The Lascar's Dagger (51 page)

Kesleer barely glanced at him. He stared at Saker instead. “Addy,” he said, mispronouncing the name, “this man here tells me Pashali is the language used by traders and natives throughout the islands of the Summer Seas.”

“Yes, mynster.”

“You mean that’s
true
?”

“Yes, mynster.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

Kesleer’s incredulous stare did not faze the lascar, who said levelly, “Mynster Kesleer not ask.”

“Va preserve me from idle-headed dewberries! Are you from the Spicerie?”

“I not know that answer, mynster.”

“What do you mean, you don’t
know
? How can you not know where you live?”

“I know where I born, mynster. I not know what name you call my island.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Kesleer threw up his hands in frustration. “I suppose that’s all one can expect of an ignorant savage from some outlandish jungle. What do
you
call this island of yours?”

“Chenderawasi, mynster,” Ardhi replied with unruffled calm.

“And what language do you speak there?”

“Chenderawasi, mynster.”

“Leak on you, you malt-worm! Why are you teaching my company factors to speak your wretched tongue?”

“Because you ask me, mynster. You say, ‘Teach them the words of your island tongue’, so I teach. Master Grobath the factor, he speaks very good Chenderawasi now.”

Saker bit his lip hard to stop himself laughing. Ardhi may have looked as innocent as a daisy opening up to the sun, but Saker knew subtle impudence when he saw it.

“Do you speak Pashali?” Kesleer, eyes flashing, snapped the question at Ardhi.

“Of course, mynster.”

“Well, you can stop teaching them your Va-damned language and teach them Pashali instead from now on!”

“As Mynster Kesleer wish.”

“Now get out of here before I kick you out.”

Ardhi dived for the door and was gone in a flash.

“And you, Master Heron, you can teach them as well. Some of them already have a smattering of Pashali from previous voyages to Javenka and the western shores of Pashalin. Come back tomorrow and speak to Clerk Zeeman in the front office about the terms. If you do well, I’ll consider you for the position of company factor on the next voyage to the Spicerie.”

He was dismissed. In the main office on his way out, he passed Ardhi. “I’m staying at Goffrey’s doss house on Herring Street,” he muttered. He didn’t wait for an answer.

Outside on the boardwalk, he paused to gather his wits.
Company factor?
Sailing to the Summer Seas? He smiled at the thought. That was one post he wouldn’t take. He was on his way back to report to the Pontifect. All he needed was an extra day so he could talk to Ardhi, and give that fobbing dagger back.

S
orrel, wedged into a corner of the Regala’s reception room between a prayer stool and a candelabra stand, was sick with apprehension. Mathilda was still incandescent with anger at Lowmeer in general and the Regal in particular, and there was no guarantee she could keep her ire reined in.

She’s too volatile right now. Maybe we should have waited even longer … What if the Regal is suspicious? What if she is too obvious?

Sweat trickled down her neck. She’d spent days calming Mathilda before allowing her to tackle the Regal about Lowmian twins. “You have to curb your agitation,” she’d said, until her words had penetrated Mathilda’s fury enough for her to listen.

And now the moment had come. Regal Vilmar, hearing that his wife was unwell, had come alone to see her. And so Sorrel was blurred into her corner, while Mathilda reclined on a couch with the Regal seated beside her, close to a fire that struggled to warm the room.

Va’s teeth, let’s hope Mathilda forgets this insane idea of killing him.

“You must take care of yourself,” Regal Vilmar was saying. “The doctors tell me you will not let them examine you.”

Mathilda’s reply was prim. “It is not meet for male physicians to touch the person of a royal woman.” She then smiled sweetly to moderate the sting of her words. “My body is for my dear husband alone to see and touch. I will keep myself inviolate for him until he asks for me once more.” It had been the Regal’s decision to halt Mathilda’s visits to his bed, out of concern for the child.

Sorrel rolled her eyes. Sometimes she couldn’t believe he was so easily deceived by Mathilda’s duplicity.

“Your grace will be glad to hear,” Mathilda continued, “that the midwife” – she meant Aureen – “has listened to the baby’s heartbeat. She says the babe is big and strong enough to be a boy, a fitting heir for a noble monarch.”

