The Bloodline Feud (Merchant Princes Omnibus 1) (56 page)

He paused in front of the dais and bowed deeply again, then once to the left and once to the right, where his great-uncle’s companions sat in silence.

‘See, a fine young man,’ his great-uncle remarked to his left. ‘A strong right hand for the family.’

‘What use is a strong right hand, if the blade of the sword it holds is brittle?’ snapped his neighbor. James held his breath, shocked at the impudence of the old man – his
great-uncle’s younger brother, Huan, controller of the eastern reaches for these past three decades. Such criticism might be acceptable in private, but in public it could only mean two things
– outright questioning of the Eldest’s authority, or the first warning that things had gone so badly awry that honor called for a scapegoat.

‘You are alarming our young servant,’ the Eldest said mildly. ‘James, be seated, please. You may leave,’ he added, past Esau’s shoulder.

The servants bowed and backed out of the noble presence. James lowered himself carefully to sit on the floor in front of the elders. They waited impassively until the doors thumped shut behind
his back. ‘What are we to make of these accounts?’ asked the Eldest.

‘The accounts . . .?’ Esau puzzled for a moment. This was all going far too fast for comfort. ‘Do you refer to the reports from our agent of influence, or to the –
’

‘The agent.’ The Eldest shuffled on his cushion. ‘A cup of tea for my nephew,’ he remarked over his shoulder. A servant Esau hadn’t noticed before stepped forward
and placed a small tray before him.

‘The situation is confused,’ Esau admitted. ‘When he first notified me of the re-emergence of the western alliance’s line I consulted with Uncle Stork, as you charged me.
My uncle sent word that the orders of your illustrious father were not discharged satisfactorily and must therefore be carried out. Unfortunately, the woman’s existence was known far and wide
among the usurpers by this time, and her elder tricked us, mingling her party with other women of his line so that the servants I sent mistook the one for the other. Now she has gone missing, and
our agent says he doesn’t know where.’

‘Ah,’ said the ancient woman at the Eldest’s right hand. The Eldest glanced at her, and she fell silent.

‘Our agent believes that the elder Angbard is playing a game within the usurper clan,’ Esau added. ‘Our agent intended to manipulate her into a position of influence, but
controlled by himself – his goal was to replace Angbard. This goal is no longer achievable, so he has consented to pursue our preferences.’

‘Indeed,’ echoed Great-Uncle Huan, ‘that seems the wisest course of action at this time.’

‘Stupid!’ Esau jerked as the Eldest’s fist landed on a priceless lacquered tray. ‘Our father’s zeal has bound us to expose ourselves to their attack, lost a valued
younger son to their guards, and placed our fate in the hands of a mercenary – ’

‘Ah,’ sighed the ancient woman. The Eldest subsided abruptly.

‘Then what is to be done?’ asked Uncle Huan.

‘Another question,’ said Esau’s great-uncle, leaning forward. ‘When you sent brothers Kim and Wu after the woman they both failed to return. What of their
talismans?’

James Lee hung his head. ‘I have no news, Eldest.’ He closed his eyes, afraid to face the wrath he could feel boiling on the dais before him. ‘The word I received from our
agent Jacob is that no locket was found on either person. That the woman Miriam disappeared at the same time seems to suggest – ’ His voice broke. ‘Could she be of our line, as
well?’ he asked.

‘It has never happened before,’ quavered the ancient woman next to the Eldest.

He turned and stared at her. ‘That is not the question, aunt,’ he said, almost gently. ‘Could this long-lost daughter of the western alliance have come here?’ he asked
Esau. ‘None of them have ever done so before. Not since the abandonment.’

James Lee took a deep breath. ‘I thought it was impossible,’ he said. ‘The family is divided by the abandonment. We come here, and they go . . . wherever it is that the source
of their power is. They abandoned us, and that was the end of it, wasn’t it? None of them ever came
here
.’

‘Do we know if it’s possible?’ asked Huan, squinting at Esau. ‘Our skill runs in the ever-thinning blood of the family. So does theirs. I see no way – ’

‘You are making unfounded assumptions,’ the Eldest interrupted. He turned his eyes on Esau. ‘The talisman is gone, and so is the woman. I find that highly suggestive. And
worrying.’ He ran his fingers through his beard, distractedly. ‘Nephew, you must continue to seek the woman’s demise. Seek it not because of my father’s order, but because
she may know our secrets. Seek her in the barbarian castles of Niejwein; also seek her here, in the coastal cities of the Northeast. You are looking for a mysterious woman of means, suddenly sprung
from thin air, making a place for herself. You know what to do. You must
also
– ’ he paused and took a sip of tea – ‘obtain a talisman from the usurper clan by
whatever means. When you have obtained one, compare it to your own. If they differ, then I charge you to attempt to use it, both here and in the world of our ancestors. See where it takes you, if
anywhere! If it is to familiar territory, then we may rest easy. But if the talent lies in the pattern instead of the bearer, we are all in terrible danger.’

