Page 8 of The Ragpicker King
Kel pushed the thought of Antonetta to the back of his head. He noticed that Jerrod did not seem to be looking at Andreyen so much as staring at Merren—though Merren was, as usual, oblivious.
“What happens if you fall all the way from the top?” Merren inquired, craning his head back to look at the full height of the climbing wall. “Is there some special way Crawlers learn how to land so they don’t break their legs?”
“No,” said Jerrod. “He’d just break his legs. That’s why I’m trying to teach him not to fall.”
“Do try not to break him while he’s still useful,” said Andreyen. The Ragpicker King’s green eyes gleamed in the solarium shadows. “I assume you are here to tell us of the Dial Chamber meeting, Kellian?”
Kel tried to brush the chalk from his fingers. Ji-An was glaring at Jerrod, which she always did. He had worked for the Ragpicker King for three months now, gathering intelligence from all over Castellane—even deep in the Maze—but Ji-An still did not trust him.
Jerrod didn’t seem to mind—though it was hard to tell when things bothered him. Half his face was covered with a hammered-steel mask. Now that he kept his head bare around Kel and the others, it was easier to see the thin scars that unspooled like thread from beneath his mask, marring his temples and cheekbones. Kel wondered often what could have made such a wound as the one Jerrod Belmerci was hiding.
“Yes,” Kel said, having gotten off as much of the chalk as he could. His fingers still felt unpleasantly dry. “But there is something else I have to tell you—”
The wordsthe Gray Serpentwere on his tongue, but Andreyen held up a hand. “Go in order, please,” he said. “The meeting, from beginning to end.”
Kel sighed inwardly but did as requested. As they all took seats on the stone benches surrounding an ornamental pond, he ran through the events of the Dial Chamber meeting: the nervous attendees, Conor’s announcement, the reactions of the Charter Families.
“Your Prince is marrying again?” Jerrod raised his eyebrows. “I suppose nobody brought up how well that plan went the last time.”
“Actually, Montfaucon did, since he has no tact,” said Kel. “But the situation is different from last time. Now it is a matter of preventing war, and both the Queen and Bensimon agree it is the best course. If anyone wasn’t truly relieved, they did a good job of acting.”
“Surely they did not need to act. No one profits from war,” said Merren.
“Not true,” said Andreyen. “Someonealways profits from war. Still.” He sat back. “Kutani is the richest country in the world. They will have more than enough gold to pay any blood price Sarthe is demanding, or for an army to hold off Sarthe if that is what it comes to. I am impressed that Bensimon and the Queen were able to secure such an alliance.”
“Conor did a great deal of the negotiating himself,” said Kel, and when everyone looked at him sideways, he added defensively, “I’ve told you. He’s changed.”
Ji-An had taken a pack of cards from her pocket. She spread them out on the stone table beside the pond. “I have seen Anjelica of Kutani,” she said, to Kel’s surprise. “At the Court in Geumjoseon. It was an official visit. She is... beautiful.” She looked down at the cards, then placed the Lion atop the Weeping Girl. “So beautiful that it is almost too much. Prince Hui, all he wanted was to marry her. He would have done anything, I think. His father forbade it. He said such beauty could only cause trouble.”
“It is curious,” said Andreyen, resting his chin atop the head of his cane. “Anjelica of Kutani should have her pick of any suitor. Why our rather troubled Prince?”
Kel felt himself stiffen. The observation cut too close to questions he himself had; Conor had not shared the details of the arrangement, and he had not asked. “I do not know what Castellane is offering Kutani,” he said. “It must be something they believe they cannot get elsewhere.”
“Despite the Prince, Castellane remains a valuable ally,” Ji-An pointed out. “Especially for a trade-dependent country like Kutani.”
“Malgasi will be angry,” said Merren. A leaf had caught in his curling hair. He reached up to free it, and Jerrod’s eyes followed his movement. “Did they not want Aurelian to marry their Princess? Now he is to marry once more—and once again, not to Elsabet Belmany.”
Kel spread his hands wide. “Officially, Bensimon would tell you that Conor wedding a Princess of Malgasi would pin Sarthe between two allied countries. They might feel threatened, perhaps even need to go to war.”
“And unofficially?” asked Ji-An, crossing the Prince of Swords with the Dark Widow.
“Unofficially? Conor despises the Belmany family. Not only because they are dishonest in their dealings, but specifically because of the way they have tormented and murdered their Ashkar.”
“That’s interesting,” Andreyen murmured. “There are few royals out there who would care much about the Ashkar. I suppose Mayesh is doing his job.”
“Imagine Conor Aurelian having a moral qualm,” wondered Merren. “I always thought of him as qualmless.”
“I don’t think that’s a word,” said Kel. “Also, it’s practical as well as moral. Not only are the Malgasi royal family unpleasant on the face of it, but their subjects seem to have noticed. Jolivet’s sources tell him a revolution could take place any day.”
“As an anti-monarchist, I am technically in favor of revolution,” noted Merren.
Kel smiled but could not forget King Markus hissing at the Malgasi Ambassador:You would cage your son as you caged me!A dark current ran between the courts of Malgasi and Castellane, a history of blood and secrets that were locked away in the mind of the now-silent King.
“What of our friend the Legate?” said Andreyen. There was a little edge to his voice; the Ragpicker King understood that the arrangement with Jolivet was a necessary one, but Jolivet represented one side of the Law and Andreyen very much the other. He would never really consider the Legate a friend. “I assume he was at the meeting. Has he any insights for us, or directives?”
Kel shook his head. “He is impatient,” he said. “The Arrow Squadron has interrogated everyone in the city they can find who had a grudge against Sarthe. They have learned nothing.”
“And so he leans on you?” The edge was still in Andreyen’s voice. “Is he not worried that if he leans too hard, you will break?”
