He busied himself writing short notes at his desk. When Dickon returned with a small herd of young boys who looked as if they had been roused out of their sleep without a chance to do more than scramble into their clothes, the Reeve sent them to Lord Ven’s closest friends, to Lady Sky, and to his mother.
When the last messenger left, Dickon frowned at Kerim, “Shouldn’t you break the news to Lady Tirra yourself?”
Kerim shrugged. “Lord Ven is my brother, but he is also the latest in a number of bodies who are appearing among the courtiers. Sham may have been able to disguise the time of his death, but the mere fact of it will increase the city’s unrest. I need to meet with the Advisory Council immediately to forestall as many of the adverse effects as possible.”
Sham, watching forgotten from a seat in the far corner of the room, thought the Reeve was using the meeting as an excuse to avoid taking the news of his brother’s death to Lady Tirra. Not that she blamed him; she wouldn’t want to be the one to tell the Lady that her favorite son was dead either.
“Dickon, I need you to send messengers with the news that the Council has been called in the Meeting Room to the counselors who live outside the Castle walls. When you are finished, go to the rooms of those who live here and tell them the same.”
“Yes, sir.” Dickon slipped back out.
“Do you want me to go?” asked Sham.
Kerim shrugged tiredly, “It doesn’t matter. If you stay, you’ll reinforce your status. Be warned, it might make you a target for bribery or threats if the court believes you are close enough to me to influence my decisions.”
Sham smiled. “If you think that I haven’t been receiving bribes, you are sadly mistaken. Lord Halvok’s fledglings are skilled at interfering with the courtier’s attempts to corner me, but your nobles have become quite devious. Gifts and notes appear in my laundry, under my pillow, and on the food trays. I’ve gotten several very fine pieces of jewelry that way; they usually come with very subtle notes. My favorite was one implying that certain grateful parties would gift me generously if I would just slip an innocent-looking powder in your drink.”
“Poison?” questioned Kerim, though he didn’t seem alarmed.
Sham grinned. “No. Someone has access to a real wizard; it was a love-philter.”
“A what?”
Sham laughed at his outrage—outrage that had been absent when he thought it was poison. “Don’t worry. Love-philters are very temporary and are simple to resist—not that the person who sent it would necessarily know that. To be safe, if you find yourself suddenly lusting after someone, just wait a few days to approach the lady. If it persists, it isn’t magic.”
Kerim raised his eyebrows. “What did you do with the powder?”
Sham looked at him innocently and smiled.
“Shamera.”
“Calm yourself,” she advised. “I threw it in the fire, though I was tempted to find the biggest, nastiest man in your personal guards and give it to him. I thought finding out who you were supposed to fall in lust with could be useful, but Talbot wasn’t certain you would approve.”
Kerim brought one hand up to his face, and bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with weary laughter. “You would have, wouldn’t you. I can just see it. Karson, all fifteen stone of him, chasing after some noble’s daughter.”
“Is Karson the one missing his front teeth?”
“That’s he.”
“Nah,” Sham said, “I wouldn’t have picked him: he’s married. I talked to Talbot about the first few treasures that I found in my water glass.” She displayed the diamond solitaires in her ears. “He said to keep them, and eventually they’d give up. He said that’s what Dickon did, and Dickon’s long since ceased to receive gifts from anonymous sources.”
Kerim raised an eyebrow and asked again, “Have you had any threats?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I suspect it will come in due time.” When he looked worried, she laughed. “My lord Reeve, I have lived half my life in Purgatory. I assure you it is much more dangerous than court.” After a moment’s thought she added, “Even with a demon hunting here.”
When Dickon returned, he began sorting through Kerim’s wardrobe for clothing. When he brought them to the Reeve, Sham stopped him and examined each garment closely. When she was finished, she tossed the tunic into the fire.
“My lord,” protested Dickon. Kerim shook his head. “Find another tunic.” Dickon frowned, but he found a second tunic and presented it to Shamera with a bow. When she handed it back to him, he mutely pointed to the covered doorway. With a faint smile, Sham left while Dickon saw to the Reeve’s dressing.
Because the wheeled chair was in the fireplace, Talbot and Dickon carried Kerim to the meeting room next to his chambers. It was undignified, but only Sham was there to see. By the time the council members began to filter in, Kerim was settled in a high-back chair facing the door with Sham standing behind him.
Except for Halvok, the lone South woodsman counselor, the Advisory Council ignored Sham’s presence. It might have been because the rather plain cotton gown she wore was remarkable only for being ordinary. More probably the death of the Reeve’s brother was of more moment than his unorthodox mistress. Lord Halvok smiled when he saw her.
Kerim waited until all the counselors were seated before speaking. Tired and grieving, he was very much the Leopard.
“Gentlemen,” he began, “we have a problem. As you have already been informed, my brother’s body was discovered this evening. He was killed in much the same manner as Lord Abet and the other nobles these past months. As his body is in no fit state for viewing, I have ordered him shrouded, and set the pyre for sunset. I need your suggestions, my lords, as how to best stem the fear yet another such death will cause. To make sure you are all thoroughly aware of the entirety of the matter, Master Talbot will tell you what we know.”
Sham approved the smooth delivery that directed the inquiry away from the unseemly need for haste.
The Reeve nodded at Talbot who stood up and gave a brief summary of who had been killed by similar means and a partially fictitious account of what was being done to catch the murderer. By the time that a carefully worded eulogy and public announcement were drafted, to be delivered by the High Priest to the court at large, the skylights overhead were beginning to lighten.
After the others had left. Talbot and Dickon carried the Reeve to Dickon’s room for a few hours of sleep. Sham wouldn’t let him occupy his awn room until she had a chance to search it more carefully.
She retreated to her bed and dreamed fitfully of dead bodies and blood before she lapsed into a deeper slumber that lasted until just before dinner. Her sleeping schedule had never been particularly regular, and she woke up refreshed when Jenli knocked at the door. She hastily covered up the new bruises and old wounds with an illusion before she called out an invitation.
“I am sorry to disturb you, Lady,” said the maid, “but the Reeve sent me to make sure that you are ready for the state dinner that precedes Lord Ven’s pyre.”
Sham gave the woman a sharp glance. Exposure to Jenli’s uncle had given her a healthy respect for the intelligence that could be hidden under a bland facade. Jenli’s large, brown, cow-like eyes blinked back at her and Sham turned back to her wardrobe, shaking her head.
She rummaged, ignoring Jenli’s moans as she shoved dresses left and right, and pulled out another black gown. She hadn’t chosen it for mourning, but it would work well for that as well.
As Jenli began working on the myriad tiny buttons that closed the narrow sleeve, her brows twisted in puzzlement. “Lady,” she said hesitantly.
“Yes?” Sham preened before the mirror.
“This is a dress that my grandmother would find overly modest, Lady.”