Prince's Fire (18 page)

Celeste slumped, feeling melancholy. How sad it must be to have living family nearby and want nothing to do with them. She had never realized how much resentment the empress was carrying around. “Have you considered that they might regret what they once did? Maybe they desire your forgiveness.”

Vitala gave an unladylike snort. “Forgiveness is for people who forget your birthday. It's not for people who sell their daughters.” She looked up. “You know what I mean better than most. Would you forgive Gallus? Would you forgive Cassian?”

“No,” she said softly.

•   •   •

When Celeste had finished deciphering the letters, Vitala took the translations and left to deliver them to Justien and his team for analysis. The hope was that Justien would be able to locate Stina and the children. Then they could arrest the lot of them and bring them before Bayard, who might be persuaded to talk if his family were in custody.

Meanwhile, Celeste took dinner with Lucien and Patricus. The dog lurked under the table, waiting for choice morsels to fall, while her brother caught her up on the palace gossip. Jamien had learned how to catch a ball. Trenian had read some book by a Mosari philosopher and crowed about its brilliance for days. The Legaciatti were organizing a retirement party for the oldest of their number, a man named Fulvianus.

The guards at the door snapped to attention, and Vitala entered the room. “Celeste, have you got a moment?”

“Sit down and eat, love,” said Lucien. “You're in no condition to work this hard.”

“I believe I will.” Vitala took a place at the table. Servants rushed forward to supply her with a plate, a glass, and utensils, and then brought the dinner dishes around. Vitala loaded her plate.

“Has Justien's team found you-know-who yet?” asked Celeste, not wanting to tip off a guard or servant who might, for all she knew, be part of Bayard's conspiracy.

“No, but they believe they're close,” said Vitala. “I came to see you for another reason. Justien's recovered a second packet of letters from Bayard's residence.” She pushed the packet across the table at Celeste.

This packet was smaller than the other, but the handwriting on the topmost letter looked identical to the ones she'd deciphered before. “More of the same, you think?”

“Probably,” said Vitala. “Still, they might have new information. I was hoping you could decipher them when you're finished here.”

By now, Celeste had the key memorized. “I could decipher them now, if someone brings me paper and a quill.”

Vitala called for a servant to do so, and when the items were delivered, Celeste settled into the work, snacking on Riorcan wafers as she deciphered the first letter. Within fifteen minutes, she'd handed the translation off to Vitala—it was more daily minutiae from Stina—and begun the second. In this second letter, a familiar name took shape beneath her pen. She bit her lip and finished the translation:

MESSAGE ARRIVED FROM ZOE TODAY SHE LOST AN AGENT AND NEEDS A REPLACEMENT

She pushed the translated letter across the table to Vitala. “Isn't this curious?
Zoe
is not a Riorcan name.”

“Of course it's not,” said Vitala. “Neither is
Vitala
. The Obsidian Circle gives its people names based on where they will be operating.”

“It's an Inyan name,” said Celeste.

“Am I supposed to recognize it?”

“Zoe is the name of the woman Rayn had the illegitimate child with. I met her briefly on the
Goshawk
.”

Vitala read the translation and frowned. “Well, I don't think it's the same person.” She handed the letter to Lucien. “Do you?”

He read it. “We shouldn't discount the possibility. We know that the child may be used as a political pawn if the assassins kill Rayn. What if this Zoe deliberately seduced Rayn with her wards down, hoping he'd sire a baby on her which she could use for political purposes?”

“That still doesn't explain why Rayn's wards were down,” said Celeste.

Vitala's eyes lit. “Actually, it might.”

“How so?” asked Lucien.

“Zoe could be a wardbreaker,” said Vitala. “This Zoe mentioned in the letter is one of Bayard's people. She may be an assassin trained in exactly the way I was—by the same man, in fact. If that's the case, it's not necessary for Rayn to be careless with his wards. Zoe can
break
his fertility ward, using her magic, thus making pregnancy likely.”

