Jeweled Fire

by Sharon Shinn

“No, I mean—of course that would have been horrible, but—”

  Alette shrugged. “I heard them shouting at each other. One said, ‘Kill her!’ and the other said, ‘Not here!’ I don’t know why.”

  Liramelli was nodding. “There’s an old superstition. If someone is slain within the shadow of the towers, the killer will die within three days. You can stand with your back to one of the towers and walk out as far as its height in any direction, and you will find there has not been a murder committed within that circle for two hundred years.”

  “That is most intriguing. In a grotesque sort of way,” Melissande commented.

  Corene was still frowning. “But would Dhonshon assassins know that particular myth? I mean, I’ve been here half a quintile and I never heard that story. And would they care?”

  “Oh, those men were not from Dhonsho,” Alette said.

  They all peered at her in the dark. “They were not?” Melissande said. “But the color of their skin—and the insignia on their clothes—”

  “Yes. I misspoke. Their heritage is Dhonshon, but they were not my father’s men. Not sent by him to kill me.”

  “How do you know?” Liramelli said.

  “The one who held me by the arms—he kept shouting in my face and I could smell the zeezin on his breath.”

  “Zeezin? So?” Melissande said.

  But Corene remembered a conversation she’d had with Jiramondi during her very first dinner at the palace. “Dhonshons use zeezin in funeral rituals, yes?” she said. “They wouldn’t eat it.”

  Alette nodded. “Exactly. These men were probably born here in Palminera, and raised here. They are more Malinquese than Dhonshon.”

  “You don’t think your father might have hired them to—to hurt you?” Liramelli said. Corene noticed that she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Your father might have hired them to kill you?

  Alette permitted herself the smallest smile. “My father would never work with strangers. And never with someone who did not love Dhonsho with every drop of blood in his body.”

  “But then who hired these dreadful men?” Melissande demanded. “And why hire Dhonshons? It makes no sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Corene said in a hard voice. “Someone from Malinqua wants Alette dead. But he—or she—wants it to look like Alette’s father killed her. That way there can be no outrage directed at the Malinquese crown.”

  Liramelli covered her mouth with her hands as if to hold back a cry; Melissande sank back in her chair, nodding thoughtfully.

  “Yes, of course. You are absolutely right,” Melissande said.

  Liramelli dropped her hands, but her face was still etched with horror. “But it doesn’t,” she cried. “Who in Malinqua would want to kill Alette?”

  “Oh, that’s right—you were at Sarona’s funeral when we had this conversation before,” Corene said. “We think someone in Malinqua didn’t like the fact that Greggorio was so close to Sarona—was afraid that he might marry her—and that’s why she was killed. Greggorio’s been very kind to Alette, too, and apparently somebody noticed that.”

  “He was especially kind this afternoon,” Melissande said, her lovely voice surprisingly grim. “He was the one who first realized she had been attacked, so he clearly was watching her. And he raced over to help her, without so much as a dagger in his hand. If someone is looking for evidence that Greggorio feels affection for Alette—”

  “He got it today,” Corene summed up.

  Alette looked down at her hands, but the other three stared at each other in mounting distress. In the faint light that sifted in through the window, Corene could see Melissande’s mouth set in a thin line, Liramelli’s face growing increasingly anxious.

  “If you’re in danger because you’re close to Greggorio,” Liramelli said, her voice rough with worry, “it is someone at the palace trying to kill you.”

  “Yes,” Alette said.

  “Which means you’re not safe at the palace,” Liramelli finished up.

  “I know.”

  “But who?” Liramelli demanded. “If it’s someone concerned with the succession—”

  “Which is everybody,” Corene put in.

  “You would have to suspect Filomara’s brothers, even though they live far from court—or Jiramondi or Garameno—”

  “Or high-ranking officials who might care a great deal about who is next to sit on the throne,” Melissande said gently.

  Corene watched as Liramelli realized what that meant. The other girl stiffened. “Not my father,” she said coldly. “Never my father.”

  “No, of course not,” Melissande said in a soothing voice, though they all knew there was no of course about it. “But someone who is close to the crown and wants to influence who wears it.”

  “Well, we don’t know who it is,” Corene said. “What we do know is that Alette is not safe and she can’t stay alone in this room.”

  Melissande turned to give a long, thoughtful look at the locked door. “Servants have been left behind to guard the room tonight, but will they be able to keep out a determined assassin?”

  “Or are they the assassins?” Corene said.

  “Corene!” Liramelli exclaimed.

  But Melissande was nodding. “Yes, yes, we must suspect anybody, and there is no reason a woman cannot be a murderer,” she said. “Who better than a nurse, in fact? She probably is familiar with every kind of poison on offer here in Malinqua, and she would certainly know where to slice an artery—”

  Liramelli lifted a hand in supplication, and Melissande kindly desisted.

  “We will insist that the maid and the nurse leave when we do,” Liramelli said. “And Alette will lock the door behind them.”

