The Crimson Crown (16 page)

Raisa shifted her shoulders, trying to relieve the tightness in her muscles. It was late—the middle of the night—and the script on the pages was blurring in the light of the one lamp she’d kept burning. Rain clattered against the shutters, and thunder reverberated from peak to peak.

Hanalea speaks, Raisa thought.

Despite all the noise, Cat had fallen into a twitchy sleep on the daybed, tossing and turning and muttering to herself.

Han was still out—no doubt walking the streets of Ragmarket, trying to tempt a killer. As a consequence, Raisa’s ears were fixed on the corridors outside. Every small sound distracted her. She wouldn’t rest easy until he was back safe.

Finally, she heard footsteps in the hallway, but it was Amon’s familiar voice outside her door, greeting the bluejackets posted there.

Hoping to avoid waking Cat, Raisa slid out of her chair and was halfway across the room when Amon pounded on the door.

“Wait! Let me,” Cat said, rolling off the bed.

“It’s all right, it’s Captain Byrne,” Raisa said, pulling the door open.

He stood framed in the doorway, Talia and Pearlie just behind him. He looked drenched, his hair plastered down with wet, and his cloak soaked through. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, Your Majesty. I needed to—”

Amon looked over Raisa’s shoulder, his eyes fastening on Cat. He didn’t look happy to see her. “Lady Tyburn,” he said, inclining his head.

Whatever he had to say, he didn’t want Cat to hear it.

“You can go now, Cat,” Raisa said. “Captain Byrne is here, and I’ve kept you up late enough. No reason for you to be up all night.”

“I can stay,” Cat said, looking from Amon to Raisa. “Maybe I can help with—”

“That’s not necessary,” Amon cut in. “Good night.” He nodded toward the door.

Cat slumped out of the room with many backward looks.

Murmuring something to Talia and Pearlie, Amon closed the door behind Cat. Turning back to Raisa, he took a deep breath. “I know it’s late, but I need to speak with you right now.”

“I was still awake,” Raisa said, gripping her elbows on either side, suddenly chilled. Something in Amon’s expression said he brought bad news. Very bad news.

Her first thought was Han, and her heart faltered. What if he’d finally drawn the killers he was hunting? What if they’d taken him by surprise?

Amon thrust a bundle of cloth into Raisa’s hands. “Put this on. We’re going out.” He crossed to the connecting door to Han’s suite, tried it, then locked it. “You need to keep this locked, Rai,” he said.

“What is it? What’s happened? Where are we going?”

He shook his head. “Ragmarket. There’s something I need to show you.”

Raisa unfolded the bundle. It was a hooded cloak—standard Queen’s Guard issue. She slid into it, hitching up the bottom and tucking it into her waist so it wouldn’t drag on the ground.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“You—come with us,” Amon ordered the bluejackets outside the door. With Talia and Pearlie, that made six guards trailing them out the side door and into the rain. Raisa pulled the hood up, clutching it together against the storm. They crossed the drawbridge and passed through the gate into streets running with inky rainwater. The wizard lights seemed few and far between on this darkest of nights, brightened only when lightning intruded into the narrow streets.

“Talk to me,” Raisa said, leaning close to Amon. “What’s going on?”

“Two more wizards were found dead in Ragmarket,” Amon said, lowering his head so he spoke almost into her ear. “Same as the others. Throats cut, amulets gone.”

“Who?” Raisa whispered, scarcely moving her lips.

“Farrold and Alexa Gryphon,” Amon said.

Not Han, then. Adam Gryphon’s parents. Raisa breathed out, relieved, but ashamed to be glad in the face of someone else’s loss.

“What would they be doing in Ragmarket?” Raisa said, her dry throat sandpapering each word. “I can’t imagine those two walking that neighborhood.”

“It looks like they were killed someplace else and their bodies carried into Ragmarket.”

“Wouldn’t it be difficult to carry two bodies through the streets of Fellsmarch unobserved?” Raisa said.

“Maybe not, for a wizard,” Amon said, his words measured. “Or someone who knew the neighborhood very well.”

“Why? Did you see something or someone or…” Her voice trailed away under the pressure of Amon’s gray-eyed gaze. Her stomach clenched miserably. Suddenly she wanted to stop up her ears.

Amon faced forward again, done talking for the present.

