Irons in the Fire (35 page)

"I'm sure the dukes will be just as eager to diminish our challenge with ridicule," Aremil allowed.

"I'm no artist." Branca shook her head.

"Nor me," Charoleia admitted ruefully. "But I know some talented painters. Shall I see if one of them can make something of these ideas?"

"As long as you can think up some convincing excuse for offering such a curious commission." Aremil was beginning to wonder just how long they could keep all their planning a secret. More and more people were being drawn into this plot, even if they didn't know it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Karn

Ronde Street, in Vanam's Upper Town,

20
^th
of Aft-Summer

The sultry night didn't need blazing torches adding to the stultifying heat. Karn didn't need their yellow glare making it impossible to find concealment closer to the house he was watching.

But the Greater Moon was fading past its last quarter and the Lesser was barely waxing to its half. Poldrion forfend the rich and privileged stub their toes on an uneven cobble.

At least the upper town's alleys were swept clean of filth and vagrants. Karn could wait comfortably enough while watching to see who was coming and going to buy information from or sell it to Lady Alaric.

He was curious. A day or so gathering gossip suggested Lady Alaric was spending most of her time within her own doors. Her visits to Vanam usually saw her spending her evenings at dances and gambling parties or as an honoured guest in one of the upper town's sedate drawing rooms, where incautious scholars would find their tongues loosened by wine and a beautiful woman's flattering attention.

Karn had played that game himself, and on the one occasion he had seen Lady Alaric before, she had been strumming on the vanity of the Tormalin Emperor's master of music with all the skill of a celebrated lutenist. Karn hadn't spoken to her then, passing unnoticed through the throng in a lackey's livery.

When would he get the chance to introduce himself tonight? How many guests was she entertaining? Like most of the other houses along the street, the shutters and casements above the ground floor stood open in a vain attempt to entice a breeze inside. To his intense frustration, he couldn't get close enough to distinguish between the shadows crossing and recrossing her lamp-lit windows. Every shape might be a different man, or some restless individual might simply be pacing back and forth.

He yawned. He was still feeling the effects of his punishing journey here, though steaming himself in a bathhouse on the Ariborne that afternoon had gone a long way to easing his aches. And encountering an amiably corpulent glovemaker there had gone a fair way to replenishing his purse. Such men were usually happy to reward an agreeably anonymous lad with firm, deft hands. Karn always liked to show Master Hamare how little of Triolle's silver he needed to spend.

A clock struck somewhere, four chimes echoing around the granite buildings. Karn shifted. Not long till midnight. The summer darkness this far north of Triolle was short enough before it was divided into the night's ten hours. Lady Alaric's party would soon be ending. Scholars went early to their solitary beds and those who might wish for more frivolity showed due consideration for the university's customs. The university's mentors were generally their landlords, after all.

He pursed his lips. Who was renting this discreetly prestigious address to Lady Alaric?

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder "I'll have your name and business, lad."

"I have a message but I don't want to interrupt her ladyship." Ducking his head, he made sure his voice broke nervously upwards.

"Let's have a look at you." The Watchman shoved him towards the golden light of the closest torch. Despite the heat, the broad-shouldered man wore a voluminous cloak.

Karn noted the line of a weapon hidden beneath it to supplement his official stave. A club or a sword? No matter. It didn't suit his purpose to get into a fight tonight.

"My name is Karn Mellar." He folded his hands, hunching his shoulders as he met the Watchman's gaze, meek but not afraid. Fear would imply he knew he had no right to be here.

"Who's your message for?"

Karn knew the Watchman was taking in his clean-shaven face, his expensively tailored doublet and the sheen on his boots. Upper-town Watchmen were no fools. They were the ones with the experience and influence that won them the right to walk quieter streets through the darkness. Stupid recruits didn't last the course. The attractions of petty power and a bell to ring over erstwhile friends and rivals lost their lustre after the fourth or fifth taste of having the cockiness kicked out of them in some tavern courtyard.

"My Lady Alaric Verlayenne." Karn assessed the Watchman's interest. No, the man's face betrayed no hint of unsavoury lusts driving him to walk the darkened streets instead of sitting by his own fireside with a wife and child.

"Lady Alaric? Let me take you to her door." The firm hand behind his elbow brooked no argument.

Karn offered none. Lady Alaric was doubtless buying the allegiance of the local Watchmen, which was why the man was prowling the back alleys instead of keeping to the middle of the streets on his prescribed route.

The Watchman rapped smartly on Lady Alaric's polished door with the brass-bound end of his stave.

Karn heard the scurry of slippered feet on tiles and a maid opened the door to them. No slip of a girl, she was old enough to have been Karn's mother. Had his mother lived.

"Compliments to your mistress." The Watchman tipped his stave to his temple in brief salute. "Lad says he's got a message."

"You can give it to me." The maid held out a smooth hand showing little sign of days spent scrubbing or polishing.

"I beg your pardon, but it's not a letter," Karn said respectfully. "My master told me to speak only to her ladyship."

"Did he, indeed?" The maid looked at him, her expression unreadable though her Relshaz accent was plain. "You had better come in and wait until it suits my lady to see you."

"Thank you." Karn ducked his head. There was something faintly familiar about the woman. What was it?

The Watchman slapped the end of his stave into a leathery palm. "I'll bid you goodnight, then."

"Thank you for your vigilance." The maid favoured him with a pert smile before she beckoned Karn inside with a peremptory gesture.

Lady Alaric would be paying the Watchman well enough to guarantee he wouldn't go far while she had a strange man in her house. He'd come running if her servants shouted an alarm, ready to use whatever weapon he carried under that cloak.

"In here." The maid lit a spill from the candle in the closest mirrored sconce and opened a door across the panelled hall.