“So she produces an illegitimate child . . . ,” mused Celeste.

“And the next step is to assassinate Rayn,” said Lucien. “Someone wants the Inyan throne, but it cannot be Bayard. He's Riorcan.”

“Someone hired him to produce the child and perform the assassination,” suggested Vitala. “Someone on the Inyan Land Council, perhaps.”

“What could they offer that Bayard would want?” said Lucien.

“Arms, riftstones, maybe even just money,” said Vitala. “These breakaway enclaves have no funding now that the rest of the organization's gone mainstream. And consider this: if this plan succeeds, he'll have placed a half-Riorcan on the Inyan throne.”

“If Zoe's a wardbreaker,” said Celeste, “is she armed with Shards?”

“Of course,” said Vitala. “Why wouldn't she be?”

“Don't wardbreaker assassins typically seduce their victims and kill them in bed?”

“Only if the victim is a war mage. In that case, they need the distraction of sex in order to make the kill,” said Vitala.

Celeste noted her use of the pronoun
they
. Vitala had once been a wardbreaker assassin. She apparently didn't include herself in that group anymore.

“And since Rayn is a fire mage,” continued Vitala, “she doesn't need to sleep with him in order to kill him. She just needs to get close enough to stick a Shard in him without him noticing. Mind, we're all just speculating. This may not be the same Zoe at all.”

Celeste felt certain they had the right Zoe. “The servants Rayn brought with him to Kjall—where are they now?”

“They came up with us on the
Soldier's Sweep
,” said Lucien. “And they'll have left for Inya with Rayn on the
Water Spirit
.”

“So at this very moment, Rayn is on a ship with a ward-breaking assassin.”

“We don't know for sure,” said Vitala. “As the emperor says, we're speculating.”

“We have to tell Rayn,” said Celeste.

“I'll dispatch a message at once,” said Lucien.

Celeste blinked. “On the post? It won't reach him on the ship. He needs to be told
now
.”

“You ask the impossible,” said Lucien. “He's on a ship in the open ocean. Even the signal network cannot reach him there.”

“He left this morning,” said Celeste. “If we sent a ship right now—”

“We cannot send a ship right now,” said Lucien. “And if we did, there's no guarantee we'd find him. The ocean is a big place. There are many routes to Inya.”

The thought terrified her, that Rayn could die on the boat at Zoe's hands, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. “Then we meet him at the Inyan docks. We can't protect him on the water. But if he survives the journey, we can protect him when he lands.”

“You're trading on a very big assumption right now,” said Lucien. “I'm not going to commandeer a ship based on a conjecture—”

“You don't need to commandeer anything. Send the
Soldier's Sweep
.”

“My private ship? Out of the question,” said Lucien. “Give Justien's team more time. They'll break Bayard, and when they do, he may confess everything. Then we'll learn exactly who this Zoe is and what she intends.”

“There's no time for that!” Her hands trembled. Rayn could be dead inside of a week if they didn't stop this. He could be talking to Zoe, maybe even following her into her cabin, right this moment. They had to warn him of the danger.

“Rayn is not our responsibility,” said Lucien. “When he was on Kjallan soil, it was my duty to protect him. Now he's on his own ship, Inyan territory, and he's got to look after himself.”

“It is our responsibility,” said Celeste, “because the assassin is Kjallan.”

“Riorcan,” said Lucien.

“Riorca's part of Kjall.”

“Indeed it is,” put in Vitala. “You can't collect taxes from Riorca and then disavow responsibility for it.”

“I can't be responsible for the actions of every rogue citizen in my empire. And besides, we don't even know if it's the same Zoe,” said Lucien. “Celeste, you're mixing political and personal desires. You like Rayn and want to protect him. But it's not your job, nor is it mine, to go chasing after the man every time we think he might be in danger.”

“It may not be our job, but it's common decency!”

“We are not sending a ship after Prince Rayn,” said Lucien. “And that's final.”

