Meluan looked every bit as horrified as I felt at the suggestion. “Never!” She said as soon as she caught her breath. “It is the very root of our family. I would sooner think of salting every acre of our lands.”
“And hard as this wood is,” I hurried to say, “you would most likely ruin whatever was inside. Especially if it is delicate.”
“It was only a thought.” Alveron reassured his wife.
“An ill-considered one,” Meluan said sharply, then seemed to regret her words. “I’m sorry, but the very thought . . .” She trailed off, obviously distraught.
He patted her hand. “I understand, my dear. You’re right, it was ill-considered.”
“Might I put it away now?” Meluan asked him.
I reluctantly handed the box back to Meluan. “If there were a lock I could attempt to circumvent it, but I can’t even make a guess at where the hinge might be, or the seam for the lid.” In a box, no lid or locks / Lackless keeps her husband’s rocks. The child’s skipping rhyme ran madly through my head and I only barely managed to turn my laugh into a cough.
Alveron didn’t seem to notice. “As always, I trust to your discretion.” He got to his feet. “Unfortunately, I fear I have used up the better portion of our time. I’m certain you have other matters to attend to. Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss the Amyr? Second bell?”
I had risen to my feet with the Maer. “If it please your grace, I have another matter that warrants some discussion.”
He gave me a serious look. “I trust this is an important matter.”
“Most urgent, your grace,” I said nervously. “It should not wait another day. I would have mentioned it sooner, had we both privacy and time.”
“Very well,” he sat back down. “What presses you so direly?”
“Lerand,” Meluan said with slight reproach. “It is past the hour. Hayanis will be waiting.”
“Let him wait,” he said. “Kvothe has served me well in all regards. He does nothing lightly, and I ignore him only to my detriment.”
“You flatter me, your grace. This matter is a grave one.” I glanced at Meluan. “And somewhat delicate as well. If your lady desires to leave, it might be for the best.”
“If the matter is important, should I not stay?” she asked archly.
I gave the Maer a questioning look.
“Anything you wish to say to me you can tell my lady wife,” he said.
I hesitated. I needed to tell Alveron about the false troupers soon. I was sure if he heard my version of events first, I could present them in a way that cast me in a favorable light. If word came through official channels first he might not be willing to overlook the bald facts of the situation, that I had slaughtered nine travelers of my own free will.
Despite that, the last thing I wanted was Meluan present for the conversation. It couldn’t help but complicate the situation. I tried one final time. “It is a matter most dark, your grace.”
Alveron shook his head, frowning slightly. “We have no secrets.”
I fought down a resigned sigh and drew a thick piece of folded parchment from an inner pocket of my shaed. “Is this one of the writs of patronage your grace has granted?”
His grey eyes flickered over it, showing some surprise. “Yes. How did you come by it?”
“Oh, Lerand,” Meluan said. “I knew you let the beggars travel in your lands, but I never thought you would stoop to patronizing them as well.”
“Only a handful of troupes,” he said. “As befitting my rank. Every respectable household has at least a few players.”
“Mine,” Meluan said firmly, “does not.”
“It is convenient to have one’s own troupe,” Alveron said gently. “And more convenient to have several. Then one can choose the proper entertainment to accompany whatever event you might be hosting. Where do you think the musicians at our wedding came from?”
When Meluan’s expression did not soften, Alveron continued. “They’re not permitted to perform anything bawdy or heathen, dear. I keep them under most close controlment. And rest assured, no town in my lands would let a troupe perform unless they had a noble’s writ with them.”
Alveron turned back to me. “Which brings us back to the matter at hand. How did you come to have their writ? The troupe must be doing poorly without it.”
I hesitated. With Meluan here, I was unsure as to the best way to approach the subject. I’d planned on speaking to the Maer alone. “They are, your grace. They were killed.”
The Maer showed no surprise. “I thought as much. Such things are unfortunate, but they happen from time to time.”
Meluan’s eyes flashed. “I’d give a great deal to see them happen more often.”
“Have you any idea who killed them?” the Maer asked.
“In a certain manner of speaking, your grace.”
He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Well then?”
“I did.”
“You did what?”
I sighed. “I killed the men carrying that writ, your grace.”
He stiffened in his seat. “What?”
“They had kidnapped a pair of girls from a town they passed through.” I paused, looking for a delicate way of saying it in front of Meluan. “They were young girls, your grace, and the men were not kind to them.”
Meluan’s expression, already hard, grew cold as ice at this. But before she could speak, Alveron demanded incredulously, “And you took it on yourself to kill them? An entire troupe of performers I had given license to?” He rubbed his forehead. “How many were there?”
“Nine.”
“Good lord . . .”
“I think he did right,” Meluan said hotly. “I say you give him a score of guards and let him do the same to every ravel band of Ruh he finds within your lands.”
“My dear,” Alveron said with a touch of sternness. “I don’t care for them much more than you, but law is law. When . . .”
“Law is what you make it,” she interjected. “This man has done you a noble service. You should grant him fief and title and set him on your council.”
“He killed nine of my subjects,” Alveron pointed out sternly. “When men step outside the rule of law, anarchy results. If I heard of this in passing, I would hang him for a bandit.”
“He killed nine Ruh rapists. Nine murdering ravel thieves. Nine fewer Edema men in the world is a service to us all.” Meluan looked at me. “Sir. I think you did nothing but what was right and proper.”
Her misdirected praise did nothing but fan the fire beneath my temper. “Not all of them were men, my lady,” I said to her.
Meluan paled a bit at that remark.
Alveron rubbed his face with a hand. “Good lord, man. Your honesty is like a felling axe.”
“And I should mention,” I said seriously, “begging both your pardons, that those I killed were not Edema Ruh. They were not even a real troupe.”
Alveron shook his head tiredly and tapped the writ in front of him. “It says here otherwise. Edema Ruh and troupers both.”
“The writ was stolen goods, your grace. The folk I met on the road had killed a troupe of Ruh and taken up their place.”
He gave me a curious look. “You seem rather certain of it.”
“One of them told me so, your grace. He admitted they were merely impersonating a troupe. They were pretending to be Ruh.”
Meluan looked as if she couldn’t decide whether she was confused or sickened by the thought. “Who would pretend such a thing?”
Alveron nodded. “My wife makes a point,” he said. “It seems more likely that they lied to you. Who wouldn’t deny such a thing? Who would willingly admit to being one of the Edema Ruh?”
I felt myself flush hot at this, suddenly ashamed that I had concealed my Edema Ruh blood for all this time. “I don’t doubt your original troupe were Edema Ruh, your grace. But the men I killed were not. No Ruh would do the things they did.”
Meluan’s eyes flashed furiously. “You do not know them.”
I met her eyes. “My lady, I think I know them rather well.”
“But why?” Alveron asked. “Who in their right mind would try to pass themselves off as Edema Ruh?”