by Glenda Larke
Saker looked away, unable to condemn or to approve. Who was he to tell Lowmians to take the risk of further outbreaks of the Horned Death? What if the next outbreak emulated the one in Ardrone and killed shrine-keepers, thus striking at the Lowmian heart of Va-Faith as well?
A dilemma like this was an abomination. No solution sat well with him, none. And always there was the idea that he was missing something, something important. A piece of the puzzle that wasn’t there yet.
“What are we going to do?” Shanny asked. Her hands had started shaking when she realised what Saker’s charts meant and the trembling had never gone away. “I mean, about – about…” But she couldn’t form the words.
Saker knew what she was trying to ask: what about the twins they had saved who were still living? He glanced at the Prelate, but Loach was silent, so he said slowly, “What happens here, in Lowmeer, it’s not my decision.”
“I fear it is mine,” Loach said. “Mine and Prime Mulhafen’s and the Pontifect’s.” When Saker glanced at him, the thought came that the man had aged twenty years.
Shanny finally found her tongue. “Are we to go out and kill those we saved because they might at some future date prove to be a devil-kin? In every single infected village Saker visited, the twin died. He died along with his family and neighbours. Why would he cause the Horned Death if it would kill him too?”
Loach turned his devastated gaze on her. “The only thing all outbreaks appear to have in common is a twin.”
“But not all villages that had a twin also had the Horned Death,” Saker pointed out, waving at the ledger.
“We have no proof of anything.” Shanny was sobbing as she spoke.
“We need to gather more information from each affected village,” the Prelate said, “but we have a problem right now that can’t wait. There are still pairs of twins out there, both still alive. There could well be more deaths in more places because of one of them. There is no way we can tell who is the devil-kin twin and who the innocent one! It is a terrible thing that I contemplate, and I will pray deeply about it before making a decision, but I suspect that all the surviving twins will have to die.”
Shanny shook her head violently. “No, you can’t do that. You can’t ask that of us!”
“I wouldn’t ask it of you,” Loach replied gently, “or any cleric. I would just tell the Regal’s men where to find them.”
I would have agreed with Shanny before I saw what the Horned Death can do. Now, I’m not so sure…
She was almost hysterical, so he intervened. “There is one thing I’ve noticed from the information we have. The twin involved in a Horned Death outbreak is always somewhere between ten and eighteen years old. Never younger, never older. I don’t think you have to act at all yet on younger sets of twins, or on any who are already men and women. You have time to investigate, time perhaps to find a solution.”
“And then we’ll be sure?” Shanny asked. For once her voice was unpleasantly high-pitched and squeaky. “How can we ever be sure just by looking at someone whether they are devil-kin or some innocent child?”
“And how can we be sure that one of those living pairs of twins are not about to kill their families and their neighbours?” Loach asked in turn, his voice harsh in his pain.
“And, it seems, themselves,” Saker added drily. There was something they were not understanding here. “Correlation of the kind we have is not proof that anyone is a devil-kin.”
“You’re right,” Loach conceded. “We don’t have to do anything about the very young or the older ones just yet.”
Shanny sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She straightened, transforming herself from a tearful, squat woman into someone of quiet dignity. “I keep remembering the baby girl I took from a mother here in Ustgrind. She was so pretty, and the mother was so grateful that I was saving the twins’ lives by taking one of her babies away. She told me to choose which one, because she couldn’t. She wept hard as I left, knowing she’d never see that twin again. She would never know who raised her little girl, or even her new name. But she’d always know what she looked like, because the twin left behind was identical.”
She paused a moment before continuing. “I took that child all the way to a family in Umdorp. I had to feed her goats’ milk to keep her alive, but she never complained. She had the loveliest hazel eyes, and curly brown hair. And that family in Umdorp? They were so grateful! They’d tried for years to have children of their own, but had never succeeded.” She sniffed again. “And I told a lie, a horrible, beastly lie, as we always did. I told them her parents had died and she had no family to take care of her, to love her.” She looked from one to the other. “Those people who took the babies in? They never knew they had a twin.”
