Emissary

by Melissa McShane

  She felt the ache in her chest again. “Keep talking, then,” she said with an effort. Her eyes were dry, her voice steady.

  “Mind if I steal her away, sentare?” Dakariou asked. Zerafine turned, but Gerrard merely nodded and walked away. She felt deflated, though she couldn’t have said what she’d expected. Dakariou offered his arm and a dazzling smile, and Zerafine linked her arm with his. If her heart was heavy, she could at least pretend to enjoy herself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mingling with the crowd proved to be the right medicine. She had another glass of wine and felt her sorrow for Alestiou, and the ache in her heart over Gerrard, subside enough that she could laugh and converse and even flirt a little, mostly with Dakariou. He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever met, his close-cropped black curls framing that wonderful face, his eyes even bluer by lamplight than by day. And he kept smiling at her. Part of her mind worried that she was falling under his spell, but the part of her ruled by wine and excitement wanted to believe otherwise. Conspirator or not, this evening she was going to accept him at face value.

  Even so, she wasn’t so dazzled as to forget her true purpose. Gently steering Dakariou herself, she spoke first to Vidinou Akennos, then to councilor Vidannos—she couldn’t remember his first name, but it was the surnames, and the estates they represented, that mattered. It was a wild guess, but it paid off: both men told her that they’d called on Genedirou often, and both gave her counts of apparitions that were far higher than those reported to the Council. Their numbers, and Castinidou’s, were also far higher than any other single location she’d investigated. Three out of the five--let’s just call them “ruling houses” and forget about the democracy pretense--underreported? Something’s not right here.

  She needed to talk to Alita or Gordou, preferably not together. It took some doing to locate Alita on her own, but there she was, chatting with four other women. Gordou was nowhere in sight. Zerafine would have preferred to tackle him, since he seemed to be the weaker personality, but Alita it would have to be. Making her excuses to Dakariou, she maneuvered through the crowd until she was behind Alita. Then she backed into the woman with a solid bump.

  “Oh, excuse me—why, councilor Talarannos, I do beg your pardon!” Zerafine felt the wine bubble up inside her. She’d have to keep it from running this interrogation. “How lovely to see you again. Ladies, I’m Zerafine of Dardagne, it’s so good to meet you all.”

  The women exchanged glances, then politely made up reasons to be elsewhere. They definitely recognized her name. Zerafine kept her lazy, hopefully drunken smile on her face. “I was so pleased to be invited to this party,” she said. “I’ve been so busy with my investigations that I haven’t had time to simply relax, you know?”

  “It’s barely a party,” Alita drawled. “At best, a gathering with drinks. But I’m sure it must seem fabulous to you, what with traveling the dusty roads and all.” Her smirk showed clearly what she thought of people who didn’t have the decency to stay put in a gracious home the way the gods intended. Good, Zerafine thought. The more you look down on me, the less likely you’ll be to see through my ploy.

  “Oh, most definitely,” she said. “But small or not, it’s surely a relief to simply mingle and chat and not have to think about all the apparitions running all over the place. Madama, I’ve heard how beautiful your home is. I simply can’t bear thinking of Genedirou doing his little ritual all over your garden.” A calculated guess; Alita had to live in the nicest estate in the city.

  “Genedirou is an upstart,” Alita sneered. “He’s only been to my estate three times, but every time he comes, I die a little inside. Still, one can’t have these things on one’s property. The man is a necessary evil.”

  “I completely agree,” Zerafine said, finding, to her surprise, that she didn’t agree at all. “How many apparitions have been? Forty? Fifty?”

  “Only about fifteen. We’ve been lucky, I suppose.”

  “Sintha does seem to watch over some families more than others.” Only fifteen? That was exactly the number in her notes. What was Alita up to? “Was that what brought you and Gordou together? Luck? Your families must have been so happy to approve the match.”

  “Gordou and I have known each other since childhood. Falling in love was simply the next step. I don’t believe men and women can ever really be friends without physical attraction stepping in.” She flicked her eyes in Gerrard’s direction. And that was a deliberate insult. Zerafine decided she’d had enough of the woman.

