Path of Honor (34 page)

But she could not bring herself to relax. Aare was up to something. He meant to have the regency. No, she corrected herself, he meant to have their father’s crown. And he didn’t care how many bodies he left in his wake.

Emelovi kicked her legs free and slid down off her bed, determination lending her courage. She couldn’t stand by and let Aare steal Kodu Riik from their father. How would he forgive her when he decided to resume his rule?

She crossed her door, glanced out at the empty drawing rooms beyond and then locked it. She went to her wardrobe and removed her dressing gown and nightdress, stuffing them out of sight. Glancing over her shoulder at the empty room, Emelovi went to the wainscotting on the left side of the hearth. She ran her fingers over the paneling about four feet from the edge of the marble mantelpiece, carved like gryphons. It was linen-fold paneling colored like dark honey. It showed no obvious signs of the secret catch that Emelovi was looking for. Two catches actually, one at the height of her knee; the other lower, three feet away, near the floor. It was an awkward position, half-lying on the floor, arms stretched wide, face pressed against the cool wood.

The hidden door made no sound as its latches released. Emelovi grasped a candle and crawled beneath the skirts of her dressing table, adjusting the cloth behind her to cover signs of her passage. She pushed open the door and crawled inside the tunnel; its stone walls were cool and dry. Inside she found the leggings and a light tunic still folded where she’d left them. She pulled these on, then picked up her candle, not giving herself time to think about what she was doing.

The passage was narrow, hardly tall enough to stand in. The walls were thick, but always she worried that someone might hear. She didn’t think Aare knew of the wall passages. But if he suspected for a second that he was watched from within the walls, he’d level the palace.

The passage turned and twisted and folded back on itself. Aare’s apartments were on the same level as hers, separated by a variety of private dining rooms, salons and offices, as well as linen closets, storage pantries and sleeping quarters for the ladies’ maids and Aare’s personal servants. The passage wound its way through and around these many rooms, offering entry to some, spyholes to others.

Emelovi moved without hesitation. She’d discovered this maze of passageways as a child. Her father had allowed her to play in his offices so long as she remained quiet, sometimes forgetting her presence altogether. One late evening, she woke from her nest of pillows and blankets behind a couch in the corner farthest from his desk.

“And you are quite sure no one else is aware of these tunnels?” her father was asking someone.

“Not at all,” answered Fresiik, her father’s historian. “It is quite possible someone else knows. Or that this information has been handed down generation to generation in some noble house, against the hopeful eventuality of taking power. Or that it has been noted in someone’s journal somewhere—perhaps the master mason who built the walls, the architect, the builders . . . any number of souls. But the odds are in our favor. If you did not know, if I found a passing mention of them in an obscure diary by a centuries-dead Iisand, then chances are no one else knows. But either way, now that you know, you can make use of them as you please.”

“We must first find a room where these passages have no access. I want a place that’s absolutely safe from prying eyes. And then I want those passages mapped. By someone reliable. But not
ahalad-kaaslane
. I don’t want this information shared with anyone.”

Emelovi remembered that moment as the one and only time her father had hinted at anything less than total trust in the
ahalad-kaaslane
. Thinking about it now, she wondered at his caution. Upsakes had been a frequent visitor to the palace then. Had her father already suspected him?

“As you wish, Daz Samir. Is there anyone in particular you have in mind?”

“I don’t suppose you’re available?”

There was a dry laugh.

“Perhaps I should show you.”

Emelovi heard footsteps and peered out from behind her couch. Fresiik went to a glassed-in bookcase built into the opposite wall. He stood stiffly, his tall form angular and stooped, his gray hair thinning, though his eyebrows remained bushy and wild. He searched for a moment in the rich carving adorning the bookcase and found a tiny lever along the back. It was hardly noticeable, only the length of a fingernail. Later when she went to find it herself, Emelovi had difficulty discovering it, though she had seen exactly where it was.

Between the bookcase and the fireplace, a panel swung quietly inward, and behind it gaped a passageway, this one only four feet square.

“As you can see, Daz Samir, I am not entirely suited for crawling about in the walls,” Fresiik said.

