Daughter of Dusk (34 page)

It was now or never.

“I have a petition,” he said loudly, getting to his feet. He was painfully aware of the Council members swiveling their heads to look at him. Tristam walked up the aisle with as much
dignity as he could muster. Willem looked at him with thinly veiled annoyance. “A petition, Tristam of Brancel?”

“Some information has come into my possession, and I would like to present it to the Council.”

“It is your right,” said Willem drily. “Go ahead.”

“I received word of a messenger carrying a private missive into the Palace compound. I, along with some companions, intercepted this message and found that a leader of Forge was conspiring
to unlawfully influence the decisions of the Council.” In the corner of his eye, he saw Malikel sit up straighter. He dearly hoped that his commander would approve of what he was about to
do.

“That’s a very vague report,” said Willem. “Who was your informant?”

“My informant wishes to remain anonymous, Your Grace, but the note itself requests gold to sway scribes, soldiers, and other people within Forge. It suggests that the Council’s vote
to attack the Demon Riders was corrupted by bribery.” Tristam produced the parchment out of his pocket. “Here is the original note, if the Council would like to inspect it.”

Willem held out a hand. “Give it here.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Your Grace.” Willem shifted in surprise, and Tristam felt his heart pound against his rib cage. Even after all this, he wasn’t used to
direct insubordination, and his body was letting him know it.

“You refuse?” asked Willem.

“I refuse because the messenger entered the Palace compound from your private gate, and the note is written in your handwriting.”

The Council Room erupted in shouts. Willem pounded his gavel to regain the floor. “Let me see if I understand you, Tristam. You are accusing me of treason against Forge, the city in which
I already hold the highest office.”

Tristam raised his voice. “With all due respect, Your Grace, you are indeed Head Councilman, but the Demon Rider offensive was a close vote, and there was plenty of motivation on either
side to sway it.”

Lord Perce of Roll, a Council member who had voted against Willem, raised his hand. “These are serious allegations you bring against the Head Councilman. Do you have any
evidence?”

“I will gladly hand over this note to a neutral third party.”

“May I see it?”

Tristam handed the message to Perce, who looked it over. “The note reads as Tristam says, but it contains no signature, and the seal is not one I recognize.” He looked back at
Tristam. “Do you have any stronger evidence?”

Tristam nodded to a manservant waiting near the door and hoped that Fitz was still outside. “I have the testimony of the messenger.”

This time, he did see a flicker of worry across Willem’s face. A moment later, Fitz stepped into the room with Robert in tow. The messenger faltered when he saw Willem, and Fitz had to
drag him the remainder of the way.
Don
’
t lose your nerve
, thought Tristam.

“This is the messenger whom I followed from the Palace walls to an inn not far away. He has confessed to taking messages between Head Councilman Willem and Whitt Manor.”

Tristam could see observers in the Council Room looking around, probably trying to see if Lord Whitt had any representatives in attendance. Tristam doubted he did. Whitt didn’t have a
strong presence within the city.

Perce addressed the messenger. “What is your name?”

“Robert, sir. Of Forge.” The messenger couldn’t seem to take his eyes from Willem, who was studying him with an intense, cold gaze.

“And do you confirm what Tristam of Brancel has said? Did you, in fact, receive this message from the Head Councilman to deliver to Lord Whitt?”

The messenger was still staring at Willem. His jaw worked, but he didn’t speak. Tristam focused everything he had on Robert, willing him to follow through.

“Please answer the question,” Perce repeated.

The messenger licked his lips. “No,” he said. “The parchment that Tristam claims to have found on me was a plant that he created himself. He tried to pay me to testify against
Willem.”

Tristam struggled to maintain his composure as the room once again dissolved into murmurs. Of course that was what Robert would say. What did Tristam have to threaten him with that didn’t
pale against the Head Councilman’s influence?

Willem sat back in his seat. “I believe we’ve taken care of that,” he said. “I will be requesting a full investigation into Tristam for bringing false charges against
me.”

Malikel cleared his throat. “May I suggest that the messenger might not be trusted to give a truthful testimony in front of the accused?”

“How much longer must we put up with this nonsense?” said Willem. “We have preparations to make. Tristam of Brancel has already wasted enough of our time in a clear effort to
delay our attack on the barbarians. I move to dismiss discussion of this subject to a later time.”

It was a close vote, but it came out in Willem’s favor. Willem looked pointedly at Tristam. “You are dismissed, soldier.”

There was finality to that command, and there was nothing Tristam could do except bow and walk away. Robert, still in Fitz’s grip, avoided Tristam’s gaze as he passed. Tristam tried
his best to hold his head high on his way to the door, fighting the despair that was starting to take root in his stomach. They had staked so much on this. What could they do now?

Tristam was so caught up in his own frustrations that he didn’t notice that someone was trying to talk to him. When he finally realized someone had spoken his name, he turned to see a
young servant girl looking urgently up at him. He returned her gaze, surprised to be approached so by one of the staff. She looked familiar.

“Lord Tristam,” she said, her voice low. “Can anyone speak in front of the Council?”

“Anyone?” he echoed dumbly before he finally made sense of her question. “Anyone, yes. But only before Willem closes the meeting.”

She nodded then, and her face took on a mask of determination. Tristam watched in bemusement as she made straight for the herald. The two exchanged a few words, and she seemed to be arguing with
him, though Tristam couldn’t make out what was said.

Finally, the herald drew breath for an announcement. “Darylene of Forge would like to make a statement before the Council.” His voice lacked his usual confidence, and he glanced
uncertainly at the serving girl behind him.

“What is the meaning of this? We’ve had enough oddities today,” said Willem. Tristam was surprised to hear alarm in Willem’s voice, given the cool disdain with which the
Head Councilman had responded to Tristam’s accusations. Then Tristam recognized the girl. Darylene of Forge was Willem’s mistress.

