The sundering hours, p.49
The Sundering Hours, page 49
“Isaac—”
“No one can undo what’s been done. That’s the simple truth. I can’t get rid of this unholy blight on my hand. I can’t beg the Mistress to restore my father. Can’t travel back in time and set things on a different course. I certainly can’t bring myself to look into the future, to see myself being pulled apart, piece by piece. So . . . I focus on the present. Chester’s jokes, Radburn’s stories. Ink’s endearing swagger. The wonder of your being here. That every word, every smile, every moment with you is nothing less than a miracle.”
A tear appeared in the corner of her eye. Her gaze fell to the blanket. “I am . . . shamefully unfit for such a sentiment. These past six weeks I’ve been nothing but grasping and selfish, imposing myself on everyone’s goodwill while drawing trouble straight towards us. First Pallaton, then the pirate fleet, then Blackwood. And my mother certainly intends to make me pay for my betrayal, sooner or later, which only heightens the danger to all of you.” She glanced away. “I am a plague-bringer. An imposter in the truest sense.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s the truth. I think I’ve known it for a while, but I could never bring myself to face it before now. Everyone has been more than kind to me. You most of all. But I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t stay. Especially now that I can’t be of use anymore.”
She showed him her wrist. Around it was a bracelet of black diamonds. He took gentle hold of her arm but didn’t touch the object.
“Blackwood’s parting gift to me,” she said. “One which prevents me from summoning even the smallest enchantment.”
“Can’t you remove it?”
“No. I think only Blackwood can. He wears a pendant which he alone can unfasten. I believe this bears the same condition.”
“What kind of pendant is this?”
“He claims it protects him from harm, even extending his life. At first, I thought some charlatan had simply tricked him into believing the item held such power. But if it is true, as I now suspect it may be, only a black spell could promise such things.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I should have seen the danger right away. But I was so eager for him to be gone, I didn’t hesitate to appease him by accepting it. I could not have been more foolish. And what he said of me could not have been more true. I am a herald of woe.”
He clasped both her hands in his and drew them together. “You are nothing of the kind. Pallaton would have come after me whether you were here or not, whether in Spektor-form or human. The Sundering would have begun regardless. Blackwood would have snared us in his web sooner or later. He owns this part of the world. And your mother will never stop having it out for us. Your joining us increases the target on our backs no more than a flame makes a hearth fire a little hotter. And as for being grasping and selfish, I can only attribute your use of those words to your rattled state of mind and body. Or should we ask the opinion of the two men whose lives you put before your own today?”
She dropped her gaze again. A second tear followed the first.
“You shouldn’t have risked your own in coming after me,” she said. “It is far more important that the last Keyholder survives for as long as he can.”
“The last Keyholder doesn’t agree. Besides . . . you becoming my Defender means I am yours as well. And don’t worry about the bracelet. We’ll figure something out. At any rate, losing your abilities doesn’t make you useless. It doesn’t mean you have to leave. We’re not keeping you around for the sheer advantage, as Blackwood might have you believe. You’re worth more than every enchantment ever summoned. Far more.”
Her mouth quivered. She pressed her hands into his. “And this is . . . an impartial opinion, is it?”
“Oh, completely impartial. We’re barely acquainted, you and I.”
She smiled, but in her eyes there were countless emotions unfolding, each one deeply felt and far beyond the province of words. Still, he felt their meaning well enough, and it was all he could do to keep the tears from his own eyes.
A knock came at the door. Half grateful for the interruption—and half resenting it—Caradoc rose from his chair and went to answer it.
“Delia,” he said in surprise.
The elder woman nodded in greeting as she pocketed a handkerchief. The rims of her eyes were red. There was also a gash across her left cheek, deep but no longer bleeding.
“Hello, Caradoc.”
“Are you looking for Simon? I’m afraid he’s not here, but he’s left his medical bag. Let me find something for that cut—”
“No, I’ll be fine. That’s not what I’m here about. May I . . . come in? If it’s all right with her, that is.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Seherene nodded.
“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to make way.
Delia entered almost timidly, glancing at the Entress with hesitation. Seherene regarded her with equal uncertainty.
“Miss Ingleby.”
Delia nodded. “Miss Sarah. I . . . well, I prefer a direct way of speaking so I won’t take too much of your time, but I . . . couldn’t let another hour pass before coming to see you . . . to beg your forgiveness.”
