Called to account, p.26
Called to Account, page 26
A furious burst of spells, from Faustinus and both of the assassins, lit up the dim, wintry sky for a minute. The snow melted all around them, and clouds of steam and smoke rose, clouding out the light.
Then, a pause.
Moira ventured to raise her head over a charred pile of rubble, and saw Faustinus nearby, taking shelter behind a large fallen stone. Tatiana and Shyama were nowhere to be seen.
“And here I thought you didn’t care anymore, Tatiana,” called out Faustinus. Moira could feel his magy starting to fade. He had been hurt much worse than he was letting on.
“Go fuck yourself,” came the reply. Tatiana was hiding in the ruins of some little outbuilding on the other side of the old fort. “I’m not here for you, Faustinus. I’m here for the Gramirens. Send them out, and the rest of you are free to leave.”
“So you can kill them?” Moira shouted.
“Not necessarily,” said Shyama, from behind another boulder, off to the left. “We need to find out where the treasure is. The question is whether you will die to try and stop us or not.”
Moira lashed out with a pressure spell that pushed the boulder several feet. There was a satisfying “crunch,” and a scream from Shyama, but somehow she avoided being crushed, and threw herself behind the remnants of another wall. Faustinus sent a burst of blue fire at her as she ran, but the flames only scorched her back slightly.
“So, you’ve chosen death,” said Tatiana.
Moira reached out with a detection spell and was horrified to feel more than the inherent magy of Shyama and Tatiana. They had magysk weapons with them, too—rings and knives that carried fighting spells. Unlike Moira and Faustinus, the assassins weren’t dependent on their own, faltering powers. They could keep up the fight much longer.
Faustinus must have felt the same thing, because he turned to look at Moira, pointed off toward the east, and whispered, “Go.”
She wasn’t about to abandon him, though. They might be on the verge of divorce, but he was still her friend and partner.
She turned to Gina and said, “We’ll hold them here. You and Hamon take the Gramirens and—”
“I’m not leaving you,” said Hamon.
“Yes, you are,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “We’ll be right behind you.” That was a lie, but she wanted him to be safe. She liked him a lot, and he shouldn’t have to die here.
“We are not going to run away,” said Queen Therese. She stood up, still carrying her baby in her arms, shrugged off her husband, and walked out from behind the ruined tower. “Here I am,” she said, looking around for the assassins.
Another few steps, and she stood, completely unprotected, in the middle of the old fort’s courtyard.
“I am the Queen of Myrcia, and this is the heir to the throne. If you’re going to kill us, get it over with.”
Faustinus jumped to his feet and tried to shield her with his body, but she pushed past him, too.
Broderick told his daughter, Princess Hariette, to stay with Gina and walked out to join his wife. The 2-year-old princess, however, would not be restrained, and toddled over to stand with them.
There was a frantic, whispered conversation between Shyama and Tatiana. Moira caught the words, “No, you do it, if you’re so damn eager.” Clearly, Therese had called their bluff. They had been ready to kill in the midst of a fight, but facing an unarmed woman with a baby had unnerved them.
Tatiana stood and walked out from behind the rubble where she had hidden. “Look, if you tell us where the Book of Finster, the crown, and the sword are being kept, and you promise to go somewhere in the far east and never come back, then—”
“We will come back anytime we damned well please,” said the queen. “Myrcia is our home, and the crown of Myrcia is my son’s birthright.”
Shyama emerged. “Your son can die right here if you don’t tell us where that treasure is.” She had a hand stretched out in the queen’s direction, and Moira could feel the magy in her, like a horse barely under its rider’s control, ready to bolt.
“I think I may have a solution,” said a somewhat tremulous voice.
Everyone turned and watched as Quintus Verrus stepped into the open, despite Gina’s best attempt to hold him back.
“The Sigors want the book, the crown, and the sword back, right?”
Everyone nodded.
“Well, suppose my bank held the objects in trust, and King Edwin Sigor could...make payments to buy off the Gramirens’ loan?”
