Passion Play (37 page)

Kosenmark tilted his head and regarded her with a half smile. “What do you think?”

“There were two meetings,” she said slowly, watching his expression for clues. “More than two. One was the public meeting where you expected an interruption. Now I remember how disappointed Lord Khandarr looked. He expected to discover more of the people in your shadow court, but you brought only the ones he knew about. When you left me to wait outside the ballroom, you met secretly with the others one by one. Or perhaps in pairs.”

He was shaking his head. “You are too clever, Mistress Ilse. I’m glad you never
did
spy upon me. Yes, it happened just as you just described. However, because we could not meet all together, we were unable to reach any conclusion about the news from Károví. Since then, we’ve suspended any further meetings.”

To resolve other matters, she thought. Yes. How much had he told the other members of his shadow court about his suspicions?

“They know,” Kosenmark said softly. “Both the beginning and the end of that affair. You should know that Mistress Ehrenalt disagreed with my methods—with very loud and plain words. But enough of that. You asked about your day’s work. I have only one task for you right now. Or rather, a question.”

He motioned again for her to sit. She did, but he remained standing, pacing around the chairs as he talked. “It’s about King Leos. And the news about his search for the jewels. We have watchers and listeners in both courts—Lady Theysson calls that keeping a vigilant guard.” He paused in his flow of speech. “You spoke very strongly against intrigue and spies. I cannot say you are wrong or naïve, but I cannot agree. Not entirely. If we close our eyes, we walk in blindness.”

“If we stop our ears, we live as the deaf, our senses muffled by a willful ignorance,” Ilse said, completing the quote.

He smiled. “So you did read all those texts I gave you. Yes. We must watch and listen and gather our clues. But as you warned me, we cannot watch only for clues we expect. Lady Theysson and Lord Joannis expect war. Lord Iani expects a search for the jewels. Baron Eckard admits he does not know what to expect, and that troubles him more than anything. So I ask you: What do you expect?”

Ilse thought for several long moments before she answered. This was a test of sorts, whether Lord Kosenmark intended it for one or not. “Not war,” she said at last. “Not unless Veraene begins one.”

“Interesting. Why?”

“Because it’s not like his nature. You gave me books to read about his earlier years, and I’ve heard stories from my grandmother, who lived under his rule for thirty years. He’s known as a good king. A strong and careful king. He would not launch a war unless provoked. And … he’s old.”

“Why should that prevent him?”

That was harder to answer. She tried to put into words the vague impression she felt whenever she heard Leos Dzavek discussed. “Because he is old,” she said. “Because for all his magic, he
will
die someday. He would not launch a war if he could not live to see its end.”

Kosenmark paused by the fireplace and stared into it. Except for the shadows, the tiredness had vanished from his face, and behind that shuttered face, Ilse sensed great concentration. Finally his gaze cleared and he looked around at her.

“What if he thought the jewels were in Veraene?” he said.

“That would be a provocation, I think. But what makes me curious …”

She paused.

“Go on,” Kosenmark said. “What makes you curious?”

“Not what but why,” she said. “Why did he start searching for the jewels again? They were lost over three hundred years ago.”

“Perhaps the key to that lies within our borders, with our king,” Kosenmark’s voice turned thoughtful. “Armand of Angersee spent a childhood immersed in tales of the old empire, and more tales about his grandfather’s victories over the Károvín. It was like growing up in the dark shadow of a mountain, with no chance to escape into the light.”

“He wants to prove himself as good as his grandfather?”

“Better,” Kosenmark said. “He wants to revive the old empire. But for all that he is king, he needs the support of his nobles. If Leos Dzavek does not provide him with sufficient reason, Armand might manufacture one.”

“So Leos Dzavek’s motives do not matter?”

“They do. Like you, I’m curious why he’s renewed the search for the jewels.”

“Because he found a clue?” Ilse said. “Or because … because he knows of Armand’s character, and he wants to prepare his kingdom.” It was like piecing together a puzzle. One answer begat another and another. “He’s old,” she went on. “Old and possibly dying. He wants to ensure Károví’s safety, even after he’s dead.”

“Ah, yes,” Kosenmark spoke in a wondering tone. “It is strange to think of a world without Leos Dzavek. It would be like seeing the sky without the sun, I think. And yet it must happen someday. He is a man, and however powerful his magic, he must someday cross the void. But that uncovers a new problem, one I think the priests had considered when they refused to let old kings prolong their lives with magic and the jewels. Any other kingdom expects their king to die. Any other king has appointed an heir. At least the sensible ones do. But Leos Dzavek has no queen or consort. His last heir died fifty years ago. There is no one to succeed him on the throne.”

“Civil war,” Ilse said, breathless.

Kosenmark nodded. “And more. Bloodshed and chaos within, and Veraene’s armies pressing across the borders. In that case, Armand would gain his victories, but the cost would be bitterly high. As you said, the people of Károví are loyal to their king and kingdom.”

“But with Lir’s jewels, whoever succeeds Dzavek can defend Károví against anyone, including those within the kingdom.”

Kosenmark did not look convinced. “Perhaps. Magic is well enough, but when you balance it against treachery and deceit, I wonder if treachery would win by a wide bloody margin. However, I imagine Leos Dzavek knows more about the factions in his court than I. His plan is a good one, as far as Károví’s welfare goes. Let us hope—”

He broke off, frowning.

Ilse waited a moment. “What do you hope, my lord?”

He shrugged. “Merely a worry. Leos Dzavek has a reputation for strength and honor. Let us hope that in his quest for the jewels, he does not mislay those virtues.”

