something was not quite right, but I was too annoyed.
"He was quite insistent," said Constans. "Besides, there was precious little reason for him to remain. Your embassy is currently little more than a blackened ruin."
"What?"
"That fire Ildaro spoke of? It started in the embassy. The house is practically gone, the gardens are ash and the rest of the street is still smouldering."
I glared at Jamar. "Weren't you keeping watch?"
"Yes, savir," he said miserably. "I can offer no explanation. The failure is mine."
It wasn't though, and I knew it. Thirty men couldn't have guarded those grounds. Jamar had two comrades.
Constans cleared his throat. "As it happens. One of the constables told me a great many more lives would have been lost if your guards hadn't risked themselves to rescue others."
I stared at Jamar again and saw the charred edges of his robes and soot smears across his face and armour. The dim light had blinded me to those details, not anger... Or so I told myself. "Is this true?"
"We did what we could," Jamar replied quietly. "It was not enough."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "It appears I'm now homeless."
Constans – permanently smiling Constans – scowled at me.
I glared at him. "What?"
"You're still alive."
"I'm still...?" The words turned to ash in my mouth as I finally caught up.
"Romark and Haril are dead," Jamar said softly. "They were lost to the flames."
There was silence for a long moment. A deeply uncomfortable silence on my part. I almost wished the flames had taken me too.
"I'm sorry," Arianwyn said, speaking words I should have. "Stay. There's plenty of room here. For both of you, I mean."
"No," I bit out, embarrassment and anger swirling in my chest. "Jamar will make other arrangements." My eyes bored into Arianwyn's, trying by willpower alone to make her understand how poor an idea this was.
I might as well have been looking at the ceiling.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "He's your bodyguard, and he can't very well act as such on the other side of the city. Besides, it would appear he's at just as much risk as you."
"You're quite right," I replied. "He's my bodyguard, so I'll decide where he'll stay, not you."
I'd raised my voice, but I didn't care. Shouting was a blessed relief that covered up a gnawing guilt. Two men dead because of me and I hadn't even bothered to learn their names. I told myself that it didn't matter because I hadn't wanted them, hadn't trusted them, but still my heart damned me for a liar.
The room was otherwise oddly quiet. Constans had found something interesting to stare at on the floor, whilst Jamar kept his face expressionless. Arianwyn, on the other hand, held my gaze.
"I'm not sure I understand what the problem is," she said sweetly.
And you're making a prize ass of yourself, she didn't say, though it was plain on her face. She didn't understand that there was a very real possibility that Jamar was keeping me alive only until he was ordered – or chose – to kill me himself.
"He thinks I'm going to betray him." Jamar's words cut through the tension like a knife. "He thinks my allegiance does not lie with him. It doesn't matter, lady. I thank you for your kind offer, but I'll see to my own needs." He bowed low before me. "Our lives were at your command. I wish you could understand that, savir. I am not in this city – we were not in this city – because the Emperor ordered us here, nor because we were the agents of some conspiracy. We believed in your cause and sought to serve you in honourable exile. You saved all of our lives, at one time or another. You saved the Empire's honour. We sought only the opportunity to do the same for you. I shall continue to seek this from a distance."
He bowed again and turned to leave.
"Jamar, wait."
I spoke without knowing that I'd intended to do so. I felt tired – tired and empty. But above all, I felt shamed by Jamar's quiet dignity and my own paranoid behaviour. Arianwyn's frosty stare wasn't helping, either. I couldn't keep assuming the worst about everyone. Besides, the way things were going I'd probably be dead in less than a week, so what was the harm?
"I'm sorry – for this, and for my behaviour of the last few months. Stay. Please. I might very well need your help."
"No apology is necessary, savir." But Jamar stood a little straighter, all the same.
Arianwyn's glare thawed a few degrees, and I had a horrible feeling she knew exactly what had gone on in my head. Constans was still examining the floor.
I was saved from further embarrassment by an impatient banging on the front door. Unlike Constans' polite knocks, these were a series of booming thuds that echoed along the hallway.
"I'll see to it." I slipped from the room before anyone could stop me.
It was Quintus, and a visibly unhappy Quintus at that. His greatcoat-clad figure stood on the front step like a particularly ill-tempered guardian statue.
"I had a feeling I'd find you here, my lord." His tone was decidedly unfriendly. "Can I come in? We need to talk."
I peered over his shoulder and down onto the street. A knot of a dozen constables was gathered by the front gate; behind them stood a ring of praetorians. There were no drawn weapons I could see, but there were plenty of hands on hilts.
"Will your friends manage without you?"
"For the moment." Quintus pushed past me and into the house.
I closed the door. Arianwyn had emerged from the other room and had closed the connecting door, much to my approval. There was no need for Quintus to know others were present.
"My lady," said Quintus. "I'm afraid I'll be taking your guest away. He has an appointment with justice, and likely with the executioner sometime afterwards."
I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly, not at first. "What?"
"Yes, Captain," said Arianwyn. "Please explain."
> Quintus glowered at me. "You've been very busy, my lord. Three dead men down on the docks, six more left crippled in the shadow of the harbour wall; an interesting way to behave if you're a man looking to be cleared of murder."
"I haven't murdered anyone. The strawjack killed those men."
"Aye, this monster of yours? I've witnesses that say otherwise." I examined Quintus' face, but his inscrutable expression defied my efforts. "And the assaulted men?"
"Those were me," I admitted. "Well, partly, at least." There seemed no point dragging Constans into things.
"I'll be honest with you, my lord. I don't care. Solomon can send his lickspittles down to the guard house to say whatever they like and I still won't care. There were some particularly ugly characters amongst the dead and dying, and their passing will only make my job easier. If you say that you didn't kill them, then I believe you. There's no proof, and I won't send even the lowest of scum to the Pit without proof."
"So why are you here?"
"Because of this." Reaching into a pocket, Quintus pulled out a bundle of cloth and unwrapped it carefully. "Do you perhaps recognise it?"
I did indeed. Resting on the cloth in Quintus' palm was a dagger; the very dagger I'd earlier given up for lost. "Where did you find it?"
"Protruding from the ribcage of one Ildaro Solomon. The good lord's nephew, as the story goes, lying dead by the harbour wall. A member of the nobility in good standing, last seen alive in your company." He issued a rumbling sigh. "This I can't ignore."
"But..."
"Nor can I ignore, and nor do I particularly wish to, what some of my constables found in the smouldering west wing of your embassy," Quintus ground on, his voice hard. "Tools of torture, my lord, and several bodies in various states of mutilation. Some of them dead for days, and one of them once a constable of mine. You remember Arval? The lad you roughed up?"
That shook me. It shook me so much I didn't protest about Arval having followed me in the first place. "I don't believe you."
But I did. I hadn't been in the west wing of the embassy since I'd arrived. Solomon – and I didn't for a moment think he wasn't the responsible party – could have had anything planted there and I'd never have known.
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 12
