Fire - Kristin Cashore [106]
The sky was dark now. Fire sensed archers moving into the shadows of the balconies around her. Both Gentian and Murgda had been housed on the palace’s third level overlooking this very courtyard, the rooms above, below, across, and to either side of them empty of guests, and temporarily occupied with a royal military presence that made Fire’s guard seem quite shabby.
These had been Brigan’s orders.
Fire wasn’t certain which she was dreading more: what it would mean for her and his family personally if he did not arrive in time, or what it would mean for their night’s work and the war. She thought these might be pieces of the same fear. If Brigan didn’t come, he was probably dead, and with that, all things would fall apart anyway, whether they be big, like tonight’s plans, or small, like her heart.
And then, only a few minutes later, she stumbled upon him as he materialised at the edges of her range on the nearest city bridge. Almost involuntarily she sent him a surge of feeling that began as fury but turned immediately to worry and also relief at feeling him, so uncontrolled that she couldn’t be sure some of her deeper feeling hadn’t seeped through.
He sent back assurance and exhaustion and apology, and she reached back to him with apology of her own, and he apologised again, more insistently this time. Brigan has arrived, she thought hurriedly to the others, and pushed their own expressions of relief out of her mind. Her focus was unravelling. She scrabbled to regain control of the courtyard.
Lady Murgda was keeping a lower profile than Gentian. Like Gentian, she’d arrived with attendants, at least twenty of them, ‘servants’ who had the feeling of persons used to fighting. A number of these persons were in the courtyard below. Others were spread throughout the palace, presumably watching whomever Murgda had instructed them to watch; but Murgda herself had gone straight to her rooms at her arrival and had not emerged since. She was holed up there now, a level below Fire and across from where Fire stood, though Fire could not see her. She could only feel her, sharp and intelligent, as Fire had known she would be, harder than her two enemies below and more guarded, but buzzing with a similar edginess, and burning with suspicion.
Clara, Garan, Nash, Welkley, and several guards entered Fire’s room. Sensing them, but not turning from the balcony view, Fire touched their minds in greeting and, through the open balcony door, heard Clara muttering.
‘I’ve figured out who Gentian’s got tailing me,’ Clara said, ‘but I’m not so sure of Murgda’s tail. Her people are better trained.’
‘They’re Pikkian, some of them,’ Garan said. ‘Sayre tells me she saw Pikkian-looking men, and heard their accents.’
‘Is it possible Lord Gentian could be daft enough to have no one watching Lady Murgda?’ Clara said. ‘His entourage is pretty obvious, and none of it seems trained on her.’
‘There’s no ease in watching Lady Murgda, Lady Princess,’ Welkley said. ‘She’s barely shown her face. Lord Gentian, on the other hand, has asked for your audience three times, Lord King, and three times I’ve brushed him off. He’s quite eager to tell you in person all kinds of made-up reasons why he’s here.’
‘We’ll give him the opportunity to explain, once he’s dead,’ Garan said.
Fire listened to the conversation with one fraction of her attention and monitored Brigan’s progress with another - he was in the stables now - dancing all the while around Gentian, Gunner, and Murgda. So far she had only played around their minds, searching for ways in, approaching but not taking hold. She instructed a servant below - one of Welkley’s people - to offer wine to Gentian and Gunner. Both men waved the serving girl away. Fire sighed, wishing the elder were not so plagued with indigestion and the younger so austere in his habits. Young Gunner was a bit troublesome, actually, stronger-minded than she’d like. Gentian, on the other hand - she wondered if it was time to enter Gentian’s mind and begin pushing. He grew more and more anxious, and she got the sense