“I should probably do it myself.”

“Yes sir. What about the young Verit?”

The Iisand shook his head, unsmiling. “I don’t think so.”

Fresiik raised his brows but did not argue.

“I’ll give it to Limedus. I can trust him.”

“I would have suggested him,” agreed Fresiik. “And he’s young enough to get about with greater ease than this old carcass.”

And so Emelovi had discovered the passageways and an entrance in. She was sure Limedus had completed the mapping of the passages, but whether Aare had discovered the map in her father’s papers, she did not know. Fresiik was dead these last five years and would not have revealed the existence of the passages to anyone. Limedus had died in the war.

Now she turned and entered Aare’s domain. A shiver streaked down her back, and she stopped, drawing several deep breaths. Then she began again, more slowly. She turned, and turned again, and when she did, she blew out the candle. The trip back would be very dark, but she never took the chance that the glow of the flame might give her away.

She crawled now. The air grew warmer, heated by the hearth in Aare’s quarters. She squirmed into place, hearing the rumble of voices inside. She released the latches on the door and opened it a crack. Her father had hung a beautifully worked arras over the opening. Hidden behind the heavy weaving, Emelovi was less concerned about being seen than heard, and she forced herself to sit very still, breathing slowly and quietly, sweat dampening her brow.

“Damned
ahalad-kaaslane
tricks, that’s what.” Emelovi recognized the voice. Prensik. “How’d the Scallacians take it?”

“Hag knows. Faces like jasper, those two,” Aare said. “The bastards eye every vase and footstool like moneylenders come to collect on a debt.”

Prensik laughed and quickly cut it off as if becoming aware that Aare had not intended to be funny. Emelovi could well imagine Aare’s expression. A raised eyebrow, a look of disdain colored with a bare hint of disapproval.

“They intend to support me, I’m sure of that. Suits their purposes to have me on the throne and to be rid of the plague, the
nokulas
and the
ahalad-kaaslane
.”

Hearing the last, Emelovi gasped and covered her open mouth with both hands. Get rid of the
ahalad-kaaslane
? The Lady would never allow it! But everyone knew the Lady had weakened, perhaps withdrawn Her protection altogether. Emelovi shook her head. But to abandon Her . . . It was too awful a thing to contemplate, even for Aare.

“What about the Lord Marshal?”

“Ah, yes. We’ll see about him in time. In the meantime, he helped bring the sorcerers here, now, didn’t he? And he wants to see the plague and
nokulas
gone as much as I do. Nor has he much faith in the
ahalad-kaaslane
these days. Tonight’s performance will do little to improve his opinion of that
ganyik
, Reisiltark. I’ll have what I need from him. He’s nothing if not predictable.

“What I want you to do is set men to watch Reisiltark and this new
ahalad-kaaslane
. I want to know everything they do. Absolutely everything, to the smallest detail.”

“Yes, Daz Varakamber.”

“Then you may go.”

Prensik coughed. “Sir?”

“Yes?”

“What of Emelovi?”

Emelovi tensed, clutching her arms tightly around her knees.

Aare chuckled. It was a sneering sound. “Worried about your heirs, are you? Or afraid she’s turned on me? Let me set your mind at ease. On both counts. My sister is mine and mine alone. Her loyalty cannot be bent. I trust her, Prensik, because her fear of me is complete. She has been well trained, like a good bitch, to sit, to heel, and to do my bidding exactly. She breathes at my will, and she knows it. What benefits me, benefits her.

“Her actions this evening were in service to me, to encourage a connection with Reisiltark so that Emelovi might gain information for me. Reisiltark is losing followers in droves amongst those who count. Not even the
ahalad-kaaslane
confide in her. She is ripe for conquest, and my sister has begun that for me. If I can turn her to my hand, then Reisiltark will be a superior tool.”

Hearing his words, Emelovi sagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. He’d taken her to task earlier, and she’d pleaded that she had thought to please him. But until this moment, she hadn’t been sure that he’d accepted her explanation, that he wasn’t planning retribution.

“She wants a friend, and if I am that friend, then you will know her mind,” she had said, hands clasped together to keep them from shaking.

