The Lascar's Dagger (47 page)

Sorrel looked critically at the chemise in her hand and decided it was time it went to the washerwomen. “I saw. Mynster Uthen Kesleer.”

“I don’t understand why he’s invited to court so often unless he has indeed ensorcelled the Regal. A man of trade and he sits next to the Regal at least once a sennight?”

“A very
rich
man of trade, milady. His Lowmian Spicerie Company has a monopoly of trade to the Summer Seas, which makes him one of the most powerful men in the Va-cherished Hemisphere.”

“Perhaps, but the deference Regal Vilmar pays to him is odd. There’s something
uncanny
about their relationship. I believe it makes others feel uncomfortable too. Prime Mulhafen was sitting wriggling like a schoolboy while he was listening to Regal Vilmar and Kesleer.” She shook her head in puzzlement. “With everyone else Regal Vilmar is imperious and arrogant; with Kesleer he – he
grovels
. He’s the Regal and he behaves like that to a
merchant
? It’s – it’s
undignified
.”

“You think it has something to do with the fan?”

“Vilmar defers to no one else,” Mathilda said, registering her contempt by dropping his title. “He takes no notice of the Prime. He listens to his advisers, but he doesn’t necessarily do what they say. But when that repulsive Uthen Kesleer speaks, he’s nodding his agreement before the sentences are even finished! The Chancellor was almost hysterical over something Vilmar agreed to yesterday. He was so worried, he came to me, and asked
me
to persuade Vilmar to turn down what Kesleer wanted. As if I have any influence over Vilmar! He treats me like a child of ten!”

Sorrel was silent, thinking.

Mathilda furrowed her brow. “The gift of a fan can’t give Kesleer power over the Regal, surely?”

“It sounds unlikely. Witchery doesn’t work that way. Didn’t Saker once say that if someone misuses witchery to gain power or wealth, their gift disappears? There’s no such thing as a rich shrine-keeper.”
But what about a witchery from the Va-forsaken Hemisphere? Like … ensorcelled feathers.
“What did Kesleer want tonight?”

“Oh, something about exclusive rights to the sale of all spices landed at Lowmian ports, whether imported on his company ships or not.”

“That can’t be right, surely.”

“Vilmar agreed to it.”

“So did you speak to him about it?”

“Are you beef-witted? Of course not! He not only wouldn’t listen, he’d be furious with me.”

“I’m sure it’s wise not to involve yourself.” She held up the dress she’d been folding. “I don’t think you can wear this any more. It’s too tight.”

Mathilda pouted. “That’s the one with the prettiest lace, too. Va above, I’ll be so glad when this wretched child is born!”

When Sorrel entered their cuddy a few minutes later, she expected to find Aureen already asleep. Instead, she was wide awake, sewing.

“You can’t see very well there, surely?” she asked. As servants, they were only allowed the cheapest of tallow candles, and Aureen was almost setting her headdress on fire by sitting so close to the flame. “Aren’t you going to bed?”

“I was waiting for you.” She laid the sewing aside and wiped the back of her hand across her nose.

“What’s wrong?” Something was, she could see that much.

“It’s the baby.”

“Everything seems normal to me.” In fact, she thought Mathilda was having a relatively easy pregnancy.
Please don’t tell me otherwise.

“She’s too big.”

Her thoughts raced.
Too big. The pregnancy was further along than
…
Dear sweet Va above, please don’t tell me this is Saker’s child
.

Then:
If someone suspects it’s not the Regal’s, we’ll all be dead.

She lost her breath, and it was a moment before she was sure her heart was still beating. She held up a hand to halt Aureen’s next words. “Wait. Let me think.”

The day after Saker had bedded the Princess, Mathilda had sworn to her that she had taken every precaution. When Sorrel returned to the palace after rescuing him from the Chervil Moors shrine, Mathilda had casually said that her moon’s bleed had come. There was no way this babe could be Saker’s child.

Unless Mathilda had lied.

The room tilted, and she sat down hurriedly on the bed until her dizziness subsided. Desperately, she calculated. If it was Saker’s child, she’d be … more than three weeks further along than she ought to be.

Long enough to make a noticeable difference in her size? Yes, of course.

