“I can see that.”
Lady Karyl succeeded—mostly—in keeping the disappointment out of her tone. It wasn’t easy, but the decades she and Styvyn had spent working circumspectly on King Sailys’ behalf stood her in good stead.
“The fact that we can’t act openly against him and his fellow conspirators—yet—doesn’t mean we aren’t aware of their plans in far greater detail than they could possibly suspect.” Obaith shrugged. There may be some small details of their strategy we don’t know about, but if so, there are very few of them. And we’ve been sharing our information—fully—with Earl White Crag, Baron Stoneheart, and Sir Ahlber Zhustyn.”
“Thank God.” Despite herself, Lady Karyl sagged in her chair. She inhaled deeply, then ran both hands over her still thick and luxuriant silver hair. “I’ve shared what little I’ve been able to glean with them, as well, although finding ways to get that information to them without anyone’s suspecting I’ve done it hasn’t been the easiest thing in the world. But I’ve always realized I’m seeing only bits and pieces of whatever it is they ultimately intend.”
“Her Majesty realizes that. And although your grandson—Young Styvyn—doesn’t dream for a moment that his glamorous cousin might do anything that could endanger you personally, I’m afraid Her Majesty—and His Majesty, for that matter—are less confident of that. Especially given how much time the Duke spends with Father Sedryk.”
“That mangy son-of-a-bitch.” The cold, searing anger in Lady Karyl’s voice made the icy wind outside Rydymak Keep seem almost balmy for a moment. “If I could find a way to tie a rope to that bastard’s ankles and drop him into Cheshyr Bay with a hundred-pound rock for ballast, I’d die a happy old woman.”
Obaith chuckled.
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to accomplish that minor chore for you, My Lady. Unfortunately, Father Sedryk’s rather more central to the conspirators’ plans than it might appear. I know you must especially hate the way he’s made himself Young Styvyn’s newest best friend, but, trust me, that’s only a small part of his role. Among other things, he’s most definitely not the Chihirite he pretends to be. The truth is—although it’s one of those things we can’t prove without resorting to those ‘irregular methods’ of ours—he’s actually a Schuelerite … and an Inquisitor. In fact, he was dispatched to Chisholm from Zion by Wyllym Rayno in person.”
Lady Karyl’s jaw tightened. She’d known Sedryk Mahrtynsyn was far more than the “simple priest” he tried to pass himself off as, but not even she had suspected he was a direct agent of the Office of Inquisition!
“My Lady,” Obaith’s expression was very serious, “we need Mahrtynsyn to implicate and incriminate Rock Coast and as many of the others as possible. So far, they’ve all been very cautious about anything that might be set down in writing, and we don’t anticipate their suddenly getting careless now. But as their plans move into the end game, they’ll have steadily more opportunities to create the chain of documentary evidence—or eyewitness testimony—we need. He’s only one of the people we’re hoping will do that for us, but he’s one of the bigger fish in that particular pond, and Her Majesty believes he’ll play a pivotal role in the actual exchange of any written messages.”
“And the longer you wait to net him, the more likely he is to draw my grandson into that pond with him to drown,” Lady Karyl said grimly. “He’s charming, he’s suave, and he flatters the hell out of a fifteen-year-old.”
“We know,” Obaith acknowledged unflinchingly, “and we don’t like it. Her Majesty intends to bear in mind every mitigating circumstance she possibly can where Young Styvyn is concerned, however. And from what we’ve seen, it’s highly likely that in the end, Rock Coast and Mahrtynsyn will make a serious mistake in his case. He’s young enough, and—forgive me—foolish enough to see something romantic and exciting about pitting himself against the Crown in the service of Mother Church. But he also loves you very much, My Lady. The time’s going to come when he realizes that whatever Rock Coast and Mahrtynsyn may tell him, they must know that when they demand you join them, you’ll tell them to go to hell. And when he realizes that, he’ll also realize they must have planned for that eventuality. Which means they’ve lied to him from the start when they promised no harm would come to you.” The seijin smiled. “He was very adamant about that from the very beginning, My Lady,” she said gently. “Far more adamant than Rock Coast ever expected he might be.”
Lady Karyl’s eyes softened and her mouth trembled for just a moment. Then she nodded sharply.
“Thank you for telling me that.” Her voice was husky, and she paused to clear her throat. “Thank you for telling me that,” she repeated. “I told myself that had to be the case, but—”
“But there’s been so much treachery,” Obaith finished for her. “And when someone like Rock Creek or Mahrtynsyn plays the ‘will of the Archangels’ card with a fifteen-year-old, the consequences can get very ugly very quickly.”
“Exactly.”
They gazed at each other for a moment, and then the seijin shrugged.
“While I’m speaking with you here, My Lady, another of Seijin Merlin’s friends is in Cherayth, where he’s delivering Her Majesty’s messages to Earl White Crag. As a consequence of those messages, you’re going to be in a position to augment your personal armsmen in the very near future. I realize you aren’t as plump in the purse as you’d like to be, and that you’ve been worrying that anyone willing to accept service with a small, out of the way earldom like Cheshyr—especially for the wages you’d be able to pay—might very well have been sent to you by someone who … wishes you ill.
“As far as the first of those points is concerned, Her Majesty sent along this,” the seijin said, and the saddlebags she’d held draped over one slim forearm clunked heavily as she set them on the floor.
She opened one of them, and Lady Karyl inhaled sharply as she saw the neatly rolled golden marks gleam in the dim lamplight. If both bags were equally full, she was looking at well over two years of Cheshyr’s revenues. How in Langhorne’s name had even a seijin carried that much weight as if it were a mere nothing?!
“There’ll be more funding if you need it, My Lady,” Obaith continued. “Obviously, you’ll need to be careful about revealing the fact that you’ve got it, but His Majesty observed that there are very few problems in ‘human relations’ that can’t be smoothed with a little gold, and it’s always nice to be able to outbid the opposition when you need to. Especially when the opposition doesn’t think you can.”
The seijin dimpled again, then sobered.
“You won’t need it to pay the armsmen who’ll begin trickling in to find work over the winter in the next few months, however. And you won’t have to worry about where they come from. I assure you they’ve been thoroughly vetted. Or they will’ve been, by the time they’re sent, at any rate.”
“They will?” Lady Karyl sat straighter again, and her hazel eyes began to glow in the firelight. “And just how many of these wandering armsmen are likely to come Cheshyr’s way, Seijin Merch?”
“How interesting that you should ask, My Lady.” The seijin’s smile would have turned a kraken green with envy. “As a matter of fact—”
* * *
“—so it’s essential, in Their Majesties’ view, that Lady Karyl’s security be bolstered at the earliest possible moment,” the tall, blond-haired man emphasized, leaning slightly forward over the conference table towards Braisyn Byrns, the Earl of White Crag and First Councilor of the Kingdom of Chisholm. Sylvyst Mhardyr, Baron Stoneheart, who served as Chisholm’s Lord Justice, sat beside White Crag, and Sir Ahlber Zhustyn, Sharleyan’s domestic spymaster, stood at the First Councilor’s shoulder.