Raisa stumbled, her feet now weighted down with dread. Amon took her elbow, making sure she didn’t trip on her cloak or slip on the slick cobblestones or flee back to the palace and hide under the covers.

Too soon, they turned off the Way of the Queens, twisting and turning through vaguely familiar alleyways.

It came back to her. She’d navigated these stony tunnels herself, the morning after the notorious streetlord Cuffs Alister had abducted her and she’d escaped from his hideout.

They turned another corner, and here was Mick, looking about as miserable as Raisa had ever seen him.

“Hallie’s with the dead ones,” he said, avoiding Raisa’s eyes.

Amon still had hold of Raisa’s elbow, and he propelled her forward to the end of the alley, where the Gryphons lay, guarded by Hallie and a handful of other guards. Two lamps lit the scene, the light careening off the alley walls as they pitched in the wind.

They lay on their backs, side by side, two finely dressed wizards of middle age. Steeling herself, Raisa looked into their faces. It was the Gryphons, all right. Growing up, she’d seen them at a hundred palace gatherings—she recognized their sharp features, their small, stingy mouths.

Don’t think ill of the dead, she told herself, making the sign of the Maker.

There was less blood than she expected, but, then, maybe the rain had washed it away. Or, as Amon said, maybe they’d been killed elsewhere and brought here. Their amulets were missing, but their other jewelry was there—their stiffening hands were loaded with rings, and Alexa Gryphon wore earrings that must have been worth a fortune.

Raisa went to turn away, but Amon gripped her shoulders. “Look closer,” he said. “There’s something painted on their clothing. It’s hard to see in the rain, but—”

Raisa knelt, scanning the front of Farrold Gryphon’s coat. Something was scrawled on it—a symbol, a straight line with a zigzag across it, like a lightning bolt. It arrowed through Raisa’s heart like a lightning bolt, too.

Shuddering, she looked up at Amon, blinking the rain and tears from her lashes. “I see. Have you seen it before?”

Amon shook his head, lifting her to her feet. “I hoped you might recognize it. It’s been painted on all the bodies. Let’s get in out of the wet.”

The guards had commandeered a nearby storefront, and Amon ushered Raisa inside. It was a warm night, but she was soaked through and couldn’t seem to stop shivering. Amon helped her out of her sodden cloak, pulled a blanket out of a closet and draped it over her shoulders. He sent the other guards out of the room, except for Mick and Hallie.

Squatting next to her, he handed her a cloth to wipe off her face. “I’m sorry to haul you out here on a night like this,” he said softly. “But I wanted you to see this for yourself.” He paused, and when Raisa said nothing, continued.

“We’ve had guard patrols out every night in Ragmarket and Southbridge, since that’s where the bodies have been dumped in the past,” he said. “So tonight, one of our patrols turned down an alley and saw somebody kneeling next to two bodies that turned out to be the Gryphons. It was a wizard; they could see his amulet glowing in the dark, but he was all cloaked up. He had his hand on one of the bodies and seemed to be casting some kind of spell.

“When he heard the patrol approaching, he took off running. They shouted for him to halt, but he ran out the far end of the alley. They chased after him, but by the time they reached the street, he’d disappeared.”

Amon turned to Mick and Hallie. They stood, shifting their weight from foot to foot, looking like they wished they were anywhere else.

“Tell the queen what you saw,” Amon said.

Hallie and Mick looked at each other, as if each hoped the other would speak.

Finally, Hallie gave in. “We was having a bite in Elliott’s Tavern, just off the Way. We heard a commotion and ran outside in time to see the patrol chase by. After they passed, we seen somebody slide out of a doorway and go the other way. He was acting suspicious, so we followed along after. When he turned down the Way, we got a good look at his face under the wizard lights.” She mopped a strand of wet hair from her face. “It was Han Alister, with a hat pulled down over his hair, all muffled up so you could hardly tell.”

Raisa’s thoughts went immediately to Han’s state of dress when he’d come home a few nights before.

Mick spoke up then. “We kept following him, but we lost him in the Ragmarket tangle. I don’t think he saw us.”

Raisa’s heart lay like a stone in her chest as she recalled what Han had said only an few days ago.
Lord Bayar did his best to pin it on me.

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “Han has been trying to find out who’s responsible for the wizard murders in Ragmarket. So he’s been out walking the streets nearly every night.”

Amon’s lips tightened. “Hallie and Mick didn’t know what to do, since they knew Alister stays right next door to you,” he said. “So they came and got me.”

