Like someone with power. Petronus stood, though he did not want to.
Erlund waved him to sit, then sat himself. He nodded to the teapot. “Is this hot?”
Petronus nodded.
Erlund surprised him by pouring his own tea. Of course, the Overseer’s presence here surprised him as well. Erlund sipped the tea, then put it down and folded his hands on the table. “If you had stayed put in your shack, old man, you’d still be there. Running your little bird-line and trying to assuage your guilt.”
Petronus looked at him. He was younger than Rudolfo but already had lines in his face. This one is not like his uncle, he realized. He cared, and the civil war had worn him, aged him. Petronus thought about his shack, then thought about the blood-magicked attacker. “Staying was problematic,” he said, “though turning myself over to you was certainly not my first consideration.”
Erlund stared at him for a moment. He took another sip, then motioned for his men to leave him. They vanished quickly, pulling the door closed behind them as they went. The Overseer leaned forward. “Regardless,” he said, “here you are, caught up in an internal matter of state with your very neck laid out upon the block.” Erlund chuckled. “Of all people, I know Sethbert was mad. Certainly the Androfrancines were up to something, but Sethbert went too far and his conspiracy is well detailed. I would have never pursued your arrest for the events at his so-called trial. But now Entrolusian law comes into play, and I’m forced to give that law its place. You killed our Overseer without recourse and beyond the reach of our law.” Petronus saw weariness in the man’s eyes. “More than that,” he said, “I know that this civil war has kept our attention at home while our neighbors slide into war with the Marshfolk. This girl-queen, Winteria, is not strong enough to hold the leash she’s been handed.” Here, he frowned. “I find it interesting that the strongest military in the Named Lands is enmeshed in insurrection while blood-magicked Marsh Scouts murder children in their sleep.” He sipped the tea again. “I also know that Esarov forces my hand and that you are the pry-bar he uses. He gets legitimacy for his cities. I get my army back. Everyone wins. for now.”
Petronus nodded. “I believe that is apparent to Esarov, as well. If all of this is true, why have I been awake all night with your man, Ignatio?”
Erlund lowered his teacup. “I thought the opportunity for a free flow of information between us would be useful.”
Petronus scowled. “It was an interrogation. Largely regarding the mechoservitors and the other properties transferred into Rudolfo’s care.”
The Overseer smiled. “It could be seen that way.” The smile faded quickly, and he leaned forward again. “But don’t you find it interesting that the only House undivided and untouched-and beyond that, the only House to directly benefit from all of this-is the Ninefold Forest?”
Certainly, Petronus thought. He’d seen this as well, but in the case of the Androfrancine holdings it had been the only logical decision. But chewing on him behind those surface facts was another reality: He knew of a certainty that just as Vlad Li Tam had made his life’s work shaping Rudolfo for this role, Vlad’s father had done the same with Petronus. Their mastery of that work was evidenced by the truth of its outcome: From the outside eye, each step along the way that he or Rudolfo had taken appeared completely logical, completely reasonable, entirely compelling.
It was an application of Franci behavioral work that went deeper than even Petronus’s grasp of those principles.
“I do see that,” Petronus said, “but I also see the Gypsies at peace, working to rebuild what your uncle took from us all.”
“I am suspicious of it,” Erlund said in a low voice. “But,” he said, “I’ve had my questions asked. You’ve exercised your right to decline them. Perhaps with time, you’ll grow to trust me and the bonds my uncle severed will be retied.”
Petronus didn’t think so, but said nothing.
Erlund changed the subject. “Have you given much thought to your defense?”
“I have,” Petronus said. “And according Entrolusian law I can call any able-bodied man or woman on the Delta to advocate on my behalf?”
Erlund nodded. “We’ve a list of advocates to choose from. If funding for your defense is at issue, it will be provided for.”
Here Petronus smiled. “Actually, I already have an advocate.” A cloud passed over Erlund’s face. He knows, Petronus thought, but he said the name anyway. “Esarov will speak on my behalf.”
There was anger, though controlled, in Erlund’s voice. “That stage-prancing bugger is a criminal and a menace to the Delta.”
“He is an able-bodied man, well versed in law,” Petronus reminded him, “and not a criminal if you intend to honor the word you gave when you agreed to this present arrangement.”
Erlund composed himself, but his eyes flashed. He stood up and he suddenly seemed more guarded, more formal. Petronus made note of it and realized he skirted the edge of something in Erlund that he might want to avoid. “Word will be sent,” Erlund said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve other matters to attend to.”
After he’d gone, Petronus settled into waiting. He sat alone with his thoughts for the two hours it took them to come for him, and when they came, the guards escorted him to his suite of rooms in complete silence.
When they locked him inside, Petronus went straight to the large, rounded bed and fell into it.
He thought he would sleep instantly. But the questions of the night continued at his heels, and he looked for the pattern within them. Rudolfo had been the only one untouched in these recent attacks; he’d been the only one to benefit from the fall of Windwir, and his neighbors were taking notice.
Petronus did not for a moment believe the Gypsy King could be behind his own so-called good fortune, but it was obviously a part of House Li Tam’s work in the Named Lands.
He thought of his boyhood and the summer he’d spent with Vlad Li Tam, teaching him the rugged life of a fishing family as part of the boy’s training to someday take over House Li Tam. Even that arrangement, he now realized, was a part of Vlad’s father’s design.
“Perhaps,” he mumbled, “even this is, too.”
But to what end? He thought of the papers he’d passed to Rudolfo and willed that the Gypsy King would take up the work he’d started.
Then Petronus gave himself to sleep and for a few hours, let the questions slip from his grasping fingers.
Winters
The winter air over the Summer Papal Palace hung heavy with smoke, and Winters stood by the charred piles of bones and tried not to retch. She still could not believe what was happening.
They did not bury their dead. Instead, they paid them the greatest insult by stacking them like firewood and putting the torch to them.
Now, the soldiers worked against the weather, using pickaxes to hew out trenches for the burnt remains. It was just past morning now, and if they worked the rest of the day, they could give the Litany that night. Then, she would prepare her next War Sermon. She had never imagined it would be against a faction of her own people. But any rage she’d felt en route to this massacre paled in comparison to what she felt when first she smelled the cooking fires.
Winters heard footsteps behind her, then heard Seamus clear his voice. “We’ve a bird from the Gypsies,” he said.
She looked up and over her shoulder. It would be Jin Li Tam. She’d had word that Lady Tam was on the march. It had surprised Winters-so soon after Jakob’s birth. The price of being a queen. She forced her mind to the moment. “What does it say?”