The Regal nodded complacently. “I am glad to hear it, but my dear, you must have the court physicians at the delivery.”

“Oh, I know. Lady Friselda explained to me that the Lord Chamberlain must also be present in the birthing chamber. Some silly thing about making sure that no other baby is substituted for mine, although I cannot see how that could possibly happen! And also to make sure I am not having twins.”

Sorrel held her breath.

Mathilda paused, tilting her head in a childlike pose. “I must admit I didn’t understand
that
at all.” Smiling with all her charm and coquetry, she leaned towards Regal Vilmar and enclosed his hand within hers. “You will have to explain it to me, my sweet husband, so that I do not make an inappropriate remark at some court function. I am the Regala and it would break my heart if I brought shame or embarrassment to the Basalt Throne because I am just a flighty Ardronese princess who lacks the advantage of being raised in the refinement of the Lowmian court.” Another pause and another pleading smile. “Why is it that twins are unwelcome here, and not in Ardrone?”

Sorrel closed her eyes, unable to watch. Surely the Regal wouldn’t fall for such – such a sickeningly rich cream of sycophancy and lies?

To her relief, when she opened her eyes again, he was patting Mathilda’s hand with fatherly condescension. “You need not bother yourself with such matters.”

“Oh, but I must! I have to bother my giddy head with these difficult subjects so I know what to say or not say the next time someone mentions it at court.”

At this the Regal frowned. “They should not mention it at all! We should not speak of such things in public.”

Mathilda nodded, but said nothing.

It was the Regal who broke the long silence. “It pains me to say this, but perhaps you are right in one respect. You are a Lowmian Regala now, and this will be a matter of grave importance to my heir. If I should die before my son is grown, you must pass on the knowledge of Bengorth’s Law.”

“Regal Bengorth was the first regal of the Vollendorn line, was he not? You see, I have learned my history!”

Bengorth’s Law? Sorrel had never heard of it.

“Before I explain the details, I must swear you to secrecy.” He pulled off the large gold signet ring on his finger. “This is the Vollendorn ring, which will be passed on to my son at his coronation.” He placed it on the palm of her hand and closed her fingers over it. “Swear by this ring, and the future of your children, whose blood will continue the line of the Vollendorns. Swear by the blood of your son, who will sit on the Basalt Throne, that you will uphold the secrecy our family maintains pertaining to our adherence to Bengorth’s Law.”

Dear Va, if he finds out I’m here, I’m dead … Mathilda, don’t look this way. Don’t even
think
about me!

Mathilda swallowed. She tried to speak, but had to lick her lips before she could get the words out. “I swear.”

The Regal slipped his ring back on to his finger. “Bengorth’s Law applies to the heir when he first ascends the throne. A man will come to him, and ask for his oath. If he refuses to swear this oath, he will die and so will any person of the Vollendorn family who is in line to the throne. In other words, the Vollendorns will be wiped out.”

Mathilda looked at him blankly. “I don’t understand. By whom?”

“By A’Va and his devil-kin.”

This time Mathilda was speechless. With a sudden movement that took her by surprise, he sprang at her, one hand outstretched to catch her in the throat. He pressed her against the high back of the couch, pinning her there.

Sorrel bit her lip, tasting blood. Dear Va, she couldn’t stand by and watch the Princess of Ardrone
murdered
… She stepped away from the wall, ready to approach the Regal from behind.

“I will warn you now,” he was saying, “just this once, that if I ever find out that you have told anyone what I am about to reveal, I’ll see you skinned alive and hung on a gibbet while the birds peck out your eyes. A closed coffin will be buried here in the royal graveyard. So sad, the Regala, dead so young of a fever. Never speak of this to anyone but my heir. Do you understand me, Mathilda?”

She squeaked her assent, her eyes wild with terror. He released her abruptly, without apparent concern for her panic, or the bruises he’d caused.

Sorrel flattened herself against the wall again, careful not to make a sound or lose her hold on her glamour.

“You see, my dear,” the Regal said, quietly yet savagely, “Bengorth’s Law is an agreement made by Bengorth, and every regal since, with A’Va. A’Va swears to each regal that the Basalt Throne will be occupied by a Vollendorn, and that Lowmeer will prosper. There is a cost, of course. The man who comes to receive the price of this promise from each regal is a devil-kin. He represents A’Va. Before he demands this price of the Regal, he will do something to display his power, to prove whom he represents.”

