The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [134]
Hiding Mery below the birm, Leoff went to the door and rapped on it.
To his great relief, Gilmer was the one who answered it, his eyes bugging in gnomish surprise.
“It’s good to see you well,” the little man said, after they’d embraced. “I heard about the trouble at Her Ladyship’s. Almost caught some of it myself. I guess you must have heeded my advice.”
“I was still there,” Leoff said. “Someone helped me escape.”
“One of the young ladies, eh?”
Leoff smiled. “I need a favor, Gilmer.”
“You’ve just to ask.”
“This isn’t an easy favor, and it’s dangerous. Let me explain it before you say yes.”
He called Mery in and related everything that had happened, including what the two of them had heard that night.
“Who do you think it was?” Gilmer asked. “Besides the praifec? Who were the other two?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“One of them was Prince Robert,” Mery said.
Gilmer looked at her. “Prince Robert’s dead, lass.”
“It was him,” the girl insisted.
Gilmer made a long, low whistle. “This aens’t good. Not one bit good.” He slapped his knees. “But you’ve done the right thing. There’s nothing you can do back there. The royals will settle that mess and that’s that. But the praifec—well, they go that way sometimes.”
“I can’t let anything happen to Mery,” Leoff said.
“No, of course you can’t,” Gilmer replied. He tousled the girl’s hair. “I don’t care if the fratrex Prismo himself has come up from z’Irbina, there’s no little girl getting killed while I’m around. No, you two will stay here. When this all blows over, we can reckon what to do.”
“Gilmer, I need you to keep Mery safe—that much is true. But I’ve got to go back.”
Gilmer shook a finger at him. “That’s crazy,” he said. “You think you’ll stop a palace coup all by yourself? Or that anyone would be grateful to you even if you did? You were the guest of honor at that party. Even if the queen wins, she’s going to think you a traitor. Learn your lesson, son—stay away.”
“I can’t. The queen needs to be warned.” He squared his shoulders. “Besides, I have a commission to finish and a concert to perform.”
PART IV
ROADMARKS
The Year 2,223 of Everon
The Month of Decmen
Ponto, the fifth mode, invokes Saint Diuvo, Saint Flenz, Saint Thunor, Saint Rooster. It evokes the passionate new love, the raucous banquet, the freely flowing wine. It provokes delight, giddy joy, lust.
Sesto, the sixth mode, invokes Saint Erren, Saint Anne, Saint Fiendeseve, Saint Adlainn. It evokes the ache one will not wish away, the quiet sadness after physical love, unrequited longing. It provokes erotic sadness.
—FROM THE CODEX HARMONIUM OF ELGIN WIDSEL
CHAPTER ONE
FRIENDSHIPS
ANNE PULLED A COMB through her salt-knotted hair and watched the gulls on the strand fight over the scraps of fish and more dubious once-living things. The birds weren’t the only scavengers; twenty or thirty people—mostly children—were also searching the sand for treasure from the waves.
Farther down the shore, the battered hulk of the Della Puchia was dry-docked in scaffolding, and beyond that lay the huddle of whitewashed cottages that was the Gallean village of Duvré.
It was hard to remember any particulars about the storm. The bells of vicious thunder, snapping spars, and plunging waves all blurred together into a single long terror. It had left them adrift and sinking with only a single makeshift sail and the good fortune to be within sight of shore. They had followed the coast for nearly a day before finding the fishing village and the anchorage it offered.
A cold wind was coming off the sea, but the clouds were gone. The only remaining signs of the storm were its wreckage.
The comb snagged, and she yanked at her hair in frustration, wishing for a bath, but the village didn’t have an inn, as such, just a small tavern. Besides, their money was all but gone. Cazio had the last of it and was trying to buy horses