“And what did you talk about?”

“Kaj Vadonis. She warned me that he was difficult, rude and arrogant.”

“Interesting. They are not good friends, then.” Aare sounded pleased. “Anything else?”

Emelovi licked her lips. They had talked for some time. Aare would never believe that Kaj Vadonis had taken all their attention. “She seemed very alone and even frightened. She apologized for not saving Mother.”

Aare shrugged and turned away to seat himself, smiling enigmatically up at Emelovi. “Did she now . . . Anything else?”

“Just . . . well, she seemed nervous and she didn’t like the sorcerers at all.”

“I see.”

“Did I—? Did I do right?” She was disgusted with the quavering note in her voice, but she could not suppress it.

“You were irreproachable, as always, little sister. But I should certainly ask first next time.”

Emelovi had nodded, fear closing like a fist around her heart. “Of course. It only occurred to me as she came in the door. I had not planned it.”

“Of course not.” And Emelovi couldn’t tell if he believed that she wouldn’t have planned it without asking, or that she was incapable of intrigue. It didn’t matter. Either was better for her. Now Aare began speaking again to Prensik.

“As for heirs, you may be assured. I’d sooner let her lie with my hounds than marry Patversemese scum. But sniffing after her keeps Vadonis occupied, and I encouraged my sister tonight to get closer to him. I need his attention fixed on her and not on the sorcerers.

“You may go now, Prensik. Do establish that watch on Reisiltark and these new
ahalad-kaaslane
before you find your bed. And try to be discreet.”

Emelovi heard the door open and close, and she waited. Sweat dampened her tunic between her breasts and trickled down her ribs. A knock came, almost beyond her hearing. The door opened and closed.

“How’s our guest?” Aare asked.

“Exactly as you ordered,” came a lower, rougher voice. It wasn’t as cultured as Prensik’s, but clearly the man had been educated. “The wounds are healing, but he’s none too comfortable. Bad-tempered.”

“And the other?”

“I sent them off. Pelodra with them. He won’t be coming back.”

“Good. How long before they get there?”

“Depends. I sent a solid crew. Two dozen men. Bandits and
nokulas
are getting to be bad. But even moving slow and fighting their way through, no more than two weeks. They’ll bring the Vadonis girl to the garrison at Gudsiil. The men are loyal there, and no one will ask questions. Nor will she find anyone who will want to aid her escape.”

The Vadonis girl? Emelovi tensed. What could Aare want with her? She shuddered. Nothing good. His next words confirmed her suspicions.

“Very good. If my sister can’t hold Vadonis’s attention by seduction, then I will have the means to hold it by force. One more thing before you go. I’ve set Prensik to watch Reisiltark and her new
ahalad-kaaslane
friends. You do the same. Anything on Sodur?”

“Nothing. He’s been sticking to himself, keeping up his visits to your father. Hasn’t been to the Temple for several days.”

“I wonder . . . has he had a falling out with the
ahalad-kaaslane
?” There was delighted spite in Aare’s voice now, and Emelovi frowned. Sodur was her father’s best friend, his closest adviser but for the Lord Marshal. Few
ahalad-kaaslane
failed to heed him when he spoke. If he had lost his status, then Aare’s road to the regency, to the crown itself, was nearly clear. Only a few stubborn nobles, the Lord Marshal, and their father stood in his way. Emelovi trembled. Already he was taking steps to gain the support of the nobles and Lord Marshal. Which left their father. And Aare didn’t like loose ends. It wouldn’t be enough to get him to abdicate. It wouldn’t be enough to have him declared incompetent. No, Aare would want to completely destroy any possibility that their father could retake the throne, and there was only one way to be certain.

Emelovi shoved her fists against her mouth, tears trickling down her cheeks. She had to stop him. But how?

She should tell someone. But who? One name popped into her head: Reisiltark. She was the only one Aare couldn’t predict or control. She was the only one who could challenge the sorcerers and win. But Aare was having Reisiltark watched, both by Prensik and by this other man. There was no way to talk to her. Emelovi’s mind raced. What about Kaj Vadonis? He and Reisiltark were friends, and Aare had told her to spend more time with him.