“You want us to give them up?” said the queen. “Never!”
“The Sigors would pay off your loan in return,” said Faustinus. “That’s a pretty good deal.”
Moira looked at Quintus, marveling at the simplicity of the solution. Assuming the Gramirens could be made to see this was in their interest, then everyone would be happy. Or at least equally unhappy, which in negotiations was often the best possible outcome.
Tatiana shook her head. “Are you quite serious? You expect the Sigors to buy back something that legally already belongs to them?”
“That’s disputed,” said Moira, “and anyway, the Verrus Bank is already in possession of the treasure.” She didn’t know if that was true or not, in the literal sense. But if it wasn’t yet, it soon would be, as they had faith in Vittoria to find it. “If Edwin Sigor wants the treasures of his ancestors, then he’s going to have to pay for them.”
“Why on earth would he agree to that?” asked Shyama.
“Because now the treasure is under the protection of a chartered Immani bank—one Edwin is doing business with,” said Moira. “And because Diernemynster isn’t going to lend him assassins anymore. You’re going back there to convince Astrid this is the only possible solution.”
“I still don’t see why we should give up what’s rightfully ours,” grumbled Queen Therese.
Faustinus gave her a look that one would give a recalcitrant child. “Come now. It’s not as if the treasure is doing you any good. That’s why you offered it as collateral to begin with. And you’re not really losing anything. Someday, when—Earstien willing—you return to Myrcia, the book and the crown and the sword will be right there, waiting for you.”
“Fine,” said Broderick. “Fine. I’ll do it. The Sigors can have everything back, provided they pay for it.”
So, the deal was made, and hands were shaken, and right there in the snow-covered, ruined old fort, Hamon and Quintus drew up a contract which was duly signed and sealed by Broderick and Quintus, with Faustinus, Shyama, and Tatiana as witnesses. Gina pulled out some wine (Faustinus never traveled without something expensive to drink), and they toasted the agreement.
After a couple of rounds, Tatiana took Moira aside and apologized for what she had done at Diernemynster. “I can’t think what came over me,” she said, looking ashamed. “I have a very hard time keeping any kind of perspective where Faustinus is concerned.”
Moira patted the woman on the shoulder. “I understand. He has that effect on people.”
“You seem to have gotten over him pretty well,” said Tatiana, shaking her head. “I had to go live in the far east for a couple centuries after he dumped me. I’ve been trying to put it behind me, and you can see how well that turned out.” She leaned against a broken old bit of masonry. “It’s awful, but often times, I wish I had a different life.”
“That’s the marvelous thing about being a hillichmagnar,” Moira reminded her. “We can start over anytime we want, century after century. You know,” she smiled, “the Empire is always looking for new agents.”
Tatiana laughed. “I think I need a century or two before I could work with Faustinus. But who knows? Maybe someday.”
They shook hands, and Tatiana went to mount her horse and start the long ride back to Diernemynster. But then she came back for one final word. “Promise me this,” she whispered. “Promise me you won’t fall back into bed with Faustinus the minute he asks.”
Moira looked at Hamon, laughing and chatting with Gina and Princess Hariette. “Oh, I can promise you that is the very last thing I’m likely to do.”
Chapter 34
Everyone breathed a little easier when Tatiana and Shyama had left. The Gramirens were saved, and the bank would survive. Even the queen managed to reconcile herself to the “humiliation” of giving up the crown and the other treasures. Of the entire group, the one person who seemed less than thrilled was Faustinus. He stood at the edge of the fort with an oddly melancholy expression, watching the two hillichmagnar assassins ride away. Gina came over and tried to pull him back to the little celebration she had started.
But he gave her a quick kiss, patted her head, and said, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Hamon couldn’t tell if Faustinus regretted not getting to fight Tatiana to the death, or if maybe he regretted the loss of her love. In either case, Hamon felt that Faustinus would have probably done better to focus on what he currently had, rather than what he had lost.
