King Jusson’s brows snapped together. “Lord Teram’s life is forfeit to us, to do with as we please.”
“My only concern, Your Majesty, is the purity of your rule—”
“You should be more concerned with the purity of our anger.”
The archdoyen opened his mouth but the king cut him off. “You have made your apprehensions known, Archdoyen Obruesk. Now please leave.”
“See how the Holy Church is barred from the palace, yet the king’s sorcerer cousin stands next to the throne!” Teram said, his face gone beyond pious to saintly.
“You are close to having your head barred from your body, Flavan e Dru,” Jusson said, his eyes glinting down on Lord Teram. Lord Commander Thadro drew his sword and, standing behind Teram, forced him to his knees, placing the sword edge against his neck. Teram glared back up at the king, unrepentant.
“Your Majesty, forbearance, please—” Obruesk began.
“Thank you, Your Reverence,” Jusson said. “Please rest assured that we will inform Patriarch Pietr of your assistance.” Obruesk hesitated, then bowed and, after another glare at me, walked from the room, his robes flaring out behind him.
“Very clever, Lord Teram, to involve the Church.” The king shifted in his chair and placed his elbow on the chair arm, propping his chin against his fist. “But we suppose that His Reverence hasn’t told you: The patriarch has found sprite bodies throughout his See, each one donated by Lord Gherat of Dru. His Holiness wasn’t too thrilled by that.”
Teram did a credible job of sneering, even with the sword at his neck. “There’s only the freak cat and Border bumpkin’s word what they are.”
“Such a brave man!” Jusson marveled. “Or a very stupid one. Tell us, Flavan, whether or not it’s spritewood, did it come from Iversterre?”
“How should I know—”
“Be aware that we’ve just finished questioning not only your, ah, witnesses but Losan eso Dru too.”
“Losan eso Dru—” Teram broke off, his sneer faltering.
“Kings tend to frown on smuggling as it both diminishes their revenues and promotes lawlessness. But it disturbs us even more that our Great Houses are involved in something so tawdry as poaching.”
“Poaching, hah!” Teram managed to get out, now trying for scorn.
“We suspect that’s what the Border would call it, as they didn’t give permission for anyone to have what was taken.” Jusson brought his brows together again. “Didn’t you catch a poacher on one of your estates a few months ago, Flavan? If we remember correctly, you had your game wardens hang the man there and then, after chopping off a few body parts. As a deterrent, you said.”
“Uh—”
“We raided the House of Dru and have confiscated all records.” The king gestured at the crates and boxes lining the wall behind Chancellor Berle. “But it would be easier for you to tell us who else is involved, Flavan—with your oh so close ties to Dru—rather than shift through all of them, even with the clerk’s help.”
Teram’s eyes skittered over me and settled on the boxes. Color drained out of his face, leaving even his lips bloodless.
I frowned. The archdoyen’s support or no, the man was already under a death sentence for his failed rebellion. Yet he seemed more afraid of whatever he thought might be in the boxes.
Jusson slowly straightened in his chair as he also took in Teram’s terror, his own frown becoming real. “You know, Flavan, we were surprised that we did not see your gracious wife and lovely children earlier today when your household was—moved. Where are they?”
“I—” Teram swayed, cutting himself on Thadro’s sword. Blood seeped down his neck.
“Where are they, Flavan?” Jusson leaned forward.
“Gherat—” Teram stopped, his chest heaving in his fright.
“Lord Gherat has them? Why?”
Teram shook his head wildly, cutting himself again on Thadro’s sword. Jusson gave an impatient gesture and the Lord Commander moved his sword off Teram’s neck.
“Are they hostages? Against what?”
“Your Majesty, please. He will kill them.”
Murdering must run in the family.
“He may think I’ve talked anyway,” Teram said. He glanced again at the boxes. “Or told you where to find those.” Sweat rolled down his face. “Why didn’t you let Obruesk stay? He could have vouched for me—” Teram’s eyes widened and he folded his lips together, refusing to say any more.
“The archdoyen is involved in this?” Jusson asked, his voice soft. “Perhaps we were too hasty in dismissing him.”
“Archdoyen Obruesk isn’t related to Dru, is he, sir?” I whispered to Javes.
“My word, no,” Javes whispered back. “The House of Dru has never been interested in the Church.” He frowned. “At least until now.”
“I don’t think we can question clergy, Your Majesty,” Lord Esclaur said at the same time.
“Pox take it, no, we can’t,” Jusson said, his voice still soft. “But if His Reverence insists on thrusting himself into our affairs—” He sighed and settled back into his chair. “We will talk with the patriarch.” He glanced back down at the trembling lord in front of him. “You have raised so many new questions, Flavan. Please rest assured that we will find answers to all of them.” Jusson nodded at Captain Thadro. “Take him away.”
I watched cousin Teram be escorted out, back to the palace dungeons and the king’s interrogators, who wouldn’t be near as gentle as Jusson had been.
“Think they’ll get anything from him?” Javes asked Suiden.
“A couple of days ago I would’ve said yes,” Suiden replied. “Now, I don’t know.”
“I didn’t realize he loved his family that much, sir,” I said.
“It’s not love, Rabbit,” Suiden replied. “It’s the fear of the demise of his House and all its lines to the throne. That there will be no one to carry on his greatness. Lord Gherat knew what to lay hold of to ensure Teram’s silence.”
“But silence for what?” I asked. “The rebellion is failed, the smuggling ring is exposed, and Lord Gherat is fled. What’s left?”
Chancellor Berle, listening in, sighed. “Well, for one thing, if Lord Teram won’t talk, then not only don’t we know who else is involved, but we don’t even have proof against Gherat. It’s all supposition.”
“There’s Losan’s witness,” Javes said.
“Peepholes and secret cubbies.” Berle gave a scornful laugh. “But not one scrap of real evidence. Who’d believe just her?”
A thought emerged and I looked up at the king. “What about asking Losan who owns the Iversly warehouse the smugglers used, Your Majesty?”
“Front men and sham companies,” Chancellor Berle said, but she looked thoughtful.
“Maybe,” I said. “But someone has the title—”
“Or the building was leased,” Javes said.
“Then there’s a record of who leased it and who it was leased from, sir. And I bet she knows.”
“You’re damn shrewd when you want to be, cousin,” the king said. He motioned to a guard. “Bring the clerk.”
As Losan was escorted back, Jusson once more rested his chin on one fist, while the fingers of the other hand drummed on the chair arm. He frowned at her, radiating annoyance. “We find that you have not been forthcoming with us, Losan eso Dru.”
“Your Majesty—” she began.
“You will tell us about the warehouse.”
Her mouth parted in shock. “How did you know? How did you find out?”
“Never mind how!” The king slapped his hand on the chair arm, hard. “Tell us!”
Losan jumped straight up, and as her feet touched the ground, she was talking, giving us so much more than we expected. “I overheard Lord Gherat talking about a shipment of goods and I was concerned because there was nothing in the official records regarding it. So I discovered which warehouse the shipment was delivered to and went there to investigate. I realized that all of it was smuggled and so I confiscated and moved them to another warehouse.”