Havemore stopped as though he had only just realized the women were in the room. “Why, Duchess,” he said, peering at them over the spectacles perched on his narrow nose, “you honor me. And Sister Utta, a pleasure to see you, too. I am afraid my new duties as castellan have kept me fearfully busy of late—too busy to visit with old friends. Perhaps we can remedy that now. Would you like some wine? Tea?”
Utta could feel Merolanna bristling at the mere suggestion that she and this upstart were old friends. She laid her hand on the older woman’s arm. “Not for me, thank you, Lord Havemore.”
“I will not take anything, either, sir,” the duchess said with better grace than Utta would have expected. “And although we would love to have a proper conversation with you, we know you are a busy man. I’m certain we won’t take much of your time.”
“Oh, but it would be a true joy to have a visit.” Havemore snapped his fingers and waved. “Wine.” The page put down the books and the teetering tray on the castellan’s tall, narrow desk, a desk which had been Nynor Steffen’s for years and which had seemed as much a part of him as his skin and his knobby hands. Unburdened, the page left the room. “A true joy,” Havemore repeated as though he liked the sound of it. “In any case, I will have a cup of something myself, since I have been working very hard this morning, preparing for Duke Caradon’s visit. I’m sure you must have heard about it—very exciting, eh?”
It was news to Utta. Hendon’s older brother, the new Duke of Summerfield, coming here? Doubtless he would bring his entire retinue—hundreds more Tolly supporters in the household, and during the ominous days of the Kerneia festival as well. Her heart sank to think of what the place would be like, full of drunken soldiers.
“So, my gracious ladies,” said Havemore, “what can I do for you today?”
Utta could not imagine anything that Tirnan Havemore could do for them that would not immediately be reported to Hendon Tolly, so she kept her mouth closed. This was Merolanna’s idea; Utta would let the dowager duchess take the lead. Zoria, watch over us, here in the stronghold of our enemies, she prayed. Even if they knew nothing of the astonishing business she and Merolanna had embarked upon, the ruling faction held little but contempt for either of them, for one key reason: neither one of them had anything to bargain with, no strength, no land, no money. Well, except Merolanna is part of the royal family and a link to Olin. I suppose the Tollys want to keep her sweet at least until they’ve got their claws well into Southmarch.
“But Lord Havemore, you must know what you can do for us,” Merolanna said. “Since you called us here. As I said, I don’t want to intrude on your time, which is valuable to all of Southmarch, and especially to Earl Hendon, our selfless guardian.”
Careful, Utta could not help thinking. Merolanna had moved and was out of range of an admonitory squeeze of the arm.
Don’t be too obvious. He doesn’t expect you to like him, but don’t let your dislike show too openly.
“Hendon Tolly is a great man.” Havemore’s grin looked even more wolfish than before—he was enjoying this. “And we are all grateful that he is helping to guard King Olin’s throne for its legitimate heir.”
The page returned with wine and several cups. Utta and Merolanna shook their heads. The page poured only one and handed it to the castellan, then stepped back to the wall and did his best to look like a piece of furniture. Havemore seated himself in his narrow chair, pointedly leaving the dowager duchess standing.
“You mean for King Olin, of course,” Merolanna said cheerfully, ignoring the calculated slight. “Guarding the throne for King Olin. The heir is all well and good, but my brother-in-law Olin is still king, even in his absence.”
“Of course, Your Grace, of course. I misspoke. However, the king is a prisoner and his heirs are gone—perhaps dead. We would be foolish to pretend that the infant heir is not of the greatest importance.”
“Yes, of course.” Merolanna nodded. “In any case, leaving aside all this quibbling about succession, which I’m sure is of scarcely any real interest to a scholar like yourself, you did call us here. What have we done to deserve your kind invitation?”
“Ah, now it is you who feigns innocence, Your Grace. You asked to speak to Avin Brone, but you must know that he has...retired. That his duties have all been taken up by me and Lord Hood, the new lord constable. Our dear Brone has worked so hard for Southmarch—he deserves his rest. Thus, I thought I might save him the unnecessary work of trying to solve whatever problem you ladies might have by volunteering my own attention to it, instead.” His smile looked like it had been drawn with a single stroke of a very sharp pen.
“That is truly kind, Lord Havemore,” said Merolanna, “but in truth we wanted—I wanted—to see Lord Brone only out of friendship. For the sake of old times. Why, I daresay Avin Brone and I have known each other longer than you’ve been alive!”
“Ah.” Havemore, like many ambitious young men, did not like being reminded of allegiances that predated his own arrival. “I see. So there is nothing I can do for you?”
“You can remember your kind offer to share yourself more with the rest of us castle folk, Lord Havemore.” The duchess smiled winningly. “A man of your learning, a wellspoken man like you, should put himself about a bit more.”
He narrowed his eyes, not entirely sure how to take her remark. “Very kind. But there is still a question, Your Grace. I can understand your desire to reminisce with your old friend Lord Brone, but what brings Sister Utta along on such a mission? Surely she and Brone are not also old friends? I had never heard that old Count Avin was much on religion, beyond what is necessary for appearances.” Havemore smiled at this little joke shared among friends and for the first time Sister Utta felt herself chilled. This man was more than ambitious, he was dangerous.
“I do consider Brone a friend,” Utta said suddenly, ignoring Merolanna’s flinch. “He has been kind to me in the past. And he is a man of good heart, whether he spends much time in the temple or not.”
“I am glad to hear you say that.” Tirnan Havemore now looked at Utta closely. “I worked for him for many years and always felt his best qualities were ignored, or at least underappreciated.”
Merolanna actually took a step forward, as if to stop the conversation from straying into dangerous areas. “I asked her to come with me, Lord Havemore. I am...I am not so well these days. It makes me easier to have a sensible woman like Utta with me instead of one of my scatterbrained young maids.”
“Of course.” His smile widened. “Of course, Your Grace. So great is your spirit, so charming your manners, that I fear I’d forgotten your age. Of course, you must have your companion.” It was almost a leer now.
What is he thinking? Utta did not want to contemplate it for long.
“By all means, go and see your old friend, Count Avin. I’m afraid he has changed his chambers—I needed more space, of course, so I took these old ones of his over.
When Brone is not at home in Landsend you will find him in the old countinghouse next to the Chamber of the Royal Guard. He still comes in, although he has little to do these days.” The smile had changed into something else now as Havemore rose, something that celebrated an enemy well and truly dispatched. “You will come see me again? This has been such a delight.”