He glanced at the inner shrine, in its sealed cabinet on the left of the Yellow Room. ‘Our ancestor, revered though he be, may have made a terrible error about the cause of the
abandonment. Unthinkable though that is, we must question everything until we discern the truth. And then we must find a way to achieve victory.’

*

‘Hello, Roland’s voice mail. If it’s still secure, meet me at the Marriott suite you rented, tonight at six p.m. Bye.’ She stabbed the ‘off’
button on her phone then remarked to the air, ‘Be there or be dead meat.’

Paulette was bent over the screen of her laptop, messing around with some fine arts websites, a browser window pointing to a large online bookstore: ‘Are you sure you mean that?’

‘I don’t know.’ Miriam frowned, arms crossed defensively. ‘Give me the car keys, I’m going for a drive. Back late.’

Being behind the wheel of a car cleared Miriam’s head marvelously. The simple routine of driving, merging with traffic and keeping the wheels on the icy road, distracted her from the worry
gnawing away at her guts. At Home Depot she shoved a cart around with brutal energy, slowing only when a couple of five-gallon cans of kerosene turned it into a lumbering behemoth. Afterwards she
left quickly and headed for the interstate.

She was almost a hundred and thirty miles south of Boston, driving fast, haunted by evil thoughts, when her phone rang. She held it to her ear as she drove.

‘Yes?’

‘Miriam?’ Her breath caught.

‘Roland? Where are you?’

‘I’m in the hotel suite right now. Listen, I’m so sorry.’

You will be, if I find you’re responsible,
she thought. ‘I’ll be over in about an hour, hour and twenty,’ she said. ‘You’re alone?’

‘Yes. I haven’t told anyone else about this room.’

‘Good, neither have I.’ They’d rented the room in New York for privacy. Now all she could think of was the man in her mother’s Dumpster, eyes frozen and staring.
‘Do you know if Angbard got my message?’

‘What message?’ He sounded puzzled. ‘The courier – ’

‘The message about my mother.’

‘I think so,’ he said uncertainly. ‘You sure you can’t be here any faster?’

‘I’m on the interstate.’

‘Uh, okay. I can’t stay too long – got to go back over. But if you can be here in an hour we’ll have an hour together.’

‘Maybe,’ she said guardedly. ‘I’ll see you.’

She killed the phone and sped up.

It took her only an hour and ten minutes to make the last sixty miles, cross town, and find somewhere to park near the hotel. As she got out of the car she paused, first to pat her jacket pocket
and then to do a double take.
This is crazy,
she thought,
I’m going everywhere with a gun!
And no license, much less a concealed-carry permit.
Better not get stopped,
then.
Having to cross over in a hurry would be painful, not to say potentially dangerous; the temporary tattoos on her wrists seemed to itch as she pushed through the doors and into the lobby
of the hotel.

The elevator took forever to crawl up to the twenty-fourth floor, then she was standing in the thickly carpeted silence of the hallway outside the room. She knocked, twice. The door opened to
reveal Roland, looking worried. He looked great, better than great. She wanted to tear his clothes off and lick him all over – not an urge she had any intention of giving in to.

His face lit up when he saw her. ‘Miriam! You’re looking well.’ He waved her into the room.

‘I’m not looking good,’ she said automatically, shoulders hunched. ‘I’m a mess.’ She glanced around. The room was anonymous as usual, untouched except for the
big aluminum briefcase on the dressing table. She walked over to the row of big sealed windows overlooking the city. ‘I’ve been living out of a suitcase for days on end. Why did you
call me yesterday?’ She steeled herself for the inevitable, ensuring that his next words came as a surprise.

‘It’s – ’ He looked drawn. ‘It’s about Olga. She’s been shot. She’s stable, but – ’

‘What? Was it a shotgun?’ Miriam floundered, her scripted confrontation utterly derailed.

