A House Divided (Astoran Asunder, book 1) (22 page)

Pressing her ear to her door, Cianne listened, meticulously cataloging every sound she heard and estimating its origin. When she was confident that none of the servants were in the immediate vicinity of her quarters, she slipped through her door and crept down the stairs to the second floor. The servants' stairs were off-limits as they would be crowded at the moment, so she had to risk the main staircase. Dashing across the corridor, she threw herself into the library, ghosting along the floor-to-ceiling walls of bookshelves.

Faint noises drifted to her, telling her that a servant was within, dusting the shelves, and Cianne cursed silently. Backtracking, she walked through the corridor without making a sound, but she didn't bother to try to hide. It would look far too suspicious if someone caught her skulking along. Better to run the risk of being seen and think up an excuse on the spot, which shouldn't be too difficult, considering that the servants would be far more concerned about the Elders than they would be about her.

Passing through one room to another, Cianne crouched in what had once been her mother's study, which shared a wall with her father's. He hadn't done a thing with the room since Annalith's death, and the air of neglect within it sent cold fingers skittering up Cianne's spine no matter how many times she visited the room. She had gone through it inch by inch a variety of times over the years, but had found nothing out of the ordinary. Her mother's books, papers, and personal effects were still scattered about the room, kept dust-free by the servants, as if Annalith might one day reappear in the room, muttering to herself as she dug through the mess on her desk in an effort to find whatever it was she was seeking.

"…Lachlon…" Elder Borean's muffled voice said through the wall. Something else followed, but Cianne couldn't make out the words.

Frowning, she reached into her pocket, her fingers closing around one of her most prized possessions, which she'd procured courtesy of the city's black market. The small brass object collapsed flat and looked rather like a funnel when she extended it. She pushed aside all thought of the questions that would ensue if anyone were to catch her with it, as if finding her huddled against the wall separating her father's study from her mother's wouldn't be bad enough. She would have to risk it. There was no other option if she wanted to hear more than meaningless snatches of their conversation.

"…past time for a new voyage," Elder Maizton said, her thin, feeble voice quavering.

"I agree," Daerwyn said. "Lachlon's deterioration is a matter of considerable concern. Returning to sea would be the best thing for him."

"There's the shipment bound for Leonovia," Elder Vorfarth suggested.

"That won't do!" responded Elder Florius's fretful voice. "It's been years since we've sent him on such a simple voyage. It's hardly worth his time."

"Then we tell my son we want to start him out slowly," Moiria said.

"Will he believe it?" Elder Maizton asked doubtfully.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Daerwyn asked. Cianne could practically hear him shrug.

"But—" Elder Florius began, before Elder Vorfarth cut her off.

"Ellium, my dear, we cannot mince words any longer. Forgive me, Moiria, but it's no secret that Lachlon has been in a terrible state since his father's death. The best thing we can do for him is get him aboard his ship once more. If he remains here he may not recover."

"What do you think of this, Moiria?" Elder Florius asked.

Her voice steely with resolve, Moiria said, "I think Corlinda is right, Lach should be given the Leonovia run. Were anything better available, I would suggest we opt for it instead, but it's the best we can do on short notice. I can't bear seeing him like this any longer."

"Moiria," Daerwyn began, but she cut him off.

"No, we've discussed it and discussed it. It's time to do something. Cianne has done her best to help him, but even she hasn't been able to get through to him."

In spite of herself, Cianne's cheeks flushed. She'd had no illusions. She had long known that other House members, and especially the Elders, had often discussed her relationship with Lach, but it made her feel filthy to hear them discussing the intimate details of what should have been her private life.

"Perhaps she has begun to lose her influence with him," Elder Maizton said.

Everyone went quiet for a second, even Cianne.

"She's made far more progress with him than anyone else has managed," her father responded in clipped tones.

Two contradictory emotions flooded Cianne. On the one hand, she was utterly humiliated to hear the Elders speaking about her in this manner, particularly in front of her father and Moiria. It filled her with a sense of rage at the indignity of it all. Here Lach was trying to deal with his father's death, and the Elders were bickering over whether or not Cianne had a hold over him. She hated it. She hated that they took her relationship with Lach and turned it into yet another piece on their chessboard.

On the other hand, she felt a pathetic sense of gratitude that her father had stood up for her.

Of course he did
, whispered a voice in the back of her mind.
You think he wants you to lose whatever power he believes you have over Lach? Imagine how bitter it would be for him to have to see his dreams of a triumphant union between his daughter and the beloved Captain Stowley dashed to pieces. Do you think he sees you as any less of a pawn than the Elders do?

"Daerwyn's right," Moiria said.

It seemed Cianne wasn't the only one surprised by Moiria's allying herself with Daerwyn. "What happened to your fears about the dilution of your line, dear?" Elder Florius asked her.

"Enough," Elder Vorfarth said. "We are all of us under a great deal of strain, but we will not allow that to cause fighting between us. Who are we, House Rolland? This backbiting suits none of us."

"Ellium has a point," Elder Maizton said. "Will there or won't there be a union between your daughter and Lachlon, Daerwyn?"

"Cianne is to give me an answer within the month."

"And Lachlon?"

"He will wait. He's always been nothing if not willing to wait for her," said Moiria, a note of disgust in her voice.

So much for being allied with my father,
Cianne thought.

"Haven't we learned over these many years that patience is our greatest asset?" Daerwyn asked. "This is but another bump in the road, and we shall survive it and endure as we have every other bump in the road."

