The Lascar's Dagger (61 page)

“Don’t you dare tell anyone what I said about Fox,” Mathilda said to Sorrel. “If you do, I’ll see you dead!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Milady, you must calm yourself. Everything is going well. The babe’s a girl, so she would never be the heir. Va has been kind. Look, she’s fallen asleep. She’s so beautiful…”

I don’t want to ever see her again. Take her away!”

Aureen came back into the room then, shaking her head in sorrow at Sorrel as she caught those last words. “Time to be off, mistress,” she said. “I’ll clean up all that might betray us here, and call for them physicians. The other one might be along any time.”

“Will Lady Mathilda be all right?” she asked, whispering.

“She’s hardly tore at all, the babe being not so big. She’ll be fine, poor lass.”

Sorrel looked down at the tiny head peeking out from the woollen shawl.
An unwanted child.
Well, she could give it love, just the way she’d loved Heather in the face of Nikard’s despising.

She grabbed up the bundle of items she was taking with her: the letter of introduction to the Pontifect, a change of clothes, Saker’s money, her cloak, some of the swaddling and one of the warm shawls Mathilda had in readiness for the birth. A meagre accumulation.

“Milady,” she said, “I will guard this child with my life, I promise you. I will beg the Pontifect for help and I will seek the blessing of Va upon you at the Great Shrine in Vavala.”

Mathilda refused to look at her, or say goodbye. Sorrel touched her hand in farewell, and it was pity she felt, not hurt, or resentment. King Edwayn’s daughter, indulged and spoiled when young, hadn’t had much chance of happiness as an adult. At the very most, her future had always been to be the wife of a monarch who saw her bloodline as of more importance than her person.

Aureen kissed the top of the baby’s head, then handed Sorrel a single lighted candle and opened the door to the spiral staircase. As Sorrel stepped through into the darkness, the midwife whispered, “All is well, so far. The other babe lives. I’m hoping it will be a while yet, an hour or two, mayhap. A little time for the Regala to rest.”

She nodded, and squeezed the woman’s hand. They both knew Aureen’s life would be forfeit too if Sorrel was caught.

Although this was her favoured way of sneaking out of the castle, Sorrel had never done it in the middle of the night. She wound her way down the narrow treads of the staircase with care. She bypassed the door to the Regal’s chamber, where loud snores indicated that his slumber was deep, and continued down to the next level, where the stair ended.

She cracked the door open a sliver, to see if there was a light in the room beyond. The darkness was softened a little by the glow of coals in the fireplace, but no candles were lit. Blowing out her own, she stood for a moment, concentrating on her creation of a glamour. Shapeless, colourless, just a dull formless blending into the background…

Please, little baby, don’t cry, not yet.
We have to slip past the dragon
. The baby was small enough to be concealed by her glamour, but there would be no way she could disguise the mewling of a newborn as something else. Taking several deep breaths to calm herself, she stepped into the room and closed the camouflaged door behind her.

The curtains were drawn around the bed. More snoring, not quite as loud as the Regal’s, indicated that the Lady Friselda was asleep. A maid lay on a straw pallet on the floor nearby, but she didn’t stir. Sorrel crept past her in silence. The bedroom door was shut. When she opened it, the hinges squeaked.

She stopped dead, scarcely breathing. The maid rolled over and sleepily raised herself on one elbow to stare in her direction. There was no way she’d miss seeing the open door. Sorrel moved slightly to touch it again, and it swung open a little further, as if caught by a draught. The screech of unoiled hinges was appallingly loud. The maid flung off her coverlet and wandered, still half asleep, across the room in Sorrel’s direction.

Sorrel gave the door one last push, opening it far enough for her to slip out. A moment later the maid had pushed the door to and latched it without seeing her.

She breathed again. Calmed her thudding heart. Crossed the anteroom to the servants’ door leading into the kitchen maids’ quarters. Here, pallets on a large wooden platform were occupied by five sleeping forms. Hurrying past, she reached the top of the narrow, dark stairway that led directly down to the kitchens. Without a light, she had to edge her way down, feeling with her feet and her free hand. Something scuttled away into the darkness ahead of her. Rats?