Like the story of the woman who lost her beloved children while she bargained for a silver necklace. Ilse saw that Kosenmark, too, was lost in recollection. “I saw him once,” he said softly. “It was at Baerne’s Court, during negotiations over the Kranjě Islands. And once more, let us say, when he was not aware of my identity. His eyes are what you notice first—old and tired and clouded with age. But if we can believe the poets, his eyes were very different when he was young—a blue so dark, they appeared black.”

“The darkest violet, like summer storm clouds,” Ilse quoted, “like the oceans at night.”

She glanced up, straight into Kosenmark’s golden eyes. Unsettled, she looked away. Kosenmark stirred restlessly. “So. You know my thoughts now, and I’ve heard yours. Thank you. I only have one more request of you today, Mistress Ilse. That is to visit with Maester Hax.”

She could not prevent herself from wincing at Hax’s name.

“Do you object?” Kosenmark said.

“No, my lord.” He was right—she had to speak with Hax before things could return to normal. “I do not object at all, but I confess I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Ah.” He smiled faintly. “I sympathize.”

She blew a breath and smiled. “Thank you. I will go to him now.”

She collected her writing case and stood. Kosenmark had already turned toward his overflowing desk. Undoubtedly his own work had accumulated during the past five days while he kept watch over her.

“My lord?”

He looked up. “Yes, Mistress Ilse. You remembered something else?”

She shook her head. “No. Not about that. But I wondered … Is it possible you might visit with Baron Eckard during his stay in town?”

“Most likely,” he said, his tone cautious. “We were friends in Duenne. Friends make visits. Why?”

This favor, asked face to face, was harder than all her speeches delivered to an anonymous air vent. “I had a question. Or rather a favor to ask him. If he could, when he returns home to Melnek, tell Mistress Klara Thaenner that he saw me safe and well. And if he could, tell her I found the books I was looking for, though not at the bookseller I expected.”

It was a risk, letting Klara know anything, but she thought it one worth taking. Baron Eckard had proven himself discreet. Klara would do likewise.

Kosenmark studied her a moment. No pity. No amusement. It was an expression she had not seen upon his face before. Then he smiled gently. “Of course. I’ll send him a note today.”

*  *  *

HER VISIT WITH
Maester Hax turned out to be short, but less difficult than she feared.

“So,” Hax said, when the servants admitted her into his bedroom. “We are to be colleagues again.”

She heard no sarcasm in his tone, but she couldn’t be certain. “A chief secretary and his assistant are hardly colleagues.”

“Ordinarily no,” Hax agreed. “But ours is not the ordinary household. You brought your writing case? Good. Unlike Lord Kosenmark, I do have a few tasks for you, and for these you will need to get the details exact. Write this down please …”

And off he launched into a series of complicated tasks, so much like that first day that Ilse nearly expected him to hand her another list of names. He looked stronger, she thought, writing as fast as she could to keep up. She could see how his color had improved, even since yesterday. His voice, too, had more strength, and his gestures were once more airy and quick.

“You’re smiling,” Hax observed. “Do you find our topic amusing?”

He had been expounding on better accounting methods for the pleasure house expenses. Ilse shook her head but continued to smile. She would get no apology from Maester Hax, but she found she didn’t care. He was better, and she was glad. When he mentioned that she would see a greater quantity of correspondence than before, she nearly laughed.

“All the letters this time?” she said, under her breath.

“All of them,” Hax said drily.

He turned a very bland expression toward her. That alone confirmed her suspicions that he had withheld most of the letters before.

She spent the rest of that day immersed in work. By evening, it seemed as though the past week had not occurred. There were a few reminders—the book of Tanja Duhr’s poetry in her rooms, the new keys Lord Kosenmark sent to her, giving her access to his office, and a slight but noticeable difference in how Mistress Denk and Mistress Raendl addressed her.

The changes rippled through her days. While Hax slowly recovered from his illness, Ilse took on more of his duties. Hax ordered new copies of keys for his office so that she might refer to his files. Lord Kosenmark reworked the spells for his own office so that she might have full access to all his correspondence.

Hax had not lied about giving her all the letters. She read all Lord Kosenmark’s letters before Hax himself and, once Lord Kosenmark determined the answer, handled all the replies. Doing so, she learned to associate these names with faces she’d seen at Lord Vieth’s. Emma Theysson sent letters by private courier, in which she enumerated changes in the royal shipping patrols. Lord Iani wrote more obliquely, using excerpts from ballads and epic sagas, whose lines contained names for known points in Anderswar’s ever-changing realms. At times, his letters made no sense, speaking of color signatures and voice memories.

“He is hunting Leos Dzavek,” Lord Kosenmark explained. “A soul leaves imprints in Anderswar. The imprints fade over time, but never completely disappear, so Benno has the difficult task of sorting through three hundred years of Leos Dzavek’s journeys.”

“Is Lord Iani the only hunter?” Ilse asked.

“No,” Kosenmark said softly. “We must expect that Lord Khandarr is searching there as well. That is the danger.”

Hax supervised Ilse’s work from his rooms. She would visit him each morning to have him review what she wrote and how she sorted the letters. Lord Kosenmark was present for several of those sessions, and then they discussed not just the letters but also their implications.

“You think Armand will be sensible, my lord?” Hax said.

“Baerne was sensible,” Kosenmark said. “So was Armand’s father before he sank into drink and madness. Armand has the seeds to make a good strong king.”

“You talk as though to convince yourself,” Hax observed.

“I am convinced.”

“For now.”

Kosenmark glanced at his secretary. “For now,” he agreed, but he sounded uncertain.

A month after Lord Vieth’s banquet, Hax resumed his duties, but with a less rigorous schedule than before. He spent his mornings with Lord Kosenmark. Most afternoons, he slept, waking in time to spend an hour or two with Ilse, reviewing her work and giving her new assignments for the next day. After a light dinner, he read, often falling asleep before the bells struck eight. The routine suited him, he said, and Ilse had adjusted her day to fit his.