Passion Play (30 page)

To her relief, the Baron remained silent through the dance’s first movement, leaving Ilse to concentrate on minding her steps and keeping her own face under control.

“You are well?” he asked at last.

His tone was gentle. He was only concerned, she reminded herself.

“I am, my lord.”

“Older,” he said, in a musing tone. “I see other differences, but I cannot put them into words.” He paused. “You must know that I saw your father last month. He is still searching for you. Would you—”

“No,” she said suddenly. “Don’t. Please.”

“Hush. You will attract too much attention. Come with me.” Deftly he guided their steps toward the edge of the dance floor, where the crowds thinned to just a few couples. “We can dance more easily here,” he said in a conversational tone. And then in a lower voice, he added, “I understand your distress. At least, I believe I do. But would you not want me to tell your family that you are alive, well?”

She shook her head. “Not even that, my lord. I’m sorry, but I—” She drew a long unsteady breath. “I cannot risk it, my lord. Please.”

He looked unconvinced. “Are you well? Are you with a good household?”

A pleasure house. A shadow court. The house of an exiled lord.

“Very good,” she said. “As far as I can judge.”

“You must be,” he murmured, “to receive an invitation here. And yet I must not pry. I can see that from your eyes and mouth, Mistress Therez.”

“My name is Mistress Ilse,” she said, just as softly.

His eyes widened slightly. “Interesting. I should have guessed that you were a resourceful young woman.”

They danced in silence through two more movements. Lord Vieth and his stewards had evidently heard of the fashion for music and magic, because illusory stars appeared overhead, their lights winking and rippling in time with the music.

“Are you here for the season?” Baron Eckard said at last.

She shook her head. “For as long as possible, my lord. What about you?”

He smiled. “I’m here for a different kind of season. My daughter and her family have their estates outside the city, and so I’ve come for a protracted visit. I am to be a grandfather, they tell me.”

She congratulated him. “And then you return to Melnek?”

“It depends on the weather.”

He spoke in a dry tone that recalled Lord Kosenmark at his most oblique. Lord Kosenmark. Baron Eckard. My dear Rudolfus, he had called him. Yes. Of all the information that Lord Kosenmark had dumped upon her in the past week, he had not disclosed who would participate in the night’s meeting, but now she knew at least one.

You’ve come for more than your grandchild,
she thought.

“Hmmmm.” Baron Eckard was observing her with curiosity. “You look strangely satisfied, Mistress Ilse. May I ask why?”

She colored, thinking she would have to guard her expression more closely. “Nothing more than the pleasure of a good partner, my lord.”

Eckard lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. They finished out the dance in silence, and when the music drew to its close, he swept into a deep bow.

“I wish you good fortune, Mistress Ilse.”

“And to you,” she replied.

He bowed again, once more the bland courtier, and withdrew into the crowds.

She danced twice after that with two different young men who introduced themselves as friends of friends of Lord Vieth’s grandsons. When the second dance ended, she retreated to one of the alcoves where she had a cushioned bench to herself.

The music paused for an interlude. While the musicians set out new instruments, a chorus of singers sang in rising counterpoint one of the old ballads from the empire days. The song—about war and war’s heroes—sounded strange to Ilse in this rich setting, so far from any battlefield.

The song ended. The musicians eased into the next piece—another partnered dance. Just then, she saw Lord Kosenmark, threading his way between the couples, like a splash of midnight among so many brilliant colors. The meeting, she thought, her heart beating faster.

Kosenmark stopped in front of Ilse and held out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

Startled, she took a moment to answer. “Of course, my lord.”

He smiled, but his manner seemed distracted. He led her onto the floor just as an alto horn sounded three resonant notes. The water flutes responded with a second theme, and the pattern was established. This was a very formal dance, one generally reserved for court, for weddings, for other grand affairs. Ilse had just learned it the year before she left home. She hoped she remembered the steps.

Kosenmark touched his palms against Ilse’s. “We begin with an introduction,” he said softly. “As strangers must.”

So he had noticed her hesitation. “Thank you.”

He nodded but said nothing more as they moved through the figures for introduction, which were slow and measured, then on to those of a new acquaintanceship, with a faster and lighter pace. Ilse expected him to tell her when the meeting would take place. After a third set passed without him speaking, she began to wonder if something had changed his plans. Though his expression remained pleasant, he was scanning the crowds with quick intense looks.

Be careful of the dishes you choose, the woman had said.

Ilse stepped closer as the next figure required. “My lord, I had a warning.”

Kosenmark immediately looked down at her, attentive. “What kind of warning? From whom?”

“A woman. We sat together at the banquet.” She repeated what she heard, trying to use the same intonation.

“What did she look like?”

“Dark complexioned—darker than mine. A deep blue gown with the sides cut away to show the undergown. She wore diamonds in her hair.” She wanted to add her impression that this woman looked dangerous, but that was too quick, too simplistic a conclusion. “She said nothing wrong, my lord, but her manner was quite strange.”

“I see.” Kosenmark glanced around the room. “That was Lord Dedrick’s sister, Lady Alia. She has her own concerns, which sometimes intersect those of Lord Dedrick’s. She wishes to join the Queen’s Court and fears that Lord Dedrick’s association with me would harm her chances.”

“So her warning meant nothing?”

“Not exactly. The king’s displeasure should never be taken lightly.”

Throughout this exchange, he had held her closer than the figure required. Now he slid a hand along her back, looking down at her with an expression that bordered on warm. Ilse started to draw back when Kosenmark whispered, “I’m sorry. There are those who watch us, and this seems the best pretense. Can you bear that?”

