Page 115 of The Ragpicker King
The tension in his back ached now, like a wire winding his spine too tight. “It’s a dangerous object,” he said. “Something that magically powerful needs to be kept safe.”
Alys smiled knowingly. “Just so. Understand, I can’t tell you where the amulet is. But we all have our secrets, don’t we, Kel Anjuman?”
She paused before the library door. It was very slightly ajar. Kel could smell the scent ofpatounsmoke wafting from within.
“Some more than others,” Kel said, and went inside. The sweet smell of smoke was stronger in here, the light dimmer. The room was as he recalled: shelves of books, scattered tables, the archway leading to the reading room. In front of the window where Merren had sat the first time Kel had met him was Ciprian Cabrol.
He turned around just as Kel blocked the doorway behind him. His shoulders stiffened, the look on his face turning from anticipation to surprise. “Anjuman? What areyoudoing here?”
And suddenly Kel was not nervous at all. For so many years he had been trained to read every room as he came into it, to examine the behaviors of those surrounding Conor as a jeweler might examine the fine workings of a watch. Now he looked at Ciprian Cabrol, usually so elegant, and saw that his auburn hair was disarrayed where he must have scrubbed his hands through it more than once.Under his eyes, the skin was stretched tight and shiny, a clear sign that he had not slept.
He’s afraid,Kel knew.No. He’s terrified.
Kel locked the door behind him, then leaned back against it, his gaze fixed on Ciprian. “Conor sent me,” he said easily. “He can’t get away, I’m afraid. You know how it is. Busy royal schedules.” He grinned, showing all his teeth. “So much to do. Roistering, drinking, looking down on the peasantry, counting all the silver to make sure none of the lesser nobility made off with the spoons last night...”
Ciprian stared at him. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”
“I’m keeping the mood light,” Kel said. “Conor said you seemed to wish to unburden your soul to someone. Rest assured, I will happily pass on your unburdening to Conor.”
Ciprian flushed angrily. “What I have to say can be heard only by the Prince himself. Not his lackey.” He started for the door, clearly annoyed that he would have to push past Kel to get out.
“Stop,” Kel said with a quiet menace that stopped Ciprian in his tracks. “You owe House Aurelian for granting you the Charter in the first place, don’t you? But you owe Malgasi more.”
To Ciprian’s credit, he didn’t bluster or deny. He only narrowed his eyes at Kel and said, “Conor does seem to tell you everything, doesn’t he?”
“What you should be asking yourself,” Kel said, “is what I will tell Conor about our meeting today. You seemed to think you had something to share with him, perhaps something that would exonerate you from your part in the Shining Gallery massacre. So what was it?”
“I had nothing to do with that,” Ciprian started angrily. “All I ever wanted was to get rid of the Roverges—and the Belmany Princess offered me that.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Kel. “By giving you the money to buy enough black powder to blow the Roverge fleet sky-high.”
Ciprian had gone a sort of putty color. “What,” he said tightly, “exactly, do you know?”
Kel shot out a foot and hooked a chair, pulling it toward himself. He sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He leaned back with a sigh and saw Ciprian’s eyelid twitch.
He smiled to himself. He had learned from the Ragpicker King how beneficial it was to seem to be at one’s ease while others stood around uncomfortably. “I suspect I know more than you imagine,” he said. “But let us find out if my suspicions are true, shall we?”
Ciprian nodded impatiently.
“I know the Malgasi Court dreams of bringing down House Aurelian, and of using the Charter Families to do it,” said Kel. “I know that a number of families are loyal to them, and that your family is one of them.” He was gathering the strands to him as he spoke, weaving them into a tapestry he had not yet seen in its completeness.
The pupils of Ciprian’s eyes seemed to have grown larger. “You devil,” he snarled. “How do you know all this?”
“Through spying on people, Ciprian. I advise you to concentrate more on what I know, and less on how I know it.” From the second library room, Kel thought he heard the squeak of door hinges. He spoke loudly to cover the sound. “I know you’re about to tell me that, at first, Malgasi only approached the nobles—the Alleynes, the Gremonts—with a plan tofrightenthe Sarthian Princess. And perhaps that’s true. But when that plan became a bloody massacre, the Belmany family used the conspirators’ guilt to blackmail them. To paraphrase your own speech to a friend of mine—once the Malgasi have their claws in you, they keep that grip forever. They will never stop demanding more of you. So tell me, what is the rest of their plan?”
Ciprian was panting a little. “Conor can’t know all this. He can’t. We’d all be in the Trick if he did.”
Here Kel would have to step carefully. “Conor has charged me with discovering the full picture of what is going on,” he said. “And of course, he has his own plans for the Malgasi.” He leaned forward, keeping his expression neutral. Friendly. “Ciprian. I don’t dislikeyou. I know you merely wanted to get rid of the Roverges, and you had justified reasons for it.”
Ciprian nodded in agreement.
“You didn’t even know of the Shining Gallery plan until it was all over.”
“No—no, I didn’t,” Ciprian said with an almost pathetic urgency.
“You fell into a Malgasi trap,” said Kel. “And I would be willing to intercede with Conor for you if you will give me the names of the other conspirators. I can make him understand you should be pardoned.”
“But I don’tknowthe names of the other conspirators,” Ciprian protested. “Only the ones you mentioned—Alleyne and Gremont. First the Malgasi had an agreement with the father—old Gremont, the one who died in the Shining Gallery. But he got cold feet. So they killed him and brought in the younger one.”