Don’t think about them, they don’t matter. They can’t rat on you
… She giggled, and wondered if she was losing her hold on her nerves. At last, the bottom stair.

She stepped into the empty scullery.

The room was still warm from the heat of the chimney in the neighbouring kitchen. Moonlight filtered through the cracks in the wooden shutter. She peeked at the crumpled face framed by a soft woollen shawl, touched a finger to the plump cheek – and remembered another child, another such moment. Suppressing the memory, she sat down on a sack of potatoes to wait. There was no point in leaving through the door to the outside; it led only to the inner bailey.

Until dawn, all the castle gates were closed.

Although she held on firmly to her precious bundle, she must have dozed, because the next thing she heard was the metallic scrape of someone cleaning out the ashes from the kitchen fireplaces. The baby stirred and whimpered in her arms, tiny sounds, but they alarmed her. Quickly she rose and unbarred the scullery door.

“Who’s there?”

The tremulous tone of a scared kitchen boy. Some poor lad tossed out of bed early to riddle the grates and set the kindling for the ovens before the cooks arrived. “Just me,” she called back unhelpfully. “Don’t fash y’self, young’un.”

She stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind her. It was still dark, and she had to feel her way along the wall towards the servants’ gateway. When she arrived there, it was still closed, with two sleepy wardens on duty. She kept well back and blended herself into the wall. The baby began to cry, and she gave her the tip of her finger to suck. The child squirmed for a moment inside the swaddling, and then subsided, asleep again.

An hour later the sun came up and the gate was opened, but she waited until the first servants began moving between the two baileys before she slipped through to cross the outer bailey and make her way out of the main gate, unseen, on to the awakening streets of Ustgrind.

It was a long walk across the city to the seminary, but for the first time since her marriage, she was truly free, and there was a lightness to her step.

Soon, I shall be able to decide my own fate. Soon.

No one to tell her what to do, or where to go. Her only responsibility was to the baby in her arms. Mathilda had rejected the child, which wasn’t all that surprising, and Saker had washed his hands of it, which puzzled her far more. What could be more important to him than the welfare of Mathilda’s child?

She shrugged. She was unlikely ever to find out the reason, so she dismissed him from her mind and considered instead her own options. Right then, she had more money than she’d ever possessed for her own use in her whole life. It was more than she needed for the hire of the wet nurse and the journey to Vavala for the two of them and the baby. It would have set her up in her own household for a couple of years, if she wanted, together with the child and its nurse.

As if I had another daughter
…

Not another Heather, no one would ever replace Heather, but another daughter to love and cherish. A tempting idea. Her heart speeded up even at the thought. But what if the child was truly a devil-kin?

I have to take her to the Pontifect. No silly dreams.

After an hour of walking, she was hungry and thirsty, and stopped at a stall for something to eat and drink. The smell of fresh buns seeded with marshberries was irresistible. She bought two, along with a hot mug of camomile tea. The woman behind the counter, who had been rocking a young baby to sleep when she arrived, immediately asked to see Sorrel’s child.

“She’s not mine,” she said, and added glibly, “Her mother died at birth. I am taking her to a wet nurse over in Thorn Meadows.”

On cue, the baby started to cry.

“Has she suckled yet?” the woman asked.

“Just first milk, before the mother bled to death.”

“Oh, how sad. Give her here. I’ve plenty of milk! Though she won’t take more than a sip yet a while.”

While Sorrel ate and drank, the woman attended to Mathilda’s child. “What’s her name?” she asked.

“She doesn’t have one yet,” Sorrel replied, sipping the tea. “Her mother never said, and her father was not interested in a girl.”

“Ah, that’s even sadder. You could leave her here, if you like, with me. They call me Mother Odlenda round here. I’ve enough milk for two! I’ve birthed five of me own, though three died of the fever. I take in babes for a guildeen every moon. Safer here, anyways, than down in the hollow of Thorn Meadows; I heard there was the Horned Plague there. Elsewhere, too – even been a case or two down by the port wharves. Va save us from another plague!”

Sorrel shook her head. “She’s family,” she said firmly. “She stays with me.”

“Then she’s a lucky little darlin’ to have such a fine-spoken aunt.” Odlenda smiled down at the baby and touched her cheek with the back of her fingers. “Oh, look at the precious dear. Sucking so bravely!”

