Requiem (34 page)

He opened his mouth to suggest dining in when there was a loud crash downstairs. “Ire?”

She was on her feet and moving for the door, her knives whispering into her hands. And even as she left the room, he sensed a slight shift in the wind from his window. He felt the breeze against his cheek and heard the slightest buzz on the air. Then, the light vibration of something landing upon his desk. Ire’s footfalls were lost to him now, and the buzz was replaced by a chirruping sound. He opened his mouth to call for her and was interrupted.

A man’s voice, tinny and faraway, whispered into the room. “Rudolfo, son of Jakob, Lord of the Ninefold Forest Houses and General of the Wandering Army, the light requires service of you.” Rudolfo squinted at the place on his desk where it originated and cupped his hands around it.

He felt the tiny metal claws fasten into the back of his hand as the tiny, magicked bird hopped onto it. “I am Renard, son of Remus. If you still serve the light say ‘aye’ to this bird and send it on its way before your keeper returns.”

Renard.
He knew that name. He’d met the Waste Guide’s father when he was a young man, during his only trip around the horn and into the Churning Wastes. And he knew Renard had been hired by Aedric when the first captain and Neb had gone east in search of the fleeing metal man.

Rudolfo heard muffled cursing below. Then, feet upon the stairs. When the magicked bird chirruped again, he released his held breath, shaping it into a quickly whispered word. “Aye.”

The invisible bird leaped from his hand and through the open window even as Ire strode into the room. She held a brick up, her face red with anger.

“You’re becoming less popular,” she said as she took her seat. “The guards are trying to chase down the culprit, but they should never have gotten this close to a window. I’ll speak with the watch officer about increasing the villa’s complement.”

Rudolfo stroked his beard. “Let’s wait on that for now,” he said. “This may have been an isolated incident.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he shifted into the sign language of House Y’Zir.
I’ve received a message.

Ire’s hands now moved as well.
From?

Renard,
he signed. And the look on her face told him that she knew exactly who he spoke of. He started to inquire, then stopped himself. That was information for another time.
He wanted to know if I still served the light,
he signed.

Ire nodded. “Regardless of the complement, we still must report this.” And beneath the words she spoke, the rest:
If we do not, one of the guards will and that will raise suspicions better left unraised.

“I concur,” Rudolfo said.
Meanwhile,
he signed,
I will wait for further contact. We may have some friends left after all.

She met his eyes and offered the slightest smile. Then, she placed the brick at her feet and took up the gospel she’d been reading.

They sat quietly together as he pushed himself through more and more reports. The engineers had taken over Merrique County’s local gathering hub—an outdoor theater used for plays and choruses until recently—and were expanding it to meet the Council’s meeting needs. So far, he’d only received confirmation from a half-dozen houses, but reports from Y’Zirite intelligence indicated that open hostility was transitioning gradually into pockets of resistance from armies in retreat or in hiding throughout the Delta and Turam. Fighting on the Emerald Coasts was still in full force, but half of its independent city-states had fallen. The remaining cities would not be far behind, and Rudolfo had to believe that they all knew what he did now—there was no way to win this war. At least not in the traditional manner. They had to see, as he did, that even trying meant thinning out the ranks of those who’d already survived so much in all of the wars and skirmishes that had transpired since Windwir’s fall.

Finally, he pushed the pile of paper back and climbed to his feet. The light was fading now, and when the vespers bell rang, he realized just how many hours had slipped by. “I guess we will not be joining the general for dinner,” Rudolfo said.

Ire stood, too, and stretched. “Shall I have the cook prepare something?”

Rudolfo glanced to the half-eaten platter. He should be hungry, he realized, but his appetite had been more and more fleeting these last few days. “I think just chai will suffice.”

She nodded and stood. “I will let him know.”

He inclined his head as she left, and once she was gone, he started wandering the bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling along the walls of the room. He’d tried to read on some of the evenings that sleep eluded him, but he found his eyes and mind already weary from a day of blurred words upon the page. He could find no focus. Still, he tried.

