“There are two obvious suspects,” observed Elise. “The one who stands the most to gain, and the one who started those rumors.”
“Mordecai suspects Tyrion as well,” Rose agreed.
Elise frowned. “But you don’t. So you think it’s Airedale?”
“He was ideally positioned to make the most of the opportunity,” observed Rose. “But I fear the truth is much worse.”
“Well, spit it out girl! I’m not getting any younger,” demanded Elise impatiently.
Rose explained her theory and Elise’s eyes grew wide. “You see the problem?” concluded Lady Rose.
Elise shook her head in disagreement. “Politically, this is better. If it were Airedale it would be hard to manage. The ramifications would be too great. But this, this could neatly solve the Queen’s problem and save Mort from the hangman.”
“But I can’t prove it,” said Rose in exasperation, “and without hard evidence no one is going to believe it.”
“You’re too hung up on the truth, girl, just like that fool son of mine,” Elise said sagely. “Truth be damned, let’s just frame someone else.”
“What?”
Her mother-in-law rubbed her hands together as she warmed to the subject. “How about Tyrion? He’d be easy enough, and who knows? Maybe he did do it.”
“It’s unlikely,” said Rose. “Besides, we need him. The kingdom needs him. If he dies, we have no idea what the She’Har will do, and we’re already at a disadvantage dealing with ANSIS. We can’t afford to lose the assets he offers Lothion.”
“Airedale then,” decided Elise brazenly. “He’ll be even easier, though not as much fun as Tyrion.”
“No,” said Rose, primly. “It’s not only distasteful, it’s unnecessary. I’ll do my best to reveal the truth.”
“I don’t follow your logic,” responded Elise. “You’d rather see a good man hang than a wicked one?”
“If he’s guilty, yes!” declared Rose adamantly.
“There’s no way you can prove your supposition,” stated Elise. “And while you waste your time trying, they’ll convict Mort and put and end to him. Do you think your moral high ground will make you happy? It won’t. If virtues were food, even you would starve.”
They argued for the better part of an hour before eventually Rose agreed to a compromise. “Do what you will then,” she said with resignation. “But not until after the trial. If we win, there will be no need.”
“If your backup plan fails, Mort is dead,” said Elise flatly. “They won’t wait around with a wizard. It’s too risky. They’ll march him off to hang straight away.”
Rose stared up at her with steel in her icy blue eyes, “It won’t fail.”
Elise nodded. “Hmph. Alright then.” Slapping her knees, she rose to her feet with more energy than Rose had seen from her in weeks. “When you see Carissa, tell her to come find me.”
“Carissa?” Rose exclaimed at the mention of her daughter’s name. “Don’t drag her into this!”
“Relax,” said Elise soothingly. “I’m not going to make her do anything unsavory. She’d be useless anyway. That girl is much too much like you and her father. I just need her back, and her nimble fingers. As you tried so hard not to mention, I’m getting a little old for this and my hands aren’t as steady as they once were. Actually, when you go see Meredith, see if you can find Alyssa. She would be ideal.”
“Then you won’t need Carissa,” said Rose determinedly.
“No, I’ll still need her. Alyssa isn’t familiar with the social circles in the city. I’ll need my granddaughter for at least one thing. She’s an excellent distraction.”
Yet another reason why I shouldn’t have told you anything, thought Rose.
“Tell her to find me at your old house in the city,” continued Elise. “And make sure your groundskeeper and housekeeper take the week off. It wouldn’t do to have them happen along and see something they shouldn’t. We wouldn’t want any unnecessary accidents to occur to with everything else going on right now.”
Having said that, her mother-in-law put on her travel coat, gathered a few necessities, and left. Rose stared at the door for some time afterward. “What have I done?” she wondered to herself. Only time would tell.
She rang the bell for Angela. She needed a bath, though she doubted it would be enough to make her feel clean again.