Moira noticed Hamon watching Faustinus. “Don’t worry about him,” she said. “He gets that way sometimes. He’ll snap out of it soon enough.” And as she predicted, he soon rejoined the party and put an affectionate arm around Gina.
There was some thought of staying the night at the old fort, but they still had hours of daylight left, and Faustinus recommended that the Gramirens try to get as far inside the borders of Loshadnarod as they possibly could before stopping.
“Until Astrid and Edwin Sigor agree to the deal,” he said, “you’re still theoretically in danger.”
Broderick thanked everyone for their help, especially Hamon. “If you weren’t a monk,” he said, “I would give you a knighthood.”
Hamon explained that he was leaving the Leofine Order, so the king asked him to kneel. Then he smacked him in the face with a thick, winter glove and dubbed him Sir Hamon Friel of the Order of Shaela.
“I hope you will forgive me,” said Broderick, “but I am unable to give you the traditional grant of crown land at the moment.”
Hamon said he understood perfectly.
The king was visibly disappointed when Hamon explained he wasn’t going into exile with them. Hamon even wondered for a few seconds if the king was regretting the knighthood now. But then his majesty sighed and, looking at Queen Therese, said he supposed that he understood Hamon’s motivations.
That wasn’t the only reason Hamon was going back to Presidium, though. Yes, he loved Moira, but he also loved the work at the bank. And he liked his colleagues—Quintus and Gina and Lily and all the other Emissariae. And the truth was that living at an Immani inn—even one as decrepit as the Prefectus Arcus—had cured him of any desire for the simpler life of a refugee or a monk.
He wanted to be warm in the winter and cool in the summer. He wanted a big, comfortable bed. And yes, he wanted to find Moira in that bed every night. He wanted to sleep in and have late morning sex with her, rather than having to trudge to the chapel early and then sit around taking dictation from the king. Yes, he still admired the Gramirens and supported their cause, but he would be supporting it from comfort in Presidium. Maybe that made him a coward, but even if it did, he didn’t care.
Faustinus offered to accompany the Gramirens to guard them until they found a Loshadnarodski camp, but Broderick said that, if it was all the same to everyone, he and his family would continue on alone.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but I think everyone on that side of the border remembers what happened the last time you and Moira were in Loshadnarod.” By which he meant the invasion and the assassination of Daryna Olekovna.
“You were there, too,” Moira said.
“I seriously doubt most people even remember that,” said Broderick. “In any case, with all due respect, I think our chances of a warm reception are much higher if I’m not accompanied by the dreaded Legate Faustinus and Prefect Moira.”
“As for the rest of you,” said Queen Therese, “you are more than welcome, though I suspect you would much rather return home.”
So, the royal family would ride into the next stage of their exile alone, without any visible Immani help. And truth be told, the queen was right that everyone wanted to go home. Even Gina, who never shirked any duty, looked relieved when it became clear she wouldn’t have to accompany the Gramirens, either.
They shared hugs and handshakes all around, and then the little family rode out of the ruined fort to the east, while Faustinus, Gina, Moira, Hamon, and Quintus rode west. A light snow began to fall, and before they had even crested the next hill, the Gramirens were gone out of sight.
That night, when they were in their tent, Hamon asked Moira what she thought would become of Broderick and Therese and their children. “He’s a good man,” Moira replied. “But he’ll never be king. At least not a reigning king, anyway. Did you know his father well?”
“A bit,” said Hamon. “He was a very different sort of man.”
“Yes. If he were in this position, he would already have raised an army and invaded. If he went to Loshadnarod, he would talk King Vadik into marching on Leornian. Or he would go south through Sahasra Deva and join up with his brother-in-law, the Duke of Severn, in Annenstruk. But Broderick Jr. won’t do that.”
“So, it’s hopeless, then.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. Maybe we’ll have peace, finally. But the little boy, Alfrick, might turn out to be more like his grandfather than his father. I suspect that if Queen Therese has anything to say about it, he certainly will. Now come to bed. It’s cold in here.”
