Page 124 of The Ragpicker King
Her own heart begins to beat in double time. As if she is still ina dream, she pads barefoot into her kitchen. It is cool in here, too, the fire in the grate put out long ago. She gazes at it—at the blackened logs surrounded by gray ash—and says, her hand clasped tight around her brooch, “Burn.”
There is a soft rending sound, like tearing cloth. A dozen gold sparks fly up from the half-burned wood, like golden beads flying from a broken necklace. For a moment Lin fears that this will be all there is, all the tiny flicker in her brooch has power for, but a moment later sheets of red and orange join the gold, flames leaping jagged in the hearth like dragon’s teeth. Lin can feel the heat flood over her skin, sending her heart soaring.
She glances down at the stone in her hand. The flicker is gone, the stone cool and lifeless again. She closes her hand around it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kel woke up to the sound of voices. He pushed himself upright slowly, his body aching from the pummeling he’d given it in the Hayloft the day before. He’d slept badly, and he guessed Conor had as well, but Conor was already awake, fully dressed, sitting behind his desk, his feet up on a pile of papers. Perched on the edge of the desk was Joss Falconet, wearing a hot-pink frock coat and an animated expression. “They spotted the body last night,” he was saying. “But by the time the Vigilants reached the canal, it had sunk out of sight. They’re dredging for it now—though the Gods only know what they’ll find.”
The body.Kel felt suddenly cold all over, despite the sun streaming in through the windows. He glanced down; he was shirtless, but then, it was just Falconet. He cleared his throat.
“What’s going on?” he said. “Whose body are we talking about?”
Conor glanced over at him. Kel couldn’t remember the last thing he’d said to Conor the night before; Conor had come back silent and withdrawn after his “errand” in the city, and Kel had left him alone.
There was an unusual gravity in Conor’s dark-gray eyes. “It’sjust a report right now,” he said, “but it looks as if Ciprian Cabrol has been found dead in the Temple District.”
Falconet had a new carriage. He had drawn it up to a stop near the Bridge of Singing Women, not far from the Caravel. The neighborhood was not usually crowded, as the Temple District tended to be less frequented at the height of the day. But word that a body had been seen in the green canal—and was suspected to be that of a noble—had stirred the sluggish interest of various passersby. They stood in uneven clumps up and down the banks of the water, chattering among themselves.
Vigilants, easy to identify in their scarlet uniforms, were dredging the canal with nets made of rope. It was a hot afternoon, the sunlight bouncing off the water as if off a jade mirror. Kel felt vaguely queasy, the light seeming to stab into his eyes as if he had a hangover.
Ciprian. Dead.It could hardly be a coincidence. Just yesterday, Kel had sent Ciprian off with orders to find out which other families were tied into the conspiracy, and now Ciprian had been killed.We sent him to his death,Kel thought. He hadn’t been innocent, but that didn’t matter. Kel should have anticipated the danger.
“Is everyone quite sure it was Ciprian?” said Conor. “Who saw the body last night?” He was leaning back against a satin bench seat, flocked with silver and gold embroidery in the shape of twining grapevines. Falconet’s new carriage was so ornate as to be ridiculous. Bronze carcel lamps dangled from hooks, though they were not lit now; the walls of the carriage boasted gold-framed mirrors and diamond-pleated silk tassels, while beneath the seats were padded boxes holding wine bottles and glasses.
Merren would have been outraged, Kel thought. Sometimes he forgot how wealthy the Charter Families really were, each one a royal family in their own right, ruling over kingdoms of porcelainand silk, spices and wine. No wonder Malgasi thirsted to control them.
“I woke up at the Caravel this morning,” Falconet said, covering a yawn with his hand. “It was chaos outside, Vigilants everywhere. Alys got me out the back way, said Silla saw a body in the water. That it was Cabrol. Alys wasn’t pleased. Noblemen dying in the district is bad for business.”
“Well, he wasn’t a nobleman all that long,” said Conor. He was gazing out the window, just as Kel was, but seemed distracted. “Three months, was it?”
Falconet chuckled. “Not a long time to get someone angry enough to kill you, I grant. Didn’t you talk to him at the Solstice Ball, Con? Did he ask you for any royal favors—paying off gambling debts, doing away with an enemy or two?”
Conor shrugged absently. “I don’t think I spoke with him at all. He seemed busy keeping Esteve away from Beatris.”
Kel tensed. It wasn’t like Conor to make a mistake like that.Oh, Ciprian had nothing of note to say,he should have answered. Knowing to cover for the time he’d been gone, for the time Kel had been him.
Falconet shrugged. “Well, I was very drunk. I must have misremembered.”
“He didn’t look particularly troubled,” said Kel, thanking Aigon that Falconet liked his wine. “Not that it matters much now.”
“I suspect,” drawled Conor, “that this was the work of the exiled Roverge family. They had their Charter usurped, after all. They would have been hungry for vengeance.”
“They certainly waited long enough to take it,” Kel said as a shout went up from outside. Several of the Vigilants appeared to have caught something dark in their net.
“Perhaps Beatris will take over the Charter,” said Falconet, resting an arm on his drawn-up knee. “She’s unmarried, but with her brother dead, there’s no other male heir. An exception could be made.”
“You could marry her, Falconet,” said Conor. “Then you’d have a Charter to bestow on some fortunate friend.”
“I could.” Falconet looked amused. “Speaking of marriage, is it true the lovely Anjelica rode over one of your outbuildings with her elephant? Crushed it to powder, I hear.”
“It wasn’t an outbuilding,” said Conor. “It was a folly.”
Whatever the Vigilants had found in their net, it was not the body of Ciprian Cabrol. A wave of relief went through Kel, though it only had the effect of making him feel sicker. Kel cracked the carriage window open an inch, inhaling the salty canal-water scent of the Temple District as the Vigilants continued their search.
“The official word is that it was an accident,” said Falconet. “But I rather wondered if you’d done something to annoy the Princess. Did she catch you in a dalliance, perhaps?” he asked, with that Falconet smile that was meant to take the sting out of the words.
“There was no dalliance,” Conor said in a strangely flat voice. Falconet looked at him with some surprise.
