Fire - Kristin Cashore [92]
She matched his quietness. ‘I’ve always had a protective heart. Only now I have more people inside it. They’ve joined you there, Archer - never replaced you.’
He thought about that for a moment, staring at his feet. ‘You needn’t worry about Clara, anyway,’ he said. ‘She ended it almost the moment it began. I believe it was out of loyalty to you.’
Fire deliberately chose to think of this as good news. She would focus on it ending, whatever it had been, and ending by Clara’s choice - rather than on the small matter of it having begun.
There was a short, sad pause. He said, ‘I’ll end things with Mila.’
‘The sooner you do, the sooner it’ll be behind her. And you’ve lost your questioning-room privileges with this thing, Archer. I’ll not have you there plaguing her with your presence.’
He glanced up sharply then, and stood straight. ‘A relieving change of topic. You remind me of the reason I wanted to talk to you. Do you know where I was today?’
Fire couldn’t turn away from the subject so easily. She rubbed both temples. I’ve no idea, and I’m exhausted, so whatever it is, have out with it quickly.
‘I was visiting the house of a retired captain who was an ally of my father’s,’ Archer said. ‘By the name of Hart. A rich man, and a great friend to the crown. His young wife sent the invitation. Hart himself was not home.’
Fire rubbed her temples harder. ‘You do Brocker’s ally great honour,’ she said dryly.
‘Well, but listen to this. She’s quite a drinker, Hart’s wife, and do you know what we were drinking?’
‘I’ve no energy for riddles.’
He was smiling now. ‘A rare Pikkian wine made from the juice of frozen grapes,’ he said. ‘They’ve a whole case of it hidden at the back of their wine cellar. She didn’t know where it came from - she only just discovered it while I was there. She seemed to find it odd, that her husband should’ve hidden it away, but I think it was a wise thing for a known ally of the king to do, don’t you?’
NASH FELT CAPTAIN Hart’s treachery very personally. For indeed, it took little more than a week of redirected questioning, and of watching Hart while seeming not to watch him, to learn that Lord Mydogg on occasion made a present of his favourite wine; and to learn that the messengers Hart sent south to deal with his speculations in the gold mines met with interesting and obscure fellows along the way, at inns, or over drinking games, who were then seen to strike out in a northerly direction that was the straightest path to Mydogg.
It was enough for Garan and Clara to decide Hart must be questioned. The matter on the table next was how.
ON A MOONLIT night in mid-November, Captain Hart set south along the cliff road that led to his second home - a pleasant, seaside cottage to which he retreated on occasion to find respite from his wife, who drank far more than was good for the health of her marriage. He rode in his very fine carriage and was attended, as usual, not only by his drivers and footmen but by a guard of ten men on horseback. It was how a wise man travelled the cliff road in the dark, so that he could defend himself from all but the largest company of bandits.
Unfortunately, the company of bandits that hid behind the rocks on that particular night was quite large indeed; and led by a man who, if shaved, and dressed at the height of fashion, and seen in daylight engaged in some highly correct activity, might bear a resemblance to the king’s steward Welkley.
The bandits set upon the travelling party with great, bandit-like howls. While the majority of the ne’er-do-wells roughed up the members of Hart’s entourage, went through their pockets, bound them with ropes, and collected Hart’s very fine horses, Welkley and several others entered the carriage. Inside, an irate Captain Hart was waiting for them, brandishing sword and dagger. Welkley, with a highly athletic dodge to left and right that many at court would have found quite surprising, stabbed the captain in the leg with a dart tipped