Westen grunted, and we shared a significant look.
“As for Lord Demasque and Lady Parmati,” I said, motioning Westen toward the doorway and stairs that led to the upper reaches of the manse, “perhaps the Seekers aren’t watching the right people. The next time either one of them meets with someone—merchant, clerk, whore, anyone—have the person they meet with followed.”
Westen nodded. “There is one other thing.”
“What?”
“Word of the Chorl has spread throughout the city. It started at the wharf, because of the attacks on the ships, but the rumors have spread all the way to the slums. They’re talking about the attack on Tristan’s ships, on the arrival of our troops, of you. And have you noticed the sudden increase in Protectorate and general guard throughout the city?”
I nodded, thinking back to the training session with Ottul and the other Servants a few days before, of the phalanx of guards that had moved through the Merchant Quarter to the north. “I’ve seen it.”
“The tension within the city has increased dramatically. The fear.”
I heard the question Westen had not asked in his voice. “I haven’t heard from Lord March or any of the Council since that first meeting. I don’t know what they have planned, or if we’re part of that plan.”
Westen said nothing.
When we emerged at the top of the steps into the main part of the manse, the Steward Alonse was waiting with a tight, irritated frown. He, along with all of the other servants that had been provided with the manse, had been forbidden to enter the section of the lower rooms that I’d given over to Westen and the Seekers.
“Mistress,” Alonse said. “You have received a request. Lady Casari asks that, if you are free, you join her on a cruise of the harbor.”
“What do you think she wants?” I asked as the carriage that Alonse had arranged jounced over a rough spot in the road on its way down to the docks.
Avrell reached out to steady himself, grimacing. He was dressed in the First’s formal robes, dark blue with the eight-rayed gold sunburst around the neck. “I have no idea. But the fact that she requested a meeting when we haven’t heard anything from Lord March or any of the other council members for the last week is encouraging. Especially since you said she supports Lord March.”
I grunted, thought back to the meeting of the Council of Eight. Lady Casari had been short, barely taller than me, her skin a darker shade, almost olive in color, her hair and eyes dark, her smile bitter. She’d worn white, fringed with gray and a few startling patches of yellow. Her banner had been an egret in flight.
“She didn’t say much at the first meeting.”
Avrell snorted. “None of them did. They didn’t know what to expect, from you or from Lord March. And they’ve had their own troubles.”
“Such as?”
Avrell shifted uncomfortably, but when I drew breath to press him, he sighed and said, “They suffered a harsh winter as well. Not as bad as Amenkor, since they are the central port on the coast and they have substantial arable land under their control—olive groves, wheat fields, and vineyards cover the hills surrounding the city on all sides—but the lack of goods was felt.”
I glanced out the window of the carriage, toward the large buildings sweeping by in the sunlight. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“That’s because we’ve kept to the Merchant Quarter.” Avrell hesitated, then grimaced. “This section of the city did not feel the brunt of the winter. However, the Venittian equivalent of the Dredge did.”
I turned from the window, and Avrell met my eyes without flinching. “They let the gutterscum starve?”
“They did not initiate any communal kitchens or warehouses, as you did, no. Riots broke out in almost every quarter of the city except the Merchant Quarter. The mobs were brought back to order by the Protectorate and the general guard combined. Harshly, and with force. There were . . . significant deaths in the Gutter, followed by disease.”
In a much quieter voice, he added, “If you had not been the Mistress, the same would have happened in Amenkor. It’s happened before.”
I turned away from him, felt anger simmering inside me, even though it was now too late to do anything about it. The dead were dead. But I knew Avrell was right. If I hadn’t forced the merchants to combine resources, hadn’t threatened them with starvation themselves, hadn’t made examples of a few of the hoarders with raids . . .
The carriage reached the wharf, skirting down the ends of the docks. I picked out the Defiant, one of the refitted Chorl ships tied next to it. The other two Chorl ships were anchored farther out in the harbor.