“But…we don’t know for sure that Han was the one in the alley, right?” Raisa said, looking from face to face for some hope.

“No,” Amon said. “We don’t know for sure, but it seems likely. We also—” He cut off, turning to Hallie and Mick. “Wait on the porch.”

“Yes, sir.” They hustled out, seeming glad to flee Raisa’s presence.

When the door had closed behind them, Amon said, “There’s also this.” He pulled a small pouch from his pocket. “They found this underneath the bodies.” He dumped the contents into her hand. “Have you ever seen it before?”

Raisa tilted her hand so it caught the light. It was a figure of a clan piper, carved of rowan and oak, hanging from a silver chain. The work was exquisite, with insets of silver and turquoise.

She closed her fingers over the piece as if she could hide it from view. Power tingled against her skin. “It’s definitely clan-work,” she said. “I can’t imagine any wizard wearing something like this.” She looked up at Amon. “I’ll keep this. I’m going to see Hayden Fire Dancer tomorrow. I’ll ask him about it. He’s discreet.”

“Well.” Amon’s eyes were troubled, uncertain. “It
is
evidence. And Fire Dancer is friends with Alister.” The implication was clear:
We need to follow it wherever it leads.

“I’ll be careful with it,” Raisa said, tucking it away before Amon could demand it back. “I won’t tell Dancer where it came from.”

“Your Majesty,” Amon said, shaking his head, “it’d be better if I—”

“Han Alister is not a murderer,” Raisa said. Then stopped. “Not anymore,” she amended. “He’s used his gang connections on our behalf. He and Cat have recruited help from all over Ragmarket and Southbridge to be eyes and ears for the queendom.”

“What if he recruited them for other reasons?” Amon said. “To kill wizards, for instance.”

Raisa shook her head. “No. I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t want to believe it, either,” Amon admitted. “I like him. I can’t help it.” After a moment of deadly silence, he said, “Is it possible that he’s killing wizards for revenge, and telling himself he’s doing it in your service? Could he be justifying it that way?”

“No.”

The wizards’ throats were cut. And Han Alister is good with a knife. As are hundreds of gang members in Ragmarket. Including Cat Tyburn.

Raisa was in an argument with herself. She just wasn’t sure who was winning.

My queendom is the perfect place for an anarchist, Raisa thought. It is so easy to set people against each other. All it takes is a tiny spark to cause a conflagration. Even Han’s proposal to put Dancer on the council—could that be intended to push the council into violence? What if he intended to destroy the queendom that had taken so much from him?

No. I don’t believe it.

It seemed that everything Han did had a dual meaning, depending on what you were willing to believe about him.

“So. Now what?” Raisa said, feeling sick and weary. Wishing somebody else would be queen for a while.

“Alister can’t keep living next door to you,” Amon said. “It’s too risky.”

“We know that someone is out to kill me. At least Han seems to want to keep me alive.”

“Maybe,” Amon said. “For now, anyway.”

“What do you think is riskier?” Raisa said. “If Gavan Bayar is behind the attempts on my life, I’ll be defenseless without a wizard on my side. There’s nobody on the Wizard Council or the assembly I can trust.” She leaned into Amon, resting her head against him. After a moment’s hesitation, he slid his arm around her. “Maybe that’s the idea, to cast suspicion on Han, to isolate me, to make me vulnerable.”

“What about Cat Tyburn?” Amon said. “And Hayden Fire Dancer? If Alister is killing wizards, are they in on it?”

“Just stop it!” Raisa said. “Han Alister is not killing wizards.” She took Amon’s hand, pressed it between her two. “An army of bodyguards won’t keep me safe if someone is determined to kill me,” she said. “If everybody has responsibility for keeping me safe, nobody does. The solution here is political, not military.”

“Maybe,” Amon said. “But my job is to keep you alive so you have the chance to solve the political problems.”

Raisa said nothing. She stared straight ahead, her mind racing, weighing risk.

“What about Alister?” Amon said finally. “How soon can we move him? We can make up some excuse, and—”

“I don’t think we should,” Raisa interrupted.

Amon stiffened, dislodging her head from its resting place. “What?”

“He’s had ample opportunity to kill me, if that is his intention,” Raisa said, struggling for a rationale that would satisfy Amon. “If he is the one killing wizards, we don’t want to set him loose, with no supervision. It’s better to have him here, under our eye.”