‘A shotgun? No, it was a pistol, at close range. After you disappeared, ran or whatever, she started acting very strangely. Refused to let anyone anywhere near her chambers then moved into
your apartment at House Hjorth, deeply disconcerting Baron Oliver – she did it deliberately to snub him, I think.’ He shook his head. ‘Then someone shot her. The servants were in
the antechamber to her room, heard a scuffle and shots – she defended herself. When they went in, there was blood, but no assassin to be seen.’

Miriam leaned against the wall, overcome by a sense that events were spinning out of control. ‘After I ran, was there anything about a corpse in the orangery? Or a couple more in
Olga’s rooms? We sure left enough bullet holes in the walls – ’

‘What?’
Roland stood up, agitated. ‘I didn’t hear anything about this! I got the message about you running, but not – ’

‘There were two assassination attempts.’ Miriam tugged at the curtains, pulling them shut.
You can never be sure,
she thought, chilled: even though a high building was
implicitly doppelgängered, inaccessible from the other worlds, a Clan sniper in a neighboring office block could shoot and then make a clean escape as soon as they reached ground level.
‘The first guy tried to lure me into the garden. Unfortunately for their plans, Olga’s chaperone Margit turned up instead. I went back to tell Olga and ran into two guys with machine
pistols.’

‘But – ’ Roland shut his mouth, visibly biting his tongue, as Miriam stared at him.

‘I don’t think they were working together,’ Miriam added after a brief pause. ‘That’s why I . . . left.’

‘I ought to get you to a safe house right now,’ said Roland. ‘It’s what Angbard will expect. We can’t have random strangers trying to murder Clan heiresses. That
they should have shot Olga is bad enough, but this goes far beyond anything I’d known about.’ He stared at her. ‘It’s as if I’m being deliberately kept in the
dark.’

‘Tell me about Olga?’ Miriam asked.
We know just how reliable Angbard thinks you are.
‘How is she being looked after? What sort of treatment is she
receiving?’

‘Whoa! Slowly. Baron Oliver couldn’t afford to look as if he was ignoring an attack under his own roof – he personally got her across to an emergency room in New York, and
notified the duke while they stabilized her. Angbard had her moved to Boston Medical Center by helicopter once she was ready: She’s in a private room, under guard.’ Roland looked mildly
satisfied at her expression of surprise. ‘She’s got round-the-clock bodyguards and hot and cold running nurses. Angbard isn’t taking any chances with her safety. We could provide
bodyguards for you, too, if you want – ’

‘Not an issue. But I want to visit Olga.’ Miriam put her shoulder bag down on the bed. ‘Tonight.’

‘You can’t. She’s stable, but that doesn’t mean she’s taking visitors. She’s on a drip and pain killers with a hole in one arm and a head injury. Shock and
blood loss – it took us nearly two hours to get her to the emergency room. Maybe in a couple of days, when she’s feeling better, you can see her.’

‘You said she had a head injury?’

‘Yeah. The bad guy used a small-caliber popgun, that’s why she’s still alive.’ He looked at her. ‘You carry – ’

Miriam pulled out her pistol. ‘Like this?’ she asked dryly. ‘Fuck it, Roland, if I was going to kill Olga, I wouldn’t mess around. You know damn well they were hoping to
nail me instead.’

‘I know, I know.’ He looked glum. ‘It wasn’t you. Nobody with half a wit says it was you, and the fools that do don’t have any pull at court. But your departure set
more tongues flapping than anything else that’s happened in years; a real scandal, say the idiots. Eloping with a lady-in-waiting, according to the more lurid imaginations. It doesn’t
look good to them, the shooting coming so soon after.’

‘Well, I don’t give a damn whether I look good or bad to the Clan.’ Miriam stared at him through narrowed eyes. ‘What about my mother?’ she asked.

‘Your mother? Isn’t she all right? Is she – ’

‘I went over there this morning. She phoned last night while I was away. Something about going on a long journey. Today there is a new back door in her kitchen, and a dead man’s body
in the Dumpster behind her house, and not a sign of her to be found. I told Angbard that if anything happened to her, heads would roll, and I meant it.’

Roland sat down heavily in the room’s armchair. ‘Your mother?’ His face was pale. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of it.’

Miriam pursed her lips. ‘Would Angbard tell you if he was going to order her abducted?’

‘Abducted – But you said someone was shot on her doorstep?’

‘You’re catching on. Someone was shot with a sawed-off shotgun. And
she
sure as hell didn’t stuff him into a Dumpster and repair the kitchen door before leaving, or
mop up the blood stains. In case you didn’t know, she’s got multiple sclerosis. She’s in a wheelchair right now, and even when the disease is in remission she walks with
crutches.’