As we passed, I saw Captain Bullick standing on the deck, overseeing the repairs to the rigging, masts, and railings that had suffered damage during the Chorl attack. Half a dozen men were seated on planks that had been lowered over the side and were slapping fresh paint onto the hull.
Keven, seated beside me and utterly silent up till now, leaned forward. “He gave them shore leave as soon as Lord March let us enter the city. Looks like that’s ended. William’s been busy with his own affairs, but he’s managed to get Captain Bullick everything he needed to make the repairs.”
I nodded. I hadn’t seen much of William since the meeting with the Council. He’d been busy with merchant business, establishing his own contacts in the city for the future, distinct from Borund’s. And Westen had kept me busy with training, when I wasn’t working with Marielle, Heddan, Gwenn, and now Ottul. The Chorl Servant had managed to get Marielle and the others to link and share strength as the Chorl did, and now worked with them on how to call fire. But she couldn’t show them how to control it as the Chorl had on The Maiden. She hadn’t earned her fifth gold ring yet, didn’t know how to direct fire herself, only call it.
The carriage slowed, and I scanned the dock ahead. A ship was tied to the dock, a little smaller than the main Chorl fighting ships, with a single mast and sail, obviously meant for use only in the harbor itself. The Casari colors—white and gray-blue with a splash of yellow—flew at the top of the mast, the sail not yet raised. Men, no more than a dozen, all dressed in breeches and white shirts with the winged egret stitched over the heart, were preparing to depart.
Lady Casari was waiting on the dock already, accompanied by a covey of ten guardsmen.
And Lord Sorrenti.
I tensed, felt Keven stiffen as well. We traded a glance.
“Looks like we’ll have company,” he said. “I’m glad I brought a few extra guardsmen.”
Avrell leaned forward to peer out the window as the carriage drew to a halt, the crease in his brow deepening as he saw Sorrenti. “This is not going to be a simple tour of the harbor.”
We stepped down from the carriage into afternoon sunlight, the guardsmen Keven had chosen who had followed us in a second carriage falling into place around us. Sorrenti was speaking to Lady Casari as we approached, a frown etched in the lines of her face. But as soon as we came within earshot, Sorrenti quieted, and Casari’s frown vanished, replaced with a thin smile.
“Mistress,” she said. “I’m glad you could join us. Lord Sorrenti and I felt that your welcome in Venitte was lacking and we thought we’d try to make amends.”
“We aren’t used to having the Mistress of Amenkor visit,” Sorrenti added. I thought for a moment the comment was a subtle threat, but Sorrenti’s smile was genuine. “Tell me, how is your guardsman faring?”
Lady Casari shot him a penetrating look, her lips tightening into a frown, but Sorrenti ignored her, kept his gaze on me.
“He’s doing well,” I said carefully. “I think he’ll be fully recovered within the week. At least physically.”
“Good.”
He left it at that, and after an awkward pause, Lady Casari said, “Since this is your first visit to the city, we thought we’d show you the harbor sights.” She motioned toward the ship as she spoke, and the entire group began moving toward the waiting plank. “I hear you arrived at night, and were rushe
d rather unceremoniously to your manse.”
“Yes.”
“Then you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing the city from the water. It’s really the best view.” She flashed the same tight smile and I suddenly realized that was the only smile she ever gave—stiff and formal, as if smiling were unnatural to her.
“I beg to differ,” Sorrenti said. “The best view is from the cliffs of the Isle.”
Lady Casari’s eyes darkened in irritation, but she didn’t respond.
As we followed them onto the deck of the ship, Avrell leaned in close and murmured, “Sorrenti hasn’t told her about his visit the night we arrived.”
“No. And they certainly aren’t friends.”
“None of the Council members are friends.” Avrell frowned, watching the two Council members as they led us to the side of the ship, where chairs had been arranged, along with a folding table set with a wide, flat-based ship’s decanter, glasses, a tray of assorted breads and cheeses, and a clutch of grapes. “It’s all a pretense,” he added, turning to look out at the wharf. “For whomever may be watching.”