Chapter 19
Lynaralla was the first to greet Rose when she entered the house. “Lady Rose,” said the young woman, dipping into a respectful curtsey. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
She smiled approvingly at the girl. “I see you’ve been practicing. You’ve improved.”
“As have you, milady,” replied the She’Har. “One can hardly tell how much you’ve aged.”
Rose closed her eyes and sighed audibly.
“Did I do it wrong again?” asked the girl, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Yes, dear, you did.”
“You said I should follow a greeting with a compliment when possible,” explained Lynaralla.
“That is true, but you have to be aware of the social context. In particular, when addressing someone of greater age or station you should never presume upon their abilities, whether they are improving or not. You should also never comment on a lady’s age unless she is very young,” lectured Rose.
Lynaralla frowned. “But I implied that you appear young. Is that not a compliment?”
“Stick to beauty or attire,” advised Rose. “Age is too complex a topic. Done improperly, a compliment on an older woman’s youthful appearance can be taken as either a backhanded compliment or as superfluous flattery. Neither is helpful, unless that is what you intend.”
Moira walked in, a smile on her face. “I keep telling you it’s a lost cause. She’ll never get the hang of it.”
“I’ve taught more difficult students over the years,” replied Rose, turning to give Moira a quick hug. “Lynaralla has the advantage of being highly intelligent. I have faith that she will surprise you.”
“Where’s Dad?” asked Moira. “I’ve been wondering when he and Roland would return. He said it would be within a day, but it’s been over two now.”
A shadow passed over Rose’s face. “I have bad news. Is Elaine here? She should hear this as well.”
“She’s with Millie,” answered Moira. “Let me go fetch her.”
Rose held out a hand to make her wait. “How is the girl?”
“About as you would expect,” said Moira.
“Is she talking? I’ll need to ask her some questions after I give you the news.”
Moira nodded. “I’ll bring her too, then.”
Rose shook her head. “After I explain everything. I don’t want her to hear some of this.”
Moira looked puzzled at the sudden mystery, but she did as she was told. A few minutes later, she, Lynaralla, Irene, and Elaine were gathered in the living room with Rose. By then Moira’s expression had gone dark. Humphrey sat beside her, whining and licking her hand, unsure why she was upset.
“You already know what I have to say, don’t you?” asked Rose.
“Most of it,” admitted Moira.
“What is it?” demanded Elaine. “The suspense is killing me. Some of us aren’t mind readers, you realize.”
Rose gave them the facts, relaying the events that had occurred after Mordecai had returned to the capital with Roland. She omitted her suspicions, as well as her darker plans to protect Mordecai, either by winning the trial—or otherwise. It felt as though she was walking a tightrope while she talked, for she had to keep her thoughts rigidly disciplined.
Moira stared at her suspiciously when she finished. “You’re hiding something. Several somethings, in fact. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Rumor and gossip will do you no good,” said Rose, dissembling. �
�Trust me.”
Mordecai’s oldest daughter grew agitated, rising to her feet. “He’s my father, Rose. I deserve to know everything.”
Keeping her mind scrupulously blank, Rose replied, “If your father were here, he would tell you to do as I say and trust me. Sit back down.”
“That pendant can’t keep me out of your head, Rose,” Moira threatened. The room seemed to grow darker as the tension thickened. “I’ll have it from you, whether you want to tell me or not.” Humphrey whimpered, hiding his head between his paws.
Elaine broke in, “Moira, stop it!”
But Moira wasn’t finished. “You think keeping your mind blank will protect your secrets?”
Everyone was on their feet by then, aside from Rose. Elaine moved to stand in front of her and did something, but she couldn’t see what it was. The two young women stared at each other for a long moment.
“Get out of my way, Elaine,” growled Moira.
“Stop it, Moira!” yelled Irene, watching them from one side.
Moira snapped her fingers and Elaine collapsed, her body limp as she slid to the ground. “Too late,” muttered Moira. “I was already way ahead of you.” Then she turned her eyes back to Rose.
