Delivegu knew women, nobles just as readily as tavern girls. He could tell that the queen had been quite taken with the Aushenian. He knew when indifference was feigned, how to read body gestures for the meanings they highlighted or attempted to hide. He did not even need to hear their conversation to know that the queen had toyed with Grae, coy and coquettish. And the lout sat there, tall and self-satisfied, showing his sparkling teeth in a smile and pointing about the room with his square-jawed chin, tossing his auburn hair while the queen ate it all up. Delivegu had wanted to throttle him. It only got worse from there.
The queen continued to entertain the monarch throughout the week that followed, but Delivegu could gain no access to her. Corinn did not call for him. She sent him only one letter stating simply: Do nothing in regard to the woman and child. She is not your concern anymore. Not so much as a thank-you, for bringing her the news of Wren's pregnancy in the first place! Nor had his letters-meant to entice her with the suggestion of new intelligence-merited any answer whatsoever. He could not even get a response from Rhrenna. He tried to call on her directly but got no farther than the surly Numrek guards who protected the queen's offices. What strange protectors they made: brutes who looked as if they would just as soon kill a friend as a foe.
Even worse, all the information he could gather from his sources made the palace sound like a marvel of joy and optimism. Princess Mena's spectacular arrival on that creature had set everyone's spirits on high, it seemed. The island flooded with curious nobles wishing to see the beast. Which meant more entertainments, more dances, more banquets: none of which Delivegu was invited to. A barge of entertainers broke off from the floating merchants and docked in Acacia's harbor. They swarmed through the streets, taking impromptu advantage of the festive atmosphere, making it more so. Under normal circumstances, Delivegu would have had a time of it himself, but instead he found himself grinding his teeth in worry that Grae had used all of this cheer to bed the queen. His queen. Maddening.
He knew instinctively that the Aushenian would not like him. Of course he wouldn't. Though the queen probably could not see it beneath his surface charms, Grae was just as much a cock as Delivegu. If the Aushenian strutted his way into Corinn's bed and onto the throne, Delivegu's aspirations-for the chancellorship and more-would be thwarted. That decided things for him.
With nobody else to focus on, he aimed his sights-and a good deal of jealous animus-at King Grae. That was what he had been doing for several days now. He whispered into a few ears, posed questions, offered silver. He spread word among those who had connections with the servants and other staff in the palace or in the foreign district. He was looking for intelligence about the Aushenian king. Anything; romantic liaisons in his past; proclivities that might upset the queen; evidence of cowardice on the battlefield, perhaps. Delivegu had even bribed a clerk with access to the historical library to search the speeches and proclamations issued in the king's name. There had to be something. Grae could not be the faithful admirer that he wanted Corinn to think him.
What did he discover for all his searching? Not much. The king had bedded his share of noblewomen, but that was hardly a secret. Such wasn't even out of keeping with his nation's traditions. He had been known to bathe nude with male companions in the hot springs of the Gradthic mountains, but that wasn't anything he'd be ashamed of either. Northerners did that sort of thing.
His military record was unblemished. Indeed, if his valor in securing his national borders after Hanish's downfall was to be believed, it was amazing he had lived through it. His official proclamations were often critical of the Acacian Empire, of Akaran leaders of the past, and even of the reigning queen, certainly of the quota trade and the League of Vessels' grip on commerce.
But so what? None of these things was enough. Delivegu wrote them out in several draft letters, but in reading each through he saw how petty it all sounded, how insubstantial. Aliver Akaran himself had sought to abolish the quota trade. Dariel Akaran had blown the league platforms to smithereens. Corinn, he feared, would see it for what it was and adjust her opinion of him downward. He needed something more.
This search was what had brought him to the district below the palace, the area reserved for foreign dignitaries. He had been standing in the shadows near King Grae's accommodations long enough that his legs were numb and his head aching from the repetitive tedium of his thoughts. He was so near to slumber that he started when a figure opened the door and slipped into the street. The light was faint, but Delivegu's eyes were accustomed enough to the starlight to make out the young man. He wore a hooded cloak of Aushenian cut. Delivegu had seen such garments before and found them lacking in terms of fashion. Aushenians still fancied themselves hunters of the woods and marshes. Why did cultures always mythologize the past? Silly, really, when what was of more import to them was the ever-oncoming future.
But he shouldn't be distracted. The thing to notice here was that the man wore a cloak when the night was warm. He walked with a nervous gait, looking around as if he feared being discovered. Something clandestine was at hand. Delivegu, quiet as a cat in his fur-soled leather boots, followed the man through the foreign district, out the open gate and down toward the terraces, through the markets, and around the square in which a few early laborers were gathering in the hope of securing work with the dawn. The journey took little more than twenty minutes, but by the time it ended Delivegu scented that his fortunes had shifted.
The hooded man paid an early call on a commoner's messenger service, early enough that he had to pound on the door for some time. He was eventually admitted. Delivegu took up his vantage point a little way down the street. There he waited until the hooded man reappeared, looking just as nervous, and headed back the way he had come. Weighing his options, Delivegu decided to pay his own call instead of following the man farther.
