Blood Spirits (33 page)

“New business,” the Interlocutor stated.

“Is it always like this, no one but him allowed to talk?”

“The rule's only for public sessions.” She added in a breath of a whisper, “Honoré says there hasn't been a Council bloodbath since 1714. Though in 1939 they came very close.”

I could feel the tension building as the Interlocutor set aside his old papers and picked up the new. “Guild messengers from the three eastern mountains report an outbreak of illnesses in the past week,” he droned, then rattled his papers and said even more dryly, “In five villages, people insist that these are vampire attacks.”

The Council and attendees stirred, some making scoffing noises, others shushing the whisperers.

Someone was permitted to ask a question, which I only partially heard because of the rustling and whispering, but it sounded like he was asking for a precise report on the illness in question, and whether or not it was an epidemic.

“As always, the weather has prevented us from hearing from the more remote villages,” said the Prime Minister. “But the Vigilzhi are sending investigative teams.”

Everyone accepted that.

Wind vanes, street lights for Habsburg Street, the dam—each item had to have three Council hands before it was either put to a vote or else remanded to committee for investigation. The only time the three hands were not required were when either Alec or Baron Ridotski seconded it.

The secretary then cleared his throat and held up his next item of business. His fingers trembled, and the paper rattled.

Phaedra stiffened.

Cerisette lifted her chin, her little smile totally I'm-all-that.

The secretary read out, “Introduced through Lord Karl-Anton von Mecklundburg on behalf of his mother, the Duchess of von Mecklundburg, on behalf of the people of Riev Dhiavilyi, and on behalf of the population of Dobrenica, a petition for the indictment of Statthalter Marius Alexander Ysvorod for criminal negligence that resulted in the death of Madam Statthalter Ysvorod, Aurelia von Mecklundburg by birth.”

Tony was staring straight ahead, his mouth grim. Several of the Council members looked at one another, some of them uneasily; one shuffled, and cleared his throat.

“What are they waiting for?” I breathed, my entire body shivering with horror.

“They're all waiting to see who will be the first to—”

Alec raised his right arm, and the room stilled.

“I second it,” Alec said.

The silence after that was like a pistol shot.

Yeah, I know pistols aren't silent, but it felt like I'd been drilled right in the heart.

He got his memory back
, I thought.
He drove while drunk, and he hates himself for it
.

Cerisette tittered softly, and the Duchess hushed her with a twitch of her elegant head. Robert smiled, nodding in evident satisfaction.

Baron Ridotski made a sign and the Interlocutor droned, “The Prime Minister observes that the Statthalter's second abrogates the necessity for the reading of preliminary testimony made by the witnesses gathered on behalf of Lord Karl-Anton.”

“You find your own witnesses?” I whispered in disbelief.

“They all will be examined. Sh!”

The Interlocutor droned in a flat-tire tone, “An investigative committee will be appointed, to which committee may be submitted said testimony in hearing. Should the committee recommend, the question will go to trial before the Grand Council.”

There was more stirring and whispering, until the Prime Minister tapped his bell and the secretary called loudly for the next item.

My skull rang with shock. As usual, all I could deal with were the inconsequentials. “Tony is a duke, right?”

“Not sworn yet,” Phaedra whispered.

The next item was something about the budget. People seemed unable to stop whispering as the Interlocutor bored on, reading a list of numbers, but I didn't hear a word.

My gaze stayed on the three of them: Alec, who had completely masked himself. Beka, who stared into space, stricken. No, it was a lot worse than that. She looked like someone who'd had her heart ripped out by the roots. And Tony, whose expression was the same cold, intent anger I glimpsed briefly just before he killed Reithermann with a knife and when he came at me, sword in hand.

TWENTY

A
S SOON AS THE SESSION was over, Phaedra jumped up and dodged deftly between people. I caught sight of her again as she bent over Honoré in earnest conversation.

I tried to spot Alec, but he was completely surrounded.