Rudolfo reached for a book and heard something behind him. He turned slowly, a movement catching his eye in the shadowed corner near the door. His hand went for knives he no longer wore, and his body moved into a crouch.

What was different?
The door was partially closed now; Ire had left it open when she left. Rudolfo’s eyes narrowed.

The whisper was barely audible, there in the corner. “I need to see your eyes,” it said. “Look to me, Rudolfo.”

Rudolfo stared. “Renard, I’ll wager?”

“Aye.” The voice was closer now. “Now tell me you serve the light in spite of your father’s best work otherwise.”

He felt the shame first, but his rage swallowed it. “I serve the light, though gods know how it matters at this point.”

“It matters,” Renard whispered. “Now listen closely. Countess Merrique marked you for our birds. She is a friend of the Order and will be our contact with you going forward. She will provide you whatever aid you require. You will provide her with information. She will send the moon swallow nightly to you.”

Rudolfo opened his mouth to interrupt but closed it at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Renard’s voice had moved closer, and now Rudolfo felt something pressed into his hand. He looked at it quickly, noting the plain iron key. “This house and Merrique’s—along with several others here on the Isles—were designed with discretion in mind by certain carpenters of the Ninefold Forest. I’m told you’ll know what to look for.”

Rudolfo slipped the key into his pocket and nodded. He’d spent his childhood learning the multitude of secret passages and doors scattered throughout his father’s manors. “I do.”

“Do not use them unless the need is dire,” Renard whispered. “Use the bird. And do not despair—the Order is not beaten yet. Lysias has hidden an army for you, and Orius has the Y’Zirites’ metal man. Charles and Winters are with them, and Nebios Whym is on the moon to unseal the Moon Wizard’s Tower.”

Rudolfo blinked and found too many questions begging answers from all of this new information. “What of my family?”

There was no answer but the slightest click. Then, the door swung open and Ire pushed her way through the door. “He’ll bring the chai up when…” Her words trailed off when their eyes met. Then, her hands moved.
You’ve been contacted; it is written on your face.

Rudolfo looked away. There was a time when he could’ve masked it, but it had gotten harder and harder of late. And if what Renard said was true, then Rudolfo had much to ponder and to plan.

He offered nothing and she asked the same. They sat together and drank their chai in silence as the room grew dark around them.

When he was finished, Rudolfo stood without a word and retreated to a bed that he knew would not grant him sleep with these new corners and twists now woven into the Whymer Maze before him.

Jin Li Tam

The sound of children laughing carried through the garden, and Jin Li Tam closed her eyes against it, setting her son’s voice apart from that of his new playmate.

Jakob had spent most of his life away from other children, on the move or tucked away from view in this or that manor. So the idea of him playing with others was alien to her already. Add to that exactly who he played with now and it moved beyond the alien and into something that kept her on edge.

Amara Y’Zir. The Crimson Empress.

They had made the introductions once the little empress was well. And since then, the two children had been largely inseparable.

“It bodes well that they get along,” Sister Elsbet said.

Jin Li Tam blinked her thoughts away and looked to the woman. They both sat at a table set for a light lunch. A half-dozen young acolytes of the Daughters of Ahm ran and played with the children while over a dozen of the elite Blood Guard stood watch nearby. She tried to make a connection with the woman’s words but couldn’t. “I’m sorry?”

“The children,” Elsbet said. “It is good that they get on so well.”

Jin nodded. “It is. He’s not had an opportunity to make friends.”

The older woman offered a sympathetic smile. “Yes. They were born into difficult times. But amazing lives stretch out before them because of those times.”

Elsbet’s smile bothered her nearly as much as the woman’s smug confidence. Still, she swallowed those feelings and forced a smile. “I hope so,” she said.

“Hope is found with small steps of trust,” Elsbet said, winking.

Jin Li Tam offered a slight nod. “Yes. Small steps.”

But these days, her hope was flagging. Discovering that her target was a small child had shaken her. Her grandfather had sent her here to do something that she could never do now that she’d brought a child into this world. Jakob had changed the landscape of her morality, raising the price on life’s value even among the few adults she’d killed or seen killed since becoming a mother. Even those who deserved it, like Gervais, the lord who’d hired men to murder her and her son.