Caradoc watched in bewilderment as Delia stepped forward, gathered her skirt, and knelt beside the bed. Seherene was no less amazed.
“Miss Ingleby, please—”
“No, let me say this. I was wrong . . . terribly wrong for treating you the way I have been. For refusing to see you as you truly are. You have shown us again and again your goodness and compassion. When I saw the way you cared for Nyssa, I should have repented of my harsh judgement then and there. Animals can often sense the kind people from the cruel. I’ve seen it all my life. And I watched her become attached to you like a second mother. But still I continued to make myself blind, to cling to my resentment. I will forever regret that it took so dreadful a thing as an attempt on your life to make my heart finally soften. In all my life, I’ve never been so ashamed.” She bowed her head, fighting to maintain her composure. “Please forgive me.”
Seherene reached for her hands and held them in her own.
“As freely,” the Entress said, “and as eagerly as I ask your forgiveness.”
A sob broke from Delia’s throat. She leaned forward and kissed the Entress’s hands.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
They clasped hands a few moments longer, then exchanged a tear-filled smile and a nod. Delia wiped her eyes as she stood, then beckoned to Caradoc.
“Come here, you scoundrel.”
He met her embrace. She sniffed, patted him on the back, then turned and hurried out of the room. When the door was shut again, Caradoc returned to the chair by the bedside.
“She’s right you know,” Seherene said. “You are a scoundrel.”
He smiled. “I know. So are you convinced now? Will you stay?”
She glanced around the room, considering the question. When her eyes settled on him again, it was with a look that brought an entirely different twinge to his heart.
“Will you?”
He drew in a breath to collect himself. “Oh . . . just try and get rid of me.”
She reached out again. Her fingers closed around his.
“Never.”
Chapter 33
That Which is Unforgivable
George Marlas fidgeted in his chair, tapping his hat against his knee with affronted, impatient energy. Flung. Yes, that was the word. He’d been flung into this little parlor room off to the side of the atrium. No one had given him any kind of proper welcome or greeting. There’d been no offers of tea or refreshments. He’d merely been brushed off with all the care of a dead insect being swept under a rug, out of the way and out of sight. And he an Assemblyman! A commissioner!
He stood and began to pace, glancing at the grandfather clock with every turn. He’d been waiting almost an hour now, after traveling three days by airship and having given fair warning of his arrival beforehand. Was this some kind of test? A show of power? He’d never met the Lady Madara before but he was already disposed to hold against her this brazen and callous indifference to him. He might have been able to overlook it had he actually wanted to come. The matter of the High Council’s assassination was of little interest to him, indeed to most of the Assembly. There was really no reason to care who wielded authority over the Entrians, so long as they kept their people in check on their side of the Lockhorns.
But rumors of war had forced his journey. At first, he and the rest of the Cassrian government had dismissed it as unfounded gossip, something out of fiction and fairy tales. Yes, they’d seen feuds and skirmishes and massacres here and there, but never anything on a widespread scale. It was idle talk. Nothing more.
Until the reports began coming in. Armored airships had been seen in the mountain passes. Soldiers were appearing in the West Country. Mastmarner was now a military outpost. They couldn’t ignore the signs any longer.
And since Marlas had spent the last nine years working closely with the Entrians to catch the Colonists, he was deemed the most suitable representative. When the news broke that Lady Seherene had abandoned her duties and joined the enemy, the Assembly had held a private hearing to question his dealings with her and what he thought her motives might be. He answered them honestly but concluded to himself that he didn’t begrudge her choice. In fact, so far as he could tell, having her out of the political arena would better serve him in the long run.
The door opened suddenly. A white-haired and even whiter-faced woman entered the room, bearing such a look of scorn and air of hostility that it seemed as if a black cloud had billowed in after her. This unsettled him nearly as much as her ghostlike appearance.
“Ah,” Marlas said with a nod. “Lady Madara, I presume?”
“You have ten minutes, Mr. Marlas.”
His felt his eye twitch involuntarily and knew at once that the Lady Seherene must have inherited the majority of her charms and graces from her father’s side. Madara strode to a plush velvet chair, sat, and fixed him with an entirely grim and humorless expression—as though she were offended by his very presence. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together.
“Your Ladyship,” he began, “since I know you are a very important person with a great deal of business to attend to, I will be brief.”
