“I’m rather afraid the former Chancellor is.”
“And you came to this conclusion when you saw Lord Elakar’s body.”
“I have suspected something like it for awhile.”
“For how long?”
“Since I started investigating your history, Rik. Since I found out that the Shadowblood are still with us.”
He looked at her. A lot of things started to make sense. “That is why you have kept me with you.”
“One reason. The other is, and you are welcome to disbelieve me, that I am genuinely fond of you and grateful to you too.”
“What makes you think Malkior killed my mother?”
“It’s circumstantial, Rik. He is the only member of the embassy old enough to remember Al’Terra. There were others who could have the training in sorcery, but he’s the only one old enough to be an Al’Terran Shadowblood.”
“That is not evidence that would stand up in a court of law.”
“You can see why I do not want to tell Captain Quinal. There is another reason. Take a look at that picture. Take a look at the central figure.”
“The tall knight with the glowing sword?”
“Yes. Does he remind you of anybody, Rik?”
There was something familiar about that central figure. He heard something clink on the table behind him. When he turned around he saw a small beauty mirror there. Asea held it up to him, reflective surface facing in his direction.
“No,” he said.
“Yes.”
He looked into the mirror, fascinated as if it were a snake. There was a resemblance.
“The knight in the picture is Lord Malkior. This painting was commissioned to celebrate his triumph over the Deep Lords at the Battle of Pelagia in the year 189 of the Conquest.”
“That was nearly 800 years ago,” Rik realised that he was pointing out the obvious but he could think of nothing else to say. “You are saying I am his son.”
“I believe that to be the case.”
“What makes you think that he killed the Old Queen?”
“He was there. He was in a position to do it, if he had the powers of a Shadowblood.”
“If…”
“There are many other things that can be explained if he is, Rik. Old defeats and old betrayals. The Princes of Shadow were always suspiciously well informed about our plans on Al’Terra. Many traitors were found, but not all of them, it seems.”
“Anything else? It still seems a very slender theory to me.”
“To me, too. But I have waited for almost five centuries to put this together, Rik, and this is the closest I have ever come. I think Lord Malkior killed Queen Amarielle. He certainly benefited from her death. He became Empress Arachne’s closest councillor.”
Rik did not like the intensity in her voice. There was a trace of madness there, of insane obsession. He reminded himself that this woman was more than two thousand years old, and she had brooded on this thing for centuries. That could twist a mind in ways he simply could not comprehend. Perhaps she was not insane. Perhaps this was simply the way of ancient Terrarchs. That was a frightening thought.
“But you are not certain…”
“No. Rik. All I have is a theory. But like all good theories it is subject to verification.”
“How?”
“There is a family resemblance between you and Tamara. Even Lieutenant Sardec spotted it the other night.”
Rik shuddered. “Sardec?”
“Yes, even the good Lieutenant saw a resemblance.”
Rik felt a little sick. Asea continued as if she had not noticed.
“Lord Elakar was killed shortly after she arrived. By a Shadowblood. I am certain.”
“It might be Lord Jaderac. Or one of their entourage.”
“It might be. But none of them fit my theory. She does.”
“You said you were going to test your theory.” Rik could see where this was leading and he did not like it in the slightest.
“I am going to take her into my custody.”
“Do you have the power? She is an Ambassador.”
“There have been many kidnappings and assassinations recently, Rik. This will be one more.”
“Kidnapping or assassination?”
“Most likely both. She cannot be freed once she knows who we are.”
“We?”
“I doubt Her Majesty would approve of what we are about to do. I doubt our army commanders would either. So it will have to be us, and a couple of your old friends from the regiment. You know the two I mean.”
“Weasel and the Barbarian?”
“Yes. They will keep their mouths shut. There is still the matter of the forbidden books you stole from the Prophet Zarahel. The Inquisition would not make life easy for them if they found out.”
“That is a business I have had cause to regret,” said Rik softly.
“Meddling with forbidden knowledge always gives you that, Rik. Trust me, I know.” Her voice was soft and dangerous. Nonetheless, Rik felt compelled to oppose her will.
“This is madness. What if we are caught? Three humans trying to kidnap a Terrarch noblewoman? It would be the stake for us, after torture.”
“Then you had better not be caught.” She held his gaze easily, and he found he could not meet her burning stare nor match her implacable will. She was utterly serious about this and she did not care who got hurt if they got in her way.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you so driven?”
“Because Amarielle was my friend, as well as my Queen, and I failed her, and I am still Terrarch enough to want revenge. Because I am sick of being beaten by the minions of Shadow. Because if I am right and the Shadowblood are here, more than the lives of a few people are at stake.”
Her words chilled him. He looked at her silently. She seemed to feel the need to convince him because she went on. “Look at what’s happening, Rik. Look at what you have seen with your own eyes. Ancient cults summoning demon gods. Obscene sorcery of the sort that created the Nerghul. The Imperium shattered by civil war. It’s starting to look like the last days of Al’Terra all over again.”
“Why not tell the authorities this? Why not let people know?”
She paused for a moment, as if considering saying something. When she spoke, he was convinced that she had been about to say something different and then stopped. “I have told people my suspicions, Rik. Azaar shares them. So does Queen Arielle. But at the moment, all they are is suspicions, and now is not the time to make them public.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, people would think it was merely black propaganda against the Sardeans. For another, the humans…” Her voice faltered in uncharacteristic uncertainty.
“If humans started to suspect that Terrarchs were in league with the Princes of Shadow, there would be revolution,” Rik said.
“At the very least it would undermine the fabric of our society at the very time when we needed to be united. You can see why I need to be certain, and why I need to deal with this quietly if I can. I want to know exactly how far the rot has spread.”
“What will you do to her when we capture Tamara?”
“I will make her talk.”
“She will be able to resist your sorcery if she is a Shadowblood.”
“There are other ways than sorcery to make people talk.”
Rik knew exactly what those methods were.
“Bloody cold tonight,” said Weasel. They sat huddled in the front of a cart in a roadway on the street of the Palace in which Jaderac and Tamara dwelled. It was a large place, brilliantly lit, disturbingly close to the Grand Cemetery. The wind was cold. A mixture of rain and snow filled the air and reflected the sorcerous street-lights on the cobbles. Rik pulled his cloak tight around him but still he felt chilled right through to the bone.
“You call this cold,” said the Barbarian. “You’ve obviously never been in the Northlands.”
“And I hope never to go there,” said Weasel.
Worry gnawed at Rik. He worried about the effect of the damp on the pistols in his belt. He worried about whether Tamara had spotted them as they had spied on her for the past week and would somehow be prepared for them. He worried about what he was going to do when he faced her, what would happen when she talked to Asea. There were things that they had done, and deeds they had discussed that he would not care for his patron to know about.