Was it possible that Mathilda had lied to her?
Of course it is. She lies all the time, without a second thought
. Sorrel knew that Ardronese court women had knowledge of the best ways to prevent pregnancies, but there was no such thing as absolute assurance when it came to babies.

Aureen was staring at her. She gathered her wits enough to ask, “You were going to add something?”

“I wonder if them’s twins inside.”

Twins?
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or dismayed. “Well, if that’s so, there’s nothing we can do about it, and it’s not a terrible disaster anyway, is it? Although – perhaps we shouldn’t mention the possibility to Lady Mathilda yet. We don’t want to worry her.”

Aureen stood up, wringing her hands. Her sewing dropped to the floor unheeded. “You don’t understand,” she wailed.

“Hush, she’ll hear you.” She took hold of Aureen’s hand and pulled her down on to the bed beside her. “Calm down. What don’t I understand?”

“In Lowmeer, they kill twins at birth.”

Sorrel stared at her in astonishment. “Tush, of course they don’t! Whoever told you such a silly story?”

“Me ma. Being a midwife, she hear things. Some Lowmian mothers, told they have twins, ’scape to Ardrone to give birth. Because here, they kill twin babes. Drown them when they born.”

Sorrel was speechless, shocked into silence. Finally she whispered, “I think – I think you’d better tell me everything you know.”

The Regala pulled the bedclothes up over her head as Aureen opened the drapes around the massive four-poster bed in the morning. Sorrel, shivering, wished her own bed was surrounded by curtains. The damp wind that swept up the Ust estuary of a morning was chill.

She glanced over at Aureen. “Well, let’s do it,” she said.

Mathilda groaned, annoyed at being awoken earlier than usual. “What are you two whispering about?”

Bad temper, Sorrel reflected, was Mathilda’s usual state now that she was so heavily pregnant. She said pleasantly, “Your health, milady. Aureen hasn’t examined you since you were with child, yet she is an experienced midwife.”

“What could she do anyway if she found out something was wrong?” Mathilda asked, her voice muffled by the bedclothes. “Dose me with more of that horrible tonic water the Regal’s physicians are always delivering to my door?”

“It is time she checked to see if your pregnancy is proceeding well,” Sorrel said firmly, and yanked the covers away. “Lie on your back, milady, and let Aureen do her job.”

The Princess glared at her, but she folded her arms and glared back.
I wish I knew what was bothering her
. Perhaps it was no more than the normal fear of a first-time mother, knowing she had to give birth without the benefit of familiar physicians or any of her female relatives. Her own mother had died of infection after giving birth to a stillborn child.

She has every right to feel lonely and frightened.
Yet Sorrel couldn’t help suspecting there was more to it than that. Her stomach knotted. Perhaps the Princess was worried Aureen would realise her pregnancy could be further along than it was supposed to be…

Mathilda sighed, capitulated and turned over on to her back, saying, “Very well. I may as well get it over and done with, to silence you fidget-fussers.”

Aureen stepped forward to arrange the Princess’s nightgown and the bedcovers so that only the bulge of the pregnancy was exposed to the air. Her movements were precise and practised, but Mathilda continued to sulk. “Your hands are freezing,” she complained. “There, did you feel that? Your cold fingers made the baby kick!”

Aureen continued her examination, then asked, “With milady’s permission, I’d like to listen to the heartbeat of the baby.”

Mathilda, startled, asked, “How can you do that?”

“I’ll put my ear to your skin. With your permission?” she asked politely, but before Mathilda could protest, her ear was already resting against the Princess’s abdomen.

Mathilda glowered in outrage, her hands digging into the covers. The longer Sorrel spent in the company of royalty, the more she was glad she’d been born an ordinary woman; what point was there in being a princess if your life was governed by what was proper for your elevated status, even if it was detrimental to your health?

When Aureen straightened up, there was a look of helpless panic on her face.

“What is it?” Mathilda cried, catching sight of her expression. “What’s wrong?”

Aureen stuttered, “N-n-naught exactly, milady. Your grace. ’Cept them’s two babies. Two heads, two heartbeats. Them’s twins.”

Mathilda sat bolt upright on the bed, clutching the bedclothes to her, staring from one to the other of them. “
Twins?
Are you
sure
?”

