‘Not alone,’ the other man added.
And with that, the suspicion that had been lingering in the room ever since Caraway entered it became almost strong enough to taste. Ayla didn’t seem to notice, though. Her mind was still on dealing with an unfortunate but perfectly natural event, and she frowned at them without comprehension.
‘I assure you, Gil is more than competent –’
‘No doubt,’ Giorgi agreed smoothly, before gesturing at his comrade. ‘But we think it best if Resca examines the body. He is one of Don Tolino’s aides, but he was also once a doctor and has all the relevant medical training.’
The second man – Resca – nodded. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree that in a case of suspicious death, it is better for the cause to be determined by a disinterested party.’
Ayla’s face gave nothing away to the casual glance – she’d been practising the art of diplomacy too long for that, by now – but Caraway caught the moment when realisation hit her. It was there in the almost indiscernible creasing at the corners of her eyes, the slight fade of colour from her cheeks.
Suspicious death.
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘But in that case, I’m sure you’ll agree that we have just as much reason to fear a partisan approach. It would be as easy for a physician to claim foul play where there is none as it would for him to act in the opposite direction.’
‘Then what do you suggest, Lady Ayla?’ Resca asked.
‘You and my physician should examine the body together,’ Ayla said. ‘That way, we can all be certain of the outcome.’
Once again, the two Kardise men shared a glance; then Giorgi nodded. ‘That would be acceptable.’
‘Good.’ Ayla turned to Gil. ‘Please inform us of your findings as soon as possible. I have no doubt that you and Resca will discover nothing untoward, but it’s better to be certain.’
‘Y-yes, Lady Ayla.’
She looked back at the Kardise. Caraway thought she might say something dangerously heartfelt – protest Mirrorvalese innocence, even, though that would have been unwise at this stage – but in the end, she simply inclined her head. ‘Do let me know if you need anything else.’
The Kardise were silent. Ayla hesitated a moment longer, then turned and left the room. With an encouraging smile for the nervous-looking physician, Caraway followed.
Once they were alone again, Ayla pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. ‘How can this be happening?’
‘I don’t know.’ He put his arms around her, searching for words of comfort and reassurance – but none came. His mind was busy jumping from one disastrous scenario to another. One of Darkhaven’s people had killed the ambassador. One of the Kardise had killed the ambassador, and this entire visit had merely been to provide an excuse for war …
‘It’s terrible bad luck,’ Ayla muttered. ‘I just hope one of Tolino’s aides will be competent enough to take over the negotiations.’
Caraway shook his head. While his thoughts had been running to murder, Ayla was still assuming an unfortunate coincidence. But in his experience, when it came to dead men there was no such thing as coincidence.
‘Let’s wait and see what happens,’ he said noncommittally. She drew back, narrowing her eyes at him.
‘You believed their insinuations, didn’t you? You suspect foul play.’
He shrugged. ‘I think it would be wise to prepare for the worst.’
‘Perhaps,’ Ayla agreed. ‘But we can still hope for the best, can’t we? I know you’re usually right about these things, but Tomas … this is one time when I really, really hope you’re not.’
‘You know I’m usually right about these things,’ Caraway echoed. ‘Can I have that in writing?’
She managed a smile, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Briefly he thought back to the morning, how content he’d been. He’d believed himself lucky, and now his luck was going to be tested again. Because of all the paths that led away from this point, only a very few didn’t end in full-scale war.
Still, there was another side to luck, wasn’t there? As Ayla always told him, his luck would have come to nothing if he didn’t have the skill and determination to back it up. So he might not be able to control the outcome of all this, but he could at least make the favourable paths more likely. And to do it, he was going to have to assume this was a murder. Better to be prepared for something that never happened than to wait for the worst and then discover it was too late to do anything about it.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ he murmured. ‘Whatever the truth, we’ll find a way through it.’
Art and Miles came down to breakfast to find all three Nightshade children and one rather harried nursemaid, but no sign of Caraway or Ayla. That was unusual enough that Art stopped to exchange a few low-voiced words with the Helmsman stationed at the door to the breakfast room, before taking his seat beside Miles at the table.