What in Cearus's name does that mean?

"I think this conversation has become rather too candid," said Elder Maizton.

"Agreed," said Elder Vorfarth. "Daerwyn, you are prepared? You have received word?"

"Yes."

"Then I suggest we all go about our business and meet at the usual time afterward."

"Allow me to speak with my son first," Moiria said.

"And I'll speak with Cianne," Daerwyn said. "I'll ask her to reason with Lach, to help him understand that a voyage is to his benefit. She will be able to persuade him to go."

"Are you certain of that?" Elder Maizton asked.

"Of course I am," Daerwyn said icily.

Collapsing her listening device, Cianne pocketed it again as the Elders took their leave. Her mind was racing. She was about to make her way back to her room when she realized she had heard only the Elders' voices fading away, not Moiria's. Pulling her device out again, Cianne could hear her father mumbling, and she was frustrated with herself for missing his words.

"What does it matter? They're beginning to doubt us," Moiria responded, her voice pitched so low Cianne had trouble hearing her even with the aid of the listening device.

"You will cease to give them reasons to doubt us. We cannot afford to let that happen, not after all we've sacrificed," Daerwyn said, his voice hard. "I won't tolerate it, Moiria."

Chapter 22

"I found one," Cianne said, slapping a note down on Kila's desk. Her color was high, her face pinched in anger, and he was astonished at the show of emotion. Her posture was rigid, as if she were having trouble preventing herself from lashing out.

In the two days since they had performed the deshya together, he had spent every free moment thinking of her and the things they had discovered. Combing through Toran Stowley's ledger, Kila had tried to glean some new information, but to no avail.

Ledgers didn't seem to be much of a friend to him as of late. He and Burl were still working on tracking down the shopkeeper's murderer, Kila not having made much progress with the shopkeeper's ledger either. Burl's face had been openly suspicious when he had reported back to her, and she had taken the ledger home with her the previous night. Her tone had been grudging this morning when she had admitted she hadn't found much either, but he had felt a glimmer of relief. Her skills were impressive, but the evidence that they didn't overshadow his was mounting. He didn't care about his pride taking a blow, rather he was concerned that Burl might be too much for him, that she might catch on to the fact that her new partner was doing some investigating on the side. Chief Flim had assured him Burl had no idea what he was up to, but he wasn't willing to get comfortable.

"Where did you find it?" he asked, smoothing the crumpled, singed sheet. He was quite certain Cianne hadn't been the one to crumple it, which indicated that if it were a love letter as the captain suspected, his mother appeared to have been jilted.

"Moiria's study."

"So perhaps she hasn't been storing anything at the Council Hall, judging by the state of this letter," he said. "She may be in the habit of burning anything incriminating."

"It's possible. At any rate, my hope is that this may provide us with a lead. I was able to get into her study seconds after she stepped out, and I managed to snatch this from the fire before it could catch. Whatever it is, she didn't want anyone to see it."

A single column ran the length of the page. Each line was a jumble of letters and numbers.

"Looks like what was in Toran's ledger," Cianne said.

"No," Kila said, seeing immediately that Moiria's letter bore no resemblance to what Toran Stowley had written. "See here? It's designed to look like it might be counting book figures, but I'd be willing to wager that it isn't. The numbers and letters repeat in distinct patterns, and the combinations are different from what Toran Stowley used."

"Do you think you can crack it?"

"I can try, but I can't guarantee anything. Chances are that if Moiria and anyone else in House Staerleigh are in the habit of exchanging coded messages they're changing the cipher on a regular basis."

"Could you do what you can?" Hands on hips, she paced restlessly, like a caged animal.

"Of course. Has something happened?"

She recounted for him the conversation she had overheard in her father's study, and he understood her ire at once.

"Not the most pleasant of things to overhear," he said mildly when she was finished.

Patches of color stained her cheeks, and she shook her head. "I don't care what they said about me," she said, but she was lying. "I'm far more concerned with the whole nature of the conversation. I suspected my father was up to something, but now I am certain, and it gives me no pleasure.

"I am concerned about what they said about Lach. Something about the conversation gave me the impression they weren't comfortable with his presence in Cearova."

"Considering he is their best captain, doesn't it make sense that they want him back at sea? House Staerleigh presumably stands to lose considerable amounts gold if the captain remains at home. Couldn't their concern be financial?"

"I've no doubt that's a factor, but I don't think that's all of it. He seems to be making them nervous."

"Due to his behavior toward his mother?"

"That could be it. Or it could be that he wreaked havoc with their timeline. Had he not returned home early, he wouldn't have been in Cearova when his father died."

"And he's been expressing his disbelief that his father would have committed suicide," Kila said. "Has he spoken with anyone else about it?"

"Not as far as I'm aware, but we both know the walls have ears. Any number of servants—not to mention the Apothecist who sedated him the night of his father's death—heard at least some part of what he's been saying."

"Sending him out of the city would get him out of their way."

Cianne nodded. "They wouldn't want to harm him. He's far too valuable to them. He brings in a great deal of gold."

"As did Toran Stowley."

She bit her lip but said nothing in response to that.

"Cianne, what if you're in danger?" Kila asked.

She met his eyes, something flickering in hers at the sight of the concern he hadn't hidden from her. "I may very well be, but I can't leave this alone, not now. I have to know the truth. I have to know what's going on in my House."

"If anything happens, anything at all, I want you to come to me and I will find a way to get you out of the city safely."

"I can't ask that of you," she said, turning away.