Page 43 of The Ragpicker King
Ji-An sighed. “This is ridiculous,” she said, and, turning to Lin, she recounted the tale of Merren’s past: how Gremont had raped Alys, his sister, and arranged the imprisonment of his father. It wasa grimly awful tale, and Lin felt her stomach shrink back against her spine.Oh, Antonetta,she thought.
“Merren,” she said when Ji-An was done. “I’m so sorry.”
Merren only nodded. He looked exhausted. Jerrod stepped forward to lay a hand on Merren’s shoulder.
“I think I know why the poison didn’t work,” Lin said.
Merren’s eyes flew wide, and Kel let out a low whistle. Only Andreyen looked unsurprised.
“He is wearing a protective amulet,” Lin went on. “A bit like Kel’s talisman—powerful old magic. I glimpsed it around his throat last night.”
“That ugly necklace?” Ji-An made a face. “Well, I can shoot him with an arrow if poison won’t work—”
“No,” said Merren, in an uncharacteristically cold voice that made Jerrod look down at him worriedly. “I want him to die by my hand. Not someone else’s.”
“I’m not even sure an arrowwouldwork,” said Lin. “The amulet isn’t a protection against poison. It’s protection againstdanger.Anything that might threaten him. And it is from a time when amulets were far more powerful than they are now. The arrow might break before it ever struck him.”
Kel said, in a peculiar sort of voice, “If Conor had a talisman like that, he might not even need a Sword Catcher.”
“I’d be very curious as to where Gremont got it,” said Jerrod. “Very curious.” He looked down at Merren. “There is only one thing to do, then. We must steal the amulet—”
“Stop.” Andreyen’s voice, cut steel, sliced through the conversation. The room fell silent. “All of you. Cease this foolishness immediately.” He rose to his feet. Lin forgot sometimes how tall he was, tall and rangy as a shadow elongated at dawn. “Amulets can be powerful and complex. In the old days, there were some so powerful that any action taken against the wearer would be turned back on the attacker sevenfold.” He turned to Merren. “You trust me, do you not?”
Merren nodded. Andreyen knew a great deal about amulets, Lin thought, though that did not really surprise her; he had always been fascinated with magic. It was why he had approached her in the first place.
Andreyen’s voice softened. “I will look into this amulet business. Specifically, its origin. Something like that would be illegal to sell. If he bought it, I should be able to trace the acquisition. In the meantime, turn your attentionbackto the matter of the Shining Gallery.” He brushed his fingers along the head of his cane—a habitual gesture. “And indeed, I wouldn’t be surprised if we find Gremont’s name somewhere in this Gallery business.”
Kel uncrossed his arms. “You think Artal Gremont could be implicated in the massacre? I’d love to see him swing from the Tully gallows, but he was in exile when it happened.”
The Ragpicker King smiled his long, unnerving smile. “And now he has returned, precisely because his father was killed that night. His exile was ended by his inheritance. Always look to who benefits from a crime when seeking the culprit.”
There was a short silence. Merren looked disappointed, but Lin knew he would not speak up against Andreyen, whom he adored as a sort of father figure—though truly, Andreyen was notthatmuch older than any of them.
“Well, then,” said Jerrod, “we have our next move in the investigation. The Legate told Kel that Magali Berthe will be at the Arena croc fights on Ellsday. We can find her there.”
“And do what? Interrogate her?” Lin asked.
“Talk to her. She’ll speak with me. I’m from the Hill; she’s known me for years,” said Kel. “If there are any changes to the Ellsday plan, let me know through the usual channels.” He smiled crookedly. “Alas, I must depart. I have to retrieve a Princess in two days, and there are many preparations to see to.”
Two days later, Kel, dressed as Conor and bearing his circlet and talisman, rode along the Ruta Magna in the Palace’s open-topped carriage. The great road that ran from the Narrow Pass to the harbor was lined with the citizens of Castellane, who had turned out in great numbers to celebrate the new Princess’s arrival.
It was almost as though they had forgotten that three months ago, there had been an entirelydifferentnew Princess—one who had barely lived a week in the city before being murdered. Public memory was short when it came to an excuse to celebrate, Kel thought, remembering to incline his head gently every once in a while to acknowledge the presence of the crowd. They cheered as the carriage went by, waving the golden chrysanthemums that had been passed out that morning by Castelguards.
Though they held tightly to the green stems, the flowers would not be thrown until the Princess showed herself.Shewas the one they were desperate to see. Would she be beautiful? Glorious? A credit to the city? Today, the Crown Prince would be eclipsed. Kel could only feel relieved about it.
Queen Lilibet had stayed back at the Palace to ready everything for the arrival of Anjelica Iruvai. Jolivet, too, had remained behind, which struck Kel as strange. Usually, the Legate would have been present at a moment like this. He wondered if it had anything to do with the Shining Gallery investigation.
He felt the incipient beginnings of a headache, a buildup of pressure behind his eyes. He should not be thinking about the investigation. He was Conor now, doing what Conor would do in this situation. He needed to be alert not just to danger but also to the authenticity of his portrayal. He owed it to Conor and to his oath.
As they approached the curve of the harbor and turned toward the Royal Docks, Kel saw that they, too, had been prepared for the Princess’s arrival. The wood had received a coat of gilded paint, and climbing roses had been wound over and under all the beams, then the blossoms had been painted—gold again, the color of HouseAurelian. Kel thought the whole thing resembled a gold dinner plate, adrift on a blue tablecloth.
It was quiet as the carriage drew up and Kel dismounted. Lilibet and Jolivet had argued that morning: The Queen wanted the Prince to meet the Princess alone, without soldiers or counselors to spoil the mood, while the Legate had pointed out that they were sending the Sword Catcher precisely because there was possible danger, and having guards present would only be good sense. In the end, they had compromised. The mounted members of the Arrow Squadron made a scarlet crescent behind Brigadier Benaset, seated on Jolivet’s white stallion, though they did not approach the wharf.
From here, Kel could see the curve of the shoreline all along the harbor they called the Key. The commercial wharves had been shut down for the day, and crowds of onlookers massed on the wooden platforms, gazing out to sea, their arms full of flowers. The taverns along the Key had thrown their doors open, and the sound of festive music drifted across the water. Only the armored ships moored off Tyndaris served as a hint that Castellane was prepared for an attack.
Someone in the crowd cried out. A speck had appeared on the horizon, growing quickly in size as the steady wind carried it toward the harbor. It was a clear day, the kind where heaven and sea met seamlessly at the horizon. The great ship from Kutani could be seen in all her splendor, moving across the harbor like a dowager queen sailing across a ballroom floor. Her red-orange sails made Kel think of spices—a spill of saffron and turmeric.
As the great ship neared the shore, Kel craned his head back to see it. The soul of the boy who had once, with his best friend, Cas, wanted to be a pirate, soared at the sight: polished, gleaming wood and brass, vast sails, the prow carved into the shape of a brightly painted mangrove tree. Men and women crowded the decks.