  Melissande shook her head. “If a warrant for her execution has been signed by someone in the palace, a locked door won’t keep a killer out.”

  “She can stay with me,” Liramelli said, and then flushed angrily when Melissande and Corene just looked at her. “Even if my father were a murderer—which he’s not!—he would hardly kill someone in his own suite! Who was sharing a room with me!”

  “She can stay in my rooms,” Melissande said.

  “Or mine,” Corene added.

  “Mine,” Melissande said gently. “I am sure your father would want to avenge your death, should you and Alette both be murdered in the night, but I am not so sure Welce possesses the military might to make it possible. Whereas Cozique could sink Malinqua’s navy in a day and burn this city to the ground—and everybody in the palace knows it. I think I am the person who is least at risk, which means Alette will be safest in my care.”

  It was a good argument. Corene nodded, and Liramelli turned her head to look unhappily out the window.

  Melissande frowned. “I am a little afraid, however,” she said. “The Malinquese are so fond of poison—someone could slip a toxin into her food. I could do nothing to stop it.”

  “That won’t happen,” Corene said confidently. “If she dies by poison, it will be obvious someone at court wanted her dead. She must be killed by violence for this to look like a Dhonshon assault.”

  “Most excellent reasoning!” Melissande decreed. “I am reassured.”

  “I thank you all for your great kindnesses, but you do not have to do so much for me,” Alette said softly. “I do not fear death. I will join my mother and my sister and so many others in the afterlife. It must be a better existence than the one I am living now.”

  “You might not fear it, but you don’t want to die,” Corene argued. “I saw you today—you fought with your attackers. You wanted to break free. You weren’t ready to die this afternoon—and we won’t let you die in this room tonight.”

  Alette’s smile was sad. “I might have fought, but I won’t keep fighting,” she said. “What do you think I am living for? There is no place for me in Mali
nqua, and there is no place for me in Dhonsho. I do not belong in this world. I will let death escort me out.”

  The other three women protested strongly at that, still trying to speak softly enough that the servants couldn’t decipher their words through the door. Corene finally was able to make her voice heard above the others.

  “You do have something to live for,” she said. “You said so. Someone in the city who loves you.”

  “Cheelin,” Alette said, the name sounding almost like a prayer in her soft voice. “I will never see him again.”

  “You will,” Corene said. “I’m going to figure out how to get you out of here.”

  • • •

  Despite the resistance of the nurse and the maid, they packed up some of Alette’s clothing and prepared to move her to Melissande’s room. They made quite a procession as they paraded through the halls, Corene thought—Alette still in her nightclothes and blanket, all of them carrying baskets and bundles, the servants trailing behind, still remonstrating. Both Alette and Melissande had rooms on the third floor, though some distance apart, so at least they didn’t have to contend with stairwells. And they only encountered two other people in their travels, both of them startled housemaids. Corene figured the story of the migration would be all over the palace in less than thirty minutes. The thought amused her.

  “You do not mind sleeping in the maid’s room, do you?” Melissande asked. “It is much smaller than the main bedroom, but I think it will be quite comfortable. I insisted on a separate suite for my own maid,” she explained as they began finding places to store clothes and shoes. “I have so many clothes with me that I needed the extra room.”

  “I will be most comfortable there,” said Alette. “I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude.”

  “Nonsense, it shall be very much fun,” Melissande said.

  Liramelli’s next words were lost in a yawn. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But it’s been such a long day.”

  “It certainly has,” Corene agreed. “I’m off to bed myself. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  After a few more moments spent saying farewell, Corene and Liramelli headed off together, parting at the stairwell to seek their own quarters. But instead of going to her room, Corene crossed the hall to stand outside Foley’s door. She took a moment to reassure herself that she was utterly calm, not at all emotional, and then she knocked.

  He answered within seconds, concern already on his face. “Did something happen at dinner?” he asked.

  She stepped inside and looked around curiously before answering. The room was brighter than Alette’s had been, but not by much. All the wall sconces were lit, but they’d been turned to a low and restful level. She’d barely been inside his room since they arrived at the palace, but judging by the absence of clutter, the same could be said of Foley. Whereas Corene tended to discard shoes and clothing and other oddments around her room, carelessly crumple the bedsheets, leave armoire doors open and letters scattered on the sofas, Foley kept his room so neat he might not even live in it. The only sign of occupation was a brass kettle and a single cup of liquid steaming on a small table.

  “Are you drinking keerza?” she demanded.

  “I am. I’ve developed a taste for it. What happened?”

  “I can’t believe that. Keerza is horrid.”

  He shrugged and just watched her.

  She looked around again. “Are you always this neat? Don’t you ever just kick your boots off and forget to hang up your jacket?”

  “I like to know where everything is in case I need it suddenly in the middle of the night.”

  “That makes sense,” she said grudgingly.

  “So what’s wrong?”

  “I came to see how your injuries are.”

  “Minor. As I told you on the ride back.” His eyes searched her face. “Something else is bothering you.”

