Steelhands - Jaida Jones [159]
“All those people arrested, and us just sitting here,” Laure said, shaking her head. Despite the stern quality of her voice, I could tell from her body language that she was frightened. It didn’t seem fair for her or young Toverre to be caught up in all this when they were barely more than children. I was sorry for them and for myself, but I was sorriest for Adamo, separated from the rest of us, without the consolation of company and no doubt spitting mad about it.
“If you’d like to charge out into the street and get arrested yourself just for acting mad, you’re more than welcome to do so,” Royston said sharply. Then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. That tone was uncalled-for. You merely reminded me … Stubborn heroics tend to bring out the worst in me.”
“I don’t suppose you have any suggestions of something we can do?” I asked. It wasn’t an entirely unrelated question, since, from what I’d heard, Margrave Royston was considerably more well versed in dealing with the political dangers of being disliked by the Esar.
Then again, the airmen had been in such trouble before. Only then, we’d had the power of the dragons behind us.
“I do, but I’m not particularly fond of any of them,” Royston said, running a hand through his hair. He lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper—reminding me all at once that we were in the back of a busy shop, through which all kinds of people passed. Luvander was probably doing his best keeping them away from the door, but with a topic like this one, one could never be too careful. I only hoped some useful gossip was being imparted by his customers. “If it comes to it, I might have to ask you to use your position to make a plea with the Arlemagne diplomats, Balfour. I’m sure they’d be only too glad to help us oust our own Esar, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Now that is most certainly treason,” Toverre said, looking quite white around the eyes. He’d been silent the whole time, and I realized he’d taken all the silverware out of Luvander’s drawers to polish each piece individually with a napkin. “I may be from the country, but I’m not a total fool.”
“It would be a last resort,” I reasoned, in part to soothe myself as much as Toverre. Nothing could be so dire that it would come to that— at least, I had to pray it couldn’t. “No one’s going to turn to the Arlemagne to solve our problems just yet. Especially not when we aren’t sure what our problems are.”
“I’m pretty sure,” Laure said.
“I believe he meant what official reason will be given,” Royston explained.
“Actually, what I’m really wondering is: Why now?” I asked.
No one had an answer for me though everyone was silent for a moment, trying to come up with one.
“Asking the Arlemagne to help would be like sending an invitation to the Ke-Han to march over the mountains and solve our problems for us,” Laure said finally, sounding mutinous. “Bet they’d be pretty eager, now that we’re all so friendly with each other.”
“Here is what I think,” Royston said, knotting his scarf about his neck. “No one should do anything until I get back.”
“That’s funny,” Luvander said, passing into the back room. “I wanted to say that, too, but it seemed selfish. Never you worry, my darlings, only an hour left and I’ll return to you. I’ll see if we have the proper size for you back here!” he added, clearly calling out to one of his customers. “Don’t listen to your friend, either! Large heads are a sign of wisdom and sensuality.”
He popped a funny little shrug in my direction, then he was gone, being sure to shut the door firmly behind him. In his wake, the horrid clock started chiming the hour. But it was as clear a sign as any that we needed to lower our voices.
Luvander was subtle when he wanted to be; it was only surprising because he was so unsubtle the rest of the time.
“You’re leaving?” Laure asked Royston, not allowing herself to