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  “Most men about to get their tails beat in a game they’ve been fighting for over a hundred years—a game so important that losing it’s going to cost them their lives—don’t just give up fighting like all the wind’s been knocked out of them,” Adamo explained. “No, they fight like dogs. They go for the throat, the belly. They don’t just lie down in the sand and call for their mothers.”

  “I take your point,” I replied. “My mistake.”

  One of the members of the bastion passed too close to us then for me to be entirely comfortable with his purposes—it would have been my own fault if our conversation were overheard by all and sundry, with us discussing it in the middle of the Esar’s own ballroom—and Adamo cleared his throat, showing me he’d been thinking the same thing. This conversation was best left to another time and another place, and when we’d not been drinking so much horse piss, either.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Adamo said. “And looking so healthy. For a while your letters had me thinking I needed to fly in there and pull you out myself.”

  “As dashing as that would have been,” I replied dryly, “I did manage to take care of myself.”

  “ ’Course you did,” Adamo said, as if he didn’t believe me for a single second. “And the new, ah, apprentice you brought with you tonight had nothing to do with it?”

  “Bastion,” I swore, a little too loud for propriety. “Hal.”

  “I think he was in the bathroom, last I checked, having a fascinating conversation with Raphael—he’s one of mine, flies Natalia—about third-edition gold prints,” Adamo told me. “Weirdest damn conversation I’ve ever been privy to, if you don’t mind me saying it.”

  “Bathroom,” I said, then, “thank you,” then made my hurried excuses and my equally hurried way to the bathroom, where I found Hal alone—no longer, it would seem, engaged in conversation with the young airman Adamo had mentioned.

  “Royston,” he said, turning at once. There were mirrors everywhere, allowing me to see him from all angles, and just where the blush began—at the back of his neck—before it suffused most of his face and eclipsed his freckles. “This must look—I mean, I intended to come back, but the whole sink is made of porcelain and marble, then I had a conversation with a member of the Dragon Corps. Did you know that Raphael collects third-edition gold prints?”

  “Hal,” I said, stepping close to him at once, and taking his hands. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Why,” Hal said. “What are you talking about?”

  “It seems that I abandoned you most cruelly to a night spent making idle conversation with frequenters of the bathroom,” I explained. “As curious a choice as that may have been for you to make, it was no doubt influenced by my utter selfishness this evening.”

  “Not at all,” Hal said frankly. “You were glad to be back. I didn’t wish to intrude, nor did I wish to embarrass you.”

  “Embarrass me?” I asked, baffled at this unexpected fear of his. “How in bastion’s name do you propose you might have done that?”

  “There were,” Hal admitted, with the faintest ghost of a wry smile, “many times this evening where I have to admit I had no idea what you or your friends were talking about.”

  “Ah,” I said. “Yes. That.”

  “It’s very different here,” he said softly. “I know that you love it. I want to love it, too—”

  “The things most worth loving take their time in giving you reason,” I told him. “I did abandon you tonight. There were matters weighing heavily on my mind, but this is no excuse.”

  “I didn’t mind,” said Hal, squeezing my hands with such intractable good nature that I felt it in my chest. “I met more than one or two interesting people.”

  “Did you,” I said. “Interesting people at a ball? You’ve been much more fortunate than most.”

  “You’re very strange.” Hal did smile then, and it was a true smile, as true as all the ones I’d seen in the country. “You talk of your friends as if you don’t care, but I know that you missed them.”

  “I am a cold and distant man,” I answered, full of contrition.

  Still, I couldn’t help but be pleased that he’d noticed. Oftentimes I found that only the men I’d known longest, the ones who remained in my life throughout the years, were the ones who saw immediately to the heart of my strange deception.

  Perhaps it was only my own foolish stubbornness, obligating me to conceal what it was I felt when I felt it. Hal had been the exception and not the rule in this regard.

  “You aren’t,” he said, and he truly did seem happy, for all I’d left him to the tender mercies of total strangers while I satisfied both my curiosity and my insistent craving for the city life. Then he leaned up and pressed his mouth to my cheek, chaste and warm.

  He was abiding by the rules I’d set down for us much better than I had wanted him to, I thought treasonously. I held him close for a moment, until a stir of voices passed the bathroom door and I was forced to weigh my desires against the potential consequences of putting Hal at the center of the storming gossip of which I knew the noblesse were so very capable. Reluctantly we separated, though I wasn’t quite quick enough to thwart my own urge to smooth the fringe from his eyes.

  “Are you quite ready to leave the bathroom now?” I asked. “Or have you developed a rapport with your own reflection?”

  “Strange,” he said again fondly, then turned away to examine his hair in the many mirrors. I felt a small pang of guilt, as it was a concern I’d never seen him exhibit before.

  “You look fine,” I reassured him. “Better than fine, even. Luminous. Radiant.”

  He laughed, exiting the room ahead of me, but I saw the flush of color at the back of his neck, and I knew that, for all my foolishness, at least the words hadn’t been in vain.

  There were more people in the halls, and seemingly fewer in the grand ballroom than there had been at the height of the night’s festivities. Of course, not everyone was for dancing, and once the requisite grace period had been observed—to show respect for the Esar and his particular brand of pomp and circumstance—it was generally considered acceptable to take your leave.