‘It’s the ambassador,’ he muttered. ‘Died in his sleep.’
‘Died?’ Miles swung round to face him – though he remembered to keep his voice down. ‘Of what?’
‘No-one knows.’ Art sent a brief, frowning glance in the children’s direction. ‘But it’s bloody bad news, regardless.’
Ayla will be devastated. She has been planning this treaty for months. Years, even. Miles saw the deep crease between Art’s brows and wanted to smooth it with his thumb, but he settled for covering Art’s hand with his own. Art gave him an absent smile, but it was obvious he was deeply troubled. Does he suspect foul play? But surely –
‘Uncle Art, you said bloody.’ Marlon broke the silence. ‘Papa will be cross with you.’
Miles felt some of the tension leave Art’s body. ‘Oh, I doubt it, lad. I’ve heard your father use some interesting words in his time.’
‘I know that,’ Marlon said indignantly. ‘But never at the breakfast table.’
‘Oh dear. I have got myself into trouble, haven’t I?’
‘Well …’ Marlon directed a sly look across the table at him. ‘P’raps I’d forget, if you were telling me a story from when you were Papa’s teacher.’
Art chuckled. ‘Come on, then. Sit round here and I’ll tell you the one about the runaway horse. I’m not sure –’ sharing a sideways smile with Miles – ‘but I think that’s your favourite.’
While he was telling a story they’d all heard several times before, and encouraging Marlon to eat his breakfast at the same time, Miles entertained Katya by drawing pictures on a scrap of paper. Zoelle, one of the children’s two nursemaids, had enough to do cajoling porridge into Wyrenne – and besides, Miles often thought Katya needed a little extra attention. It wasn’t easy, being the middle child.
That reminded him, obliquely, that he was due at Luka’s temple in two days’ time, and all his guilt came flooding back. He looked up at Art, slicing fruit while he recounted his tale to a rapt Marlon – but then, guess what? Your papa leapt onto its back, just when I thought I was a goner – and prayed that whatever lay behind the summons wouldn’t have any significant impact on his life.
How many times had he wanted to tell Art the truth? Confess it all to him, and pray he would find a way to rescue Mara and her family, as well as free Miles from his double life? Yet he couldn’t. Not without losing Art himself in the process, as well as Ayla and Tomas and everything that mattered to him in Mirrorvale. Either he lived a double life, or he lived no life at all. Because it had been too long. Five years since he first met Art, and he had never breathed a word of the truth. First because they had only just met. Then because he was too busy falling in love to think about anything else. And finally … finally, because once he’d fallen in love, he’d become terrified of losing it. Telling Art the truth now would entail having to admit he’d been lying all this time about his identity, his family, his purpose in Arkannen. Lying, and passing information – however harmless – to a foreign power. Art wouldn’t forgive him for that. He could barely forgive himself.
Besides, he had it all und
er control. He worked as hard as he could on behalf of Ayla and her family. He gave the Enforcers just enough to keep them happy, whilst preserving Darkhaven’s most important secrets. No-one was being harmed. And it kept Mara safe.
It kept Mara safe, and it kept Art by his side.
‘Uncle Milo?’ Katya asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. All the children had picked up on his nickname and used it with abandon. ‘Can I have a firedrake now?’
‘I am not sure if I can draw a …’ He looked at her small, pleading face. ‘All right, Kati. I will give it a try.’
He and Katya were busy creating elaborate curls of flame and smoke from the firedrake’s mouth when Caraway and Ayla finally arrived. They both looked worried, but they greeted the children easily enough. Ayla crouched down beside Katya to look at the pictures, while Marlon tugged on his father’s sleeve and said urgently, ‘Papa! Uncle Art telled – told me the story of when you saved him from the runaway horse. Was it scary?’
‘Terrifying,’ Caraway said cheerfully. ‘I nearly fell off at least three times. But I had to impress your Uncle Art, didn’t I?’ He ruffled Marlon’s hair and added in a low voice, to Art, ‘You’ve heard the news?’