Now I understood why he'd been avoiding me. He'd already condemned himself. It was just a matter of the legal world catching up, and until then, the only thing holding him together was work. I stood there, unable to move, my head buzzing with sorrow, regret, helpless rage, and a bit of residual headache from that prism experiment.

People moved about urgently, determined to talk, question, exclaim. A shoulder brushed my back, an elbow caught me in the side, after which the old man begged my pardon profusely, then went back to his conversation. Everyone seemed to have something to say to someone, but not to me.

So I ducked, dodged, and ran down the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, I was at Nat's. She was in the middle of eating lunch, so she had no patients.

I told her everything. Halfway through she began pounding her fist into her palm.

At the end, she jerked her head up. Gone were the laugh lines I had thought intrinsic to her face. There was no humor at all; I did not recognize this Natalie.

“Do you know what this means?” she asked.

“It's just sinking in. This isn't a hearing for manslaughter.”

“Right.”

“Or whatever the Dobreni call an accident.”

“Right.”

“He's going on trial for
murder
.”

“Right.”

“Natalie, he
wouldn't
have driven her to her death on purpose. But he seconded that horrible motion of Tony's. Alec's already condemned himself.”

Natalie sighed. “Neither of us know what kind of political B.S. is going on, but there's something.” Nat smacked her fist into her hand a couple more times, then said, “So what are you going to do?”

I flapped my hands. “What
can
I do?”

Nat pursed her lips.

I said, “To tell the truth, I'm half ready to get on the train and go back to London. It's too late to help Ruli. I get the distinct impression I'm a complication in Alec's life. And I'm sure as hell worse than that to the rest of them. Well, at least to my relatives. Most. The duchess and—”

“Kim. You're gibbering. What are you going to do?”

“I don't know.”

“Want Auntie Nat's advice?”

I folded my forearms across my middle. “Go for it.”

“Look, I don't know how you feel about Dobrenica, and life here. Maybe it's not fair to ask because you've been here what, barely a week? And last summer, a month? But . . . well, it's kinda like the wounded dog thing.”

“Wounded dog thing?”

“You know. You can have a tidal wave that kills millions, or talk about the ongoing suffering in African countries, and people throw up their hands, feeling guilty and depressed and helpless to do anything about it. But let some scumbag hurt a dog, which someone else vids and puts on YouTube, and everybody gets bent out of shape, demanding justice, because here's a situation where justice can actually be done.”

“Who is the wounded dog here? Alec?”

“No! The wounded dog is anyone, or any
thing
, that people feel can be rescued. That can get justice. And you're the one they're gonna turn to. Last summer, to a lot of people outside the nosebleed league, you were a hero.”

“Shouldn't a hero feel heroic? I don't.”

“You were. Ask that kid Theresa and her posse. Ask the Vigilzhi. Ask half the city, last summer when you opened a can of whoop-ass on those thugs of Reithermann's with your handy-dandy sword. And on your return? You not only saved a baron, but you saved his cats. Never underestimate the P.R. power of animal rescue.”

I had to laugh. “Cat rescue aside, for the duchess and her crowd, I'm still the conniving gold digger who lies like a rug.”

Nat grinned. “I think they want to believe it. I think they want you to believe it. I think they want the city to believe it. But at least some of them have to know, on some level, that that's a load of cow patties.”

“Yeah. I'm beginning to think that a lot of their attitude is because I stumbled in the way of their getting their pretty paws on the Dsaret inheritance. Money trumps even animal rescue—if you think that money should be yours. But all that can wait. Do you know what a trial means for Alec? I mean, the political side.”

“From what I understand, he carries on as usual while the committee does its thing. But if he's called to trial, then the Prime Minister takes over, and Alec's suspended from his position.”

My throat was so tight that for a second or two I couldn't speak. I forced out the words, “So what do you think I can do so heroically?”

“If I knew what to do,
I'd
be the hero.”

