Page 140 of The Ragpicker King
The Ragpicker King avoided her gaze. “Do not underestimate Mayesh. He always knows more than you think. And Lin, look.” He leaned forward. “The stone still burns with power. After all you did, it is not dead. Itlives.”
She closed her hand around it. “It does not matter. I will not use it again.”
Real astonishment flashed across his face. “Why not?”
“All I wanted was to cure Mariam. That has been done. I pretended to be something I am not, and I have been exiled for it. I have lost—so much.” She closed her eyes.
“But you have also gained. Perhaps you cannot be the Goddess of the Ashkar people, but you can be a sorcerer, Lin. A Sorcerer-Queen.”
“I have never wanted to be a Sorcerer-Queen. I am done with this power.”
“That would be a waste. Of everything you have learned and done. I understand—”
“You couldn’tpossiblyunderstand.”
“I understand because I, too, was exiled in my youth. I, too, wished to learn the ways of magic and was punished for it. All magic was taken from me, and the possibility of ever controlling it. But you, Lin. You stillhave power.”
Lin opened her eyes. His green eyes were burning like a hawk’s. She said, “You have only ever cared about the magic. Never about me. Only about power.”
“I am the Ragpicker King,” he said. “What do you think I traffic in? Crime? Murder? I traffic inpower,Lin. Power matters. Power like Elsabet Belmany displayed on Tyndaris. But Elsabet is a force of evil. You can be a force for good.”
Elsabet Belmany.The vision Lin had had in the Shulamat came rushing back: She saw the dark-haired woman standing on the steps of the temple of Anibal as flame rushed around her like water.I have destroyed her hiding place,she thought.But she is not dead; I can feel the power of her stone still, somewhere near Castellane. And how could I ever defeat her, anyway? I only can use the power of the King, and Belmany has her own power.
“Stop,” Lin said. His words were just that, words. They echoed in the emptiness she felt down to her bones. She was an exile. She would not see Mayesh again, nor Mariam; not Mez, not Chana, not anyone.
And she had lost Conor. She had chosen her home in the Sault over a home with him, and now the Sault did not want her. And here was Andreyen, pushing at her, wanting yet more from her, more things she could not do, could not give.
She closed her hand so tightly around the Source-Stone that it ached. The edges of the brooch cut into her skin.
“Please,” she said, barely able to find the energy to speak the word. “Leave me. Leave me alone.”
In the past, Kel had looked up at the Trick and thought about the dreadful fate of those consigned to its cells. Trapped behind Sunderglass, knowing there would be no trial, only waiting on His Highness’s pleasure until the execution could be arranged. (And then the cold green water, the pinch and bite of teeth, the undignified screaming ceasing only when life ceased.)
He had never imagined howboringit would be. Watching the single patch of sun travel across the floor. Awaiting the occasional visit from the guard bringing food and water, not because he was hungry but because eavesdropping on their conversation broke up the monotony. It also allowed him to learn that Anjelica and her privateer had made their escape through the Narrow Pass, where they had been joined by a garrison of mounted guards led by Kurame, Kito, and Isam; the Castelguards had turned back at that point, no longer on their home territory. It was some solace to know that she was, at least, safe from the murderous Malgasi.
He was almost relieved when he heard footsteps outside his cell. He sat up quickly, brushing straw from his clothes. It wasn’t a guard, he knew; their boots made a particular noise on the stone floor. Heart roaring in his chest, he said, “Conor?”
A shadow passed in front of his cell. Stopped at the bars. A broad shadow, too tall to be Conor. Disappointment bit at Kel just as light flooded his cell. Standing in front of him was Legate Aristide Jolivet, just as Kel had first seen him all those years ago at the Orfelinat, dressed in his scarlet uniform, his ring gleaming on his hand. In a rough voice he said, “Believe me or don’t, but I never wanted it to end like this.”
Kel rolled onto his side and glared up at Jolivet. Jolivet, who hadplucked him from nothing and brought him to the Palace, who had taught him to fight for Conor, who had ordered him to seek out those responsible for the Shining Gallery murders. “I would spit on you,” he said, “but they have not provided me with sufficient water.”
“You cannot be so surprised as all that,” said Jolivet. “You always knew that one day you would die for Conor.”
“I’m not dying for Conor,” said Kel. “I am dying for your lies, and Falconet’s.”
“I lied for the Aurelians,” said Jolivet without emotion. “I always will. It is my duty, and yours. If I had come out in that moment in the Little Palace and spoken for you, said that in investigating the Charter Families you had acted on my orders, then we would have lost the only slight advantage that we have over the conspirators. They are not aware ofwhat we know.”
“Please don’t saywe,” snarled Kel. “Why don’t you tell Conor, then? Just tellhim.”
“What would be the point?” said Jolivet. “You are a Sword Catcher, Kellian, but you cannot return to what you were. You have been too greatly compromised. You cannot be put back at Conor’s side, to live as his ‘cousin,’ among his friends, his enemies. Not now.” He sounded slightly incredulous that Kel did not already see this. “If a shield has been broken, one should no longer cling to it but cast it away in battle. If you were a different kind of soldier, Kel, and this were a different kind of war, you might have a medal pinned to you. Instead, I can offer you only an honorable death.”
“Bullshit,” said Kel. “You could free me. Send me away in exile. But you won’t. I know too much about the Aurelians, about the workings of the Hill. If I am not bound to the Palace, I am dangerous to you. Even if I swear my silence, you would never trust it.”
There was a long silence. Jolivet said, “I wonder sometimes if I did you a disservice by teaching you too well.”
“That,” said Kel, “is not the disservice you are doing me.”
“I remember when you were a little boy from the Orfelinat,” Jolivet said. “That first night you were at the Palace, they allmarveled at how clever you were. I thought, better he were not so clever. That one will know too much to believe in glory and honor. He will always see too much to be at peace with what he is destined to be.”