‘Yes.’
‘I need to let the rest of the Helm know. They’re training this morning. Will you –’
‘’Course I will, lad.’ Art pushed his chair back from the table. ‘Another story tomorrow, Marlon, all right?’
The boy nodded. Art gave Miles a look: slight smile, eyebrows raised. I’ll tell you all about it this evening. He never kept anything back. The knowledge didn’t make Miles feel any better.
Caraway kissed his children goodbye – I always kiss them, he’d told Miles once, just in case it’s the last time – before he and Art left the room.
‘Tomas!’ Ayla called after them. ‘Aren’t you going to eat any – oh, never mind.’ She turned to Wyrenne just as the baby threw her bowl on the floor and started to scream. ‘Yes, I know what you want.’
‘Do you mind, Lady Ayla?’ Zoelle asked anxiously. ‘Only she’s been grumpy ever since she missed her morning feed –’
The worry was still in Ayla’s face, but she managed a smile. ‘Of course not.’
She settled down with Wyrenne in her lap, while Zoelle occupied Marlon and Katya with a game on the floor. Miles barely blinked. After Ayla had recovered from delivering the baby, she’d come to him with a very particular problem that she’d hoped could be solved by alchemy. And once you’d helped a woman restore her lost milk supply, it was hard to be embarrassed by seeing it put to good use.
‘Do you have any idea what killed him?’ he asked, going straight to the subject that was clearly on her mind.
‘No. I’m hoping his heart gave out, or …’ She looked down at Wyrenne, stroking the tousled curls of hair back from her face, and added softly, ‘But Tomas thinks it was murder.’
‘Murder?’ The idea was alarming. If the ambassador had been murdered, it must have been by someone in Darkhaven, and Miles found it hard to believe that anyone he knew would have –
Concealing treachery is easy, his conscience reminded him. You know that.
As with Art, he was seized by the urge to tell her everything. Yet once again, he was prevented by the knowledge that it had already been three years since she welcomed him into her home. How could he confess, without making her doubt his friendship? And if there was going to be trouble with Sol Kardis, she would need him more than ever.
‘He thinks we should prepare for the worst,’ Ayla said. ‘You know what Tomas is like.’
Wyrenne pulled away from the breast long enough to say firmly, ‘Papa,’ which made both of them smile. Then Miles got to his feet, knowing that probably the most useful thing he could do was to keep trying to perfect his collars – but before he left, he put a hand on Ayla’s shoulder.
‘If you need anything,’ he said. ‘Anything at all …’
She nodded. ‘Thank you, Miles. I know I can rely on you.’
FOUR
‘Well,’ Ree said, looking down at the half-eaten dish of stew in front of her. ‘This brings back a few memories.’
Tell me about it. Zander scooped some of the beige stuff off his own plate and let it rain down through the tines of his fork. He shook his head, caught between amusement and disgust. ‘It seems they haven’t changed the recipe since we were trainees.’
‘No.’ She glanced at Penn, who was sitting next to her reading, and grinned suddenly. ‘In fact, I’m pretty sure we ate the exact same meal the night you two had your famously epic fistfight.’
‘An epic that will never be re-enacted,’ Zander said. ‘These days Penn would destroy me without even breaking a sweat. And I’d hate this to be the very last thing I ate.’
He looked down at his plate again. The three of them didn’t often spend time in the fifth ring’s mess hall – now they were no longer trainees, they had to pay for their own food, which meant they preferred being able to identify what it was. But they’d all been hungry after the morning’s training session, and even their quarters in the fourth ring had seemed too far away, so here they were: shovelling down plates of mysterious gloop and chatting with the laconic ease of people who had known each other for years. At least, Zander and Ree were chatting. Penn’s head was buried in a news-sheet, from which he surfaced only if they said his name repeatedly.
‘Did you see the new recruits for Helm assessment?’ Zander asked, gesturing over his shoulder towards the huddle of young people on the far side of the room. ‘There’s a couple of girls in there again.’
