A Ragged Magic (19 page)
Authors: Lindsey S. Johnson
Everyone freezes. Gantry has not been accused of murder before this. But the duchess is doing it now.
“You dare,” Gantry says.
Hugh cuts him off. “Mind how you speak to the duchess my mother,” he says in a strained tone. “My Lord Bishop. Mind what you say to her. And mind what you say to me. My tolerance is wearing thin.”
From the guard’s eyes, Hugh seems taller than usual. But the colors are flat and wrong, and I cannot read anyone’s face. This guard is near-sighted and colorblind.
“Your tolerance,” Gantry hisses, glaring.
Hugh slaps his hand on the table, interrupting. “My tolerance, my Lord Bishop. This is my duchy. The archbishops and the cardinals may grant you a bishropic here, but it is me they must court if they want it confirmed. It is me they must court if they want the monasteries and the newly built cathedral in Jervaulx and Villeur Temple lands to stay in kirche hands. Those lands aren’t paid off, my Lord Bishop. To me. I own them. The lands you have your buildings on. Up to and including the Inquisitor’s building. Did you know, it has been in my family for generations. My forebears built it and lived in it and owned it. We still own it.”
“This is outrageous —”
“That the rents are so low?” Marguerite breaks in. “Yes, I think so, too. I didn’t before, but now I believe that they are, in fact, far too low. And that is beside the fact that you, Bishop Gantry, owe the families of the dead a death geld.”
My head is spinning from the emotions in the room. Gantry is bleeding power — I’m sure Hugh can feel it, but he ignores me when I send him a mental nudge. He’s looking at his mother, and I can feel his fear for her, getting involved, and his exasperation with her as she steals his thunder. Through his eyes she seems a pillar of stubborn righteousness and strength. But what I feel from her is fury and fear for her children and people. I’ve never felt that from her before.
Maybe I wasn’t paying attention.
“Ah, Samuel. Perhaps you would be so good as to give me one of those goblets,” Marguerite says. “I’m quite dry.” I freeze for a moment, too long, my lungs stuck to my spine in shock. I hear Samuel moving.
Don’t let her drink!
I shout in my head, send it to Hugh as hard as I can, I think I might be heard out loud, and I fling back the door of the wardrobe to run out.
The noise of the door is slightly overshadowed by a loud crash, and my heart leaping out of my chest, and raised voices in the dining room.
Stay. Put.
I feel more than hear Hugh’s mind, and I halt, one foot out of the wardrobe. A moment later Connor rounds the corner and promptly pushes me back in without even looking at me.
“I have some towels, and I rang for someone to come up,” he says, and the door of the wardrobe closes shut — fully this time. I hear it click.
My head is full of Linnet asking questions and Hugh’s rage and Connor’s very tightly controlled fury and everyone else’s confusion.
“Are you hurt?” I hear out loud. Marguerite’s voice. But I don’t know who — I struggle to push myself back into any awareness in the room.
The guards are around Gantry, the one guard is pretty sure that they’re going to have to kill — Orrin. They’re all staring at Orrin, who is staring at the floor, at Samuel, who is lying in the remains of the wine goblets and some plates and a tray. Samuel is groaning, trying not to put his hand on any broken pottery or glass or … whatever the goblets were.
“I beg your pardon,” Orrin says in a dead voice, near whisper. I only hear him because I’m listening for it from the wardrobe, and the guard sees his lips move.
“What is the meaning of this,” demands a guard.
“Be quiet,” snaps Gantry, and everyone looks at him. He glares at Orrin, his lips pressed flat. Orrin does not look up.
Marguerite kneels to help Samuel, but she pats Orrin’s hand as she does. “It was an accident,” she says, in a cheerful tone at odds with her sharp thoughts and feelings, which I can’t quite catch, but they aren’t cheerful. “Accidents happen. Oh, Connor, hand me that towel, there’s a good lad.” Everyone stares at her, and she smiles as she stands. “It’s only plates broken, Samuel’s all right.”
Connor helps Samuel to stand. Marguerite puts her arm around Orrin. “Don’t be too hard on the boy. Growing boys are all arms and legs at this age — well I remember. Why don’t you come with me, now, and we’ll see if you were cut,” she says to Orrin, who doesn’t move.