“We haven’t closed the Council meeting yet,” said Malikel. “The lady has a right to speak.”

Darylene didn’t look at all at ease in front of the Council. She glanced from Councilman to Councilman, though she seemed to studiously avoid Willem’s gaze. “I’m sorry,
milords,” she said. She sounded younger than she looked. Tristam had thought her older because of her association with Willem, but he now realized she was probably close to his own age, if
not younger. “I’ve been listening to the young lord’s testimony, and I can tell you that he’s both right and wrong.

“I am…privy to some of the Head Councilman’s private dealings,” she continued. Some knowing glances passed between the Councilmen, and a few snickers sounded from the
observing benches. It took no small amount of courage, Tristam thought, to brave such scrutiny.

Darylene waited for the room to quiet. “The messenger Robert of Forge is, in truth, Robert of Edlan. He lied about working for Whitt Manor. He has actually been carrying messages directly
between Sir Willem and Duke Symon of Edlan. They have been working together to overthrow Forge’s Council.”

Pandemonium. Willem shouted something about the girl having lost her mind, and Malikel called for order as Tristam struggled to understand what he’d heard. Had he misread the message from
Willem?

“The girl tells lies,” said Willem. “She must be in the employ of my enemies.”

“Lies or not, they must be investigated,” said Malikel. “Darylene, do you have any evidence?”

Darylene looked to Willem, who was staring at her with barely controlled rage. “There’s a compartment in the floor of his sitting room, next to the fireplace. You can access it if
you pry up the floorboards. You will find other messages there from those he’s been contacting in Edlan.”

“This is preposterous,” said Willem. “A clear attempt to distract from the coming offensive. I move to dismiss this Council meeting.”

“Not yet, Willem,” said a Councilman in the second row. “The girl gave us information that can be easily confirmed. It is only reasonable to do so.” Tristam began to feel
some hope. At least the Council members were taking these accusations seriously now.

“I agree.” Malikel raised his voice. “Seal the doors. Don’t let anyone come in or out of this room until we’ve verified Darylene’s claims. I’m sure
you’ll agree, Willem, that the best way to dismiss these claims beyond doubt is to verify them now.”

Willem gave Malikel a long, measured look, and then nodded. “Very well, if you are to accuse me, then let us go investigate these charges. Do you claim this investigation under your
purview, Malikel?”

“I will verify the allegations as Defense Minister. I believe protocol also requires the presence of the accusers, Darylene and Tristam.”

“Will you take guards too, lest I turn violent upon discovery of my misdeeds?” A layer of scorn laced Willem’s voice.

“The usual escort of Red Shields should be enough,” said Malikel mildly.

Willem nodded to the Red Shields lining the side of the room, and four stepped forward. The Head Councilman turned his eye to Tristam and then to Darylene, who stood braced against
Willem’s fury as if it might knock her over. “Let’s get this farce over with.”

Willem led the way across the Palace grounds to his private living quarters. It was a small, detached building in the inner compound, unremarkable on the outside, though the inside was
luxuriously decorated with tapestries, carvings, and marble statues. Nobody spoke. The Head Councilman exuded an aura of fury and kept a few steps in front of everyone else. Malikel trailed behind
him, calm but focused, and Darylene followed after. Tristam wished he could talk to her, find out more about what she was thinking, but she studiously avoided his gaze.

“Are we headed to my bedchamber?” asked Willem.

“Is that correct, Darylene?” said Malikel.

She gave a barely discernible nod.

Willem led them up a flight of stairs, where a manservant opened a pair of tall oak doors. The suite within was large and opulent. A four-poster bed took up the center of the room. The walls,
the rug, and the linens on the bed were all decorated in maroon with gold accents.

“By the fireplace,” said Malikel.

One of the Red Shields bowed and knelt near the fireplace, running his hands along the floorboards. “I don’t feel anything,” he said.

“To your left,” said Darylene. “Feel for a raised portion along the floor.”

“By all means, search your best, soldier,” said Willem. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The Red Shield paused in his search, fingers curving against an edge Tristam couldn’t see. The soldier jiggled something, and then there was the clear sound of a wood panel sliding away.
Tristam’s breath caught. He’d believed the girl, but somehow he still hadn’t expected the Red Shield to find anything.

“What is that?” said Malikel, walking toward him. The Red Shield was frowning at a box in his hands. “It’s a compartment, just as the lass said.”

“Let me see,” said Malikel, reaching for the box.

“Now,” said Willem.

The Red Shield handed Malikel the box. And then, as the Defense Minister’s hands were occupied, the Red Shield drew his dagger and thrust it toward Malikel’s stomach.

T W E N T Y - E I G H T

D
arylene screamed. Tristam shouted Malikel’s name and took a step forward, so intent on his commander that he almost didn’t see the man
coming at him from the side. Tristam ducked out of the way just in time to avoid being gutted. He pivoted to face his attacker. It was another of the Red Shields who had accompanied them. Had
Willem managed to turn them all? Tristam drew his dagger, extremely grateful that he’d kept it on him this morning. When his attacker came at him again, he stepped around the Red
Shield’s knife hand and grabbed his wrist, pulling the man past him and sinking his own blade deep between his opponent’s ribs. He pulled his dagger free and threw the man to the
ground.

Tristam cast about, breathing heavily, trying to get his bearings. The man who’d attacked him lay on the ground in front of him. Darylene stood pressed against the wall. There were blood
spatters on her face and gown, but she looked otherwise uninjured. Malikel crouched with his hand pressed to his side. The mysterious box sat on the ground not far from him, and next to the box lay
the body of the soldier who had attacked the Defense Minister. The room was otherwise empty. Willem and the remaining two Red Shields were nowhere to be seen.