  So perhaps it was only my suspicious nature, or perhaps I’d only been too long removed from the city to remember the subtle particulars of concealment and subterfuge, but everywhere I looked it seemed as though there was some great mystery happening just beneath the glass. The guests stood sequestered in groups of twos and threes, speaking at volumes no louder than a whisper. Every now and then someone would laugh, high and uncomfortable, or the loose, throaty guffaw of the very drunk. I pitied whoever that might have been, for they were sure to have the most thankless of headaches in the morning. Indeed, my own head was starting to feel too large, my skull too tight in a way that I’d unhappily come to recognize. I attributed it to the stress of my return and my tenuous situation with Hal, but it didn’t make the aching any easier to bear.

  What allowed me to nurture my suspicions instead of quashing them outright were the many faces I recognized and even respected. Marius of the Basquiat was there, and speaking to Berhane, whose presence alone would have surprised me if Adamo hadn’t told me himself she’d been recalled. That she would have anything to say to Marius could bode nothing but ill.

  “Hal,” I said, feeling guilty even as I said it, “would you excuse me for one more moment?”

  “They might be at Arnaud’s party,” Berhane was saying, in cold and brittle tones. “Or they might be elsewhere entirely. All in all I think it’s dreadfully rude of you to ask me when you know I’ve only just got back. And when you didn’t even bother to write!”

  Marius had the bewildered and miserable look of a man caught without an umbrella in an unexpected downpour. “I did write,” he said, then, noticing my approach he added, “Anyway, now is hardly an appropriate time, Berhane.”

  “Hello, Marius,” I said cheerfully. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “Not at all!” Be
rhane answered. “I was just leaving.”

  “That’s a dreadful shame,” I said, “since I haven’t yet had the honor of welcoming you back to our fair city.”

  She paused in thought at that, smoothing her immaculate hairstyle with one idle hand. “Well,” she said, her tone softening. “I’ve heard I wasn’t the only one recalled.”

  “Indeed not.” I took her hand to kiss it, thinking about how best to fish for knowledge of what my colleagues thought of the Esar’s ball and whether any of them found it as strange as I did. “I’ve heard that the Esar wants all his very finest for the battle to come, so it stands only to reason.”

  Berhane fluttered a fan in front of her smile and Marius made a noise of disgust.

  “Oh come now, Royston, don’t tell me this doesn’t all seem a little . . . off to you,” he said.

  I shook my head, still holding Berhane’s hand. I’d discovered that the secret to getting any information out of Marius was to go through Berhane first. I’d have felt a little guiltier over it if it hadn’t been so apparent that she enjoyed the charade as much as I did. “I saw the young man you’ve been mentoring, Marius,” I said. “He looked rather green around the gills if you don’t mind my saying.”

  “He’s had it somewhat rougher than you have,” Marius replied dryly. “All things considered.”

  “Oh, come now, arguing when the gossip is so good? Royston, Caius was here just a moment ago!” Berhane confessed, leaning close that I might hear her whisper. “But he was called away by one of the Esar’s dreadful, smirking servants. He can’t have done anything so soon. I wonder if he’s to be given an official pardon.”

  I felt my suspicions worsen, and for all Berhane’s tone was light, her eyes were sharp and unhappy. She had her suspicions the same as I did.

  Marius shook his head. He looked as though he wanted to hang the pair of us, but I didn’t know for which offense. “Has your sojourn from the city caused the both of you to forget how easily one can be overheard here? Never mind it now. If there is something to discover, we can trust we’ll discover it soon enough.”

  “Ever the teacher.” I sighed. “It was good to see you, Berhane.”

  “Royston.” Marius’s voice caught me just as I’d begun to turn away. Berhane had dropped the act just as I had, and together we were three very grim magicians with nothing but our suspicions to hold us together. “The Wildgrave was here for about five minutes at the beginning of the ball. He excused himself from our table very quickly. Said he had some blasted fever.”

  “When I arrived, I saw him arguing with Caius,” added Berhane. “And the pair of them disappeared down one of those awful corridors the Esar had built.”

  I nodded, not entirely certain what to do with the information now that I’d been given it. Wildgrave Marshall was the eldest son of one of the most distinguished magician’s houses. As far as I knew, he had never been involved in any suspicious activities before. And it seemed as though Caius Greylace was appearing and disappearing as convenienced him throughout the ball, although that in and of itself wasn’t exactly unusual.

  “If we discover anything,” Marius said, shaking my hand, “we’ll let you know.”

  I rejoined Hal with much apology, and immediately explained my charade with Berhane to the half-baffled, half-hurt expression on his face. I even took his hand as we made our exit from the palace, too tired to pretend I didn’t want what I did and in want of comfort at that particular moment.

  “Are you all right?” Hal pulled me from my reverie and I returned with a jolt as if from underwater.

  “Yes,” I said, pulling my gaze away from Caius and a pale girl with blue hair by the door. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “You only looked very far off,” Hal said. “Like the way the chatelain used to say I did when I was thinking of a story I’d read earlier and where might be the best place for finishing it.”

