Kara laughed.
“That’s very resourceful. Perhaps we can learn from each other-”
Her words ended as another fist banged on the door. She moved to open it.
It was a young man with dark hair and a trimmed beard and moustache, expensively attired in a black cloak trimmed with otter fur and pinned at his shoulder with a silver brooch. He wore black gloves and underneath the cloak he wore a black velvet shirt. Unlike many nobles she had seen, he had no sword strapped to his side. The brooch, she noted, was in the shape of a leaping fox.
Behind him stood a much older man in blue and red finery.
Elegant. Elegant and harmless.
The first man bowed.
“My lady Kara-Meir,” he said. “My name is Lord William de Adlard. I am a friend of Theodore’s-or Sir Theodore, as it is now, of course. Ah!” His eyes fell on Pia and Jack. “I see Captain Rovin arrived ahead of me. He does so enjoy spoiling everyones’ fun.” She gestured and he stepped into the room. “I have been tasked with looking after you and your… friends, and to see that you have everything you need to make yourselves comfortable.” He looked warily at Pia and Jack, then turned to her and continued.
“But there is another matter I need to speak of.” He motioned to his companion. “Come, ambassador.”
The second man entered, wheezing. He was old and overweight.
“Let me introduce Sir Cecil. He is the ambassador to West Ardougne.”
Behind her, Kara heard Pia gasp. The fat man’s eyes fell on her immediately, and he spoke sternly.
“There is no easy way of saying this, Kara-Meir, but these two are wanted in my city. I recognised Pia’s accent when she cried out at the festival this afternoon, and knew that only very few people would undertake such a long journey unless they had to. And I am afraid your journey was one of necessity, was it not, Pia? For you will hang if you ever return to Kandarin. Hang for murder.”
Pia gasped and fell to her knees.
Jack ran to her and placed his arms around her.
“It’s not true! It’s not!” he shouted bitterly. “Pia didn’t kill anybody!”
“I have a description of both of you and a warrant for your arrest. You must be sent back to Ardougne to face trial. Justice must be done.”
“Justice? King Lathas’s justice?” Pia wept. “There is no justice there.”
“Speak ill of your King again and I will have you flogged!”
“Not here you won’t,” Kara said suddenly. “How dare you come here and make demands? These people are my property now, given to me by the King of this land-not yours.”
“But they were never his to give, Kara-Meir. They are King Lathas’s serfs. And one of them is a murderess, the other an accomplice.” The ambassador turned. “I didn’t believe you had so little respect for justice, Kara-Meir. But mark my words, we will talk of this again. And soon.”
Lord William pursed his lips as the ambassador turned on his heel and vanished down the hallway.
“This has been badly handled,” he admitted. “Sir Cecil can be prickly but I fear he may also be right. I do not think you can protect them, Lady Kara.”
“I am no lady, Lord William. Kindly stop referring to me as such. My name is Kara.”
She ran her hand over her face and growled in anger. Pia had told her at the barn that she had never killed anybody before.
And I believe her. The look on her face when she saw the dead bodies. Thief, yes-murderess, I doubt.
“Jack, you and Pia can sleep in my room tonight, on the floor,” she said as gently as she could. “Go now, and try and find rest. But remember, both of you-I will help you if I can.”
Lord William shook his head doubtfully and made to leave.
“Wait a moment, Lord William,” she said. “I would like a private word with you.” She closed the door behind the noble and waited until Pia and Jack had disappeared into the bedroom. “Can you tell me, honestly, what Theodore’s relationship is with Lady Anne?”
The young man stretched his face into an apologetic smile, and then back, perhaps believing it wasn’t at all appropriate.
“She wants him, Kara-Meir,” he admitted. “That’s the truth of it I fear, and what she wants, she usually gets.”
“Wants him? Or has already had him?”
Lord William blushed.
“I couldn’t be sure, Kara. They had a meeting in the galleries, a traditional place where people wish to meet unseen. But that was only this morning. And I don’t think… no… I really don’t think that’s what happened.”
The young nobleman backed toward the door, his face a deepening red.
“I should go now. Things to do.”
Kara watched him retreat, and a slight smile played upon her face.
So, they met only today, she mused. Perhaps Lady Anne feels her hold is weak, being so recent. She was relieved, and yet she wondered if she had any right to feel so. She hadn’t seen Theodore for months, and he was a famous knight at a court of ambitious young women. Had she any right to be jealous?
Especially since I never wrote to him. Perhaps I have lost him.
Kara sighed, and then cursed. She had forgotten to ask Lord William to send a maid to help her dress. Panic gripped her suddenly. She ran to the door and drew it back, to see if he was still near.
But instead it was a woman who approached. A maid of declining years.
“Lady Kara?” the maid asked stiffly.
Kara nodded.
“Lady Kara, my name is Lucretia. I bring compliments from my mistress, Lady Caroline. She has asked me to assist you in preparation for the dance. She has also asked me to tell you that you should arrive a few moments before the time you were advised.” The woman blinked once. “No doubt Lady Anne is playing one of her funny tricks again. She’s a lady only in name, that one. It is unfortunate my mistress associates so closely with her. Now, come along, for we haven’t much time.”
Kara flashed her most brilliant smile.
Lady Caroline. I am in your debt.
9
The Great Hall was a long rectangular room with a very high ceiling. At its southern end was a raised stage where King Roald and his most favoured subjects sat and ate, while below everyone else stood.
On the western side of the hall were great arched windows, stained with the yellow colouring of King Roald’s pennant, admitting the evening sunlight in a bright dazzle. In alcoves on all sides torches chased away shadows, while on tabletops and in chandeliers candles added to the celebration of light. On the eastern edge of the room, two large fire pits cooked pigs and boars on spits, and barrels of ale and wine were supported on a wooden scaffold. Above them, on a balcony, an orchestra played a lively tune that seemed contrary to the serious faces of the King’s closest advisors, who were already discussing the monarch’s promised parliament.
From his position on the stage, seated between Castimir and Ebenezer, Gar’rth watched the sea of well-dressed nobility below. No women were yet present, for their entrance was kept back for the ninth hour, only minutes away now.
“I am nervous for Kara,” Castimir said, looking warily in the direction of an older man who sat at their table some distance away, a green-tinted monocle clutched in his right eye. He was dressed in robes similar to his own, but of grey, not blue.
He is nervous, Gar’rth mused. That man is of the Tower as well, and very senior. And Castimir has not been honest with his masters.
He peered around the room irritably. There were too many people here, too many smells filling his senses, and far too much noise for him to think clearly.
He felt Ebenezer’s hand rest on his arm.
“Are you well Gar’rth?” the alchemist asked quietly. “I see you are drinking beer.”
“Yes.” He detected the old man’s concern easily, so Ebenezer probably meant it to be obvious. “So is Theodore… and Doric, and Castimir. And so are you,” he challenged, his tone harsher than he had meant it to be.