Page 89 of The Ragpicker King
As Kel had promised Merren, Lin was summoned as soon as they reached the Black Mansion. Andreyen had been waiting for them, perched on his tall chair in the Great Room like a watchful bird of prey. He sprang into action the moment they arrived, sending a messenger for Lin, ordering that hot water, brandewine, and linen bandages be brought to Merren’s room, and demanding that Merren, weak from blood loss, go and lie down immediately.
Jerrod would not allow anyone else, even Ji-An, to help Merren to his room, but undertook the venture himself, Merren’s good arm looped around his neck. Andreyen watched them go, his eyes hooded, before snapping, “You two. Are either of you hurt?” at Kel and Ji-An.
They both replied in the negative.
Andreyen looked Kel over. “So the blood on you is Merren’s, then?”
Kel had not realized the state he was in. There were long scratches on his hands and neck—and doubtless his face as well—left behind by the sharp needles of the scrub pine. His clothes were torn and dirty, his boots muddy and stained with seaweed, and Merren’s bloodhad left crimson patches on his jacket and shirt. The metallic scent of the blood mixed with the smell of brine and seaweed, making his clothes smell like one of Montfaucon’s worse colognes.
As he examined himself, a small hermit crab crawled out of the top of his boot and dropped to the carpet. It seemed to gaze around for a moment before scuttling beneath Andreyen’s brocaded armchair.
Andreyen rolled his eyes. “Go clean up,” he said, “the both of you. You are dripping on the rugs. Then come back and tell meexactlywhat happened.”
“Well, it isn’tourfault,” Kel said to Ji-An as they did their best to tidy up in the small, green-tiled tepidarium. “You send someone to engage in spywork on a drowned island, you ought to expect them to come back wet.”
“He isn’t upset about the wet, or even the crab,” said Ji-An, who had changed out of her wet boots and trousers and into clean linens. Other than some scrub-pine scratches like Kel’s, she had emerged relatively unscathed. “He’s upset about Merren. And you should be glad he snapped at you. It means he likes you.”
“I thought you said he was angry at me.” Kel, too, had changed clothes, in the small room off the tepidarium, into the loose cotton tunic and trousers he usually wore during Crawling lessons with Jerrod. How he was going to explain the change when he returned to the Palace, he was not yet sure.
“You can be angry at someone and still be fond of them.” Ji-An ran a brush through her damp hair. Unplaited, it hung nearly to her waist, ink black and straight as an arrow. “He just thinks you ought to have warned him—”
“About Anjelica. I know.” Kel cut his gaze sideways at Ji-An. She seemed placid enough, though Ji-An was placid the way tigers in cages were placid; there always seemed to be a part of her that was planning what she would do if she were ever entirely free. “Are you sure he’s the one who’s angry? Not you?”
Ji-An’s brushstrokes slowed. “Why would I be angry?”
“Because Anjelica seemed to know a great deal about you.” He thought of the Princess saying in her steady voice,Because of you, a whole family in Geumseong lies dead.“Or was she wrong?”
Ji-An was twisting her hair up into its familiar knot at the back of her head. “Not about love,” she said with surprising calm. “I loved Na Ri. She was the daughter of the House of Nam. And they killed her.” She fastened her hair in place with an amethyst pin and turned to Kel. “I swore I would slay each one of them who had spilled her blood, and I did.”
How many?Kel wanted to ask, but he didn’t. It was not the kind of question he suspected Ji-An would want to answer.
“Is that when Andreyen saved your life?” Kel guessed. “Did he get you out of Geumjoseon?”
Her dark gaze was steady. “You’re not so foolish as you look.” She caught up her jacket, swinging it around her shoulders. “Now, he’ll want to know what happened on Tyndaris.”
“Wait,” said Kel. “How foolish do I look?”
But Ji-An was already on her way back to the Great Room. Kel followed her, a little sorry for what he had asked. He had grown fond of Ji-An, of her prickliness and protectiveness, her acidic humor and the gentleness she kept hidden.
Back in the Great Room, the fire had been built high, the flames leaping eagerly up the chimney. Andreyen sat in his chair, eyes hooded, his staff across his lap. He stroked the fine grain of the wood as Kel explained to him what had happened on the island: what they had seen and learned, how Merren had been injured, Antonetta’s intervention.
When he was done, Andreyen folded his hands in his usual position, crossing them over the raven’s head atop his staff. “So,” he said, his eyes shining with an eerie green cast. “What you are telling me—and let me make sure I have this absolutely correct—is that the Shining Gallery slaughter was masterminded by the Malgasi, who tricked several of the Charter Families into cooperating under the pretense that it was simply a nasty political prank.”
“Not just ‘the Malgasi,’” said Kel. “The heir to the throne. The Princess. Elsabet.”
“Who is also an assassin,” said Andreyen. “And who practices a magic not seen since the time of the Sorcerer-Kings. And in the wake of the Shining Gallery, the Malgasi have found themselves in the position of blackmailing the Charter Families whowereinvolved by threatening to reveal that involvement.” He leaned his chin on his folded hands. “And since they would rather do anything than relinquish power, they will go along with the Malgasi and their plans to tear Castellane apart rather than speak up with the truth and risk the consequences.”
“They believe that when there is a new Castellane, they will rule it, along with the Malgasi,” said Ji-An. “The Aurelians will remain as figureheads.”
“They are fools if they believe that,” said Andreyen. “The Malgasi will discard them like trash after they’ve marched armies into Castellane.”
Anxiety buzzed like a bee in the back of Kel’s head. “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “By the time they realize that, it will be too late.”
Andreyen gave a slight nod.
“We know of three families involved with the current conspiracy,” he said. “Liorada Alleyne, but not her daughter. The Cabrols were raised to their current position as Charter holders by the Malgasi, who also enabled their revenge, and now they must serve the Malgasi in return. The elder Gremont was a part of the original scheme that led to the bloodbath in the Gallery. He was killed there to silence him about his involvement. And Artal Gremont was working with Elsabet Belmany, but is now dead. As for any other families working with Malgasi, we do not know their names yet.” He sighed, sat up. “There is one question, now, that we must answer.”
“What do we do next?” said Ji-An.