T
he next morning, Celeste woke to a knock at her door. She didn't answer it, and the empress was announced. “I'm not dressed,” Celeste called, pulling a pillow over her head.

The door swung open. That was the problem with the empress. She and Lucien could do whatever they wanted, and generally did.

Vitala marched into the bedroom, oblivious to the fact that Celeste was hiding under her bed linens. “Get something on,” she said. “A few hours ago, Justien found Stina and her children—”

“What?” Celeste threw the pillow off her head and sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. But she kept the bedspread pulled up to cover her inadequately clothed body.

“They're in custody now, in separate cells beneath this building.”

Celeste gathered up the linens, wrapped them around herself, and trundled to the dressing room to fetch her robe.

“And what do you think of this?” called Vitala. “No deathstones or riftstones on any of them.”

In the privacy of her dressing room, Celeste dropped the linens. She grabbed her robe and slung it around her shoulders. “So they can be interrogated.”

“That's the idea. Are you up for it?”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Of course I'm up for it. After I get dressed.”

“Meet me in the prison,” said Vitala.

Celeste washed and dressed and, though she wasn't hungry, ate a quick breakfast just in case. While she had never performed an interrogation, she knew they could take a long time. When she felt ready, she headed down the stairway to the underground prison. Vitala and Justien were standing in the aisle, speaking in whispers.

Vitala beckoned. “There you are. We're ready.”

Justien inclined his head. “Your Imperial Highness.”

Celeste glanced about the prison hallway, curious about the prisoners, but all the cell doors were closed. Since they were made of solid iron with no windows, she couldn't see through them. “What do you want me to do?”

“Since she's not magical, I'd like you to try a suggestion,” said Justien. “See if you can get her talking freely. If that doesn't work—”

“It should work,” said Celeste. She hoped it did. Manipulating the woman with a little mind magic would be far better than having to torture her.

“If it doesn't, we have backup plans.” Justien gestured to a guard, who pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door nearest them. Justien entered the cell first. Celeste filed in after.

A tall blond woman sat on the prison bench. She was fettered, with some slack in her chains. Her face pinched with worry. “Where are my children?”

“Answer our questions and you'll be with them again soon,” said Justien.

“I've done nothing.” Stina's voice trembled. “
They've
done nothing.”

Justien nodded at Celeste.

Celeste reached out with her magic and planted a suggestion.
I want to tell these people everything I know.
“Who is Bayard?”

The woman smiled, and her face radiated warmth. “Bayard's my husband. He's so good to me—”

“How can he be your husband?” asked Justien. “He claims to be unmarried.”

Stina's brow tightened. “It's a secret.” She put a hand over her mouth. “I wasn't supposed to tell.”

Celeste sent another suggestion.
I can tell these nice people anything, even things that are secrets.

“But I'm sure it's all right if you know.” Stina's face crumpled in confusion, but she went on. “He said we had to keep it secret, because he had enemies, and if they found out about me, they might use me against him.”

“Tell me about Bayard's friends. Did you ever meet any of them?”

“I've met many of his friends,” said Stina. “Sometimes I stay at the enclave in the mountains, and I see them there.”

Celeste and Justien exchanged a look.

“Tell us more,” said Justien. “What are the names of some of these friends?”

“There's Anton,” said Stina. “He's a war mage, but he's very kind. He studies poetry in his spare time. Gota takes care of the horses. They don't have many horses, on account of the grain expense. I think Gota does something else too, but I can't recall what. And there's Petronella. . . .”

Stina prattled on, prodded by Celeste's suggestions, spilling name after name. By the end of the interrogation they had not only a working list of two dozen conspirators but the location of the enclave.

•   •   •

Celeste was finished with the interrogation by lunchtime. She headed back to her apartment with Vitala on her heels. In the second-floor hallway, they came upon Lucien, who was surrounded by his guards and talking with Governor Asmund.