There. Now he had made it seem as though the shortness of the meeting was his idea.
“I am sent by the Assembly as an ambassador of goodwill and friendship. We congratulate you on the swift and decisive installment of your new government after such a terrible tragedy, and we are eager to continue the harmonious relationship our two nations have enjoyed these many years past.”
“If you truly wish to make the best use of your short time,” she said, “I suggest you dispense with any such obsequious drivel and doublespeak. Our relationship has never been the least bit harmonious, and you are here out of obligation, not goodwill. My sole interest in allowing you to set foot on these grounds lies only in addressing the demand I have made of your Assembly.”
Marlas chuckled, trying once more to wrest the lead back from her. “Yes, yes, your request has been received, rest assured. But you must understand, my good lady, such things take time. Particularly when the issues are so entangled in matters of legality and jurisdiction—”
“Demand, Mr. Marlas. Not request. Every Cassrian who has been formally charged with aiding the Colonists is rightful property of the Entrian government. To punish as we see fit. Their offense was against us—our people’s very blood—and it is on these grounds that your Assembly must surrender them. Refusal will be considered an act of hostility.”
“Oh, but . . . your Ladyship, surely you must understand—”
“I am also de-commissioning all Cassrian Colonist-hunters, effective tomorrow morning. We will no longer allow them on our lands or afford them any special services or favors by virtue of their profession. And should your government continue to support them, this also will be taken as an act of opposition.”
Marlas rubbed his brow, trying to mask his agitation. “My lady . . . those Colonist-hunters do a great service to your people. They devote their lives to the cause of justice for your sakes! It is well-known that the great Bill Stone himself has captured more of them than any Entrian!”
“For his own personal glory,” Madara replied. “Not for any love or concern he bears for us. The only reason you and your kind continue to sing his praises is for the comfort it brings you—that it may be said you did something to help us, and that you may sleep without your conscience pricking you too deeply. That is all past. We no longer require your aid. Indeed, it should never have been sought. Just as your government has no right to detain Colonist-sympathizers, so your hunters do not have the right to shed Colonist blood, nor claim any victory in their capture. Not even the superlative Mr. Stone.”
Marlas took the chair across from her. “Allow me to clarify what you have said, madam. You are spurning the help of an entire nation? Which covers half the country and which has ears and eyes in places your people do not venture?”
Of course, they covered a good deal more than half the country, but he was not about to throw that in the face of a Cassrian-hating despot.
She lifted her chin ever-so-slightly. “That is correct. Furthermore, any and all information regarding past or present Colonist investigations are to be relinquished to us. Such duties are to be undertaken solely by our own investigative committees from this moment on.”
He leaned back in his chair, a panicked anger rising in his chest. He played it off with a derisive laugh. “Do I take your meaning that I am also to be de-commissioned? Well, there you may encounter some difficulty. I’m afraid only the Assembly can—”
“The Assembly will respect this and all other demands if they possess even the smallest trace of their alleged wisdom.”
“Madam, I do respectfully ask that you refrain from interrupting—”
“And I want your Mr. Coram off the trail as well. He is another grasping knave who cares only for praise and acclaim, no matter how it is achieved.”
“Deputy Commissioner Coram is a fine young man with a keen mind and a record of great achievement! Why, even now he is investigating the existence of a supply network linked to the Colonists. By my estimation, he will have them in his sights before summer is upon us.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, which made all the lines on her face wrinkle deeper and draw her mouth even further down. “You have heard from him recently?”
Marlas tossed a hand. “Well . . . not for several weeks. But I don’t keep him on so tight a leash that he is obligated to be in constant communication. Incidentally, why do you ask?”
She tapped a long fingernail on the armrest of her chair. “I have it on good authority that he is traveling with a member of my cabinet. Lord Malkimar. I have issued half a dozen summons for him to return to his proper office, but all have gone unanswered.”
“Ah. Well, in that case, I will make every effort to locate Mr. Coram. Should I also discover Lord Malkimar’s whereabouts, I would be perfectly willing to pass that information along to you.” He shot her a smug smile. “If, that is, you would deign to accept my assistance.”
The consul’s face darkened. She stood from her chair and paced towards the window. Even at midday, the gossamer curtains were still drawn across it.
“You have three minutes to conclude any remaining business.”