  “I have to say that hasn’t been my experience, but I am so happy for both of you. Daring to fall in love like that, I mean, without considering how powerful your two families would become. It’s nice to meet someone for whom political considerations come second.” Zerafine fixed Alita with her eye and watched the woman’s face blanch. She’d meant only to needle her, but it seemed she’d struck a nerve. Too bad she didn’t know which one.

  Alita took a deep breath as if to speak, then turned and walked away without another word. Snobbish and rude. So, her number matched the one in the reports, did it? Something was wrong there, and Zerafine’s instincts told her that Alita, not the other three Councilors, was lying. But she had no way to prove it.

  Zerafine finished her glass of wine and realized she couldn’t remember how many she’d had. At least three. That was more than her limit. She looked around for Dakariou, intending to make her goodbyes, and instead found Genedirou holding court just inside the front door, wearing his ceremonial robe and a typically smug expression. She was going to have to walk past him to get out, and Atenas knew how he’d react to her presence.

  But—maybe she didn’t want to walk out unnoticed. If she dared risk making him angrier with her, he might have an answer for her. Alita claimed only three banishments; Genedirou knew whether or not that were true. The question was, would he even talk to her? Maybe he would, if she could arrange the right conditions. She could only hope that Gerrard was paying attention, because she would have to leave immediately, whether or not it worked.

  She moved through the crowd at an angle, judging that Genedirou’s audience was thinnest on the side near the front door. Perfect. She slid forward until she stood at the front of his ring of listeners, and waited for him to notice her. It didn’t take long. Genedirou had no trouble recognizing her without her robe. She held her breath, hoping she’d judged him properly and that he wouldn’t risk his dignity by starting a fight in public, and that his pride wouldn’t allow him to ignore her. She wasn’t disappointed.

  “Madama thelis,” he said, coldly, grandly.

  “Sirrah tokthelos,” she replied.

  “Still conducting your investigation? Why don’t you lay down your robes and rest? Oh, I see that you already have.” The audience tittered, but only here and there. They sensed that he’d tried to insult her, but couldn’t quite work out how. It was clear that most of them didn’t realize who she was.

  “No, I came to congratulate you, sirrah,” she said, a look of perfect sincerity on her face. She saw his certainty waver. He was probably wondering where the attack would come from.

  “I had no idea what a busy man you are, until tonight,” she continued. “Councilor Castinidou told me how often you’ve been at his estate, banishing apparitions.”

  “Very busy,” he replied, looking confused. “I have to force myself to enjoy gatherings such as this one, so I will not exhaust myself.”

  Zerafine wanted to roll her eyes, but she continued to smile as though she meant it. “Six banishments at the Rodennos estate, seven at Vidannos, what a busy man you are,” she cooed, trying to make the inoffensive numbers sound as insulting as possible. Genedirou bristled, but still couldn’t figure out where she was going with this.

  “And only three at the Talarannos estate—are they lucky, or are you slipping?” she said, and was rewarded by a slow, dismissive smile.

  “How uninformed you are. There have been no banishments at the Talarannos estate,” h
e said. “Perhaps you should spend less time at parties and more in your...investigations.”

  Zerafine stared at him in genuine astonishment. All around her, Genedirou’s listeners laughed, but she pushed through them and left the Rotunda. Letting Genedirou embarrass her in public might be a long-term blunder, but he’d given her what might be the key to the problem. She touched the spot where Alestiou had pressed his fingers against her forehead. Kalindi’s blessing? Or simply her expert manipulation of Genedirou’s pride? No banishments at Talarannos. Alita had lied, but not the way Zerafine had expected. The apparitions were linked to four of the five most powerful families in Portena. Zerafine just had to figure out how.

  “Please, please let me hit him,” Gerrard said. He took her arm and steered her toward the chair. “Why did you let him laugh at you? He’s going to make you a figure of ridicule all over the city. No one’s going to respect you after this.”