No wonder she felt cold—she was naked in her bedroll.
“We need to be quiet,” said Hamon, gesturing to either side, where the other tents stood only a few yards away.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Moira, shifting around. “And clearly what we need to do is make sure both our mouths are busy, so our moans are muffled.”
Even if it didn’t keep them much quieter than usual, they found it an interesting new experiment.
Afterward, as he started to drift off to sleep, she said, “You are going to keep working at the bank, aren’t you, Sir Hamon?”
“Of course,” he said, yawning.
“And you’re going to move in with me, yes? No more of this nonsense about keeping a room at that dreadful inn, right?”
He couldn’t resist, and frankly he didn’t want to. “Of course.” And on a sudden impulse, he added, “I’ll even marry you, if you like.”
She laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a bit down on marriage right now. Ask me again in five or six years.”
Even without a wedding, their return to Presidium soon took on a honeymoon quality. They rode quickly, thanks to the new post stations all through Myrcia, northern Odeland, and Denizvatan. But he and Moira took every possible opportunity to have sex. So much so, in fact, that he soon had sores and abrasions and strained muscles that had nothing to do with horseback riding.
On a bright, wintry afternoon, they finally reached the straits, and could see the sprawling city of Presidium before them, covered in ice and snow and sprouting from the hillside like a long cascade of crystal.
Gina instigated a snowball fight on the deck of the ferry, and by the time they landed, Hamon and Moira were damp and cold. And although they were still smiling, they both wanted nothing more than to ride up to Moira’s house and take a long, hot bath together. Quintus insisted they stop by the bank, though, before going their separate ways, and it was lucky they did.
Lucius Verrus, Quintus’s older brother, gaped at them all as they trooped into the lobby. “You got back without a minute to spare,” he said, rushing over to shake hands. “I’ve done everything I can to put them off, but the Treasury is demanding answers, and they say that they’ll suspend our license if they can’t speak to one of the directors by noon tomorrow.”
Lily, who was there, as well, explained that she had duly forwarded to the Treasury all the messages they had sent about the Gramiren treasure, and about how the crown, sword, and book were now in a secure location known to the bank.
“But Vice-Tribune Flaccus refuses to believe any of it,” said Lily. “I’m not sure why, but he seems to have gotten it into his head that we’re some kind of center for spying and money-laundering.”
“Well, fancy that,” said Faustinus, chuckling. “I can’t imagine how anyone would get that idea.”
“You laugh,” said Lily, “but you won’t be laughing when he suspends our license.”
“I’ll go talk to him,” said Moira.
Hamon volunteered to go with her, and he was half-hoping she would tell him there was no need, and he could go back to the house and start his bath.
But she beamed at him and said, “Oh, that would be very nice. Yes, please do. It won’t take long, and then we can have supper together.”
They rode over to the Treasury building, near the palace. The emperor and the court had gone to Vinopolis for a month, so the parks and parade grounds in the neighborhood had a quiet, empty feeling. Snow lay almost entirely undisturbed across the front steps of the palace. The Treasury’s Presidium office, in contrast, still bustled with activity. Messengers ran in and out, pushing past Moira and Hamon as they searched for the correct office.
When they found Vice-Tribune Flaccus, he sat among neat stacks of thousands of scrolls and ledgers. He had little more than a cold granite cubicle for an office, and it seemed only Flaccus’s obsessive neatness prevented it from being swamped in paper and parchment.
Moira introduced herself, explained that she was one of the directors of the bank, and demanded to know why Flaccus was threatening to revoke their license.
“I am an Imperial Prefect,” she said, glaring down her nose at him, “and another of our directors, Count Servius Faustinus, is a Legate Emeritus. I assure you that we have very, very powerful friends at court. Moreover,” she held up a hand and kindled a pulsing green flame in the air, “Legate Faustinus and I have considerable talents that make us far more valuable to the Empire than, say, a junior Vice-Tribune in the Treasury.”