Ree’s gaze moved briefly past him to scan the group, before returning to settle on his face. ‘Yeah. Captain Caraway asked me to speak to them, same as always.’
‘You realise you’re their idol, don’t you?’
She nodded. ‘I think that’s why they’re always so disappointed when I give them a huge lecture about how difficult it’s going to be to get into the Helm. But some of the girls who come … they’re not ready. They come because they know I got in, and Tulia after me, and they think that must mean it’s easy, or that the weaponmasters will give them special treatment.’ One corner of her mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. ‘Flattering, I know. But the ones who are ready …’ The smile faded. ‘I remember how lonely I was, when I first came here. I think it’s nice for them to have someone to talk to who’s been through the same thing.’
‘You’re welcome to use me as an example,’ Zander said solemnly. ‘See that man over there? The really handsome one? He’s a fabulously accomplished warrior. One of the best the world has ever seen. An astonishing lover, too. And even he didn’t get into the Helm. I wouldn’t mind.’
By now Ree was shaking with silent laughter, which was exactly what he wanted; he loved it when her eyes crinkled at the corners and her smile lit up her whole face. Sometimes it felt as though making Ree laugh was the main purpose of his life. He watched her in delight until she got hold of herself, wiped her eyes, and said breathlessly, ‘But you’d make a terrible example. It’s only politics that stopped you getting in.’
Politics. Yes. But maybe once this peace treaty is signed, things might be different … He didn’t say it, not out loud. It was a hope too close to his heart to share with anyone, even Ree. But he felt his mood changing, so he gave her a smile and a wink before leaning across the table and saying loudly, ‘Whatcha reading, Penn?’
No answer.
‘Penn!’ Ree elbowed him in the ribs. He lifted his head, scowling.
‘What? Can’t you leave me in peace for even the space of a meal?’
‘If you’d really wanted peace, you would have gone home,’ Ree retorted. ‘The truth is, you love us and you love our company.’
The corners of Penn’s mouth twitched. ‘What do you want, Ree?’
‘Zander asked you what you were reading.’
Penn turned his head to look blankly at Zander. ‘A news-sheet.’
His tone was that of a man trying v
ery hard to be patient. Zander gave him an affectionate grin. ‘Surprisingly enough, we can see that for ourselves. What’s the story?’
‘It’s about an airship,’ Penn said vaguely. His gaze drifted back towards the sheet of paper, as though he had decided the conversation was over, but Ree elbowed him again and he sighed. ‘I don’t know why you two don’t just buy your own news-sheets. The Parovians have built the world’s largest passenger airship, big enough to carry nearly a hundred people. And for its inaugural flight, sometime soon – it doesn’t say exactly when – they’ll be bringing it to Mirrorvale.’
‘To Arkannen?’
‘Apparently it’s too large for the city docking stations. They’re going to land at that new town over to the east. The one that Lady Ayla wants to become a base for trade between us and Parovia. Remember, Ree? She said we have to increase our ability to export Mirrorvalese goods and technology if we want to remain strong enough to hold our own against our neighbours, and new trade centres like Redmire will be one of the ways we do it. There’s an airfield there, of course, so …’
Zander raised his eyebrows, doing his best to ignore the renewal of Ree’s silent laughter. Penn shrugged.
‘What? I pay attention when it’s something important. And international relationships are important.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Ree said, suddenly serious, ‘the Kardise ambassador’s death …’
Penn nodded. ‘Even if he died of natural causes, it’s going to mean trouble.’
Zander stared at them both. It was at times like this he really wanted to give his friends a good shaking: first, for forgetting that he wasn’t part of the Helm, and second – which was the more important in this case – for forgetting that he was Kardise.
‘The ambassador is dead?’ he said faintly.
Ree bit her lip. ‘Zander … I’m sorry …’ She reached across the table to clasp his hand. ‘He died last night. They’re trying to find out how. You didn’t … know him, did you?’
‘The most I knew was that an ambassador was coming to Darkhaven. They don’t hand out the details to everyone in the fifth ring, you know. What was his name?’
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