A Jewel Bright Sea Page 7

  She nodded.

  They hurried through a maze of passageways, through an even narrower tunnel that opened into a square crowded with chickens and goats. Opposite them was a wooden gate—locked, of course. Maté pried loose several slats, and they squeezed into another, larger courtyard.

  High walls surrounded them, an expanse of pale brown brick darkened by moss. Several windows opened onto the courtyard, all shuttered against the sunlight, except for one high overhead. The ground here was dark and hard-packed. Matted grass and a few stubborn flowers grew in the corners. A spicy scent filled the air, mixed with the faint smell of rotting garbage from an unseen heap.

  Maté made a quick circuit, pausing at each door and gate. At length he nodded, as though satisfied. Anna leaned against the closest wall, trembling. “What next?” she said softly. “Can you find our way home from here?”

  “Not yet.”

  His voice sounded odd to her ear—strained and unhappy. She was about to ask if something was wrong—something more than pirates and kidnapping and a heart-stopping flight through Iglazi’s back alleys—when Maté turned around. His eyes were flat, his expression so closed it frightened her.

  “It’s time,” he said, “that you told me the truth.”

  CHAPTER 5

  From far away came the rumble of street traffic, the hum of voices drifting upward from the marketplace, but here in this secluded courtyard, Anna had the impression that a veil of silence had fallen over them, much like the spells she had used the night before. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

  “Don’t lie to me, Anna. You know what I mean.”

  Like a soldier delivering a report, Maté listed all the times Anna had met with Brun over the three months before their mission began. He noted that half those private conferences had taken place late at night, and though most of the staff believed Brun had merely summoned Anna for the usual reasons, he doubted the man would suddenly take to using rooms sealed against spies. He had not bothered before, after all.

  “You used that same spell last night,” Maté said. “Curious, or not so curious a coincidence. You’ve spent so many hours closeted with those new tutors Lord Brun hired. And let us not forget the couriers.”

  What couriers?

  Maté grinned at her expression, but it wasn’t a happy grin. “I confess I hadn’t noticed them at first. Hêr Lord Brun has so many friends throughout the Empire, after all, and everyone knows he likes to collect any and all news about Court and politics. It wasn’t until I heard the stable hands gossiping about those midnight visitors, the ones escorted directly to our lord’s private chambers, that I wondered.”

  “But Lord Brun—”

  “—is a secretive man. I know. I served him ten years before you ever did, Anna. But too many things strike me as peculiar. Why did he insist on this idiotic game, with you pretending to be Vrou Iljana? And why aren’t we allowed to approach the Emperor’s own people in Eddalyon? He claims the Emperor doesn’t want his affairs to become public, but if our lord acts in Marius’s name, why don’t we have proper documents in case of any misunderstanding? Why his secrecy, Anna? Why yours?”

  For a moment she couldn’t answer. Lord Brun had given such a reasonable explanation for the secrecy. Or so she thought at the time.

  “We must talk,” she said softly. “We’ll go back to our rooms and—”

  “No. We talk here. Now.”

  She flinched at his tone. “It’s not safe here, Maté.”

  Not with Koszenmarc and his gang hunting them. Maté must have understood because he nodded. “Very well. I know a decent wine shop. We can sit quietly until things calm down.”

  She took his offered hand and hoped this wine shop was not very far away. All her panic had evaporated, leaving her weak-kneed. To her relief, Maté set a much slower pace as they retraced their steps to the public streets. A few more turns brought them into a small sunny square on the edge of the hill. There was a weaver’s shop, a candlemaker, and in the far corner, marked by a wooden placard, the wine shop. All of the signs in this neighborhood were written in Eddalyon’s native script. Once more she had the sense of entering a secret, alien world, hidden within the larger one she knew.

  “Do you come here often?” Anna murmured.

  “Once or twice. Stavros serves me the occasional bit of news along with a good meal.”

  The wine shop owner leaned against his doorway and watched them approach. Like most men in the islands, he wore dark blue trousers tied with a bright sash and an undyed cotton shirt. His grease-spotted apron did not inspire Anna’s confidence, but his hands looked scrubbed, and he wore a patterned rag over his braided hair.

  “We want soup, wine, and bread,” Maté said. “We’re hungry, my friend.”

  Stavros heaved himself upright with a grunt. If he wondered about a noblewoman coming here with one of her minions, he made no comment. “I’ve new cheese,” he said. “The bread isn’t so fresh at this time of day, but the soup makes up for it. My Phaidre’s best.”

  “I believe you,” Maté said. “Tell your Phaidre to make the portions big ones. My lady is starved and I’m not far behind.”

  He led Anna into the shop, to a large table next to the windows. Anna glanced around, taking in the dusty floors, the windows smudged with grease and smoke. Two old men occupied a table near the door, smoking pipes. Off in one corner, several men and women crouched over a game with cards and markers. For the most part, they spoke the island language—Kybris, it was called—with a few Veraenen words here and there. None of them acknowledged her presence.

  The wine shop’s owner vanished down the passageway and soon returned with mugs, plates, and a jug of wine. Off he shuffled again, this time coming back with the promised bread and soup, along with a jug of plain water. Maté tossed him several coins. The man caught them in one meaty hand and retreated to his post by the door.

