“One honest answer first. Did Osriel send you to me? Here?” He watched me unblinking, his every sinew like stretched wire.
I shook my head and felt him relax.
“All right, then. You’ll be hearing the terms soon enough.” He rested his thick forearms on his spread thighs and clasped his hands loosely. He was already gaining confidence…recognizing advantage to be won. “I met twice with this Grav Hurd—a smart devil, tough as a spire nut—and once with the priestess herself, to wring out the final changes. I tell you, Valen, these people make Patronn seem as charming as a courtesan. But we came to agreement, signed and sealed. It states that as of midnight on the winter solstice Sila Diaglou will reign sovereign in Evanore, subject only to Navronne’s crown. She will administer Evanore’s gold, but will pay the crown a twice-yearly tithe of no less than ten thousand solae—and don’t ask me who will collect it. Prince Bayard will not release Prince Perryn into her custody, but agrees to parade him in chains through the streets of Palinur on the first day of the new year and allow the priestess to conduct a rite of purification for him. Perryn’s life will not be forfeit—though I would not stand in his boots that day for all of Evanore’s gold. As for the lighthouse…she dropped the demand for its location, indicating that it was no longer of immediate concern. But you, little brother…” He paused for a long moment in this impressive recital, gazing at his boots and shaking his head, near smiling when he raised his head and took up again. “On your contract she would budge not one quat. And no matter how I strutted or wheedled, the witch would not tell me why. So…Prince Bayard agreed that you are to be turned over to her on the solstice.”
I should have been happy to hear this. My hope to get near Osriel and Stearc and Jullian relied on Sila Diaglou’s intent to have me. It fit with my odd, unlikely belief that my personal mystery was fundamentally entangled with Navronne’s doom. But all I could feel was hollow and clammy…the dread of being locked in a tomb while living…the dread of facing Judgment Night and seeing the One God point to the downward path. What did a priestess who found joy in bleeding miscreants and innocents want with me? I just had to believe she didn’t want me dead.
I mustered a voice. “What of my master? What do they propose to do about him as they apportion his demesne?”
“Ah, yes…” He tapped his fingertips together for a moment, then shrugged. “If the priestess captures him on the night of the solstice, she may keep him, but he will neither be publicly punished nor publicly displayed. He will disappear.”
“And if he were to end up in Prince Bayard’s custody?”
Max shrugged and grinned. “Well, for the purposes of the agreement, we implied the result would be the same…Osriel would be neither seen nor heard from again…which could, of course, mean private retirement or exile. But, of course, Bayard believes that our joined might will defeat the witch and that Prince Osriel will come to an equitable and honorable agreement with his elder brother as to Navronne’s ruling.”
“Yes. That is certainly the intent.” Though, after Osriel’s betrayal in Aeginea, I had no more certainty of his true intent than I did of Bayard’s.
Max leaned close again and his smile vanished. “Now, why are you and I discussing what must be laid out again three days hence for your master’s messenger?”
“He desires for her to have me before solstice night, Max. She has a Karish monk in her party.”
“Her pet monk…yes, I saw him. Smug kind of fellow, always whispering in her ear. I never trust a man who shaves off all his hair.”
“That’s him—Gildas. The monk owns some secret…gods, I don’t know what.” I rubbed my head and kneaded my neck. The wavering walls left me dizzy and sweating, like a prisoner awaiting the hangman. Did I appear as ill as I felt, Max would certainly believe me frightened—as I hoped for him to do. “So Osriel is sending me to Bayard. He’s going to let you turn me over to the priestess as a pledge of good faith, as if you’d caught me by good fortune. And then…he’s commanded me to kill Gildas. I’ve no qualms about that. We’ve no love between us, Gildas and I. That he serves the priestess is reason enough to condemn him. But my master’s given me no way out. Just says that he’ll see to it as he’s no intention of forfeiting my contract. He says that all will be sorted out on the solstice. Max, I’ve seen what Sila Diaglou does to those who displease her. But if I disobey the Bastard…”
He settled back in his chair, tilting his head, saying nothing. It took no Danae senses to feel his mind racing.
I stood up abruptly. “All right, then. Thank you for sharing the information with me, ancieno. I’ll figure out something.” I hurried toward the entry court door, listening…
“Wait!”
Closing my eyes, I promised Serena Fortuna a grand libation. I swung around slowly.
Max waved me back to my chair, and when I was seated, leaned forward as if to hold me there with his authority. “I know exactly what solution you’ll ‘figure out,’ little brother—the same as always. But running away will not save you this time. Despite Grav Hurd’s best efforts to drive all purebloods out of the city, the Registry is like to be the only power that survives this war—and once they find you again, they’ll bury you so deep, you’ll remember this house as heaven and beg for Patronn’s strap in preference to their gentle hands.” He smoothed and straightened the front of my pourpoint as if he were a caring elder brother. “And, of course, you would destroy the family along the way, not to mention laying waste all this delicate negotiating—for which I have pledged every minim of my own future.”
No matter that I had expected this response from him—no matter that I had come here rejoicing that I no longer accounted these people the whole of my kin—I could not stifle the rage his calculation roused in me. I let him see it. “And why would I be willing to suffer either Sila Diaglou’s fury or Osriel the Bastard’s to preserve this misbegotten family or this misbegotten kingdom?”
“Hold, little brother. I am not suggesting you sit back and accept your dismal lot.” He smiled in the very same superior manner he claimed to detest in Gildas. “I owe you a debt. You gave me this chance for advancement when you stood up for my honor in front of your prince and mine. Even you know the importance of honor and trust to those of us who actually believe in pureblood contracts. So perhaps you and I can come to an accommodation…help each other…”
“Max will see no advantage to warning Gildas of my murderous intent. He’d much rather have Gildas’s secrets.” I dug into the platter of roast pork under Saverian’s watchful eye. The two of us sat in the courtyard at Renna Syne two hours after my return from Palinur. “I’m not leaving Max personally at risk. He won’t even know I was actually after Jullian, Stearc, and the prince until we’re safely back here. All Sila’s anger and Bayard’s will fall on me and through me to Osriel. Bayard is conspiring against the priestess already, and I’ve hopes our prince will forgive me for saving his neck.”
“But you trust Max enough that this weapon he promises to supply is your only sure defense and this escape route he gave you is your only way out?” Saverian’s skepticism could have eroded Renna’s cliffs, so it did no good at all for my fragile confidence.
“In the best case, I won’t need to rely on either one. I’ve size, I’ve magic, and I’ve surprise to wield. Surely something in Fortress Torvo will remind me enough of something here that I can shift the four of us straight back here. And yes, before you ask again, I’ll not let Max turn me over until I’ve made sure the prisoners are actually in the fortress.”
The physician poked at the blaze in the fire pit. The serving man had thought she was mad to have wood hauled into the sunny courtyard of the window house. He was not present to note the greater oddity when I stripped off my cloak, tunic, and shirt as I ate, basking in the frigid air as if it were a river of mead, while Saverian huddled next to her blaze. Only a few hours remained until sundown, when Voushanti was to deliver me to Prince Bayard. Every time I thought of it, my gut tied itself in knots and my head got woozy.