He entered with a casual air, letting the doorbell tinkle his entry merrily. It was a dingy place, crowded with crates and rank with the smell of bird droppings. There were a few cages around the room, large enough to hold messenger birds. Most of them were empty; and the few that were not housed sickly-looking creatures, feather plucked and mangy. Not the type of service a king-or a king's servant, even-would have need to employ.
The proprietor came from the back, looking sleepy and cranky. "I'm not open yet," he said, taking Delivegu in with suspicious eyes. "Door should've been locked. Back yourself out and return in a bit."
"Ah, but you must be open. I saw a customer leave just a moment ago."
"That bastard? He woke me from a pleasant sleep. Nearly bashed his head for it. You move on before I treat you to what I should've given him." The man was shorter than Delivegu, a bit heavy around the middle, and had a limp; but he moved with gruff confidence, coming forward and reaching out to turn the unwelcome arrival around.
"Hold a minute!" Delivegu said, his voice sharp and dripping with threat. "Be careful whom you touch, friend. This could be a good morning for you, or it could be a very unpleasant one."
The man froze. He stood uncomfortably close to Delivegu, as his momentum had taken him a step too far, even as his grasping arm drew back. Craning his eyes upward, he said, "I don't care for threats."
Delivegu smiled and eased back a half step. "Well, then don't hear one in what I said. You need not, if you're reasonable."
"All right, what do you want? Message sent, eh? Can't go out just now. Don't have the bird for it."
Delivegu put on a frown. "Men like you confound me. You're a businessman, but you offer such gruffness to one who, for all you know, has arrived to offer you a fortune in commerce."
"Hah!" the man said. "Been in it awhile and that's never happened. Not waiting for it, either. What's your business?"
"My business, friend, regards the man who was here before me."
The proprietor kept his eyes on Delivegu. He moved backward warily. "That one? What's it to you?" And then, as if he regretted asking the question, he added, "My customer's business i
s private." He had reached the counter that ran along the back wall. He edged behind it, his fingertips touching the countertop, twitching slightly, betraying more nervousness than his face did.
"You have some weapon back there, don't you?" Delivegu asked. He had come forward as the man backed and stood now with his legs planted firmly, both his arms loose beside his body. "It would be a mistake to reach for it. Don't. Listen to me before you do anything foolish. I need to know what is in that note. You haven't sent it yet, surely." He paused just long enough for the man to protest that there was no note. No protest came. "I won't tell a soul about this. You'll live on just as before. You'll send the note. I'll just know what's in it, and because I know, treachery may well be thwarted. This situation provides you with many opportunities to lose. What I offer is a simple win: two options."
So saying, Delivegu held his arms out. In his left was a small canvas bag, heavy with something. In his right was a delicate dagger. "A sack of coins or a blade. Which do you prefer? And, I assure you, I'm quite skilled with the blade. I was raised badly, you see. Don't look at the blade too closely," he added. "It's sharp enough to cut your eyeball."
"You're mad," the man said, though he did pull his gaze away from the knife. "The note is to his mother. A letter announcing his engagement, that's all. That's what he said."
"If that's true, there's no reason not to show it to me. I'll laugh and you'll laugh, and the note will fly to Mother. No harm done." Nodding at the dagger, he said, "I've nothing against you, but I will gut you like a hog and leave you wrapped in your entrails. Or I'll leave you doubly enriched, and all before normal business hours. Think quickly."
The man did. He valued his life more than his honor. A reasonable way of perceiving the world, Delivegu thought as he took the parchment from the man's fingers, unrolled it, and read.
The note was not an announcement of an engagement, but by this point Delivegu knew it wouldn't be. It was, at first reading, so deceptively simple that one might have wondered why it even needed to be sent. It stated: B. All is progressing. Will have her confidence soon. G.
Delivegu felt the blood rush through his body, tingling in his fingers and throbbing in his temples and even stirring in his groin. G. He was certain that stood for Grae, and just as certain that she was Queen Corinn. Who was the B? This was just the sort of evidence he had been looking for, though it meant little by itself. If it could lead to greater evidence…
"To whom is this to be sent?" he asked.
The proprietor had no idea. The bird's destination was to be a similar messenger service in Aos, to be picked up by whoever knew to ask for it. Questioned as to whether that arrangement was strange, the man agreed it was but also admitted that he had sent several such notes in the past few weeks. "I don't ask questions, just provide a service, you know." He motioned vaguely with his hand.
Conveniently, the proprietor did not have a bird ready to send the message. It would not leave his shop until the next evening, at the earliest, and this only if his returning bird came back in good health later that day. The ones in the shop were convalescing. This fact had troubled the man who had left the note. The message would be delayed, possibly long enough for an earthbound traveler to beat it to its destination-if the traveler left immediately.
It took Delivegu only a few minutes to draw up his course of action. He returned the missive to the proprietor's hand, weighted it with the sack of coins, and bade him a good day. He did not tell anyone that he was going. He sent no message to the queen, assuming that it was unlikely she would notice his absence anyway.
