Fire - Kristin Cashore [82]
‘Thank you,’ he said to her softly, taking her hand and holding it to his chest. ‘This conversation rots. Lady, give me some good news from the questioning rooms.’
‘I’m afraid there isn’t any, Lord Prince.’
‘Still coming up with contradiction?’
‘Most certainly. A messenger told me yesterday that Mydogg has definite plans to make an attack against both the king and Lord Gentian in November. Then today a new fellow told me Mydogg has definite plans to move his entire army north into Pikkia and wait for a war between Gentian and the king to play out before he so much as raises a sword. Plus, I spoke to a spy of Gentian’s who says Gentian killed Lady Murgda in an ambush in August.’
Brigan was spinning the ball now on the end of his finger, absent-mindedly. ‘I met with Lady Murgda on the fifteenth of September,’ he said. ‘She wasn’t particularly friendly, but she was plainly not dead.’
It was a tendency in the questioning rooms that had arisen suddenly in recent weeks, contradiction and misinformation, coming from all sides and making it very difficult to know which sources to trust. The messengers and spies Fire questioned were clear-headed and truthful with their knowledge. It was simply that their knowledge was wrong.
All at the Dellian court knew what it meant. Both Mydogg and Gentian were aware that Fire had joined the ranks of the enemy. To lessen the advantage she gave the Dellian throne, both rebel lords had begun misinforming some among their own people, and then sending them out to get caught.
‘There are people close to both men,’ Garan said, ‘people who know the truth of their plans. We need those people - a close ally of Mydogg’s, and one of Gentian’s. And they have to be people we’d never suspect normally, for neither Mydogg nor Gentian must ever suspect us of questioning them.’
‘We need an ally of Mydogg’s or Gentian’s pretending to be among the most loyal allies of the king,’ Brigan said. ‘Shouldn’t be so hard, really. If I shot an arrow out the window I’d probably hit one.’
‘It seems to me,’ Fire said carefully, ‘that if I take a less direct approach, if I question every person we’re holding about things I haven’t bothered to investigate before - every party they’ve ever been to, every conversation they’ve ever overheard but perhaps not understood the significance of, every horse they’ve ever seen heading south when it should’ve been heading north—’
‘Yes,’ Brigan said. ‘It might yield something.’
‘And where are the women?’ Fire asked. ‘Enough men. Give me the women Mydogg and Gentian’ve taken to bed, and the barmaids who’ve had to serve them their wine. Men are daft around women, incautious and boastful. There must be a hundred women out there carrying information we could use.’
Nash spoke soberly. ‘That seems good advice.’
‘I don’t know,’ Garan said. ‘I’m offended.’ He stopped, choked by a spasm of coughing. Nash moved to his brother’s bed, sat beside him, and held his shoulder to steady him. Garan reached a shaky hand to Nash. Nash clasped it in his.
It always struck Fire, the physical affection between these siblings, who as often as not were at each other’s throats over one thing or another. She liked the way the four of them shifted and changed shape, bumping and clanging against each other, sharpening each other’s edges and then smoothing them down again, and somehow always finding the way to fit together.
‘And,’ Brigan said, returning quietly to his previous topic, ‘don’t give up on the archer, Lady.’
‘I won’t, for he troubles me much,’ Fire said; and then sensed the approach of an altogether different archer. She looked into her lap to hide her flush of joy. ‘Lord Archer has just arrived at court,’ she said. ‘Welkley is bringing him here now.’
‘Ah,’ Brigan said. ‘And here’s the man we should recruit to shoot arrows out the window.’
‘Yes,’ Garan said wickedly, ‘I hear his arrow is always finding new targets.’
‘I’d hit you if you weren’t flat on your back,’ Brigan said, suddenly angry.
‘Behave yourself, Garan,’ Nash hissed. Before Fire