Page 90 of The Ragpicker King
“No.” The Ragpicker King looked at Kel. “Will Kel share what we’ve learned tonight with Legate Jolivet?”
Kel stiffened. The thought had not occurred to him until this moment. To tell Jolivet seemed impossible, and yet—
“But you must tell him.” It was Lin. She had appeared in the doorway, looking weary; she was dressed in a plain gray dress, her hair in two long braids. Her medical satchel was not with her. She must have left it in Merren’s room.
“How long were you standing there?” Andreyen said, his eyebrows ticking up a notch.
“A little while.” Lin came farther into the room, and Kel caught sight of her expression for the first time. She looked a little sick, which struck him as odd—she’d seen much worse injuries than Merren’s. “I’ve treated Merren for shock and loss of blood. Jerrod is staying with him for the moment, but he’ll be fine. If you want to know what I heard”—she glanced from Kel to Ji-An to Andreyen—“it was enough to know the Aurelians are in danger. The Prince is in danger. You must tell the Legate, Kel. It is his duty to protect them.”
“Conor ismyduty,” said Kel. “Jolivet has more wide-ranging concerns.”
“Jolivet is not subtle, Lin,” said Andreyen. “Once he knows, every one of the Charter Families involved will be arrested. They might well end up in the Trick. And they will not stop at the ringleaders. It could mean very bad things for your friend Antonetta.”
The buzz of anxiety was back in Kel’s head, louder than ever. Lin said quickly, “It would be wrong to blame Antonetta for what her mother has done.” She flashed a look at Kel. “But—do you care more about protecting her than protecting Conor?”
“It’s not so simple,” said Ji-An. “The Princess of Malgasi said one of her conspirators was someone on the Hill, someone close to Conor. For all we know, itisJolivet.”
“But then why would he have asked me to investigate?” Kel scrubbed at his eyes. Madness. This was madness. “All right. I’ll keep it from Jolivet, but not for long. The Cabrols are far less established than the Alleynes or the Gremonts. If we confront Ciprian, he’ll break. We’ll find out from him who the other conspirators are.”
“Soon,” Lin said.
“Soon,” Kel agreed.
Ji-An shot Lin a curious look. “I had not realized,” she said, “that you were so fond of House Aurelian.”
Lin was pale. “It is more than that. The Malgasi wiped out the Ashkar of their country. Killed or drove away all of them. If they come into power here, they’ll do the same.”
“That’s true,” Kel confirmed. “The Princess said as much.”
Andreyen leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps this is why the Ashkar of Castellane need a Goddess to lead them. Perhaps you were born for such a time as this.”
Lin gave him a long, cool look. “There’s a hermit crab under your chair,” she said finally.
The Ragpicker King swore, though Kel missed the exact words. They were drowned out by the sound of raised voices from within the mansion.
“That’s Merren,” Ji-An said. “It sounds like he’s feeling better.”
Kel frowned. “I’ll be right back.”
It was a relief to get out of the Great Room, away from talk of trust and treason, of Jolivet, of danger to Conor. He’d visited Merren’s room before on various occasions: sometimes to borrow a book, sometimes just to chat. The space was overflowing with books and plants, like Merren’s flat in the Student Quarter. It had something of the dark aesthetic of the rest of the mansion, but Merren had done what he could to bring in light and color: hanging bright cloths over the dark tapestries, covering a grim stone urn with a pink blanket. (“I always feel like a snake is about to come out of it,” he’d said when Kel asked him why.)
Now Merren was sitting up in his bed. He was pale, wearing a loose, unbuttoned shirt, his arm wrapped in Lin’s familiar bandages. The rumpled coverlet pooled around his waist. His face was in his hands, his fingers threaded through his blond curls.
On a chair beside his bed was Jerrod. He looked up when Kel came in; Kel could see the silvery wink of his mask. He’d begun toforget that Jerrod wore it; it was simply a part of him, and Kel no longer felt that it hid Jerrod’s expressions. He could read him well enough regardless. Now he could see the look of what seemed almost like despair on Jerrod’s face.
“You knew perfectly well how important it was to me to take revenge on Gremont with my own hands,” Merren said without looking up. His voice was hoarse. “Did you think I was too weak to do it?”
“No. That wasn’t it.”
“And you barely know my sister. How could she have told you he was wearing a false amulet?” Merren raised his face from his hands, saw Kel. The pain in his expression was clear, and startling. Merren so often wore his own mask, like Jerrod’s, but his was not metal: It was geniality, cheerfulness, the ease of his smile.
“I ought to go,” Kel said, beginning to turn around.
“No. You should hear this, too,” Jerrod said. “Alys approached me. I did not approach her. Since Gremont seemed to be enjoying himself going to the Caravel, flaunting his presence in her face, she had decided to turn that against him. While he was sleeping, she had Audeta remove the real amulet and replace it with a replica.”
“And you knew?” Merren whispered. “When we went to Tyndaris, you knew Gremont would be there, that you planned to kill him—”
“No. That was chance. It was an opportunity, and I took it. If it hadn’t been tonight, I would have done it the next time he went to the Caravel. That was what Alys had planned.”