Marlas cleared his throat. “Well, now that you mention it, there is also the matter of Harroway’s silver mines—abandoned shortly after the raid on the town, and now under guard by your soldiers, as I understand it.”
“Yes,” Madara said, turning from the window, “and to which you held the deeds.”
“Hold the deeds,” he corrected.
“And what a charitable and generous act it was. To preserve them until such time as we could reclaim them, being our rightful property as they are.”
The commissioner’s triumphant air deflated. He’d spent weeks perfecting the argument to retain ownership of the mines. Anyone with even half a reasonable disposition could not have countered it. But a single glance at her face told him not a word of it would do any good.
All was not lost, however. He would simply have to fall back to the planning stage. Adjust tactics before re-attacking. He only needed a bit more time.
“Well,” he said, standing and straightening his coat, “then only one final point remains. Your daughter . . . is her exchange of allegiances genuine? Or part of some concocted ruse?”
To his surprise, Madara answered with the nearest thing to a bitter laugh as she could manage. “Would that I could answer the latter. But she has never been so cunning as that.”
“In that case . . .” He ventured a few steps closer. “Allow me to offer my most sincere regrets—”
“I will not!” she shot back, her eyes suddenly afire with anger.
Marlas almost took a step back in alarm, but quickly steadied himself and even risked another jab. “The loss of even one family member is hard enough to bear. The loss of the whole—”
“Has brought me to this destiny! This loss, as you call it, is merely another test of my strength and resolve! One I do not intend to fail!”
She stalked back to the door and opened it. When she spoke again, her bitter venom had turned to ice.
“Your Assembly has one hundred days to send us all imprisoned Colonist-sympathizers, to include those arrested in Harroway.” She raised a white eyebrow. “Coincidentally . . . I expect the new Entrian Army, Navy, and Air Fleet to be suitably trained by then.”
Marlas’s mouth quivered. He struck his hat on his thigh. “Damn it, it was not the Cassrians’ fault your clans wouldn’t stop killing each other! It was not the Assembly who issued the Separation Decree! It was not—”
“I am not interested in your opinions, Mr. Marlas. Your time is up. Remove yourself from my property, and see to it that neither you nor any of your despicable colleagues ever attempts to meet with me again.”
“No one can undo what’s been done. That’s the simple truth. I can’t get rid of this unholy blight on my hand. I can’t beg the Mistress to restore my father. Can’t travel back in time and set things on a different course. I certainly can’t bring myself to look into the future, to see myself being pulled apart, piece by piece. So . . . I focus on the present. Chester’s jokes, Radburn’s stories. Ink’s endearing swagger. The wonder of your being here. That every word, every smile, every moment with you is nothing less than a miracle.”
A tear appeared in the corner of her eye. Her gaze fell to the blanket. “I am . . . shamefully unfit for such a sentiment. These past six weeks I’ve been nothing but grasping and selfish, imposing myself on everyone’s goodwill while drawing trouble straight towards us. First Pallaton, then the pirate fleet, then Blackwood. And my mother certainly intends to make me pay for my betrayal, sooner or later, which only heightens the danger to all of you.” She glanced away. “I am a plague-bringer. An imposter in the truest sense.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s the truth. I think I’ve known it for a while, but I could never bring myself to face it before now. Everyone has been more than kind to me. You most of all. But I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t stay. Especially now that I can’t be of use anymore.”
She showed him her wrist. Around it was a bracelet of black diamonds. He took gentle hold of her arm but didn’t touch the object.
“Blackwood’s parting gift to me,” she said. “One which prevents me from summoning even the smallest enchantment.”
“Can’t you remove it?”
“No. I think only Blackwood can. He wears a pendant which he alone can unfasten. I believe this bears the same condition.”
“What kind of pendant is this?”
“He claims it protects him from harm, even extending his life. At first, I thought some charlatan had simply tricked him into believing the item held such power. But if it is true, as I now suspect it may be, only a black spell could promise such things.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I should have seen the danger right away. But I was so eager for him to be gone, I didn’t hesitate to appease him by accepting it. I could not have been more foolish. And what he said of me could not have been more true. I am a herald of woe.”