“No,” Gantry snaps, and now it’s time for everyone to look at him. The guards have stepped behind him — I can’t See his face. “No, he’ll come with me.” Gantry stands. “Your Graces, I will pay the death geld. And there will be no charging of money from the kirche, for Healing in the hospice. But do not think to challenge me on kirche Laws. The hospices are not to be re-opened by any lay Healer.”
He gestures sharply and the guards fall away. Orrin shuffles toward the door, and Gantry allows him to open it, and get into the hall, before he yanks on his arm and starts to stride away. The guards follow them out, and I let go of the guard’s awareness reluctantly.
Silence falls on the room, finally broken when Hugh speaks. “You’re all right, then?”
“Yes, your Grace.” Samuel.
“Why don’t you go clean yourself up. I’ll have someone else take care of this. You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asks.
Samuel must nod, because I don’t hear him answer, although I do hear a rustle as someone brushes by the wardrobe.
What’s going on? What did you do?
I can feel Linnet getting closer.
Stay out of this,
I send, but I don’t think she’ll listen.
“Mother,” I hear Hugh say, but she doesn’t let him speak.
“What was that?” she demands.
I can’t get a clear read, everyone is too upset.
“Mother —”
“What was that? You planned to have this meeting without me? You planned to somehow harm the bishop? While he was under my roof?”
“My roof,” Hugh says.
“That wasn’t the plan.” Connor says, but Marguerite isn’t finished.
“It was someone’s plan. And it was poorly carried out — that boy, what’s his name, Orrin. He didn’t want anyone harmed, so that’s something. But I think that child is in serious trouble.”
“Yes, but Mother —”
“And so are you, and don’t pretend you aren’t. I know exactly why you’re here. I know why Julianna is here. And I know she’s pregnant again, and trying to hide it.”
“You know?”
“Of course I know. I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. Everyone knows. The king knows. He wrote to me. I know all about the impending troop movements and the border raids from Fanthas and that the king’s cousin Queen Esther is angry about trade, and is harboring Stephen. I’m sorry, Connor, I know your brother isn’t a happy subject for you.”
Stephen? I think.
“I am aware of my brother’s location,” he says. Connor has a brother?
“The king won’t ask you to do anything to him, if it is his influence behind all of this,” Marguerite says, her voice kind.
“He may not have a choice. And if it is Stephen, I will not need the king to ask me.” Connor’s voice is … not kind.
“Listen, Mother —”
“I’m not as stupid as you think, Hugh. And I know when my children are in trouble. I know when my country is in trouble. You think I only rusticate here in Haverston, and only mind duchy business? Duchy business is country business, and my children are involved in plots and civil unrest.”
“We’re not —”
“Whatever side, it’s civil unrest. And I have been staying clear so as not to disrupt any plans you have. But do not think me simple. And from now on, you are going to tell me when you’re going to kill a man in my castle.”
“My castle,” Hugh says, but after a moment he sighs. “Yes.”
“Yes, your Grace,” Connor says.
“And let that child out of the wardrobe, Hugh. She’s probably suffocated by now. You should get rid of that horrible thing.”
“Good day, Mother.”
“I suspect Julianna will be along in a moment. Tell her to come see me.”
“Yes, Mother.” He sighs
“Don’t roll your eyes at me. All right, I’m going. Come to me for dinner.”
Silence descends. I push on the wardrobe door, but it’s stuck. I’m trembling, every part of me is shaking and sick, and I can’t feel my face. How did that go so very wrong?
Chapter Nineteen
“R
hia!” Hugh shouts. I flinch back from the wardrobe door. “Get out here!”
The door still won’t budge, and my arms don’t have any strength in them. After a moment the door opens; Connor regards me, his expression blank. I look back. I don’t know what my expression is. When he turns to go into the dining room, I follow.
“What were you thinking? What was in that goblet? How could you do such a thing?” Hugh’s voice buffets me, inside and out, and I stagger, ward off his mind with my hands.
“Oh, for the love — barriers!” he snaps, and I try, but I’ve been working too hard and they’re weak and wobbly. “Rhia,” Hugh warns, and I turn to snarl.