Just then bells started ringing in the distance, even though it was not a holy day. Odlenda cocked her head to listen. “I wonder what that’s for?”

Sorrel felt a skitter of fear. “Warning of the Horned Death?”

“Why no, lass. Don’t you know the bells ring like this only for celebration? For warning and death they toll a single note. You must be a country lass not to know that.”

She nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“Thought you must be. Explains the rattly way you sound.” As more and more bells joined in from all over the city, she exclaimed, “Course! A new heir! A son of the Regal must have been born last night. Why did I not think of that?” Her face lit up. “After all these years, and past wives, finally a true son for the Basalt Throne. And here I was thinking we was about to be cursed by pestilence, when in truth Va has blessed the Regal and his bride!”

So the second baby was a boy. Good news, or bad? The idea that the next Regal might be an evil man serving A’Va sent shivers down her spine.
Sweet Va, someone has to make sure that doesn’t happen.

Once she was on her way again, with a contented baby in her arms, she considered her reaction to Odlenda’s offer.
I promised Mathilda, I promised Saker, and now I promise you … little girl. I am your mother now. I will look after you as long as you need me
.

But first she would take her to the Pontifect, in case there was any truth in the legend of the twin devil-kin.

“Well?”

The query snapped from Regal Vilmar with the intensity of a loosed arrow. Lord Chancellor Yan Grussblat was used to the Regal’s rages and replied calmly. In fact, he inwardly rejoiced to hear the return of some of Vilmar’s old fire. It had been lacking too long.

“It seems the Regala’s Ardronese handmaiden is missing, your grace. That can’t be a coincidence. She must have been hand in glove with the man who stole the warden’s uniform. She could have shown him how to enter your bedchamber while the banquet was in progress.”

The Regal’s eyes narrowed. “Was witchery involved?”

“It looks that way. All that strange behaviour of the birds? It can’t have been normal, although it’s hard to believe someone was able to misuse his witchery to steal. And my men have found out something more about this handmaiden. Seems she has the witchery of glamour.”

“
Glamour?”

For a moment Grussblat wondered if the limit of the Regal’s equilibrium had been reached. Vilmar’s face darkened, the pupils of his eyes contracted to pinpricks. “How is that possible? The Basalt Throne has
never
allowed glamoured witches to live! Glamours are not Va-granted!”

“Sorrel Redwing was Ardronese, sire. I assume she never told anyone here what she could do. The Regala didn’t even know she had a witchery. Only reason we know now is that Frynster Annusel – she’s the castle apothecary, sire, with that shop down in the outer bailey—”

“Yes, yes, I know who she is! Get on with it!”

“She told us she once saw Mistress Sorrel wearing a glamour to sneak out of the castle.”

“
And she never mentioned it?”
The Regal drew in a deep breath. “If that haggard witch wasn’t so blistering useful, I’d have her tied to a wheel! Put the fear of the Throne into Mistress Annusel, my lord Yan. I want her knock-kneed with fright for the next month, understand?” He leaned back in his chair, calming himself. “What about the man? Was he also glamoured?”

“I don’t think so. His witchery was probably something to do with controlling birds. I have asked Prime Mulhafen to find out who has that kind of power.”

“Offer a reward. How did this Redwing woman come to be in the Regala’s service? Who was responsible for that?”

“The Regala says that when she arrived in Betany, the woman was already on board ship. She told the Regala that King Edwayn had arranged it. The Regala never thought to question her presence – why should she? The woman must have glamoured herself and no one saw her come on board in Betany.”

“An Ardronese spy?”

“Seems likely, sire.”

“A pox on their paunchy king! We shall have our revenge for that, Lord Yan. I swear it. I want these thieves found. I want the city scoured until they are. I want every witchery-skilled man and woman looking for them with the Wardens and the Watch and the Dire Sweepers, night and day.”

Grussblat was shocked. “The
Sweepers
? In the city, in broad daylight?” He hesitated, searching for a prudent way to couch his thoughts. “Sire, much of the Sweepers’ success is due to the fear they arouse because people rarely see them. They are dark assassins in the night—”