Brigan was spinning the ball now on the end of his finger, absent-mindedly. "I met with Lady Murgda on the fifteenth of September," he said. "She wasn't particularly friendly, but she was plainly not dead."
It was a tendency in the questioning rooms that had arisen suddenly in recent weeks, contradiction and misinformation, coming from all sides and making it very difficult to know which sources to trust. The messengers and spies Fire questioned were clear-headed and truthful with their knowledge. It was simply that their knowledge was wrong.
All at the Dellian court knew what it meant. Both Mydogg and Gentian were aware that Fire had joined the ranks of the enemy. To lessen the advantage she gave the Dellian throne, both rebel lords had begun misinforming some among their own people, and then sending them out to get caught.
"There are people close to both men," Garan said, "people who know the truth of their plans. We need those people – a close ally of Mydogg's, and one of Gentian's. And they have to be people we'd never suspect normally, for neither Mydogg nor Gentian must ever suspect us of questioning them."
"We need an ally of Mydogg's or Gentian's pretending to be among the most loyal allies of the king," Brigan said. "Shouldn't be so hard, really. If I shot an arrow out the window I'd probably hit one."
"It seems to me," Fire said carefully, "that if I take a less direct approach, if I question every person we're holding about things I haven't bothered to investigate before – every party they've ever been to, every conversation they've ever overheard but perhaps not understood the significance of, every horse they've ever seen heading south when it should've been heading north – "
"Yes," Brigan said. "It might yield something."
"And where are the women?" Fire asked. "Enough men. Give me the women Mydogg and Gentian've taken to bed, and the barmaids who've had to serve them their wine. Men are daft around women, incautious and boastful. There must be a hundred women out there carrying information we could use."
Nash spoke soberly. "That seems good advice."
"I don't know," Garan said. "I'm offended." He stopped, choked by a spasm of coughing. Nash moved to his brother's bed, sat beside him, and held his shoulder to steady him. Garan reached a shaky hand to Nash. Nash clasped it in his.
It always struck Fire, the physical affection between these siblings, who as often as not were at each other's throats over one thing or another. She liked the way the four of them shifted and changed shape, bumping and clanging against each other, sharpening each other's edges and then smoothing them down again, and somehow always finding the way to fit together.
"And," Brigan said, returning quietly to his previous topic, "don't give up on the archer, Lady."
"I won't, for he troubles me much," Fire said; and then sensed the approach of an altogether different archer. She looked into her lap to hide her flush of joy. "Lord Archer has just arrived at court," she said. "Welkley is bringing him here now."
"Ah," Brigan said. "And here's the man we should recruit to shoot arrows out the window."
"Yes," Garan said wickedly, "I hear his arrow is always finding new targets."
"I'd hit you if you weren't flat on your back," Brigan said, suddenly angry.
"Behave yourself, Garan," Nash hissed. Before Fire could even begin to react to the argument, which struck her as rather funny, Welkley and Archer were through the door, and everyone but Garan was standing.
"Lord King," Archer said immediately, dropping to his knee before Nash. "Lord Princes," he said next, standing to take Brigan's hand and stooping to take Garan's.
He turned to Fire. With great propriety he took her hands in his. And the instant their eyes met he was laughing and glinting with mischief, his face so happy and Archer-like that she began to laugh as well.
He lifted her up to give her a proper hug. He smelled like home, like the northern autumn rains.
She went for a walk with Archer around the palace grounds. The trees were blazing with autumn colour. Fire was astonished now, and thrilled, with the tree beside the green house, because in recent days it had transformed into the closest natural thing she'd ever seen to her hair.
Archer told her how bleak the north was in comparison. He told her about Brocker's activities, and the year's good harvest, and his passage south with ten soldiers through the rain. "I've brought your favourite musician," Archer said, "and he's brought his whistle."
"Krell," Fire said, smiling. "Thank you, Archer."
"This guard on our heels is all very well," Archer said, "but when can we be alone?"
"I'm never alone. I always have a guard, even in my bedchamber. "
"Surely that can change now I'm here. Why don't you tell them to go away?"
"They're under Brigan's orders, not mine," Fire said lightly. "And as it turns out, he's quite stubborn. I haven't been able to change his mind about it."
"Well," Archer said, smirking, "I will change his mind. I daresay he understands our need of privacy. And his authority over you must lessen now that I'm here."
Of course, Fire thought, and Archer's own authority must rise up to replace it. Her temper flared out; she caught at the ends of it and hauled it back in. "There's something I must tell you, Archer, and you're not going to like it."
His entire manner changed instantly, mouth hard, eyes flashing, and Fire was amazed at how fast their reunion had turned to this. She stopped and stared at him in exasperation, spoke over him to stop him. "Archer, stay within your rights. Don't you dare start accusing me of taking some man to my bed."
"A woman, then? It wouldn't be entirely without precedent, would it?"
She clenched her fists so hard her nails hurt the palms of her hands; and suddenly she was no longer concerned with holding on to the ends of her fury. "I was so excited for you to come," she said. "I was so happy to see you. And now already you've started in on me, and I wish you would leave. You understand me, Archer? When you get like this I wish you would leave. The love I give you, you take, and you use it against me."
She swung away from him, strode away, came back again and stood furious before him, aware that this was the first time she'd ever spoken to him this way. She should have spoken like this more. She'd been too generous with her patience.
We're not lovers anymore, she thought at him. This is the thing I needed to tell you. The closer you get to me the harder you pull, and your grip is too tight. You hurt me with it. You love me so much you've forgotten how to be my friend. I miss my friend, she thought at him fiercely. I love my friend. We're through as lovers. Do you understand?
Archer stood dazed, breathing heavily, eyes stony. Fire could see that he did understand.
And now Fire saw Hanna, and sensed her at the same time, coming over the hill at the archery range and bolting toward them with all her small speed.
Fire began a battle for her composure. "There's a child coming," she told Archer hoarsely, "and if you take your vile mood out on her I won't speak to you again."
"Who is she?"
"Brigan's daughter."
Archer stared at Fire very hard.
And then Hanna reached them, Blotchy careening close behind. Fire knelt to meet the dog. Hanna stopped before them, smiling and gasping, and Fire sensed her sudden confusion as she took in their silence. "What's wrong, Lady Fire?" Hanna asked.