He called to them the moment he saw them. “Exactly the two women I've been looking for.” He disengaged from the governor and gestured for Celeste and Vitala to follow him to the end of the hall for privacy. “How did the interrogation go?”

“Easiest thing in the world,” said Celeste. “I used suggestions, and she told us everything.”

He held out a hand to Vitala. “What did she say?”

Vitala took his hand, hugged him with one arm, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “She really is his wife. They concealed their marriage in order to protect her and the children. We know where the assassins are hiding; it's an old enclave in the mountains about half a day's ride from here. Justien and Nalica are assembling a team to head out and make arrests. There are a lot of conspirators—more than twenty—so they need a lot of men.”

“Are you going with them?”

Vitala nodded. “I have to. There aren't many people who can read the old Obsidian Circle's signs and find the enclave. Without me, they might walk right past it.”

Lucien placed a hand on her belly and frowned. “I don't like your being out there. Perhaps if I came with you—”

“No need for that,” said Vitala. “Justien and his people will be more than adequate protection for me.”

“I'll go,” offered Celeste.

“No,” said Lucien and Vitala in unison.

Lucien continued. “There's no sense risking you. You can't locate the enclave the way Vitala can. And we don't need your mind magic or your cryptanalysis skills to make arrests.”

“There might be more coded letters at the enclave—”

“Justien's team will recover them and bring them back to you,” said Vitala.

Celeste nodded. Much as she'd like to take Vitala's place in this, she couldn't. Vitala had skills she did not possess.

“I figure Justien and Nalica won't be ready to move for at least an hour,” said Lucien. “In the meantime, you two can take lunch with me.”

Celeste assented, recognizing, now that he mentioned it, the hollow feeling in her stomach. She was feeling better now that the interrogation was over, and breakfast had been a while ago.

Lucien led the way down the hall. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “I have a guest who'll be dining with us—a friend I'd like you to meet.”

“Who?” asked Vitala.

“You'll see,” said Lucien. “Is Justien going to confront Bayard about his captured wife and children?”

“Yes,” said Celeste. “But not right away. He wants to capture the conspirators at the enclave first. He says that once we have all his people in custody, Bayard should break. When he starts cooperating and giving us names, Justien will round up the stragglers.” And she could find out for certain whether Zoe was among the conspirators. Stina had mentioned a Zoe and given a physical description that roughly matched, but there were a lot of blond women in Riorca. She still wasn't certain it was the same Zoe.

The guards outside the imperial apartment snapped to attention and opened the door to admit them. Lucien and Vitala's apartment was larger than Celeste's and featured an intimate dining room. Places were set for four, and a woman Celeste had never seen before sat at the table, waiting for them. She was an older woman, a little careworn, and probably Riorcan since she was blond. The woman turned anxiously to the group, her hand shaking where it sat on the table.

Vitala came to a sudden halt. “No.”

“Dearest—” began Lucien.

“I told you I wasn't going to do this.”

He took her hands in his own. “I have no father anymore. My mother passed away when I was young. I miss her every day.”

“I
don't
miss mine.” Vitala flung his hands back at him and stalked out of the apartment.

Lucien followed on her heels. “I have no other family. Will you deny me a mother-in-law?”

His voice faded as he passed out of hearing range. Celeste, standing in the dining chamber and feeling awkward about being caught in the middle of this family drama, met the eyes of the nervous woman sitting at the table. So this was Vitala's mother. She curtsied. “It's nice to meet you, Treva Salonius.”

Vitala's mother stared at her with a wrinkled brow. Then she said, in Riorcan, “Pardon me. I don't speak Kjallan.”

Celeste repeated her greeting in the woman's own language.

“Are you a friend of my daughter's?” asked Treva.

“I'm her sister-in-law,” said Celeste.

“My daughter is an extraordinary woman,” said Treva.

“That she is.”

“But she will not talk to me.”

Celeste had little to say about that. She knew as well as anyone that for all Vitala's good qualities, she wasn't the most forgiving of individuals. “I'll just see how things are going outside.”

