The Bloodline Feud (Merchant Princes Omnibus 1) (70 page)

‘So explain,’ said Miriam. Her gaze slid past Iris to focus on Kara, who was doing her best imitation of a sheet of wallpaper – wallpaper with a fascinated expression.
‘Whoa. Kara, please wait outside. Now.’

Kara skidded across the floor as if her feet were on fire: ‘I’m going, I’m going!’ she squeaked.

Miriam stared at Iris. ‘So why did you do it?’

Iris sighed. ‘They’d shot Alfredo, you know.’

She fell silent for a moment.

‘Alfredo?’

‘Your father.’

‘Shot him, you said.’

‘Yes. And Joan, my maid, they killed her too. I got across but they’d done a good job on me, too – I nearly bled to death before the ambulance got me to a hospital. And then,
and then . . .’ She trailed off. ‘I was in Cambridge, unidentified, in a hospital, with no chaperone and no guards. Can you understand the temptation?’

Miriam looked sideways: Angbard was watching Iris like a hawk, something like admiration in his eyes. Or maybe it was the bitterness of the dutiful brother who stuck to his post? It was hard to
tell.

‘How did you meet Morris?’ she asked her mother, after a momentary pause.

‘He was a hospital visitor. Actually he was writing for an underground newspaper at the time and came to see if I’d been beaten up by the pigs. Later he sorted out our birth
certificates – mine and yours, that is, including my fake backstory leading out of the country, and the false adoption papers – when we moved around. Me being a naturalized foreigner
was useful cover. There was a whole underground railroad going on in those days, left over from when the SDS and the Weather Underground turned bad, and it served our purpose to use it. Especially
as the FBI wasn’t actually looking for us.’

‘So I – I – ’ Miriam stopped. ‘I’m not adopted.’

‘Does it make any difference to you?’ Iris asked, sounding slightly puzzled. ‘You always said it didn’t. That’s what you told me.’

‘I’m confused,’ Miriam admitted. ‘You were rich and powerful. You gave it all up – brought your daughter up to think she was adopted, went underground, lived like a
political radical – just to get away from the in-laws?’

Angbard spoke. ‘It’s her grandmother’s fault,’ he said. ‘You met the dowager duchess, I believe. She has always taken a, ah, utilitarian view of her offspring. She
played Patty like a card in a game of poker, for the highest stakes. The treaty process, re-establishing the braid between the warring factions. I think she did so partially out of spite, to get
your mother out of the way, but she is not a simple woman. Nothing she does serves only a single purpose.’ His expression was stony. ‘She is untouchable. Unlike whoever tried to ruin
her hand by murdering my half-sister and her husband.’

Iris shifted around, trying to make herself more comfortable. ‘Don’t trouble yourself on my account. If you ever find Alfredo’s body, you’d best not tell me where
it’s buried – I’d have a terrible time getting back into my wheelchair after I pissed on it.’

‘Patricia,’ his smile was razor-thin, ‘I usually find that death settles all scores to my complete satisfaction. Just as long as they stay dead.’

‘Well, I don’t agree. And you weren’t married to Alfredo.’

‘Mother!’ Miriam stared at both of them in shock: Just as she was certain Angbard was serious, she was more than half afraid that her mother was, too.

‘Don’t you “mother” me!’ Iris chided her. ‘I was mooning at the national guard before you were out of diapers. I’m just not very mobile these
days.’ She frowned and turned to Angbard. ‘We were speaking of
mother
,’ she reminded him.

‘I can’t keep her out forever,’ said Angbard, his frightening smile vanishing as rapidly as it had appeared. ‘You two clearly need more time together, but I have an
audience with his majesty in an hour. Miriam, can you fill me in quickly?’

Miriam took a deep breath. ‘First, I need to know where Roland is.’

‘Roland – ’ Angbard looked at his watch, his face intent. Then back at Miriam. ‘He’s been looking after Patty for the past month,’ he said, his tone neutral.
‘Right now he’s in Boston, minding the shop. You don’t need to worry about his reliability.’

For a moment Miriam felt so dizzy that she had to shut her eyes. She opened them again when she heard her mother’s voice. ‘Such a suitable young man.’ She glared at Iris, who
smiled lazily at her. ‘Don’t let them get together, Angbard, or they’ll be over the horizon before you have time to blink.’