"Thank you." Karn surprised her with a cheeky grin.

Her expression didn't change. "If you please."

Karn followed her into the shadowy room.

The maid lit the silver branch of candles waiting on the marble mantelshelf. "Please, refresh yourself while you wait."

She crossed to a rosewood table with spindly legs where a tray of crystal glasses stood between a squat bottle of white brandy and a decanter of plum-coloured liquor.

"Thank you." Karn wouldn't give offence by declining but he wasn't about to cloud his wits, not after so long a day.

The maid smiled at him. "My lady will see you soon."

As she walked to the door, the soft metallic melody of a music box filled the room. As the door closed, Karn went to look at the marquetry casket she'd opened. The brass drum revolved steadily, its pattern of fine bristles plucking at sweetly tuned metal quills. It played a Dalasorian dance tune.

He looked upwards at the plaster ceiling bright with moulded and painted flowers. How many voices overhead? Men or women? The music box was just loud enough to foil any hope of distinguishing them. If he stopped it playing, he'd have to explain himself, wouldn't he? A neat trick.

There was an upholstered loveseat by the muslin-draped window and a small table flanked by two delicate chairs. The walls were hung with silk embroidered with the same flowers that decorated the hall: rain-roses, sweetflax and copper-sickle. Did Lady Alaric conduct business in here or assignations?

He frowned. He hadn't seen her attended by any maid in Toremal. Why did that servant look familiar?

Doors opened above. Feet sounded on the stairs, mingled with laughter and cheerful farewells. Outside he could hear carriages drawing up with a clatter of hooves. He looked at the window. Here on the lower floor, the shutters were securely closed. Even if he could open one quietly, the candlelight would betray his curiosity.

"Good evening." Lady Alaric entered, one silver-ringed hand smoothing woven plaits confining a cascade of chestnut ringlets.

"Good evening." Karn made his bow.

"Thank you. Your arrival reminded everyone of the late hour." A dimple beside her petal-soft lips made her confiding smile all the more attractive. "It wasn't the most exciting gathering but one must return the hospitality of one's neighbours."

Despite the lateness, the noblewoman was bright-eyed and all the oppressive heat did was tint her perfect cheekbones with a blush of rose. Lavender topaz set in silver filigree ornamented her slender neck, though the clarity of the stones couldn't hope to match her remarkable eyes.

Karn admired the calculated perfection of her appearance. The soft swell of her bosom above her white silk gown's low neckline was demurely covered by a frill of silver lace. More lace trimmed her sleeves in matronly fashion. On the other hand, the tightly fitted bodice drew the eye to her slender waist and the seductive swell of her hips.

Decorous enough not to threaten women, who, Halcarion help them, would inevitably look plain beside this beauty, while any man from the callowest youth onward would find her mature serenity deeply alluring.

That suited Karn. Older women could always be flattered by boyish adoration. He cleared his throat.

Lady Alaric raised a silver-braceleted hand and angled her head. "Hamare of Triolle's man," she said after a moment's thought. "You were in Toremal the summer before last. Can I offer you something to drink?"

Karn closed the music box to stifle the tinkling tune. "Thank you, some water would be welcome."

"It is a warm night." She nodded to her maid and the woman withdrew. "How is your master? How does Triolle fare?" she asked briskly.

"My master is well," Karn said courteously, "though puzzled."

"What's gnawing at him?" Lady Alaric raised her perfectly shaped brows. "What will easing his mind be worth?"

"It will be worth your while, my lady," Karn assured her. "I can tell you anything you wish to know about Duke Iruvain's current plans."

She sat on one of the chairs, sweeping her skirts gracefully aside. "I already know all I wish to." She lifted one foot to tug at the ribbons of her high-heeled satin shoe.

"My master will be most grateful for anything you care to share." Karn spread his hands, submissive. "And, naturally, in your debt."

"Goodwill seldom counts for as much as gold." Lady Alaric smiled sardonically. "My dressmaker won't take debts of honour to settle her bills."

Karn allowed himself to relax a little. Hamare had told him Lady Alaric was interested in solid coin, gold and silver, first and last. A generous purse always made for straightforward dealings, easier than twisting someone's arrogance to his own ends, or their lust, their desire for revenge, whatever proved to be his key to them.

"You must put a value on the answers you decide to share with us, and on what I have to tell you of Triolle and other matters. We'll see where that leaves the reckoning." Karn saw that the ribbons of her shoe were knotted. "May I help you with that?"

"Thank you." Mild amusement twitched at the corner of her mouth as he knelt at her feet.

Karn had played the page often enough. It was the work of a moment to loosen the lavender ribbons decorated with tiny heartsease. Supporting her calf with one hand, he drew off the white shoe.

"That's better." Lady Alaric wriggled her silk-stockinged toes.

Karn stroked gentle fingertips down her instep. "Would you like me to rub your feet?"

"Maybe later." Her gossamer petticoats rustled with spicy perfume as she presented her other shoe.

The door opened and the maid entered with a glass ewer of water and two crystal goblets. She showed no surprise at seeing their late-night visitor on his knees in front of her mistress.

"We'll serve ourselves." Lady Alaric waved a hand at the table beside her.

The maid set the tray down and withdrew with an alacrity that suggested she guessed more intimacy might ensue.

"You've been in Vanam a day or so."

"You're very well informed." As he glanced up, Karn saw a glint in her eye. Might they exchange more than just information?

"You left Triolle just after Solstice." She poured the water, thoughtful. "Something Master Hamare learned from the festival's exchanges of letters and gifts piqued his curiosity? Enough to send you all the way to Vanam with the coin to hire fresh horses for every stretch of road."