“Ay, surely. I’ve helped deliver twins before.” She looked across at Sorrel. “Said she was too big.”

There was a long silence while Mathilda knitted her brow and considered the news. “Well, isn’t that good?” she asked tentatively at last. “I mean, there’ll be two chances of having an heir to the throne.”

“Please leave us, Aureen,” Sorrel said quietly. “The Regala and I need to be alone for a while. When her ladies arrive, tell them her grace will not be appearing today. She’ll rest in her chamber as she slept badly last night. Ask the chambermaid to see that breakfast is brought up for both of us.”

Aureen, looking relieved, bobbed a curtsey and left, closing the door behind her.

Mathilda swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Help me get dressed, Sorrel. And then have the goodness to explain to me just what is serious enough to have you give orders to my maid in front of me as if I do not exist.” Her tone was as cold as the air.

In that moment, Sorrel could not help but be impressed with Mathilda. Her eyes might have been wild with fright, but she kept any tremor out of her voice as she gave orders about what she was going to wear. Only when Sorrel was tying the final laces on her kirtle did Mathilda say, “Now tell me why you think having twins is a bad thing – while you dress my hair. Which is your job today, seeing as you’ve sent Aureen away.” She sat down in front of her looking-glass and waited, her face stony.

Sorrel picked up the hairbrush and began to tackle the tangles. “This is something that Aureen and I have wondered about for some time,” she admitted. “Aureen felt you were larger then you should be, right from the beginning. She suspected twins, though we wanted to make sure before we told you. But you refused to let her examine you. If you were back in Ardrone, twins would doubtless be something to celebrate. Especially as Aureen knows that both of them are alive and well.”

“So? Why did she look as if she’d seen a headless ghost? And why do you look so constipated?”

“Things are different here in Lowmeer. They don’t like twins.”

Mathilda met her gaze in the mirror. Her hands moved as if to smooth down her kirtle, but her fingers were trembling. Her eyes flashed warning. “You obviously know more than I do. I suggest you tell me whatever it is that has the two of you looking like you’re walking to the executioner’s block.”

I’
ve had a bellyful of grey days and rain,
Saker thought. Grey skies, grey seas, grey clouds, miserable grey swamps and bogs. Was it any wonder that Lowmians were so dour?

Even now, as he stood looking out over the city from the library window of the Seminary of Advanced Studies, he could barely see the houses on the opposite side of the street. The fog had rolled up the Ust estuary at three o’clock in the afternoon and he doubted it would lift till morning.

He leaned his forehead against the cold of the window glass and thought again of Dortgren village. His memory retained its aura of a surreal dream, but the reality of its legacy was far sharper in his mind. The leader of those men had recognised him. Someone, he thought, from his university days. Maybe he’d decided to kill Saker because he realised that he must be a spy of some kind. Perhaps he’d just been afraid – needlessly – that Saker would remember him. Not a fellow student; the man had been too old for that.

And the birds?

I called them
. Oh, not deliberately. But in his panic, he’d begged for help. He’d called not on Va, but to his Shenat roots. And with his witchery, the birds had come…

Va’s teeth, I made a killing weapon out of a flock of birds. They stabbed and clawed men to death.

A pigeon landed on the sill. It cocked its head to stare at him with one round dark eye, then pecked at the glass, fluttering as if it wanted to enter.

“Go away,” he snapped sourly.

“Chatting to birds now, Witan Zander?”

He shook his head ruefully as he turned to face the newcomer. His gloomy mood lifted a little just to see her. When he’d first appeared at the seminary on the outskirts of Ustgrind seven months earlier, with the Pontifect’s letter in his hand, Prelate Loach had assigned Witan Shanny Ide to assist him. A short, middle-aged woman, as broad as she was tall, she had a smile that made every recipient feel special. The Pontifect had been right about the naming conventions: shanny and ide and loach were all the names of fish, and they had chosen to disguise his Ardronese origins by calling him Zander Tench – both freshwater fish.

“Witan Shanny, it’s good to see you again.”

“Prelate Loach told me you were back, so here I am.” She waved her hand at the pile of papers on the table of the library. “I see you didn’t waste a moment getting back into your studies. What did you find out on this latest trip?”

“That I hate the Horned Death more than ever. Va rot it, it’s a horrible way to die.”