She went out into the hallway. Lucien and Vitala were inches from each other's faces, puffed up like threatened house cats as they exchanged words.

“You set me up,” said Vitala. “You knew I didn't want to see her, and you dragged me in there without even a hint of what you had planned—”

“It's for your own good,” said Lucien. “It's time you made peace with her. Shouldn't my feelings count for something? What if I want to know the woman who birthed and raised the woman I love?”

“She
didn't
raise me; that's the whole point.”

“For eight years, she did,” said Lucien.

“And four hundred tetrals she was paid for it. You want to have lunch with her, go ahead. You're the gods-cursed emperor of Kjall; I can't stop you. But don't drag me into it.” She stormed down the hall.

Lucien turned apologetically to Celeste. “That didn't go so well.”

Celeste only raised her brows. Vitala wasn't a woman who could be forced into anything; Lucien ought to know that by now.

The emperor held out his arm. “Shall we?”

She took it and headed back into the imperial apartment to have lunch with Vitala's mother.

•   •   •

For the rest of the day, Celeste waited anxiously for news about the assault on the mountain enclave. The team was away all afternoon and all evening, and when Celeste gave up on them and went to bed, they were still out at the enclave, and no word had been received from them in Denmor.

In the morning, she learned that Justien, Nalica, Vitala, and the others had returned to the Enclave building in the wee hours with a herd of prisoners in tow, so many that Celeste wondered how the Riorcan authorities would manage to house them all.

A few hours later, Justien came to fetch her. “It's time,” he said. “We're going to confront Bayard.”

She followed him out of her apartment and down the hallway. “Is the empress coming?”

“She's already there,” said Justien. “The emperor too.”

They descended to the underground prison. Vitala and Lucien were standing in the hallway, surrounded by Legaciatti. They turned as Celeste and Justien approached.

“Are we ready?” asked Lucien.

“Yes.” Justien gestured to one of his men, who opened a cell door and led out Stina and three young children. The oldest child looked perhaps eight or nine years old; the youngest was a toddler. All but the toddler were shackled.

“Must we chain the children?” asked Celeste.

“It's for effect,” said Lucien. “Lives are at stake here, including perhaps Prince Rayn's. You don't want him assassinated, do you?”

“No.” He was right, of course. And no harm had been done to the children, nor the wife, since Celeste had been able to accomplish the entire interrogation with magical suggestions. Still, she felt uneasy.

“Here we go,” said Justien. He unlocked the door to Bayard's cell.

Bayard, who still possessed his war magic, was shackled tight to his chair. Celeste wondered what they did with him when he wasn't being interrogated—surely he couldn't be immobilized all the time. Wouldn't it do him harm? But he hadn't been beaten or tortured; she saw no physical signs of abuse. He just looked sullen and angry, as any prisoner would.

The cell became crowded as they filed in: first Justien; then Vitala, Lucien, and herself; then Stina and the children, followed by the guards who were escorting them.

Bayard didn't react to Justien, Vitala, Lucien, or Celeste, but when his family entered, he sat up straighter in his chair. He swallowed, as if to moisten his tongue, and said, “They have nothing to do with any of this.”

“On the contrary, Bayard,” said Justien. “The letters we found suggest that your wife, Stina, was heavily involved in the conspiracy. We found references to Zoe, to Frode and Mattias and Sander. Others too.”

“I'm sorry,” said Stina. “They forced me to talk.”

Justien gestured to a guard near the back of the cell. “Get the woman and children out, and bring the prisoners from room five.”

Bayard's family was escorted out. Shortly afterward, three shackled men entered the room. None were familiar to Celeste.

“Last night, we assaulted your enclave,” said Justien. “We have twenty-six of your people in custody—I'm showing you just these three. If you don't believe me, I can show you the rest. It's over, Bayard. Your organization is destroyed. All that remains is to determine who shall be punished, and in what way.”