‘It’s not. That.’ Miriam was having difficulty breathing. ‘There’s a hole in your security,’ she said as calmly as she could. ‘It’s at a very high
level. I told Roland to do something about a corpse in an inconvenient place and instead a bunch of high explosives showed up. It turns out that Matthias has been blackmailing him.’ She felt
dizzy with the significance of the moment.

‘Roland? Are you sure?’ Angbard leaned forward. His face was expressionless.

‘Yes. He told me everything.’ She felt as if she were floating. ‘Listen, it was on the specific understanding that I would intercede with you to clear it up. Your secretary has
been running his own little game and seems to have decided that getting a handle on Roland would help him cover his traces.’

‘That was a mistake,’ Angbard said, his voice deceptively casual. His expression was immobile, except for his scarred left cheek, which twitched slightly. ‘How did you find
out?’

‘It happened in the warehouse my chamber is doppelgängered onto here. Most of this pile is collocated with a bonded warehouse, but one wing sticks out into a real hole-in-the-wall
shipping operation.’ She swallowed, then forced herself to speak. ‘There was a night watchman. Emphasis on the
was
.’ She explained what had happened when she’d
first carried Brill through to New York.

‘Roland, you say,’ said Angbard. ‘He’s been blackmailed?’

‘I want your word,’ Miriam insisted. ‘No consequences.’

A sharp intake of breath. ‘Well – ’ Angbard started to pace. ‘Did he betray any secrets?’

Miriam stood up. ‘Not as far as I know.’

‘And did anyone die as a result of his actions?’

Miriam paused for a moment before answering: ‘Again, not as far as I know. Certainly not directly. And certainly not as a result of anything he knew he was doing.’

‘Well. Maybe I will not have to kill him.’ Angbard stopped again, behind Iris’s chair. ‘What do you think I should do?’ he asked, visibly tense.

‘I think – ’ Miriam chewed her lower lip. ‘Matthias has tapes. I think you should hand the tapes over to me, unwatched. I’ll burn them. In front of you both, if you
want.’ She paused. ‘You’ll want to remove all his responsibilities for security operations, I guess.’

‘This blackmail material,’ Iris prodded. ‘These tapes – is it something personal? Or has he been abusing his position in any way?’

‘It’s absolutely personal. I can swear to it. Matthias just got the drop on Roland’s private life. Nothing illegal; just, uh, sensitive.’

Iris – Patricia, the long-lost countess – stared at her for a long moment, then turned to look at her half-brother. ‘Do as she says,’ she said.

Angbard nodded, then cast her a sharp look. ‘We’ll see,’ he said.

‘No, we won’t!’ Iris snapped. She continued quietly but with emphasis: ‘If your secretary has been building up private dossiers on nobles, you’re in big trouble.
You need all the friends you can get, bro. Starting by pardoning anyone who isn’t an active enemy will clear the field. And make damn sure you burn those tapes
without
watching them,
because for all you know some of them are fabrications that Matthias concocted just in case you ever stumbled across them. It’s untrustworthy evidence, all of it.’ She turned to Miriam.
‘What else have you dug up?’ she demanded.

‘Well.’ Miriam leaned against a priceless lacquered wooden cabinet and managed to muster up a tired smile to conceal her sense of relief. ‘I’m pretty sure Matthias is in
league with whoever was running the prisoner.’

‘The prisoner,’ Angbard echoed distantly. By his expression, he was already wrapped up in calculating the requirements of the coming purge.

‘What prisoner?’ asked Iris.

‘Something your daughter’s friends dragged in a couple of days ago,’ Angbard dropped offhandedly. To Miriam he added, ‘He’s downstairs.’

‘Have you worked out who he is, yet?’ Miriam interrupted.

‘What, that he’s a long-lost cousin? And so are the rest of his family, stranded with a corrupt icon that takes them to this new world you have opened up for our trade? Of course.
Your suggestion that we do DNA fingerprinting made it abundantly clear.’

‘Cousins? New world?’ Iris asked. ‘Would one of you please back up a bit and explain, before I have to beat it out of you with my crutches?’

Angbard stood up. ‘No, I don’t think so. You kept Miriam in the dark for nearly a third of a century, I think it’s only fair that we keep you in suspense for a third of a
day.’

‘So nobody else knows?’ Miriam asked Angbard.

‘That’s correct. And I’m going to keep it that way, for now.’

‘I want to talk to the prisoner,’ Miriam said hastily.

‘You do?’ Angbard turned the full force of his icy stare on her. ‘Whatever for?’

