“What did you say?” Esquire Camarl asked, voice tight with emotion.
“I told them they could have their money and be done with us,” rasped Fresil. “If our word has no value, we’ll take our business elsewhere. Most were only too happy to assure me they meant no insult, protesting every confidence in the House, but who knows who they met after me, Den Rannion, Den Thasnet or Den Muret? All doubtless undermining our House with Saedrin knows what lies!”
“Confidence is everything in Toremal.” The Sieur looked straight at Temar. “If we show any lack of assurance, all those people who depend on us, whom we depend on in turn, they’ll start to believe these lies. Our lands may be as fertile as ever, our ships as seaworthy, our mines as productive, but if the trust that shores up this House starts to crumble we’ll be crippled like a penniless beggar.”
“But people will be outraged by this death,” Casuel interrupted with sudden consternation. “What about the Rationalists? They always oppose the waste of a life and plenty of the Names approve of Rational philosophy. Oh, but maybe that’s the point. Do you think the man meant to be taken? To test the Sieur like this?”
“I think we’re hedged about with quite enough problems without seeing conspiracy under every bush, Master Devoir.” The Sieur smiled to soften his rebuke.
“What of the artefacts?” demanded Avila with rising colour. “How do you propose to recover them?”
“Perhaps the thief could escape?” Casuel suggested with inspiration. “He could be followed, back to his partner, back to wherever they’ve hidden the spoils!”
“Are you a complete fool, wizard?” Fresil’s tone was scathing. “What would that say for the House if we can’t even keep one sneak thief securely locked away?”
“We’ve already had that lately come Den Turquand trying to get a hand in our strongboxes in return for whatever valuables he holds.” Messire D’Olbriot was still talking to Avila. “While I don’t think this conspiracy reaches as far as Master`Devoir might believe, I’d say it’s a safe wager some other House put these men up to this theft. I think we wait for our unknown enemy’s next move. With luck, they’ll offer us the artefacts and we’ll be able to agree a price. The worst that can happen is Den Whoever-It-Is locking the things away, to keep them from being used to help Kellarin rebuild. I’m sure they’ll stay safe until we can tie someone’s Name to this crime. Once we do that, the return of the artefacts will be the price of our silence.”
“So much for honour in this era,” said Avila with contempt.
“If we’re dealing with dishonourable men, Demoiselle, the best we can hope for is pragmatism,” replied the Sieur steadily.
“So you will do nothing?” There was no mistaking Temar’s anger.
Messire met his challenge head on. “What would you have me do? Paste bills all over the city asking for the return of the artefacts? What measure of weakness would that show? Have you the means to pay five times their worth to whatever gutter thief manages to get his filthy hands on one?”
“Is it a question of coin?” Avila snapped. “Like so much in this day of yours? What amount can weigh in the scales against the value of a life, a future?”
“What future will Kellarin have for anyone if the House of D’Olbriot falls?” retorted the Sieur. “Without us to aid and defend it, your colony will be cast adrift across the ocean at the mercy of any looking to plunder it.”
Avila had no answer to that. She simply glared at the Sieur, lips tight, outrage hooding her eyes.
I stared fixedly at the carpet, hoping no one was going to ask me just what I’d said to Charoleia.
“But if we can’t be seen to be searching for these artefacts, that doesn’t mean others can’t act for us.” Messire clasped his hands in front of him. “Master Mage, Planir’s been searching out these artefacts for years now. Surely he has some magical means of tracing them?”
Fresil snorted with contempt, Esquires Camarl and Myred exchanging sceptical glances as the wizard struggled for a reply. “We have some techniques, some scholarship in Hadrumal—”
“Is there nothing you can do yourself, man?” demanded Fresil.
Casuel smiled weakly. “I wasn’t the mage who brought the things here. The girl Allin, she might have had some hope of finding the coffer, if the whole thing had been taken, but since it was emptied—”
“Is there any Artifice you can use?” Temar turned a beseeching face to Avila, who was studying her hands.
“Perhaps.” She looked up. “I will send word to Guinalle and see what she advises. At least, I find no hint of Artifice being worked in the city, so I do not think we need fear Elietimm connivance in the theft.”
Myred looked as if he were about to speak but evidently remembered that Avila could use Artifice to send Guinalle her message rather than have to rely on a ship taking half a season to cross the ocean.
“If you’re bespeaking the Archmage, ask if Livak’s found any old lore that might help,” I suggested. Casuel looked as if he’d bitten into a quince.
“A good notion, Ryshad.” Messire looked thoughtful. He’d backed Livak’s journey with coin and a measure of the House’s prestige to secure a claim on anything she learned. That was primarily to give him the right to demand recompense for sharing the lore with Planir, be it coin or wizardly violence against any Elietimm landing on Tormalin shores. Now he might just get an earlier return on his investment. He smiled reassurance at Avila. “Another resource we can call on.”
“Meantime, we simply do nothing?” Temar’s frustration was building and I felt my own neck tense in sympathy. “We allow all these enemies to ring us round? Can we never strike back?”
“It’s clear enough Den Thasnet’s deeply mired in all this.” Myred looked hopefully at his father.
The Sieur shared a look of silent understanding with Fresil. Both faces were hard with ominous determination. “We’ll see to Den Thasnet, never fear, and all the others snapping at our heels from the safety of the court. But we need time to get all our pieces in play, so your task is to show how confident we are by enjoying this Festival along with all the other youth of the House. You all have invitations for today, so I suggest you go and make merry, as if you haven’t a care in the world.”
Camarl and Myred obediently rose to their feet but Temar’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “I will be needed to help Demoiselle Tor Arrial.”
“She can have the wizard,” said the Sieur with the first hint of irritation he’d shown. “Think about those you have living and breathing in Kellarin, Temar, not merely the ones who still sleep. This Festival is the only opportunity you’ll have this side of winter to meet the people you need to keep your colony afloat. So far you’ve attended one reception, got yourself stabbed and spent an illuminating evening drinking wine at a sword school. Making useful acquaintance must be your main concern today and tomorrow if you’re to have any hope of raising your House again.”
“We’re going to a garden lunch with Den Murivance,” said Camarl, looking first to placate his uncle and immediately after to suppress Temar.
“Perhaps I could—” The Sieur silenced me with a look.
“You’re going nowhere beyond barracks and gatehouse, Ryshad. For one thing, whoever wanted to stick a sword in you yesterday might send someone for a second try. More importantly, the House opens to the commonalty tomorrow, had you forgotten? Imagine the opportunity for mischief that offers. After last night’s disgraceful exhibition, I want you putting the fear of flogging into every man-at-arms who’ll be on duty.”
“Stolley and Naer—”
“You’ve rank to equal theirs now, and in any case neither’s shown himself to advantage over these last few days.” The Sieur smiled thinly. “You’re known but you’re just unfamiliar enough to keep sworn and recognised on their toes. I want every man wearing my badge alert for the least thing out of the ordinary tomorrow. You’re the man to make that happen.”