“I’m trying! Stop pushing at me!”
“Stop pushing — you just tried to kill my mother!”
I shake my head, back against the wall. “She wasn’t supposed to be here,” I mumble.
“Do you think that would absolve you if she’d been harmed in any way?” The rasp of his shout grates the air, and I stare at the floor, try to build my tattered barriers.
Linnet flings open the door from the hall and runs in, fear and rage clear on her face.
“What did you do?” she yells at me. Behind her, Julianna enters a little slower, but in a hurry still.
“What happened, Hugh?” she asks. She stares at me, too. I feel pinned to the wall.
“Rhia almost poisoned our mother, that’s what happened. She seems to think the fact that it was meant for Gantry is a good enough excuse.”
Linnet throws her hands up in the air, as Julianna just stares.
“What were you thinking!” Hugh yells again. My stomach feels like an avalanche, and my eyes burn, and I can’t get my breath.
“I was just —”
“What could you possibly — how could you —” and I find my voice.
“That he murdered my brother! My parents! That he’s killed how many others! That he killed Queen Cecily! Yes, I finally got something concrete from him — he killed the queen, and he’s glad. And he’ll kill all of you, too, as soon as he gets the go-ahead from someone.”
Everyone is silent, staring, except for Linnet. She crosses the room, broken goblets crunching under her boots. “So you get to poison Duchess Marguerite?”
“No! She never even touched the goblet. The poison was for Gantry!”
“What poison,” Julianna asks quietly.
“What?”
“Which poison did you use, Rhia?”
I look down, away from everyone. “Foxglove.”
“How much?”
“Does it matter?” I snap.
“How much foxglove powder was in the goblet that my mother didn’t touch?”
I stare at the ground, shrug. “A little less than a one of the small packets.”
“A little less?”
“I spilled some.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know! It spilled, I brushed at it, I had to hide! I was in kind of a hurry.”
“To poison a goblet, you were in kind of a hurry. Because you didn’t want anyone to find out.”
I don’t answer. The next question will hurt more.
“You didn’t want anyone to find out, because you knew it was wrong. You knew you were wrong, Rhia, and you did it anyway.”
“Did anyone see you?” Connor asks.
I don’t look at him, either. “Orrin might have.”
“Orrin saw you put poison in the goblet? And you didn’t tell anyone about any of this?” Hugh snaps.
“He didn’t tell anyone either, did he? And he spilled the tray over only after the duchess asked for wine, so I don’t think his intentions were to stop me before that.”
“You don’t know that! What if he was supposed to spill it? What if he had plans to poison me instead?”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“None of this makes any sense! What were you thinking?”
“He’s a murderer! He killed my family! He’s killing more people, he’s going to kill your sister, and you don’t care!”
“Don’t you tell me what I do and don’t care about, young woman! How dare you jeopardize people’s lives like that? You don’t know what you’re doing! You could have killed someone!”
“I was trying to kill Gantry!”
“And it failed! Spectacularly! What are you even doing right? Nothing, so far!”
As I reel back, hurt even more than I thought, I hear Connor move. He puts his hand on Hugh’s arm. “Enough.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Enough, Hugh. I’ll talk to her. You calm down. We’ll — we’ll figure out what to do next.”
“This —”
“Enough. Go. Take Julianna to see your mother.”
“Gods.”
“Tell her,” Connor says.
Hugh glares at me. I glare back, but I’m fighting tears. Finally, Hugh stalks over past Julianna to the door.
“Come, sister mine. We’ll have so much to chat about with Mother.”
Julianna stares at me, her face a mask. I keep the glare, but I know it just looks sullen to them. I don’t understand why they don’t understand. It’s not like the duchess even touched that goblet.
When they are gone, the only ones left are Connor and Linnet, and the mess on the floor.
And me.
“Why did you do it that way? That was stupid!” And now not only is that man not dead, but you just hurt the only nice person in this entire castle!” Linnet yells, her arms gesturing wildly.
“I didn’t hurt the duchess! She didn’t even touch the goblet.”
“I was talking about Orrin!”
