Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [15]
The room went quiet like the inside of a grave.
“Lagar Sheerile showed me a deed of sale to Sene Manor signed by my father.”
“It’s a forgery,” Aunt Pete said. “Gustave would never sell Sene.”
Cerise held up her hand. “My father and mother are missing. Lagar said they were taken by the Hand.”
Richard’s face paled.
“The Louisiana spies?” Kaldar, slim, his hair dark like Richard’s, peeled himself from the wall. Where Richard radiated icy dignity, his brother lived to have fun. He had wild eyes the color of honey, a silver hoop in one ear, and a mouth that either said something funny or was about to break into a grin, sometimes just as he sank his blade into someone’s gut. Richard thought like a general, while Kaldar thought like a criminal, and she desperately needed both of them on her side.
Kaldar leaned forward, a hard, vicious light sparking in his eyes. “What the hell does the Hand want with us?”
“Lagar didn’t say. As of now, the feud is officially on. I need riders sent to Uncle Peter, Emily, and Antoine. We’re pulling everyone into the Rathole. Someone needs to warn Urow, too.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Uncle Rufus said.
“Thank you.” Cerise wished she knew exactly what to say, but whatever words she had would have to do. Here we go. “We must take back Grandfather’s house. First, my parents disappeared there. If any clues exist, they would be at Sene. Second, I don’t have to tell you that the Mire runs on reputation. We’re only as strong as others think we are. If we allow the Sheeriles to bite off a chunk of our land, we might as well pack it in.”
No arguments. So far so good.
“Kaldar, how much time do we have to dispute the deed?”
Her cousin shrugged. “We have to file the petition with the Mire court by tomorrow evening. The court date could be anywhere from ten days to two weeks from then.”
“Can you stall?”
“I can get us a day, maybe two.”
Richard’s narrow lips bent into a frown. “If we go through legal channels, we’ll lose. To dispute the Sheeriles’ deed, we have to have the original document granting the Sene Manor to Grandfather. We need his exile order. We don’t have it.”
Cerise nodded. That document and many others had perished four years ago in a flood that had nearly demolished the storage buildings. She’d thought about that on her ride over as well.
“Can we get a replacement?” one of the younger boys asked.
“No.” Kaldar shook his head. “When Louisianans sentence someone to exile, three copies of the orders are cut. One goes straight to Royal Archives, the second is carried by the marshals who transport the exile and is surrendered to the Border Guard when they reach the Edge, and the third is given to the exile. The Border Guard isn’t going to fall over themselves to find that order for us. We’ll never get close enough to ask. They’ll shoot us and string our corpses on the trees along the border.”
“Every exile carries the order?” Cerise asked.
“Every adult,” Kaldar said. “What are you getting at?”
“There were two adult exiles, Grandfather and Grandmother,” Richard said. “Grandmother’s order wasn’t among the papers ruined in the flood. I know, I sorted through them. Where is it?”
“Hugh,” Aunt Murid said.
Cerise nodded. “Exactly. Before Uncle Hugh went into the Broken, he took certified copies of all archival documents with him for safekeeping, including the original copy of Grandmother’s order. I remember this because Mother cried when she gave it to him.”
Richard narrowed his eyes. He was the most cautious of all of them, the most reasonable, and the one who always kept his calm. You might just as well try to rattle a granite rock. The family respected him. If she convinced him to buy her plan, the rest would follow.
“Hugh is in the Broken,” Richard said. “You can’t go after him, Cerise. Not now.” “I’m the one who makes runs
“I’ll do it,” Kaldar said. “I’m the one who makes runs there anyway.”
“No.” She loaded enough steel into her voice to make the lot of them blink.
Erian looked ready to say something but clamped his mouth shut.
“The Hand