  Maté poured wine into their mugs, then cut several slices of bread and cheese. “Eat first. You look as though you might faint otherwise, my lady.”

  Anna nibbled at the bread, then tasted the soup, which was chilled and peppery, thickened with bits of a red, fleshy fruit. Both soup and bread were far better than she had expected, given the appearance of the shop’s floors and windows. She had become too particular over the years, apparently. Or perhaps she had taken on too much of her role in this game that she and Maté played.

  She ate slowly, finishing off the soup, then nibbling slices of bread and cheese, interspersed with sips of the wine, which turned out to be excellent. Once the shopkeeper had cleared away their dishes, Maté refilled their mugs, then leaned over the table. “Now we talk.”

  She glanced around the room, uncertain.

  “Are you afraid of breaking a trust?” he said.

  “I’m not certain Lord Brun trusts anyone, but yes.”

  “Hmmm. Interesting. Which brings me to my next question. Did he order you to keep secrets from me? No, never mind. He did. But did you never question why he’s kept so many secrets? From me. From you, as well.”

  Anna bit her lip. She could not say anything without saying too much.

  Maté let a laugh escape. “Confused about how to begin? Let me start, then. Our Lord Brun is an ambitious man. He’s taken it upon himself to recover the Emperor’s jewel, because that will lead him to…to whatever he values most. Am I right?”

  Irritation pricked at her. “Why should I say anything if you can guess yourself?”

  She spoke more sharply than she intended. The shop owner came alert at once, but at Maté’s gesture, he subsided back into indifference. Maté himself had gone utterly still, as though he waited for prey. For a moment, she had the unsettling thought that she was the prey.

  She drew a deep breath. This was her friend, her best and only friend, the man who had explained the factions among the servants in
Brun’s household when she first arrived, the friend who had hugged her while she wept after each time Brun took her to bed. He was the brother she’d never had. And he was right about keeping so many secrets. In a low voice, she said, “Lord Brun told me nothing, so I can only guess. I believe he heard about the theft—”

  “How? I hardly think the Emperor—”

  “I hardly think that too. There must have been rumors.”

  “Perhaps.” Maté appeared unconvinced. “Wherever he heard this news, I cannot believe our lord would send off three bonded servants, spending money like water, for just a scrap more influence at Court. He must have some specific reward in mind.”

  Anna dropped her gaze to the tabletop. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “No?” Maté said softly.

  She released a long sigh and curled her fingers around her mug. “He didn’t share his plans with me, but I can guess. He wants to marry well, as the saying goes. Recovering the Emperor’s jewel would—how shall I put it—further those plans.”

  Maté’s eyes widened. “The princess?” he breathed. “He wants to marry her?”

  He did not need to specify which princess. There was but one royal princess these days, after the recent arrests and executions. Her Royal Highness, Karin Emerita, the youngest granddaughter of the Emperor Marius. She was just nineteen. Thus far, however, she had proved adept at keeping her grandfather’s trust while she navigated the shifting alliances and factions at Court.

  “That’s only my guess,” Anna said. “Whatever his goal, he won’t keep me in his household. Of that I’m certain.”

  Maté was shaking his head in wonderment. “He aims high, our Lord Brun.”

  “He was always ambitious,” Anna murmured.

  Ambitious, clever, and charming. Qualities that he could summon up in a moment to gain what he wished. Anna remembered his manner when he invited her into his household. Very proper, even as he handed her over to the housekeeper and her new duties. Very different from that night, four years later. She had been twenty, older than the princess, but younger in the ways of Court and society. Remembering that night, Anna reached for her mug and wet her lips with wine. He didn’t force me, she told herself. At least I can say that much.

  A phrase she had repeated to herself often over the past two years.

  “I’m sorry,” Maté said softly.

  She shook her head. “It might have been worse. But thank you.”

  She took another drink of wine, then added water. All around them the wine shop’s other customers continued their endless games, their quiet conversations. In the kitchen, a woman started singing. Phaidre, perhaps.

  “Where would you go?” Maté said at last. “Or could you go?”

  She knew what he meant. Did she have the price of her bond, or would Brun sell her to another household?

  It was time to admit the rest.

  “He promised…” This next part was more difficult to confess. “Lord Brun promised me a reward,” she said. “If I deliver the jewel by autumn, I get my bond returned and a sum of money above that. I could go into free service with another Hêr Lord. I might even obtain a position with the University, as a clerk or scribe. My father was friend to dozens of scholars and tutors. It’s possible one might remember his name and offer me a chance.”

  “And Hêr Lord Brun?” Maté said. “Will he mind having you in the city?”

  Anna smothered a painful laugh. “I doubt it. I’ll be invisible, living in another world entirely from the Imperial Court.”

  “Your father was not so very invisible, as I recall.”

  Her laughter faded at once. It was because her father had known both Court and University that Lord Brun had visited their small house to inquire about obscure points of law or magic. And because he knew the scholar, he had offered to pay Michal Zhdanov’s debts after he died, and to provide the daughter employment in his household. For a price, of course.