Irene started to intervene, but Rose stood gracefully and moved to stand directly in front of Moira. “Take your shield down,” Rose said sternly.
“She doesn’t have one up,” said Irene.
“Thank you, Irene,” said Rose, and then she brought one hand up and slapped the older sister with such speed that the slap resounded through the room. “Is this how your mother raised you to act?”
Blinking back unbidden tears, Moira stared at her in confusion.
“Sit down. Now,” Rose commanded with a tone of authority that was hard to refuse.
Moira sat.
Looking down at Elaine, Rose asked, “Will she be alright?”
Moira nodded, while Irene answered meekly, “I think so.”
Resuming her seat, Rose smoothed her dress once more. She could feel something close to her skin, and when she put her hand on the armrest, she couldn’t feel the texture. “Irene, please take the shield down. We’re quite safe.”
Irene looked warily between Rose and her sister. “But she just…”
“I don’t need protection, Rennie,” Rose reiterated. “We’re having a family talk. A civilized discussion between human beings. Your sister isn’t going to invade my mind. Are you?” She directed her gaze to Moira and the young woman looked down, ashamed.
“No, Lady Rose.”
Rose looked up at Irene, who was still on her feet. “Sit down or go make some tea, Rennie. I don’t like people looming over me.”
“What should I do, Lady Rose?” asked Lynaralla.
“Take a seat,” said Rose. Then she turned to Moira. “I need to talk to Millie now. If necessary, you can use your abilities to keep her calm while I ask the questions.”
Moira went and brought out the girl, and Rose spent the next quarter hour interrogating her. She spared no questions in her search for the truth, even asking about delicate matters such as her past abuse at the hands of Prince Leomund. Through it all, the girl remained remarkably calm and when Rose was finished, she sent Millie back to Moira’s room.
“What do you think?” asked Moira, hesitantly. She was still too embarrassed to meet Rose’s gaze.
“Nothing has changed,” announced Rose. “Her testimony as it now stands will do nothing to help your father’s case.”
“I could…” Moira started to say something, but then stopped.
Rose nodded. “Yes. You will, but only this. When she testifies, she will remember that your father put her to sleep after he flew away with her. She saw no harm come to Leomund while Mordecai was still present.”
“That means they’ll let him go, right?” asked Irene, hopefully. “If she says he didn’t kill the Prince, that means he isn’t guilty. They’ll have to let him go.”
“Sadly, no,” said Rose, shaking her head. “The weight of evidence is still badly against your father. The judge will also be well aware of the fact that Millie has been spending time under this roof, with Moira. It might help, but it won’t be enough on its own.”
“What about the other witnesses?” suggested Moira. “If I could meet with them, I could find out who did it, or if they don’t know, I could at the very least change what they remember.”
“You will not even think about going near Albamarl during this time,” Rose told her emphatically. “If there’s so much as a rumor of you being near the witnesses, the entire case will be thrown into chaos. Gareth Gaelyn wouldn’t stand for it, and who knows what your other mother would do.”
“What if Elaine helped?” added Moira. “With her help, no one would even know I was there.”
“You mean the friend whose free will you just violated? The one on the rug here?” Rose said, her tone acidic. “I won’t risk it. I have other plans for her.”
“Then what do we do?” asked Irene, desperate. “We can’t just sit here.”
“That is precisely what you will do,” Rose insisted. “Moira, you will take care of Millie until she’s called for the trial. Irene, you and Lynaralla will see if you can get through the boundary and get Gram and the others back. If you succeed, send Karen to me. I need Elaine as well. When she wakes, tell her to go to the capital, but she is not to use the portal to the Queen’s chambers. Have her take another route—I don’t care what it is, so long as no one sees her. Have her report to my city house. Gram’s grandmother, Elise is there. She can put her to good use.”