His breath tickled her cheek, but she forced herself to relax, at least outwardly. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now, we have a choice. We could end this act with a show of outrage from you. In that case, you would remain here among the ordinary guests, while I attend to certain private concerns. That would spare you any more indignities.”

Leaving her outside the meeting. “What is the other choice?”

His golden eyes, so close to her face, took on a speculative look. “You might come with me and attend to those same concerns. It would involve a further ruse, and some damage to your character.”

“A dalliance?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Would they believe it? What about—”

“Dedrick? He left me. I’m a disappointed man. That makes it more believable.”

Ilse hesitated. She hardly liked to bring up the matter of preferences, but apparently her thoughts were clear from the look on her face. Kosenmark laughed softly. “That, too, would be believable. However, I would understand if you refused. We should have to make a scene then. I would stalk off, leaving you angry but untouched on the ballroom floor. The choice is yours.”

Ilse took a deep gulping breath. “I will go with you.”

“Very well. Please excuse the familiarity.”

His cheek grazed hers, then Kosenmark straightened up with a throaty laugh. His eyes were brighter, his gaze more intense. It took all her control not to bolt.

“Try to look as though you enjoy it,” he murmured.

She nodded and leaned against him briefly, her heart pounding. His lips brushed the top of her head. His breath feathered her hair. The dance had taken them to one side of the crowded ballroom, where several arched passageways led to the interior of Lord Vieth’s palace. They ducked through one into a servant’s corridor. Kosenmark drew back from their embrace. With a light touch, he indicated they should turn left.

As she expected, Kosenmark knew Lord Vieth’s palace quite well. He led Ilse through several passageways, then down a flight of steps and along an elegant gallery, decorated with brilliant frescoes showing all the legends about Lir and Toc, from their birth to their season of love, from Toc’s blindness to his death and rebirth. At last they came to a doorway set deep into the marble walls. Kosenmark opened the door without knocking and ushered Ilse inside.

She entered a parlor, small and elegant, whose walls were covered in painted scenes of the empire days. Opposite the inner entrance, glass doors opened onto a courtyard, half-lit by lamplight streaming from the windows above and opposite their room.

Ilse took in the opulent furnishings, the polished floors, and rare paintings in one glance. Then her attention was upon the four richly dressed men and women who sat around the fireplace. Baron Eckard. Luise Ehrenalt. Lady Emma Theysson. One stranger she didn’t recognize.

Ilse felt a ping of satisfaction at seeing Lady Theysson, she who had such skill with words. Baron Eckard, she had expected. Luise Ehrenalt was also no surprise, considering how often Ehrenalt visited the pleasure house. Still, from all the weeks of preparations, she had expected that far more people would attend.

Baron Eckard started when he saw Ilse. He sent a questioning glance toward Kosenmark, who slid around Ilse and into the last remaining chair. “My lord—”

Kosenmark forestalled him with a curt gesture. “To business. We must be quick before others miss our presence. I’ve asked you here to discuss our suspicions.”

“Suspicions?” said Luise Ehrenalt. “Call them proof. The signs are plain enough. King Leos is obviously preparing for war.”

“The signs are not as plain as you would have them, Luise. Yes, we know that Károví has begun naval maneuvers off the Kranjě islands. And I received confirmation this week that the king has recalled certain high-ranking officers from Taboresk, Duszranjo, and Strážny. Both clues point to an invasion, yes, but we cannot know where yet, or why.”

“Veraene, of course,” said Ehrenalt.

“There is no of course,” the unknown man said.

“How can you say that, Benno?”

Kosenmark made a quick gesture that brought immediate quiet. “My lord Iani. Mistress Ehrenalt. Please. I have more news to report.”

He took a parchment sheet from inside his shirt. Ilse recognized it at once—it was the same she had accidentally read a few weeks before, when she discovered Kosenmark’s secret activities.
Vnejšek. Jewels. Yes.
The paper’s edges looked more frayed than before, as though Kosenmark had folded and unfolded the letter often.

Ehrenalt’s mouth thinned as Lord Kosenmark read the words in his high fluting voice. Lord Iani appeared lost in thought, but then sent a questioning glance toward Ilse. “Lir’s jewels,” he said softly. “Do you think he’s rediscovered them?”

“I doubt it. That is something he would not conceal.”

“Why the troops, then?” said Baron Eckard. “Does he think the jewels are here, in Veraene?”

“I’m not certain what Leos thinks. This message answers questions I posed six months ago to my agents in Rastov: Has the king renewed his search for Lir’s jewels? Where is he searching?”

“So he’s looking in Anderswar,” Iani murmured. “That would explain so much.”

“But it does not explain the troops,” Eckard said. His voice shook with uncharacteristic passion. “Remember three hundred years ago. Remember how Leos Dzavek scoured the borders with magic and plagues. He left a string of ghost cities behind. We must warn the king.”

He meant the second wars, Ilse thought—a hundred years after the first ones, when a thief had stolen Lir’s jewels from Leos Dzavek. Those were the wars that had redrawn the borders with blood and fire. The ones that had driven the island province of Morennioù to raise a fiery shield to protect itself. Soon after, other provinces had broken away from Duenne’s control. To some, those wars were the true end of the empire.

“Armand already knows,” Raul said. “As much as he wishes to know, which is not enough to reassure me. If I had one wish, it would be an hour with Armand of Angersee and him listening to my concerns about his kingdom.”

“Two desperate men.” It was the first Lady Theysson had spoken. She sounded thoughtful. “With the force of kingdoms behind each. Armand has wanted an excuse to attack Károví ever since he took the throne.”

“Annexation,” Ehrenalt said. It was not a question.

“Probably,” Kosenmark said. “We are not at that point yet. There are a few councillors who would require more proof of Dzavek’s intentions before they support a war.”