The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [168]
“Lady, forgive me for the worry I’ve caused, but I think if I had not acted as I did, she would be dead now.”
Gramme sighed. “I am distraught, and you have a point. An attempt was made to poison my son and me when we were in the queen mother’s ‘protection.’ No doubt she intended to kill Mery, as well.” She took a deep breath. “Very well, let this be forgotten. The prince wants to tell a different story of you anyway, and I think it unwise to stand in his way on that matter. Just tell me where I can find my daughter.”
“I would prefer to fetch her myself, Your Ladyship,” Leoff said. “If you could provide me with a horse or carriage—”
Her brow furrowed again. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because I left her in the care of someone, someone I would not want to see implicated in my actions. I hope you can understand that.”
After a moment, she nodded brusquely. “That will do. I will arrange for my carriage to take you.”
“Milady? I wonder if I might inquire as to—ah—what has happened in my absence. Things seem to have—changed.”
“You haven’t heard?”
“No, madam, I have not.”
She smiled faintly and leaned back. “Prince Robert returned from the dead, as it were, and yesterday proclaimed himself regent.”
“But what of His Majesty, Charles?”
“Muriele managed to spirit him away, somehow, along with her Lierish guard. The Craftsmen have also left the city.”
“But the queen?”
“The queen mother remains in Eslen,” Gramme said. “She has been placed under arrest.” She pursed her lips. “Why do you think my daughter is still in danger?”
The sudden return to their earlier conversation left Leoff a bit breathless. “I don’t think I made it clear that I thought she was still in danger,” he said.
She nodded. “No, but you think it so.”
“I—” He searched for some explanation that would not reveal what he had heard. If Mery somehow died before returning to Eslen, it would be just one more weapon to use against the queen. He had already allowed himself to become such a tool—he would not let Mery die to become one, as well.
“It’s just a feeling I have,” he murmured. “But I think once I have returned her to you, she will be safe.”
“And she is safe where she is?”
He thought about that—the prince had received reports of the two of them together, but he didn’t have Mery, which suggested he hadn’t been able to follow their trail all the way to Gilmer’s.
“I believe she is, milady.”
“Then let her remain where she is for a time. I will contact you when I’m ready for you to fetch her.
“Thank you, Lady Gramme.”
She looked at him frankly. “No—thank you, Fralet Ackenzal.”
He returned to his quarters, hoping for rest and peace, and found the praifec instead, glancing through the sheets of music on his desk. He felt a surge of unaccustomed and blistering anger.
“Your Grace,” he said, trying to keep any venom from showing in his voice.
“I hope you don’t mind,” the praifec said, “I let myself in.”
“Your Grace is always welcome,” Leoff lied.
“This is the piece the queen commissioned?”
“Most of it, Your Grace.”
“I flatter myself that I know something of music,” the praifec said. “Before I entered the clergy I studied in the Academy of Saint Omé. My course was Letters, but music was a requirement, of course.”
“What instrument did you choose?” Leoff asked.
“The lute, primarily, and harp of course. I was born in Tero Gallé, where the harp is revered.” He frowned slightly at the sheet music. “But I do not fully understand this. What are these words written below the staff?”
“They are meant to be sung, Your Grace.”
“Along with the instruments?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Then how can this be considered a serious composition?” the praifec wondered aloud. “It seems very common, like something that might be performed in a tavern or in the street. The music