That wasn’t much of an answer, but Marcus nodded anyway. Janus got up, stretching, and retrieved his coat. It looked as rumpled as he did.
Once they were outside, with the guards at a discreet distance, Marcus leaned close and spoke quietly. “I wanted to ask you, sir, about the prisoner.”
“Which-ah. Yes. The prisoner.”
“I wondered if you might care to talk to him.”
Janus let out a long breath. “Eventually, Captain. Matters are moving more quickly than I anticipated, thanks to this Danton. We are walking a very narrow bridge, and I cannot afford a misstep now. We will have time to pry out the secrets of the Black Priests when things are more. . settled.”
Jen’s voice, mocking Marcus from the back of his mind. Are you certain? He wanted to protest but swallowed the urge. “Yes, sir. Speaking of Danton, I should fill you in on what happened this morning.”
He told the colonel about Vertue as they entered the palace through a side door and walked down its apparently endless hallways, whose decor alternated between glass-and-mirror confections and baroque wood-and-gilt monstrosities. The faces of dead kings were everywhere, chiefly in the form of Farus IV, crowned in glory, looking on in beneficent approval at the mighty deeds of his son Farus V. Later monarchs had added their own touches, though, and in addition to the heads of state a veritable swarm of second sons, daughters, wives, and more distant relatives stared down at Marcus from every wall. There was even a picture of the Khandarai Court, though it bore only the faintest relation to reality. As far as Marcus could remember, the Vermillion Throne had not been attended by rearing stallions and roaring lions, much less dragons and hippogriffs.
At the grand archway that marked the entrance to the Cabinet wing, they encountered a young woman coming in the other direction, followed by a liveried maid and a squad of guards. She stopped when she saw Janus, who bowed deeply. Marcus followed his example.
“Princess,” Janus said. “It is an honor.”
Marcus looked up sharply as he straightened. The girl was small and delicate, with a round, lightly freckled face and tied-back curly brown hair. She wore a loose-hanging green dress of multilayered silk, gathered in a foamy collar at her slender throat but leaving her arms bare. Thin jeweled bracelets flashed at her wrists.
This is Princess Raesinia? He’d have guessed her for a teenager at first glance, though he knew the princess had been preparing to celebrate her twentieth birthday before the king had taken ill. She looked as frail as spun glass, and her head barely came level with his chin. He couldn’t imagine this fragile creature as a queen. No wonder Orlanko has taken so much power for himself.
“Count Mieran,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong. “It is a comfort to have you at court. My father thinks very highly of you.”
“His Majesty honors me with his trust.” Janus’ gray eyes caught and held Raesinia’s. “I only hope to be able to perform the services he asked of me.”
The princess blinked and nodded. Something had passed between her and Janus that Marcus couldn’t follow.
After a moment’s silence, Janus gestured at Marcus. “May I present my captain of Armsmen, Marcus d’Ivoire?”
Raesinia inclined her head, silk rustling. “Captain. I have heard tales of your exploits in the Khandarai campaign.”
“All exaggerated, I’m sure,” Marcus said, following Janus’ lead. “I’m honored to serve my lord Mieran.”
“I imagine you’ve been quite busy of late.”
Marcus wasn’t sure what to make of that. He sipped coffee to cover his confusion.
“With the near riot in the Exchange,” she went on. “And the problems at the banks.” Catching his look, she flashed him a quick grin. “Even princesses can read the broadsheets, Captain. And I’m not entirely impervious to rumor here in my ivory tower.”
“Of course, Your Highness. And to answer your question, yes, we’ve been very busy keeping the peace. Especially during your father’s illness, public order is paramount.” Marcus lowered his eyes. “We all hope for his swift recovery.”
“Long may he reign,” Janus murmured, and the princess’ guards echoed it in a low chorus.
“Long may he reign,” Raesinia agreed. “And I am sure I’m keeping you gentlemen from important business. If you’ll excuse me.”
She nodded again, getting another deep bow from Janus and Marcus, and glided past.
“She’s lovely,” Marcus said, when she was out of sight. That seemed safe enough.
“Indeed,” Janus said. “And. .” He shook his head. “Later. Come on, they’re waiting for us.”
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” said Count Torahn.
Marcus suspected he was being deliberately obtuse to needle Grieg. If so, it worked. The Minister of Finance was almost visibly steaming under his high, tight collar.
“After all,” Torahn continued, “it’s just a bank. These things happen, eh? Market goes up, market goes down. Everyone knows the only proper thing to do is keep your nose out and leave it to those who know about such things.”
Grieg made a visible effort to control himself. “Speaking as one of those ‘who know about such things,’ I wish more gentlemen would follow your advice. However, under the circumstances, the Second Pennysworth is not ‘just’ a bank. It is-”
“-a Borelgai bank,” Orlanko cut in. “And that makes this a political matter.”
“Exactly,” said Grieg. “The solvency of this government depends on our ability to tap the Viadre markets to borrow against future revenue. That, in turn, depends upon the conviction of the Borelgai that we are willing to do whatever is necessary to safeguard their investments. As such, this affair represents a serious threat to the Crown.” He turned from Torahn to Janus, who had been silent thus far in the proceedings. “I call on the Minister of Justice to take appropriate measures.”
A frown flickered across Orlanko’s face, there and gone again in an instant, like one of Janus’ smiles. It was impossible to read his eyes behind those enormous spectacles, but Marcus saw the slight inclination of his head toward Grieg. Puppet not dancing properly, is he? Strings get tangled up?
“I would advise against any. . precipitate action,” Orlanko said. “Danton Aurenne has become an extremely public figure. The reaction of the commons might be unpredictable.”
“Where did this fellow come from, anyway?” Torahn complained. “I’d never heard of him until the broadsheets started shouting about this Deputies- General nonsense. Could he be a spy?”
“If so, he’s an exceptionally poor one,” Orlanko said, with a hint of strained patience. “Seeing as he’s brought himself so thoroughly to our attention. Our investigation into his background is still proceeding.”
“I’m not worried about his background,” Grieg snapped. “I’m worried about what he’s going to do next. I’m already hearing rumblings from over the straits. And His Most Esteemed Lordship the ambassador has already been to see me and made himself clear most emphatically on the subject.”
“I’m not saying nothing should be done,” Orlanko said. “I’m saying we must be cautious, in order to avoid provoking a backlash worse than the initial problems. There are better ways to deal with Danton than tossing him in prison.”
Or tossing him in the river, Marcus added silently.
“Such as?” Grieg said.
“Buy him,” the Last Duke said bluntly. “Everyone has a price. Find out what his is, and give it to him.”
Grieg snorted. “He was giving away Second Pennysworth bonds to help start the panic. I don’t think a bit of coin will turn his head.”