  “It will pass,” she said. “Let’s get home and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned.”

  It was almost impossible for her to keep her mouth shut on the journey home. Probably they could trust the bearers, hired from an independent transportation company, but the fewer ears heard this, the better.

  Rodennos, Akellos, Vidannos—all underreported. Talarannos—not only over reported, but completely without banishments. Would Gordou’s estate be over or under? She’d bet the former. But why? What possible benefit was there in misrepresenting the numbers?

  She dragged Gerrard into the house almost before he’d finished tipping the bearers. He said, “You’d better have learned something impressive, because you’re going to look like a fool once it gets around that Genedirou showed you for the arrogant upstart you are.”

  “I—that’s not what happened!” She dropped onto one of the couches and began to massage her feet. Walking all day was one thing; standing for hours was another.

  “That’s what’s going to be said. These stories grow in the telling. And I know Genedirou can’t make you look foolish, so you have to have done it to yourself.”

  “I had to get him to talk to me. After this afternoon there’s no chance we’ll get anything more out of him. Besides, half those people didn’t know who I am.”

  “What was so important that you had to ruin your reputation to get it?”

  “Don’t exaggerate. I have confidence in Dakariou’s ability to spin any story coming out of that party to our advantage. Just listen. Genedirou said there haven’t been any banishments at the Talarannos estate.”

  Gerrard sat across from her. “So?”

  “So Alita told me there had been three. That’s the number that was in the report. All five of the, so to speak, ruling houses had totals between two and five in the report and no more than twenty-five apparitions. But Castinidou and the heads of Vidannos and Akennos told me they’d each had something closer to forty-five or fifty apparitions and six or eight banishments.”

  Gerrard scratched his beard. “So three of them are underreporting and one is boosting her numbers. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know if they’re doing it or if some clerk employed by the Council is trying to make the numbers match. But it’s suspicious, don’t you think? You want to bet if we asked Gordou, we’d find the same pattern?”

  “Given how lock-stepped he and his wife are, I don’t see how it could be otherwise.”

  “Alita reacted oddly when I suggested her marriage might have been politically motivated. I thought it was strange, given that it’s no secret she and Gordou support one another’s political careers.”

  “I think there’s something odd about their relationship, period. Speaking of Gordou, I had an interesting conversation with him. Which is to say that it was a boring conversation that had interesting implications. He kept asking questions about the investigation, how it was going, that sort of thing. And he had all this “information” for me, most of it outdated, some of it improbable. I think he was trying to send us off on the wrong trail. I just played stupid and nodded and thanked him.”

  “I wonder if he could be behind Nacalia’s mystery man.”

  “It certainly suggests that he’s playing a deeper game.”

  Zerafine hesitated. “He might not be the only one. Castinidou told me that Dakariou became much more interested in the investigation after we arrived. And he’s been our link to the council. I think...maybe we should be careful what we tell him.”

  “That’s what I’ve said all along. The man is a weasel.”

  “He is not! But he might have a private agenda.”

  “I said that too.”

  “Fine, you’re so smart, thank you. We’re meeting with him tomorrow afternoon to pool information. I hope it’s not a mistake.”

  “If he’s our conspirator, it should be easy to tell. Give him what we know and then talk to Castinidou and see what got back to him.” Gerrard rolled onto his back and stretched out on the couch. “I think he’s a good man. Castinidou, I mean. How he came to have such a rotten nephew is beyond me.”

  “Akelliou? I meant to talk to him, but Dakariou forgot to introduce me.”

  “Oh, he didn’t forget. Dakariou’s a weasel, but he’s smart enough not to let you anywhere near that toad. I had a conversation with him I’d rather forget.”

  “You know I won’t let you get away with not telling me.”

  Gerrard sighed. “Akelliou has a reputation with the ladies that isn’t savory. Because I was pretending to be a dumb ox, I had to act like I didn’t understand his insinuations about every woman he cast his eyes on. Including you. Aside from that, he’s rude and arrogant and makes no secret that he has no respect for his uncle, whom he actually calls a castrate in public. Not to Castinidou’s face; he’s not stupid, and he’s his uncle’s heir. But he’s a foul excuse for a human being.”