‘Because – ’ Miriam struggled for words – ‘I don’t have old grudges. I mean, his relatives tried to
kill
me, but . . . I have an idea I want to test.
I need to see if he’ll talk to me. May I?’

Angbard looked thoughtful. ‘You’ll have to be quick, if you want to collect your pound of flesh before we execute him.’

Miriam swallowed bile. ‘That’s not what I have in mind.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Give me a chance?’ she asked. ‘Please?’

‘If you insist. But don’t lose the plot.’ He stared at her, and for a moment Miriam felt her bones turn to water. ‘Remember not all your relatives are as liberal-minded
as I am, or believe that death heals all wounds.’

‘I won’t,’ Miriam said automatically. Then she looked at Iris again, a long, appraising inspection. Her mother met her gaze head-on, without blinking. ‘It’s all
right,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to stop being your daughter. Just as long as you don’t stop being my ma. Deal?’

‘Deal.’ Iris dropped her gaze. ‘I don’t deserve you, kid.’

‘Yes, you do.’ Angbard looked Miriam up and down. ‘Like mother, like daughter, don’t you know what kind of combination that makes?’ He chuckled humorlessly.
‘Now, if you will excuse me, Helge, you have made much work for this old man to attend to . . .’

*

I should have realized all castles had dungeons,
thought Miriam. If not for keeping prisoners, then for supplies, ammunition, food, wine cellars – even ice. It
was freezing cold below ground, and even the crude coal-gas pipes nailed to the brickwork and the lamps hissing and fizzing at irregular intervals couldn’t dispel the chill. Miriam followed
the guard down a surprisingly wide staircase into a cellar, then up to a barred iron door behind which a guard waited patiently. Finally he led her into a well-lit room containing nothing but a
table and two chairs.

‘What is this?’ she asked.

‘I’ll bring the prisoner to you, ma’am,’ the sergeant said patiently. ‘With another guard. The gate at the front won’t be unlocked again until he’s back
in his cell.’

‘Oh.’ Miriam sat down, feeling stupid, and waited nervously as the guard disappeared into the basement tunnels beneath the castle.
The dungeon. I put him here,
she thought.
What must he be thinking?

A clattering outside brought her back to herself, and she turned around to watch the door as it opened. The sergeant came in, followed by another soldier, and a hunched, thin figure with his
arms behind his back and a hood over his head.
He’s manacled,
Miriam realized.

‘One moment.’ The guards positioned the prisoner against the wall opposite Miriam’s table. The guard knelt, and Miriam heard something click into place – padlocks.
‘That’s it,’ said the sergeant. He pulled off the prisoner’s hood, then he and the other guard withdrew to stand beside the door.

‘Hello, Lin,’ Miriam said as evenly as she could. ‘Recognize me?’

He flinched, clearly terrified, and was brought up short by his chains. A sense of horror stole over Miriam as she peered at him in the dim light. ‘They’ve been beating you,’
she said quietly.
The things on the gatehouse walls
– no, she didn’t want to be involved in this. It was all a horrible mistake.
Multiple contusions, some bleeding and
inflammation around the left eye.
He stared past her left shoulder, shivering fearfully, but didn’t say anything. Miriam resisted the urge to turn around and yell at the guards. She had
a hopeless feeling that all it would do was earn the kid another beating when she was safely out of the way.

Her medical training wouldn’t let her look away. Up until this moment she’d have sworn she was angry with him: But she hadn’t expected them to treat him like this. Breaking
into her house on the orders of someone placed in authority over him – sure, she was angry. But the real guilty parties were a long way away, and if she didn’t do something fast, this
half-starved kid was going to join the grisly chunks of meat on the gatehouse wall, for the crime of following orders. And where was the justice in that?

‘I’m not going to hit you,’ she said.

He didn’t reply. His posture said he didn’t believe her.

‘Listen.’ She pulled one of the chairs out from the table, turned it around, and sat down on it, her arms folded across the back. ‘I just want some answers. That’s all.
Lin of, what did you call yourself?’

‘Lin. Lin Lee. My family is called Lee.’ He kept glancing past her, as if trying to conceal his fear:
I’m not going to hit you, but my guards –

‘That’s good. How old are you?’

‘Fifteen.’
Fifteen! They’re running the children’s crusade!
A thought struck her. ‘Have they been feeding you? Giving you water? Somewhere to
sleep?’

He managed a brief, painful croak: Maybe it was meant to be laughter.

Miriam looked around. ‘Well? Have you been feeding him?’