He clasped both her hands in his and drew them together. “You are nothing of the kind. Pallaton would have come after me whether you were here or not, whether in Spektor-form or human. The Sundering would have begun regardless. Blackwood would have snared us in his web sooner or later. He owns this part of the world. And your mother will never stop having it out for us. Your joining us increases the target on our backs no more than a flame makes a hearth fire a little hotter. And as for being grasping and selfish, I can only attribute your use of those words to your rattled state of mind and body. Or should we ask the opinion of the two men whose lives you put before your own today?”
She dropped her gaze again. A second tear followed the first.
“You shouldn’t have risked your own in coming after me,” she said. “It is far more important that the last Keyholder survives for as long as he can.”
“The last Keyholder doesn’t agree. Besides . . . you becoming my Defender means I am yours as well. And don’t worry about the bracelet. We’ll figure something out. At any rate, losing your abilities doesn’t make you useless. It doesn’t mean you have to leave. We’re not keeping you around for the sheer advantage, as Blackwood might have you believe. You’re worth more than every enchantment ever summoned. Far more.”
Her mouth quivered. She pressed her hands into his. “And this is . . . an impartial opinion, is it?”
“Oh, completely impartial. We’re barely acquainted, you and I.”
She smiled, but in her eyes there were countless emotions unfolding, each one deeply felt and far beyond the province of words. Still, he felt their meaning well enough, and it was all he could do to keep the tears from his own eyes.
A knock came at the door. Half grateful for the interruption—and half resenting it—Caradoc rose from his chair and went to answer it.
“Delia,” he said in surprise.
The elder woman nodded in greeting as she pocketed a handkerchief. The rims of her eyes were red. There was also a gash across her left cheek, deep but no longer bleeding.
“Hello, Caradoc.”
“Are you looking for Simon? I’m afraid he’s not here, but he’s left his medical bag. Let me find something for that cut—”
“No, I’ll be fine. That’s not what I’m here about. May I . . . come in? If it’s all right with her, that is.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Seherene nodded.
“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to make way.
Delia entered almost timidly, glancing at the Entress with hesitation. Seherene regarded her with equal uncertainty.
“Miss Ingleby.”
Delia nodded. “Miss Sarah. I . . . well, I prefer a direct way of speaking so I won’t take too much of your time, but I . . . couldn’t let another hour pass before coming to see you . . . to beg your forgiveness.”
Caradoc watched in bewilderment as Delia stepped forward, gathered her skirt, and knelt beside the bed. Seherene was no less amazed.
“Miss Ingleby, please—”
“No, let me say this. I was wrong . . . terribly wrong for treating you the way I have been. For refusing to see you as you truly are. You have shown us again and again your goodness and compassion. When I saw the way you cared for Nyssa, I should have repented of my harsh judgement then and there. Animals can often sense the kind people from the cruel. I’ve seen it all my life. And I watched her become attached to you like a second mother. But still I continued to make myself blind, to cling to my resentment. I will forever regret that it took so dreadful a thing as an attempt on your life to make my heart finally soften. In all my life, I’ve never been so ashamed.” She bowed her head, fighting to maintain her composure. “Please forgive me.”
Seherene reached for her hands and held them in her own.
“As freely,” the Entress said, “and as eagerly as I ask your forgiveness.”
A sob broke from Delia’s throat. She leaned forward and kissed the Entress’s hands.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
They clasped hands a few moments longer, then exchanged a tear-filled smile and a nod. Delia wiped her eyes as she stood, then beckoned to Caradoc.
“Come here, you scoundrel.”
He met her embrace. She sniffed, patted him on the back, then turned and hurried out of the room. When the door was shut again, Caradoc returned to the chair by the bedside.
“She’s right you know,” Seherene said. “You are a scoundrel.”
He smiled. “I know. So are you convinced now? Will you stay?”
She glanced around the room, considering the question. When her eyes settled on him again, it was with a look that brought an entirely different twinge to his heart.
“Will you?”
He drew in a breath to collect himself. “Oh . . . just try and get rid of me.”
She reached out again. Her fingers closed around his.
“Never.”
Chapter 33
That Which is Unforgivable
George Marlas fidgeted in his chair, tapping his hat against his knee with affronted, impatient energy. Flung. Yes, that was the word. He’d been flung into this little parlor room off to the side of the atrium. No one had given him any kind of proper welcome or greeting. There’d been no offers of tea or refreshments. He’d merely been brushed off with all the care of a dead insect being swept under a rug, out of the way and out of sight. And he an Assemblyman! A commissioner!