  “No,” she said sadly. “He wasn’t.”

  She glanced up to see Maté regarding her with a strange expression. “I remember when you came to us,” he said softly. “A skinny child with unkempt hair and eyes the size of twin moons. You’ve changed a great deal—except for the eyes.”

  She had been sixteen. Still grieving for her father, still terrified by that interview with the moneylenders, who had described in great detail how much her father had owed them, and how those debts were now hers. And grateful, so very grateful to be rescued by Lord Brun.

  She was not certain she had changed much in the past six years.

  “I’m sorry I lied,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Eh. We have Lord Brun to thank for that. No doubt he wished to keep us uncertain of each other. He does that with his friends, you know, as well as his enemies.”

  Anna let her breath trickle out. A mountain of dread and anxiety seemed to have vanished, now that she and Maté had been honest with each other. “I missed you,” she said simply.

  He smiled. “And here I was thinking I was right by your side these past three months. No, I know what you mean. We shall find that jewel, Anna. And you shall have your freedom. Though,” he added, “I cannot promise not to argue with you from time to time.”

  She smiled back. “I like it better when you argue.”

  “Liar.” But he was laughing softly. “Come. Speaking of troubles, we must return to the inn. Lukas and I discovered our new guards tied up and snoring behind the stables. We didn’t stop to question them, we only knew we had to find you as quickly as possible. Lukas took one direction. I took another. If he returns before we do, he might execute them in a fit of rage.”

  Anna shook her head at the thought of Maté and Raab charging through the streets of Iglazi. Then her mood sobered. Maszny had not disagreed when Anna had called Koszenmarc a dangerous man. She gave a shudder, in spite of the heat.

  “What’s wrong?” Maté asked.

  She hesitated a moment. “Nothing definite. Something Maszny said about the pirates, Koszenmarc in particular. He’s a very odd man—Maszny, I mean. Not what I expected.”

  “And I’ve news about our friend Sarrész. The three of us need to hold a conference this afternoon.”

  Back to their mission, in other words. Maté left to order a sedan chair for Anna and a horse for himself. Anna waited with a bored air, sipping her wine. He was never at a loss, she thought, whether it came to fighting brigands, or tracking down a thief, or playing the part of escort and guard.

  She was glad she had finally told him the truth.

  * * * *

  Raab had not executed their newly hired guards, but Anna and Maté found him standing over them with a grim expression on his face, his hand set on the hilt of his sword. Several of the stable boys and girls loitered nearby, clearly fascinated by this new spectacle.

  “My lady,” he said shortly. “I am glad Kovács found you in time.”

  Mindful of their roles, Anna said, “Not exactly in time. I had to extricate myself from a most uncomfortable situation. However, he did prove very useful in keeping me extricated. I shall have to commend both you and him to my father.”

  “That’s good to know.” Raab glanced at the half dozen men lying in a heap on the stable floor. “My apologies for neglecting you, Lady Vrou. I thought it best to question these idiots. Perhaps I did wrong.”

  “No, you showed good sense,” Anna said. “Koszenmarc might’ve murdered these men to keep them quiet.”

  Maté was frowning. “They look drunk.”

  “Drugged is more likely.” Raab prodded one of the men with his boot.

  Anna wrinkled her nose at the smell. “Disgusting. But I suppose we must summon a healer for them. Which one of you volunteers for this errand?”

  “Neither,” Maté said. “My Lady Vrou, let me send one of the stable hands. We can question the men ourselves befo
re the healer doses them. First impressions are often important in matters such as this one.”

  Meaning, Anna needed to examine the men for any magical clues before a healer erased those traces with their own magic.

  “Very well,” she murmured in a dissatisfied voice.

  She settled herself on a bale of hay. Raab ordered one of the stable boys to fetch a neighborhood healer or surgeon, whichever one proved the least expensive. The rest he dismissed back to their duties. Once that was accomplished, he and Maté searched through the guards’ clothes.

  “No extra cash,” Raab said. “They weren’t bribed, which is as much as we expected. Lady Iljana, if you wish to make your own inspection, this one might prove useful. He’s the man I put in charge of the others, to my everlasting regret. Kovács and I will question him afterwards.”

  Anna knelt by the man Raab had indicated. He was older than the rest by a few years, but still young to her eyes. His hair was matted and greasy, and the stink of sweat and sour wine wafted up from his clothes.

  She placed her fingertips over the man’s eyes and lips.

  Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ei rûf ane strôm. Lâzen mir sihen der gëste.

  As her perception drifted down and away from the present, a queasy sensation washed over her and her mouth filled with the harsh taste of cheap wine, which barely disguised the tang of raw herbs. Were they fools, not to recognize the wine had been drugged? Or no, the taste changed within a moment to something sweeter, softer. That was the work of magic.

  She thought she recognized Koszenmarc’s own signature—it reminded her of gemstones catching sunlight, bright flashes with darkness in between. Another signature lay underneath his, a sharper, stronger one that reminded her of the healer Thea, the one aboard Koszenmarc’s ship.

  Her own thoughts faded, subsumed by the guard’s memories and emotions.