Late morning he took passage to Alecia, easily enough done, for many boats cut the waters between Acacia and the great city. He sailed through the day, overnight, and disembarked late the next morning. He haunted Alecia's harbor most of the day before jumping aboard a merchant's skiff heading north along the coast. He spent the night aboard that vessel, uncomfortably wet but determined, and the next morning found him leaping the gap onto the stone pier of the harbor in Aos. He had slept little, but he had made good time. He walked along the pier in something of a trance, confident now that he had arrived before the messenger bird could have.
For a time he watched the old men who were using long-necked birds to catch small fish. They sat talking among themselves as their black birds, sleek and dangerous looking, winged their way into the clear water, cutting through the schools of silver fish. Every so often, the men pulled the birds in by strings attached to harnesses on their bodies. The birds protested every time, coming up angry, their throats bulging with living fish, unable to swallow them because of the metal rings around the base of their necks. The old men talked on as they massaged the fish back up and out of the bird's squawking mouths, plopping them into buckets.
Strange the way some people spend their time, Delivegu thought, and finally walked on.
He found the messenger bird shop with surprising ease. He was seated on a beach a little way down from it when it opened its doors. The street was much the same as its counterpart on Acacia. His stomach was set grumbling by the scent of onions boiling in seasoned oil and water, a soup for the common folk. He clamped a hand over his abdomen and breathed through his mouth. He had not eaten commoners' food in years and did not plan to start again, no matter the lure.
He saw several birds descend toward the coops around the back of the building. One of them, he was certain, carried his message. He watched a few people enter the shop, but none drew his attention until a blond-haired boy strolled on to the scene. He would have ignored him, for he seemed as aimless as any street urchin. Up until the moment he bolted inside the shop. That he did with sudden purpose. When he left a few moments later, he feigned a casual air. Delivegu didn't buy it, and he blended into the crowd in pursuit of the boy. He followed him toward the outskirts of the town, near enough to the farmlands that he could smell the cow and hog dung. He nearly turned back in disgust, fearing he had gotten something terribly wrong even as he continued forward. He was rewarded for staying with his hunch.
The boy met a man who appeared to be nothing but a farmer. The boy handed him something and stood a moment, conversing with him. And then Delivegu understood. B! There he was. There he really was! The infamous Barad the Lesser, the old rabble-rouser of the Kidnaban mines. The sight of him and the recognition of each detail-his bulky, stooped frame; the boulderlike head atop his thick neck; the low grumble of his voice, audible even from this distance-almost caused Delivegu to stumble over his own feet. The good fortune of it was too much to be believed. The man had been wanted for years. There had once been a bounty on his head. That was years ago, but he was still an enemy of the empire, Grae and Barad in secret conspiracy against the queen. Here was the key to all his desires, found walking down a street in a nothing crap hole of a village outside Aos, conversing with a shoeless peasant boy, leading a goat behind him.
With a few deft moves, he could capture the empire's most elusive agitator and bring shame on Grae at the same time. These two strokes, he was sure, would strip away the queen's haughty facade, and then there would be nothing between him and the rest of her. Delivegu walked on, his mouth flooded with saliva, a carnivore seeing a kill in reach.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It was always small things about his earlier life that Dariel thought of, moments that had otherwise been forgotten. Perhaps it was because they had been forgotten that they had the stealth to slip into his mind unbidden. He thought of the first time he had seen Aaden laugh. His nephew had been but a baby, propped upon a maid's lap one afternoon. As he had done so many times before, Dariel danced about in an attempt to entertain the boy. But this time Aaden did not simply watch him. This time the boy's mouth tilted with mirth, and the strangest barrage of sound escaped him. At first Dariel thought he was coughing, but then Aaden tilted his head back and waved one arm in the air in an unmistakable gesture. He was laughing! Never had that simple act seemed such a revelation of humanity.
Or he remembered a p
air of felt slippers he had once bought as a gift for Val and then lost before actually giving them to him. How frustrating! Or he thought of how, as a boy, he had always stared at Aliver when he was not looking. More so than full-grown men, the shape of his brother's arms and shoulders and ease with which he handled his training sword had shot Dariel through with admiration.
And instead of remembering Wren in battle aboard the Ballan, entwined with him in lovemaking, climbing over the railing of the league warship she helped destroy, or standing beside him during the wind-whipped funeral ceremony for his father and brother, he recalled swimming in the upper garden pools with her one blazingly hot afternoon. Saying she had had enough, she kissed him and rose out of the water and walked away. He watched her body, displayed as it was beneath a thin swimming shift that was somehow more erotic than actual nudity. But once she was out of sight his eyes fell on the line of dark footprints on the pale gray stone. Such perfectly curved imitations of her feet. The footprints had faded so quickly in the sun that he breathlessly watched them disappear.
Such were the things that crept into his mind now during the long hours of caged solitude. Each time he realized that he was daydreaming-and further realized where he was-it was like suddenly remembering something so bad that he could not believe he had forgotten it even for a moment. There really had been an entire sea full of corpses! He could have dived in among them and swum from one to the next to the next and never reached them all, not even if he came up for breath a hundred times. Long had he feared the Lothan Aklun; now he wished desperately that he had gotten the chance to speak with even one of them. Perhaps it was silly, but he could not help feeling they might have had important things to tell him about the world he was now trapped in.
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