  “I was merely trying to remember the names of some of the more important people at our table,” I confessed, and felt all the better about the small deception when his face lit up as surely as one of the glowing lanterns lining the Palace Walk.

  I felt an irrational wish for more time to speak with Adamo, and in private, where the long fingers of the bastion mightn’t still reach us. My old friend was refreshingly straightforward, and such secretive matters fairly overwhelmed my appetite for delicacy. For court intrigue and rumors of the war, I would take nothing but honesty from both barrels, and be all the gladder for it. Adamo understood what few men did, and he managed it somehow while never quite turning into one of the near monstrosities some of his airmen had.

  “I met the man charged with rehabilitating the Dragon Corps,” Hal said, and I got the uncomfortable sense he’d said something just before it, that I’d missed a piece of his conversation while lost in my own private thoughts. “The one they were talking about. Is it true he’s just a student from the ’Versity?”

  “I believe so,” I said, adding Marius to the list of people I would have to speak to shortly. Knowing Marius, I would have to bribe him to get him to admit whether he knew anything. Perhaps I would go through Berhane. “What was he like? Interesting?”

  “He was,” said Hal. “Only, I think I said something wrong, and he got quite strange and left in a rush.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said, trying not to seem as distracted as I felt. “After what I’ve heard from the Chief Sergeant, I should think he ‘got quite strange’ all on his own.”

  The music seemed too loud, and the chandelier too bright when we reentered the ballroom. Now that I’d begun to dwell on it, the party seemed little more than a façade. I didn’t know what it was the Esar was so keen on keeping under wraps, but I did know that he was underestimating the vast majority of my peers if he thought they wouldn’t notice.

  The problem was that I’d always been a little too interested in things that weren’t any of my concern. And, punishment or no, that was a habit I found hard to overcome.

  THOM

  I’d taken leave of my senses. That was the only possible explanation. The Dragon Corps had damaged my mind so thoroughly that I hadn’t even noticed they’d done it until Rook had cornered me at th’Esar’s ball.

  And I’d let him.

  I’d more than let him. I’d encouraged it. I’d descended to his level.

  I would no longer remember this night as the night I wore the finest clothes I’d ever owned, or the night I’d been invited to a ball—a real ball—at the palace, but rather as the night I’d thrown away all my careful restraint and let Rook get under my skin exactly the way I’d promised myself he wouldn’t.

  I was meant to be better than this; I knew better, I’d been taught better. I could either think myself better educated than Rook and follow up that assumption with my actions, or I could resort to brawling with him at every turn like a common Mollyrat. Which, as he’d so astutely discovered, I was.

  I held no illusions as to the truth of what Rook had told me about the piercing obviousness of my roots and where I’d come from. Much as I hated him, I couldn’t deny the simple fact that he was cleverer than most and could probably be quite sharp about keeping a secret when he thought it would benefit him. I couldn’t say the same for many of the other airmen, and I knew that if my birthright really was common knowledge, I’d have heard it in more than a few taunts already. It was simply too good to pass up—a jumped-up urchin from Molly trying to teach anyone about anything. The worst of it was that there were no notes I could refer to for this, no piece of wisdom from Marius that would help me to clear my head so that I might get back on track.

  The problem was simply that I didn’t even know what track I was trying to find my way back to.

  After Rook had left, I’d had to take a long moment to collect myself, breathing in the cold night air and waiting for the chill to pull me back to reality. I waited there until I could stand without the help of the rail, until the throbbing in my back had receded to something
manageable, no longer a constant, heated reminder of how foolish I’d been. I’d thought I might run into Hal in the bathrooms when I ended up there again, but they’d been empty when I returned, which was probably for the best as I’d have only owed him an apology and I wasn’t feeling much for words.

  It was then that th’Esar himself summoned me.

  I was waylaid in the bathrooms—that my whereabouts was so easily discovered unsettled and unnerved me almost as much as what had passed a few moments before on the balcony overlooking the gardens—by one of his servants.

  “His Majesty wishes to confer with you,” the messenger said, bowing low and all but tugging his forelock. He was obviously at a loss for what title, if any, he should employ when addressing me. I had as little idea as he for, of the two of us, it was quite clear to me he’d had the better breeding. Then again, as Rook had made perfectly clear, it wasn’t hard to be a better-bred man than I was.

  “Ah,” I said, trying to gather my wits about me. “Yes. I shall . . . follow?”

  “There is a more private way,” the servant said, still bowing. “If you will mark my lead.”

  I followed him out into the hall as he walked calmly and unhurriedly past a group of three women talking to one another behind their fans. It hardly helped my composure that they were talking about Rook. I caught the barest threads of their conversation and felt my cheeks grow warm with anger.

  It seemed I couldn’t escape him, not in dreams of flying or on a balcony at the ball—which was in some part supposed to have been my own small triumph, the perfect way to showcase what I’d accomplished with the airmen. I hadn’t heard any gossiping about any major and embarrassing incidents thus far, which would have seemed like its own small miracle were it not for the fact that I knew Rook had been far more occupied with tearing me down on the balcony than starting any trouble.