Rose let out a long exhalation of air, then got up from her seat. “I was going to visit Meredith to give her the news, but all the excitement here has worn me out. I’ll leave that to you ladies. Please give her my apologies.”
No one argued with her, but after Rose left the room, she heard them begin to whisper. She picked up Irene’s voice just before she entered the portal. “Who knew she could be so scary?”
Suppressing a chuckle, she returned to Albamarl.
Chapter 20
Chad Grayson considered his navel, then reached down and squeezed his belly. “I was gettin’ fat,” he observed sourly. He was a relatively slender man, but the tendency had always been there, whenever he spent too much time on his ass and too little time moving.
That wasn’t the case currently, though. Since Mordecai had forced a dragon on him, Cyhan wouldn’t leave him alone. The big man insisted on training him, to help him adjust to his newfound strength.
His biggest problem, though, was that the training wasn’t much like any training he had done before. Chad wasn’t unfamiliar with strenuous activity. He hadn’t become a paragon of archery by being lazy. It had required lots of practice, and continued practice. What most didn’t realize was that while becoming a decent archer was something a person could attain and maintain without too much continued effort, being a master marksman required continual practice; otherwise the skill would degrade.
Pulling a warbow was no mean feat, either. While most hunting bows had a draw weight of sixty to eighty pounds, warbows generally exceeded a hundred. Chad insisted on hunting with a bow of similar weight to help maintain the musculature needed.
But all of that was pointless now. His bow now felt like a toy in his hands. What was the point of strength training when you could already pull a bow with a draw weight many times greater than any currently made? It had even affected his aim, although he had adjusted quickly.
Cyhan had also complimented him on his speed in adjusting to walking and moving around, but that had been easy for him. As a hunter, Chad was used to moving in unnatural fashion, to paying uncommon attention to how and where he placed his feet. Being excessively strong actually made some of that easier, but it did annoy him that he now had to continually soft-foot as he walked to avoid launching hi
mself into walls and ceilings.
The only real change he had enjoyed had been the enhancement of his sight, hearing, and smell. Those were things he had always wanted more of. For a hunter, they were definitely more important than whether he could draw a hundred-weight bow or a hundred-and-fifty-weight bow.
It was thanks to that improved hearing that he heard the messenger’s approach long before the man reached his door. In the past, he might not have noticed until the man was almost at his door, or not at all if he was in the middle of talking or otherwise distracted. Today he was up and waiting to open it before the stranger had even knocked.
“What do ya want?” he asked hostilely after the man had knocked.
“Is this Chad Grayson’s home?” replied the other.
Opening his door, Chad eyed the stranger warily. “Well, there’s no beer in yer hand, and yer ugly enough I’d as soon piss on ya as look at you. So no, he doesn’t live here.”
The messenger was taken aback for a second, but then grinned widely. “I was told you’d be surly. This is for you, sir.” He held out a small package wrapped in oiled leather.
Chad’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this?”
“A message for you, sir, from Albamarl.”
The hunter sighed. When will they learn? He took the package and waited, but the messenger made no move to leave. Oh yeah, the prick wants a tip. Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a silver coin and flipped it through the air to the other man, who deftly caught it.
“Thank you, sir,” said the messenger gratefully.
“Fuck off,” replied Chad. When the messenger continued to wait, he questioned him, “Why are you still here?”
“I was told to wait for your response, sir.”
Sighing in disgust, Chad unrolled the oiled leather and opened the envelope within. There was a short letter inside, and at the bottom he saw a familiar name had signed it, ‘Manfred.’ He glanced up at the messenger. “Tell the asshole I’m not for hire. I’m gainfully employed by the Count di’ Cameron now.” Going back inside his home, he slammed the door and barred it.
He was tempted to throw the letter into the hearth, but the fire had gone out. Instead he sat down at his table and poured a cup of water from the pitcher that sat there. He swished it around in his mouth to wash away the stale taste of the previous night’s ale, then looked at the letter again.
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