He stood and began to pace, glancing at the grandfather clock with every turn. He’d been waiting almost an hour now, after traveling three days by airship and having given fair warning of his arrival beforehand. Was this some kind of test? A show of power? He’d never met the Lady Madara before but he was already disposed to hold against her this brazen and callous indifference to him. He might have been able to overlook it had he actually wanted to come. The matter of the High Council’s assassination was of little interest to him, indeed to most of the Assembly. There was really no reason to care who wielded authority over the Entrians, so long as they kept their people in check on their side of the Lockhorns.
But rumors of war had forced his journey. At first, he and the rest of the Cassrian government had dismissed it as unfounded gossip, something out of fiction and fairy tales. Yes, they’d seen feuds and skirmishes and massacres here and there, but never anything on a widespread scale. It was idle talk. Nothing more.
Until the reports began coming in. Armored airships had been seen in the mountain passes. Soldiers were appearing in the West Country. Mastmarner was now a military outpost. They couldn’t ignore the signs any longer.
And since Marlas had spent the last nine years working closely with the Entrians to catch the Colonists, he was deemed the most suitable representative. When the news broke that Lady Seherene had abandoned her duties and joined the enemy, the Assembly had held a private hearing to question his dealings with her and what he thought her motives might be. He answered them honestly but concluded to himself that he didn’t begrudge her choice. In fact, so far as he could tell, having her out of the political arena would better serve him in the long run.
The door opened suddenly. A white-haired and even whiter-faced woman entered the room, bearing such a look of scorn and air of hostility that it seemed as if a black cloud had billowed in after her. This unsettled him nearly as much as her ghostlike appearance.
“Ah,” Marlas said with a nod. “Lady Madara, I presume?”
“You have ten minutes, Mr. Marlas.”
His felt his eye twitch involuntarily and knew at once that the Lady Seherene must have inherited the majority of her charms and graces from her father’s side. Madara strode to a plush velvet chair, sat, and fixed him with an entirely grim and humorless expression—as though she were offended by his very presence. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together.
“Your Ladyship,” he began, “since I know you are a very important person with a great deal of business to attend to, I will be brief.”
There. Now he had made it seem as though the shortness of the meeting was his idea.
“I am sent by the Assembly as an ambassador of goodwill and friendship. We congratulate you on the swift and decisive installment of your new government after such a terrible tragedy, and we are eager to continue the harmonious relationship our two nations have enjoyed these many years past.”
“If you truly wish to make the best use of your short time,” she said, “I suggest you dispense with any such obsequious drivel and doublespeak. Our relationship has never been the least bit harmonious, and you are here out of obligation, not goodwill. My sole interest in allowing you to set foot on these grounds lies only in addressing the demand I have made of your Assembly.”
Marlas chuckled, trying once more to wrest the lead back from her. “Yes, yes, your request has been received, rest assured. But you must understand, my good lady, such things take time. Particularly when the issues are so entangled in matters of legality and jurisdiction—”
“Demand, Mr. Marlas. Not request. Every Cassrian who has been formally charged with aiding the Colonists is rightful property of the Entrian government. To punish as we see fit. Their offense was against us—our people’s very blood—and it is on these grounds that your Assembly must surrender them. Refusal will be considered an act of hostility.”
“Oh, but . . . your Ladyship, surely you must understand—”
“I am also de-commissioning all Cassrian Colonist-hunters, effective tomorrow morning. We will no longer allow them on our lands or afford them any special services or favors by virtue of their profession. And should your government continue to support them, this also will be taken as an act of opposition.”
Marlas rubbed his brow, trying to mask his agitation. “My lady . . . those Colonist-hunters do a great service to your people. They devote their lives to the cause of justice for your sakes! It is well-known that the great Bill Stone himself has captured more of them than any Entrian!”
“For his own personal glory,” Madara replied. “Not for any love or concern he bears for us. The only reason you and your kind continue to sing his praises is for the comfort it brings you—that it may be said you did something to help us, and that you may sleep without your conscience pricking you too deeply. That is all past. We no longer require your aid. Indeed, it should never have been sought. Just as your government has no right to detain Colonist-sympathizers, so your hunters do not have the right to shed Colonist blood, nor claim any victory in their capture. Not even the superlative Mr. Stone.”