Mathilda stared at him, her pale face blank of any emotion but fear. Sorrel wondered if she was going to faint. “What – what powers were shown you?”

“He killed my favourite hound. With a glance, he forced it into the fireplace where, howling in agony, it burned to death.”

Mathilda’s eyes widened; her body shuddered.

The price, sweet Va, ask him the price!

“Bengorth wanted to start a dynasty,” Vilmar continued. “A Vollendorn dynasty, with himself as the first Vollendorn monarch. But he was just an obscure nobleman without much of a following, so he made a bargain with A’Va. He offered A’Va dominion over certain newborn citizens of Lowmeer – one in every set of twins born on Lowmian soil – if he became regal. That twin, when grown, would become a vassal of A’Va, a dedicated devil-kin. In exchange, A’Va would not only aid Bengorth in his seizure of the throne, but would ensure that his line would continue, in direct descent, for as long as the bargain was upheld in each generation.”

“I – I don’t understand,” Mathilda stuttered. “You – you aren’t upholding the bargain. You’re
killing
twins.”

Sorrel froze.
The Regal hasn’t told her that. She’s not supposed to know it
. She waited for him to realise, her heart thumping, but when he continued, it was to say, “That’s right. What monarch wants a country plagued with the horrors devil-kin can inflict? Like this damned Horned Death! Each Vollendorn regal, to ensure his reign, swears to uphold Bengorth’s agreement. But Bengorth gave no guarantee that we would not try to kill those devil-kin once they are born.”

Mathilda was looking confused, but he continued, oblivious. “The only way we can be sure they will never live to do anyone harm is to kill both twins after their birth. Which we always endeavour to do. I have a band of loyal, dedicated men who perform this task, as their fathers did before them, and their fathers before them, as far back as the Royal House of Vollendorn has occupied the Basalt Throne of Lowmeer. They are called the Dire Sweepers.”

“That – that is horrible,” Mathilda whispered, her eyes wide. Her bottom lip trembled. For once, there was no artifice. “You – you kill the
innocent
twin, too?”

Hold on, Mathilda. Don’t break down now
.

“It is the burden the regals of Lowmeer have borne for centuries and must bear into the future to keep our people safe. The burden our son must bear when his time comes. A burden that must never be forgotten, never neglected. The only reason I tell this to you is that it is also your burden, one that you must pass on to our son.”

“Doesn’t – doesn’t killing the twins make A’Va, um,
angry
? Like – like it’s cheating.” Mathilda was trying hard to control her shaking.

Regal Vilmar gave a hard, unpleasant laugh. “A’Va appreciates a clever opponent. And alas, every now and then we miss a few twins. He makes do with those when they come into their power at maturity. They are the ones who cause the Horned Death. It is a deadly dance we do, A’Va and we regals of Lowmeer. Sometimes we are ahead, sometimes A’Va is. But what you have to understand, my dear, is this. If a regal repudiates the agreement, then he
and his line
dies out. Swiftly and horribly, I imagine. As long as I uphold the pact, I
know
that sooner or later I’ll breed a healthy son. As long as A’Va upholds his side, he knows he will get a supply of devil-kin.

“What I
don’t
know is whether I will live long enough to educate my son to adulthood and an understanding of what is expected of him.
That
may fall to you. I can trust no one else.
No one
. Only you will have a vested interest because you will want to see your son live to his coronation day. And you will see to it that our son understands and upholds the agreement at his coronation, because if he doesn’t, he dies, and dies cruelly. Possibly you would too, in case you were breeding again. If a son of ours comes to the throne very young, then you will have to act as his proxy, and make the agreement for him until he is old enough to do it himself.
Do you understand?”

Mathilda was looking at him, mesmerised by the horror of what he was telling her. “Do – do you mean that if my son doesn’t agree with Bengorth’s Law, he’ll die?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. I am sure you want him to live.”

She nodded again. “Of course,” she whispered. “Above everything.”

“Then there will be no problem, will there?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Get plenty of rest, and eat well.”