  “Alette. She said the men who tried to kill her might have been Dhonshon by blood, but they weren’t her father’s men. She thinks they were hired by someone at the palace.”

  Foley’s reaction was a small, controlled flinch. “Then she’s not safe here.”

  “She’s staying in Melissande’s room tonight, but we need to get her out of here.”

  “We probably should get you out of here instead.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I think Alette’s in immediate danger and I’m not.”

  “And the leaving is as dangerous as the staying,” he said.

  She nodded. “But not for Alette. The staying is worse.”

  “It will be tricky to get her out unseen,” he said.

  “I know. But I have an idea. I want to talk to Leah about it. So I want you to take a message to her tomorrow.”

  He was silent so long that she finally asked, “What?”

  “If I’m your courier, I’m not watching over you. Given the events of the past few days, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you behind.”

  “It would just be for a couple of hours.”

  “A lot could happen in that period of time.”

  “Fine, I’ll go with you. Let the guards follow us all over the city.”

  “She might be at the market. We could start there.”

  “Then let’s go there in the morning.” She took a few steps toward the door, then turned back, grinning slightly as a thought occurred to her. “Of course, anything could happen to me during the night when I’m in my room and you’re not watching over me because you’re sleeping.”

  She thought he would smile in response, but his face just grew more serious. “I know,” he said. “I’ve thought about that. I could sleep in the hall outside your door.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Not much of a joke where Alette’s concerned, apparently,” he observed. “Your safety becomes more of a concern every day.”

  She came deeper into his room, closer to Foley, willing to see how far she could push him. “Well, my suite has an empty room where the maid’s supposed to stay,” she drawled. “I guess you could sleep there.”

  “And have to tell your father I spent the night in his daughter’s rooms?”

  “Would you rather have to tell my father I was murdered?”

  He sucked in a hard breath. “That’s unfair.”

  “I know.” She watched him a moment, wondering what he was really thinking, if she would ever be able to figure it out. Wondering if he ever thought of her the way she was beginning to think of him. “How much danger would you have to believe I was in before you ignored your scruples and stayed beside me night and day?”

  He just looked at her a moment. “Your safety outweighs my scruples at all times,” he said. “I’d carry you naked from the building if I thought you were at risk. Is that what you want me to say?”

  She crossed her arms and tilted her head, her eyes never wavering from his face. “I want you to say—” She thought about it. “I want you to tell me why you took this job.”

  “Becoming a guard for the royal court of Welce?”

  “Accompanying me on this trip.”

  He was silent.

  “Did my father ask you to do it?”

  His surprise appeared to be genuine. “I thought your father didn’t know you were planning to leave with the empress.”

  Corene made a rude noise. “My father knows everything.”

  “I think he likes people to believe that.”

  “Did he ask you to come with me?”

  “You asked me to come with you. Don’t you remember?”

  “Of course I remember. But you didn’t need any convincing. Only later did I realize you said yes so quickly because you’d been thinking about it already. And that you’d probably been thinking about it because my father said something to you like, ‘Corene’s getting ready to bolt. Will you follow her?’”
r />   “That’s not the way it happened.”

  “Then how did it happen?”

  He clearly didn’t want to answer, but Corene waited in silence, still watching him closely. Finally he gave an infinitesimal shrug and said, “It was clear Josetta’s life was changing. With Rafe at her side, she would not need me to shadow her everywhere she went—in fact, I felt I was proving to be something of an encumbrance.”

  “Though you came in pretty handy every time Rafe was attacked,” she reminded him.

  His smile was brief. “Yes. But there were always other guards on hand to watch over him.”

  He fell silent again, as if this was a complete answer, and she finally had to prompt him. “So?”

  “So I went to your father and said he should consider giving me a new assignment.”

  “And he said, ‘Very well, how about my troublesome oldest daughter?’”

  Foley said nothing.

  “He didn’t say that?” Corene prodded.

  “No.”

  He obviously wasn’t going to volunteer a scrap of information, but it seemed he would answer direct questions. “What did he say?”

  “He asked if I had an assignment I would prefer.”

  “And you said?”

  “I said yes.”

  “And what was it?”

  He just looked at her.

  Corene felt her mouth fall open. “You asked to be assigned to me?”

  “It seemed like it would be an interesting job,” he said. “I’d been around often enough when trouble arrived and you were in the middle of it. More than once I’d thought you needed a bodyguard even more than Josetta did.”

  Corene found herself trembling a little. The reasonable answer hadn’t been the one she’d wanted. What answer did I want? “When exactly did this conversation with my father occur?”

  “A few days before Rafe’s cousin tried to kill him.”

  “I would have thought that event would have made you change your mind,” she pointed out.

  “Maybe it would have, if the day had gone differently. But the way it ended—” Foley shrugged again. “It seemed like Rafe was out of danger.”

  “So when I came to you—asking if you would accompany me—you’d already been assigned to me. You would have come along even if I hadn’t asked.”