“I can't think past my nose. But I know who can. Nat, can you get me to the palace, to use the phone? I mean, without us causing a major photo op?”

Nat's eyes flashed wide, then she shrugged and grinned briefly. “Alec gave me a key long ago. I've been careful never to abuse the privilege. Somehow I don't think this is abuse.”

She got up, then dropped back onto her old couch, slapping her hands onto her knees. “No. I've got a patient right after lunch—wow, that's in four minutes! And also, if we take a cab to the palace, people will see us. Maybe not such a good idea right now. I think the best time to go is after the sun drops. The weather's turning nasty. We'll use it as cover. So meet me here at six.”

 

Back at the inn, I looked around at the delivered clothes and the half-spilled canvas bag of my clean laundry. I could deal with trying to get all that into the wardrobe later. What I needed most was to find out what was going on, not just politically but also with the weird world of Vrajhus.

The prism was sitting on the night table where I'd put it. I opened its box, which released a faint sharp scent. I lifted the prism out and set it down on the night table. Then I sat on top of my clean laundry in lotus position, hands on my knees to steady me.

Practice. And control.

I glared into the prism. “Okay, Ruli. I know this isn't supposed to be able to talk to ghosts, but glass and mirrors seem to be my vector to the ghost-phone. Come on. Pop out and talk to me.”

Nothing.

I leaned closer. Tipped the prism this way, that way. Colors flashed—glimpses of unfamiliar faces, none staying long enough for me to catch and hold.

One thing I knew: none of them were Ruli.

So I got up, opened the wardrobe door, and experimented with that. No ghost appeared, not even Armandros. Next I tried balancing the prism so that I could see the mirror reflected in it. Finally I stood by the wardrobe with the prism in hand and tried staring into the prism via the mirror.

All I got for my pains was the faint pangs of a headache.

So I tucked the prism back into its case and left it on the nightstand. To clear my head I tackled the clothing problem. That, too, reminded me of poor Ruli and her mega-wardrobe up at the Eyrie. I couldn't get all those new things into the wardrobe and still fit my old stuff, so I hauled out my suitcase and stuck my old stuff in that.

I slammed the wardrobe door, then put myself through a full work-out. At first my body twinged and the bruises ached, but the twinges faded as I warmed up.

When I was done, I sat down with the prism again, and this time tried the Zen approach, emptying my mind.

Lights swarmed and twinkled as before, sometimes shifting through images too quick to catch. Nothing held, nothing made sense, though once I thought I saw myself at the window, wearing one of the Ruli dresses from summer.

I put the prism away then discovered that I was hungry.

Downstairs, I found Theresa and Tania near the counter. The way they looked up at me made me wonder if I'd been the subject of their talk.

Tania's expression was wretched. “I beg pardon, Mademoiselle,” she said almost inaudible, her gaze downward. “Madam Petrov sent me to collect for the prism.”

Theresa's indignant expression was more revealing.

I said, “Did she think I was going to grab it and run off?”

“Domnu Petrov would never make such a demand,” Theresa whispered angrily. “It's
her
.”

“She is his wife. The lens store is half hers,” Tania said.

“Tchah!” Theresa said fiercely. “She would not have said that this morning. She is so stupid—” A quick, revealing glance my way.

The truth hit me like a punch in the gut. “It's this murder trial. Right? She thinks I'm implicated.”

“She is stupid,” Theresa hissed. “Those who talk so are stupid. They have forgotten all about this summer, and how you rescued the baron days ago. And so the smart people tell them!”

Madam Waleska came out then to ask if I wanted the goulash or the pörkölts with bean soup for dinner. Even she seemed subdued, her voice almost quiet.

I returned to my room to count out the heavy stamped coins, which I brought back to Tania. I saw the evidence of tears as she pulled on her coat and left.

 

I was glad I got that meal into me by time I'd been outside for five minutes. An icy wind had kicked up, special delivery straight from the North Pole.