I scanned the docks as well, knowing that somewhere out there, one of the Seekers—Tomus perhaps—was watching us. But the Seeker, whoever it was, wouldn’t be able to follow Sorrenti into the harbor. . . .
And that was the point, I thought suddenly. No one could follow us. No one would overhear us except the guardsmen and the crew. This was a meeting, one made as private as possible, as secure as possible, nothing more.
Some of the tension in my shoulders bled away.
Neither Lady Casari nor Lord Sorrenti settled into the chairs, moving instead to the railing. The guardsmen dropped back, Keven and the Amenkor guardsmen following suit, leaving Avrell and me to join the Council members. Around us, the crew began raising the sail and untying the ship, the sail’s material flapping fitfully in the breeze. The ship began moving away from the dock, joining the dozens of ships—large and small—already on the water.
“How do they keep from running into each other?” I asked, watching a trader bearing down on a small skiff. I felt certain the two would collide, but the skiff skimmed out of the trader’s way at the last moment.
“Sometimes they do collide,” Sorrenti said, “but for the most part it’s survival of the fittest. The harbormaster has established a few designated lanes for shipping, but if a captain can’t keep his ship out of trouble, he won’t be captain for long.”
As the captain of Lady Casari’s ship maneuvered through the congested area near the docks, bells clanging from all sides, shouts passing from ship to ship, Lady Casari pointed toward the main city, as if this were an actual tour.
“You can see the domed Council chambers from here, of course,” she said. “The chambers can be seen from any point in the city or along the harbor. The long, rectangular building with all the columns along its front is the College, where Lord Sorrenti and the other Servants study their . . . arts. The building on the other side of the chambers is the official merchants’ guild. Behind the chambers—you can see the shallow peaked roof from here, but nothing else—is Lord March’s estates, which also contains an adjoining building for the Protectorate’s use, mainly a barracks and training yard. And then there’s Deranian’s Wall.” Her arm followed the undulating length of the wall as it separated the upper city from the lower, a clear demarcation of status.
“The Wall was the first line of defense when the Chorl attacked almost fifteen hundred years ago,” Sorrenti added.
“I know,” I said, and caught Sorrenti’s eye. “I was there . . . in a manner of speaking.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “It was the only reason Venitte survived the attack. It was so unexpected—no warning, no hint that the Chorl even existed before their arrival—that the wharf, the lower city, the Merchant Quarter, everything between the water and the Wall fell within a matter of hours. It took that long for Lord Wence—the ruling Lord at the time, beneath the Seven, of course—to organize the army into a defending force and get the gates to the Wall closed. There were only three of the Seven inside the Wall at the time, the rest were outside in the city, or elsewhere on the coast. It’s our greatest defense. Some say that if it falls, all of Venitte will fall with it.”
“It’s a wall,” I said, thinking of the three walls that surrounded Amenkor’s inner city and palace, of the additional wall that the four newest merchants had begun to build. “During the attack on Amenkor, all of our walls fell, and we still survived.”
“But at what cost?” Lady Casari interjected, bitter and condescending. “Your seat of power?”
“At whatever cost was necessary,” I said, harsh with warning.
“But this time,” Avrell intervened smoothly, “you have been forewarned. What have Lord March and the Council done to prepare so far?”
Sorrenti answered, Lady Casari still bristling. “Since the meeting where Lord March laid to rest any last argument over the threat of the Chorl, he and General Daeriun have mobilized the Protectorate as well as the general guard. The force on the Wall itself has been doubled. A significant portion of the army has been deployed to the northern reaches of the city. There are outposts farther out as well, now manned with horses for runners to give us advance warning of the Chorl’s approach. All of the tower outposts along the two channels, on the Isle, and along the coast have been manned.”
“And the Servants? The Protectorate and the general army will be able to defend against the Chorl warriors, but not the Chorl Servants or their priests, although so far we have not seen the priests actively participating in the fighting.”
