Page 62 of The Ragpicker King
Kel sat down beside her on the stone bench. “Domna Berthe,” he said. “A fine day for the Arena, don’t you think?”
Jolted, she turned to stare at him, nearly dropping themacun.In the harsh unfiltered light, he realized she was older than he’d guessed, closer to sixty than fifty, lines of worry etched deeply at the corners of her eyes and mouth.
“Sieur Anjuman.” She inclined her head, but he could see her clearly wondering: What on earth was he doing here? Nobles were certainly not meant to make light conversation with servants, but then he was aforeignnoble, wasn’t he? Marakandi by birth—a little strange perhaps, in his customs. In the end, she said in a slightly sulky voice, “I am permitted to attend the games, Sieur. Today is my free day, and my lady gave me leave.”
Kel said mildly, “You are a very loyal servant to the Alleynes. I suspect Liorada—your lady, that is—relies on you a great deal.”
Magali seemed to puff up, like a long-haired cat. “Yes, she does. For everything.”
“You have been her right hand,” Kel said, keeping his voice smooth and gentle, “helping to raise her daughter, to maintain the household, plan her festivities, pen her correspondence...”
Magali nodded along, puzzled but pleased.
“And when she most needed your help, Domna Berthe, you assisted her in hiring mercenaries to murder the little Princess from Sarthe.”
Magali went white. The ceramic bowl slid from her lap; Kel caught it before it shattered.
“My lady would never—” Magali began, but she didn’t seem to know what to say after that. Her eyes darted around the Arena. Looking for exits, maybe?
“Don’t run,” Kel said in the same calm voice. “It will go worse for you if you do.”
“What do you want from me?” she whispered. In the distance, a roar went up from the crowd to signal that first blood had been drawn on the Arena floor.
“Only the truth. To know what happened.”
Magali shook her head. “You cannot ask me to betray my lady.”
“Then I will tell you what I already know,” Kel said, plucking a piece ofloukumfrom the bowl he was somehow still holding. “You frequent these fights, here at the Arena. I can only assume that this brought you into contact with Raimon—also known as the Gray Serpent. You offered five hundred crowns to Raimon and his band of mercenaries to attack the Shining Gallery—specifically, the Princess Luisa and her delegation from Sarthe. Something went wrong—Raimon says a means of escape was promised, but none delivered—and the result was an all-around slaughter.” He popped theloukuminto his mouth, tasting sugar and roses. “Do you deny it?”
The dots of rouge on Magali’s cheeks stood out now, like bruises. “Who knows this?” she whispered.
“Only a few,” said Kel. “House Aurelian does notyetknow—and if you do not want that to happen, then you must help me. Raimon namedyouas his contact, but I assume you were acting on behalf of your mistress. I cannot imagine where you would have gotten such money otherwise. And while I know Lady Alleyne hoped the Prince might marry Antonetta, I could not imagine why she would think harming the Blood Royal in this way—”
“She didn’t!” Magali gasped. “Oh, this is wretched.” She wrung her knobby hands. “That’s not what she did. She would never do such a thing.”
“But it was done.”
“My lady is loyal to House Aurelian. The Sarthians sent this... this brat-Princess to humiliate us. To humiliate Castellane and our royal family. My lady only meant to humiliate them in turn. Since they sent us a child, the idea was to frighten her as a child might be frightened. It was meant to be a prank.”
“It is rare,” said Kel, “that one hires mercenaries to do one thing, and then they do another. They were there to kill.”
“My lady did not give the mercenaries their instructions. Shewas not behind what happened, Sieur Anjuman. There were others—one who was giving instructions, demands—” Magali’s voice had started to rise.
“Who?” Kel demanded. “Who was giving instructions? Who was in charge of all this, if not Lady Alleyne?”
Magali clamped her lips shut.
“You understand that what your mistress did was treason,” said Kel. “And she will hang for it, for all she is a noble. She will not be able to protect you then. The walls of the Trick will close about you both.”
“No.” Magali blinked rapidly, shaking her head back and forth. “I am no traitor—”
“Then tell me,” said Kel, low and urgent. “If your lady did not order the slaughter,who did?”
“Please,” Magali gasped. “You must believe me. It was a day or two after the Gallery murders. I overheard my lady in her study. She was arguing with someone, saying, ‘How could this have happened? Is this what you intended all along? This death, this destruction?’ And a voice replied to her. Such a dark, rough voice as I have not heard in all my days.” Magali shuddered. “It said, ‘You are now implicated. Should you attempt to betray me, we will fall together, and your fall will be far harder than mine.’”
A dark, rough voice.Kel thought of the black-clad figure on the rooftop, the ragged voice saying,You’re lucky that I have a use for you, Sword Catcher.
“And you’ve no idea who Lady Alleyne was talking to?”