I shake my head, annoyed. “You don’t even know Orrin. I was trying to help him.”
“Well, you failed. You left him with that awful man, and you’re just standing here while he’s probably beating him right now! Don’t pretend it’s not true — I saw it in your head that he beats him!”
She clenches her fists and I feel my own temper flaring again, as she accuses me over and over again of something I can’t fix.
“You’re so selfish!” she shouts. “You don’t care about anyone! You think you’re so special, you play martyr all the time, and I’m sick of it!”
She leaps toward me, her hand raised, but I too have had enough.
She raises her hand, but I am faster. I grab her shoulder and whack her hard across the face, and then Connor pulls us apart, our hair locked in each other’s fists and neither of us able to breathe for sobbing. I wrench myself from Connor’s hands and throw myself to the other side of the room, choking on my breath and my rage and not caring who hears this time.
Linnet slaps Connor’s hands away too, and runs out of the room. When she’s gone, I can only lean back against the table behind me, gasping. Connor stands where he is, his feet crunching in the crockery, and regards me.
“Just say it,” I snap. Or I try to snap — it’s too watery, and I can’t stop the hiccupping sobs.
“What would you like me to say?” he asks, his voice quiet.
I won’t look at him. “Whatever it is you’ve been holding back. Whatever lecture you have waiting — I’m selfish, I’m stupid, I can’t do anything right, I’m horrible, not to be trusted, evil —”
“I would never say any of that. None of those words describe you.”
I turn my head then, trying not to pant, failing. “What words would you use, then.”
He leans one shoulder on the wall, oblivious to the clinks and crackles under him. “Words that describe you: loyal, brave, impetuous. It was you being impetuous that brought you to Gantry’s attention to begin with, wasn’t it?”
I shake my head, shrug. It didn’t feel impetuous. “I don’t know. A man was dying — I made sure people knew about it. I couldn’t not — Mother was so horrified. It never occurred to her that I could See something like that. She thought it was embarrassing.” I bite back another sob, half-laugh. “She wanted me to back down. Say I was mistaken.”
“I think she was probably afraid for you.”
“Maybe. Maybe. She didn’t — she never understood me.”
“Rhiannon — I can’t speak for your parents. But you frighten me on a regular basis, and I do believe you’ve been rather less exuberant than your old self, since I’ve known you.”
“I’m really quite shy,” I say, and he shrugs.
“Shy maybe. Stubborn is another word I’d use to describe you. Honorable. Intelligent, but not always smart.”
I stiffen. “Fine.”
“And you have a temper.”
I glare at him. “Who doesn’t?”
“Fair point. Here’s another. You do not have the knowledge and skills to assassinate a powerful man and get away with it.”
I suck in a breath. His tone hasn’t changed, but his eyes are quite dark. “So now the lecture.”
“Lecture, if you like. Facts. Rhiannon —” he sighs, runs his hand through his hair. His shirt is rumpled under his gray brocade waistcoat. I stare at his chin. “Rhiannon, there are some things you and I agree on. But you’ll have to bow to my age and experience.”
“You aren’t so much older than I am,” I say.
He barks a laugh. “Oh, so much older.
“Eight years isn’t so much,” I say, because I heard Hugh say they were of an age, so I know.
“I’ve been dealing with assassinations and political plots since before I was born. I am so many more years more than eight older than you.” He sighs again, levels a look at me. “If you are sure about Queen Cecily,” he starts.
I fold my arms. “I am.”
He nods. “Write down everything you can remember, every piece of information or picture that you gleaned from him. Then we’ll discuss all of it. This —” he gestures to the mess beneath him — “this isn’t the solution you’re looking for. Trust me to keep you, and your sister, and everyone else as safe as I can. Let me do it. We’ll find a way to save Orrin yet.”
I look away, press my trembling lips together. But I nod as more tears fill my eyes. I lean my head back, look at the ceiling.
Connor turns to go. “Rhia,“ he says, turning at the door.
I look at him.
“If you really mean to poison someone, make sure you’re in charge of the vessel the entire time.”
I feel my eyes widen a little.
He stares at me. “If I didn’t need him alive, he’d be dead already,” he says, and then he’s gone.