Sorrenti grimaced. “The general forces are too spread out for the Servants to fully cover them. Some of the Venittian Servants have been sent along with the main contingents to the north. Most of them have remained here, in the city, either on the Wall or with the units arrayed around the perimeter. But even so, it’s going to be difficult to protect Venitte.”
“Why?”
“Because the city has spread beyond the boundaries of the walls. There haven’t been any serious threats from the surrounding lands for a long time. There’s been no need to remain behind the walls, within their protection.”
Catrell and Darryn had said the same thing about Amenkor.
Lady Casari stirred. “Lord March has asked us to formally request the use of your own guardsmen.”
I nodded. “I’ll have Captain Catrell report to General Daeriun as soon as we return.”
“General Daeriun is eager to speak to him,” Sorrenti said. “Your forces have fought the Chorl before. He wants to know what your captain has learned—about how the Chorl fight, about how best to defend against them.”
“They will attack without warning,” I said, my voice dark, echoing all of the emotions I’d felt as I’d stood on the tower in Amenkor and seen the watchtowers destroyed, as I’d watched the Chorl ships pour into the harbor and begin their devastating rampage through the city. “They will attack with force. And they will destroy everything in their path until they reach their goal.”
“And what is their goal here in Venitte?” Sorrenti asked.
Lady Casari snorted. “They want control of the port, of course.”
I caught Sorrenti’s gaze, locked onto it and held it for a long moment, my lips pressed tight. For a moment, he simply stared at me, nothing touching his face. And then understanding dawned, his eyes widening slightly, then narrowing as his body stiffened, as his mouth tightened.
The silence that had followed Lady Casari’s statement suddenly registered and she frowned. “Why else would they come here, if not to seize the port, to control the trade routes of the coast?” she asked. When Sorrenti ignored her, she added, “Lord Sorrenti?”
His gaze still focused exclusively on me, Sorrenti said quietly, “It’s not general knowledge. No one outside of Lord March and the highest ranking Servants know of it.”
“Are you certain?” I said. “I believe the Chorl know of it. It’s why th
ey’ve come. It’s why I’ve come.”
Sorrenti seemed about to defend himself, but then the instant denial in his face faltered, grew troubled.
“Lord Sorrenti,” Lady Casari said, voice heavy. “What are you speaking of?”
“Nothing of your concern.”
“I’m a member of the Council of Eight! Everything in Venitte is of my concern! How dare you presume to keep—”
“Elina!”
Lady Casari broke off, her eyes hard, the muscles in her jaw clenching.
I stilled. On the river, beneath the surface tension between the two, I sensed something else. They knew each other, knew each other intimately. Enough for Sorrenti to use Lady Casari’s first name, enough for them to understand each other without words. And while it was obvious that they were no longer friends, at some point in the past they had been. Had been something more meaningful as well.
“I will inform Lord March,” Sorrenti said, voice calm but thick with warning. “If he feels the Council members should be informed of the situation, then I will come speak to you immediately, but not before.”
Elina Casari remained rigid for a long moment, then visibly forced herself to relax. “Very well,” she murmured, and turned away.
The rest of the meeting was stiff and formal, Sorrenti pointing out different estates among the mosaic of red-tiled roofs on the cliffs as we passed, Lady Casari standing to one side. As we reached the mouth of the northern channel, the ship turned, circling back and running along the base of the southern cliffs after passing the point of the Isle, the huge island that separated the two channels. A large tower soared upward from the summit of the Isle’s point, made of gray granite.
When we reached the docks, Lady Casari was the first one off the ship, immediately stepping into a carriage with her escort and heading off toward the upper city.
“She’s not happy,” Avrell said dryly.
Sorrenti shook his head. “She’ll petition Lord March immediately. She likes to know everything that happens within Venitte. She doesn’t like secrets.” He turned to me. “And the existence of the throne is a carefully guarded secret. That’s why I was so angry on the night you arrived. Brandan told me you had asked him about the throne in Amenkor. I thought you were here to expose it, for whatever reasons.” He paused, then asked bluntly, “How did you know about the throne, Mistress?”
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