“You look troubled.”

Jin met the woman’s eyes and blushed. She’d not intended Elsbet to see beyond her mask. “I’m sorry. I think I’m homesick.”

The woman nodded. “That is understandable. You’ve been gone a long while. If it helps, I’m told that a cessation of hostilities is close at hand. Your husband is bringing the kin-clave together under new terms and conditions. Once we know it’s safe, you’ll have an opportunity to return.”

She wasn’t going to ask but couldn’t help herself. “With Jakob?”

The woman laughed. “Of course with Jakob. And at some point, the empress will also visit. It is important that our people—yours and mine—see them together. Which brings up an important matter for us to talk about.”

Jin arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“The regent and I have been discussing a public betrothal ceremony—one here in Ahm’s Glory and then another in the Named Lands once we know it is safe to return.”

Betrothal.
Of course, all of the scriptures she’d read seemed obvious now. All of the talk of bridegrooms and brides and making straight paths. They’d not been figurative as she’d believed before seeing that the Crimson Empress was a little girl of Jakob’s age. They truly intended her son to marry Amara Y’Zir and somehow, from that marriage, bring healing to the world. She hoped the surprise wasn’t showing on her face. “A public ceremony?”

Elsbet smiled and nodded. “Yes. Something to inspire a bit of hope after so much sorrow.”

Hope for whom?
Jin returned the smile. “I can see the value of it. I would certainly want to confer with Lord Rudolfo about the matter.”

“Certainly,” she said. “I’ll have the birder come around. I’m sure the chancellor’s waited long enough to hear from your own voice that you and his son are well here.”

Jin heard the intentions beneath the words and knew that the woman thought like a Tam, looking for every advantage that she could garner from offering or withholding communication from her husband. And a part of her wanted to resist becoming a part of it, but another part knew that she’d been a part of this strange game of Queen’s War since her earliest days. Her very marriage to the Gypsy King was a part of that manipulation. So was the birth of their son. She forced more warmth into her smile. “I am sure he would appreciate that. As would Jakob and I.”

The older woman opened her mouth to speak but closed it as a half-squad of Blood Guard approached, escorting the regent in their midst.

Eliz Xhum wore a black uniform now, decorated with a crimson cloak. His boots were a highly polished leather, and he wore a single scout knife offset with the cutting knife of their Y’Zirite faith upon his opposite hip. Over the last few days, Jin had caught glimpses of him and had even dined with him twice, but she’d grown accustomed to seeing little of the man. But when she did, she took inventory.

He did not smile as he approached, and when his eyes met Jin’s they lingered only briefly before seeking out the chief mother. “Forgive me,” he said. Then, he leaned over and whispered quickly in the woman’s ear.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re certain?”

The regent nodded. “Yes.”

Elsbet smiled. “Well, I think we should ask her. Why don’t you join us?”

The regent nodded. “Very well.”

Another chair was brought to the table and Xhum sat. A servant poured cold mint tea into a glass, and the regent took a sip before leaning forward. “I’m sorry, Great Mother, but I have a few questions I would like to ask of you.”

Jin smiled. “I’m happy to answer them, Regent Xhum.”

“I know that you and your father have been estranged in the last few years. I’m wondering when the last time was that you heard from him or saw him?”

The question caught her off guard, but it was the sort of question that would. So she let the surprise show upon her face. “I think perhaps we had birds from him in the Forest before I left with Jakob for the Machtvolk Territories.” And when
was
the last time she’d seen him? She stretched her memory back. It was before he’d sailed—after he and Baryk had buried her sister, Rae Li Tam, amid the other graves of Windwir. The cuts were still fresh upon his skin, as was the unspeakable loss in his eyes. “It was on the day that Ria healed Jakob,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

The regent and the Chief Mother exchanged glances, and the woman spoke up once more. “At this point, we are far beyond the need for secrecy,” she said.