Marlas took the chair across from her. “Allow me to clarify what you have said, madam. You are spurning the help of an entire nation? Which covers half the country and which has ears and eyes in places your people do not venture?”
Of course, they covered a good deal more than half the country, but he was not about to throw that in the face of a Cassrian-hating despot.
She lifted her chin ever-so-slightly. “That is correct. Furthermore, any and all information regarding past or present Colonist investigations are to be relinquished to us. Such duties are to be undertaken solely by our own investigative committees from this moment on.”
He leaned back in his chair, a panicked anger rising in his chest. He played it off with a derisive laugh. “Do I take your meaning that I am also to be de-commissioned? Well, there you may encounter some difficulty. I’m afraid only the Assembly can—”
“The Assembly will respect this and all other demands if they possess even the smallest trace of their alleged wisdom.”
“Madam, I do respectfully ask that you refrain from interrupting—”
“And I want your Mr. Coram off the trail as well. He is another grasping knave who cares only for praise and acclaim, no matter how it is achieved.”
“Deputy Commissioner Coram is a fine young man with a keen mind and a record of great achievement! Why, even now he is investigating the existence of a supply network linked to the Colonists. By my estimation, he will have them in his sights before summer is upon us.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, which made all the lines on her face wrinkle deeper and draw her mouth even further down. “You have heard from him recently?”
Marlas tossed a hand. “Well . . . not for several weeks. But I don’t keep him on so tight a leash that he is obligated to be in constant communication. Incidentally, why do you ask?”
She tapped a long fingernail on the armrest of her chair. “I have it on good authority that he is traveling with a member of my cabinet. Lord Malkimar. I have issued half a dozen summons for him to return to his proper office, but all have gone unanswered.”
“Ah. Well, in that case, I will make every effort to locate Mr. Coram. Should I also discover Lord Malkimar’s whereabouts, I would be perfectly willing to pass that information along to you.” He shot her a smug smile. “If, that is, you would deign to accept my assistance.”
The consul’s face darkened. She stood from her chair and paced towards the window. Even at midday, the gossamer curtains were still drawn across it.
“You have three minutes to conclude any remaining business.”
Marlas cleared his throat. “Well, now that you mention it, there is also the matter of Harroway’s silver mines—abandoned shortly after the raid on the town, and now under guard by your soldiers, as I understand it.”
“Yes,” Madara said, turning from the window, “and to which you held the deeds.”
“Hold the deeds,” he corrected.
“And what a charitable and generous act it was. To preserve them until such time as we could reclaim them, being our rightful property as they are.”
The commissioner’s triumphant air deflated. He’d spent weeks perfecting the argument to retain ownership of the mines. Anyone with even half a reasonable disposition could not have countered it. But a single glance at her face told him not a word of it would do any good.
All was not lost, however. He would simply have to fall back to the planning stage. Adjust tactics before re-attacking. He only needed a bit more time.
“Well,” he said, standing and straightening his coat, “then only one final point remains. Your daughter . . . is her exchange of allegiances genuine? Or part of some concocted ruse?”
To his surprise, Madara answered with the nearest thing to a bitter laugh as she could manage. “Would that I could answer the latter. But she has never been so cunning as that.”
“In that case . . .” He ventured a few steps closer. “Allow me to offer my most sincere regrets—”
“I will not!” she shot back, her eyes suddenly afire with anger.
Marlas almost took a step back in alarm, but quickly steadied himself and even risked another jab. “The loss of even one family member is hard enough to bear. The loss of the whole—”
“Has brought me to this destiny! This loss, as you call it, is merely another test of my strength and resolve! One I do not intend to fail!”
She stalked back to the door and opened it. When she spoke again, her bitter venom had turned to ice.
“Your Assembly has one hundred days to send us all imprisoned Colonist-sympathizers, to include those arrested in Harroway.” She raised a white eyebrow. “Coincidentally . . . I expect the new Entrian Army, Navy, and Air Fleet to be suitably trained by then.”
Marlas’s mouth quivered. He struck his hat on his thigh. “Damn it, it was not the Cassrians’ fault your clans wouldn’t stop killing each other! It was not the Assembly who issued the Separation Decree! It was not—”
“I am not interested in your opinions, Mr. Marlas. Your time is up. Remove yourself from my property, and see to it that neither you nor any of your despicable colleagues ever attempts to meet with me again.”