  “Why would he say that about Castinidou?”

  “I gather it’s not a secret that Castinidou is sterile. He had the plague when he was five and it left him infertile. ‘Castrate’ is just Akelliou’s natural charm at work.”

  Zerafine grimaced. “It must be killing Castinidou to have an heir like him. Even if he doesn’t talk like that to his uncle’s face, Castinidou has to be aware of it.” She took off her other sandal. “I’m so tired I can’t think straight,” she said. “Did we come up with a plan?”

  “The clerk’s office,” Gerrard said. “Dakariou. The five families. Get an invitation to Alita Talarannos’s estate.”

  “Why the last?”

  “What place in all of Portena has been totally free of apparitions? There’s even been one in Berenica’s back garden. Darlen told me.”

  “I see. Yes, Alita’s estate.” She yawned.

  Gerrard knelt in front of her. “Are you ready,” he said gently, “to talk about what happened with Alestiou?”

  Zerafine thought of how frail his hands had felt. “Yes,” she said, and told Gerrard everything about her encounter with the Marathelos. By the end, she was sobbing. “I don’t know why,” she said through her tears, “it matters so much. He is in so much pain. But that such a life is coming to an end...”

  Gerrard wrapped her in an enormous hug. “I understand,” he said.

  She clung to him, comforted. When he falls in love, I’m going to lose this, she thought, and cursed herself for a fool. What were the odds Gerrard was going to find someone he could settle down with, given the life they led? Besides, maybe it would be she who found someone else to share her life with. Better not to worry about it, she told herself, but Dakariou’s handsome face filled her memory, and she wasn’t sure that worry was the right word for how she felt.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The news that Alestiou, Marathelos of Kalindi, had died in his sleep came early the next morning via a messenger from Dakariou. Zerafine took the news dry-eyed; she’d finished her crying for Alestiou and now felt a familiar sorrow mixed with joy at the thought of his passing into a realm where there was no more pain. Nacalia cried a lit
tle, but without much personal feeling; she’d lived her whole life with Alestiou a powerful presence far in the background, whose actions had no effect on her personally. Gerrard said nothing, but watched Zerafine closely until, irritated, she told him to stop hovering. Instead of taking her bad mood personally, he seemed pleased that she’d recovered her spirits enough to snap at him.

  At nine o’clock, they set out on their investigations. Nacalia led the way toward the Capitol, but after a few minutes, she stopped in the middle of an intersection and turned in a full circle. She headed off in a different direction, her back hunched, her attention firmly on the ground. At the next turn, she stopped again.

  “What is wrong, Nacalia?” Zerafine asked, more sharply than she’d intended. Perhaps her bad mood hadn’t worn off as much as she’d thought.

  “Can’t find the road,” Nacalia said, every bit as irritable as Zerafine.

  “The road’s right there,” Gerrard pointed out.

  “It a’nt the right road,” Nacalia said. “This is the road goes off to market way. See here? The stones? The way they poke up like eggs in a basket? Road to the Capitol is all smooth pavers.”

  “How did we get on the wrong road?” Zerafine asked.

  “I don’t know!” Nacalia shouted. “We was on the right road to the Capitol and then it wa’nt the same road!” She sat down in the middle of the street, oblivious to the traffic passing around her, without care for the dirt.

  “These people don’t seem to have any trouble,” Gerrard began, but Nacalia cut him off.

  “These are who lives here. They a’nt going farther than home or market. Bet they don’t even notice. Or they figure they just took a wrong turn.”

  Zerafine and Gerrard looked at each other over the girl’s head. “Could the roads really change, or...” Zerafine pointed down at Nacalia. She was only nine. Even she could make mistakes.

  “I a’nt crazy, so stop pointing at me,” Nacalia said, not looking up.

  “Portena’s legendary for its maze of streets,” Gerrard said. “Maybe this is why.”