Without another word, she turned and left the room.
Saker and Murram Loach exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. Sometimes grief was too encompassing for words. But deep inside, Saker thought, They shouldn’t have lied. That wasn’t right. And then he felt contrite. Who was he to be critical of others faced with impossible choices?
He knew it would be a long while before he had another good night’s sleep. Some things were just too hard to bear.
33
A Princess Awakening
Mathilda glared at Sorrel with an irritated frown. “What do you mean, they don’t like twins in Lowmeer? They don’t have any twins to dislike! That’s what I’ve heard. For some reason, Lowmian women never have more than one baby at a time.”
“I’m afraid they sometimes do,” Sorrel replied, distressed and aware that she was failing to hide it. “But they drown them, because they think one of them is a devil-kin.”
“Ridiculous,” Mathilda scoffed. “No mother would agree to that!” She stood up, hands on hips, abdomen thrust forward to relieve an aching back.
Va above, she is huge, Sorrel thought, eyeing her figure. “I’m not sure they have much say in the matter. Some of the lucky ones, folk with means, who realise in time that they are bearing more than one child – they flee to Ardrone in secret, and give birth to perfectly ordinary babies. Most women, though, when they find out they’re having twins, they’re terrified. You see, they believe they’ll give birth to a devil-kin. A servant of A’Va. A murderous, evil, vicious killer. So they surrender their babies.”
“Surrender? To whom?”
“To a special cohort of the Regal’s guardsmen. The Dire Sweepers, they’re called.”
Mathilda stared at her, silent, one eyebrow raised sceptically.
“If they try to hide such a birth,” Sorrel continued, “their neighbours or the midwife might inform the Sweepers. That’s what Aureen has heard, although others say the Sweepers have something to do with halting the spread of the Horned Death.”
“In other words, all rumours.” Mathilda turned on her in a fury. “You’re frightening me! This can’t be true. It’s just superstition and gossip.” She was pale, but a bright red spot in each cheek spoke of her rage.
“Milady, I questioned Aureen closely on this.”
“She’s my maid, by all that’s holy! Why ever should I believe anything she says? And how do they account for the fact that Ardronese twins are perfectly normal people? My cousin had twin girls! They are in their thirties now, and they’re just like anyone else.”
“I don’t know.”
“Has anyone ever told you this, other than Aureen?”
“No, but—”
“I refuse to give credence to such talk. Shame on you both for maligning the Regal in such a way. You are talking treason and he’d see you both dead if he heard your words.”
Beggar me speechless! How was she ever going to persuade Mathilda that Aureen would never lie – or exaggerate – about a subject like this? She took a deep breath. “What if I go into the city and visit a midwife? Someone with no connection to royalty. I’ll tell her I’m worried about my sister’s pregnancy and the size of her stomach girth. I’ll say I’m anxious it may be t
wins and is it true what people say about them?”
Mathilda chewed at her lip. “Very well,” she said after some thought. “Go tomorrow. Now leave me,” she added, tone frosty. “I am out of patience with you. Go tell my ladies-in-waiting I require their presence – Lady Vonda and Lady Lotte, I think.”
She bobbed and left the room with a sigh of relief. When Mathilda decided to be imperious, she would much rather be elsewhere.
Sorrel often left the castle on small errands for Mathilda, buying ribbons at the market, perhaps, or wandering down to the port to listen to gossiping sailors from Ardrone. The castle guards recognised her and she had no trouble coming and going, as long as she was back before the main gates closed at dusk. She tried to use her glamour skill as little as possible.
This time she risked it. She did not want it known that the Regal’s handmaiden was asking midwives about twin births. Once she’d left the castle, she changed her appearance to that of a burgher’s plump wife, a woman with a harelip to account for any oddity in her accent. In that guise, she asked the hawkers in the nearest itinerant street market where she could find a midwife.
It was an easy task, and she came away with three separate recommendations. The first, after hearing about her fictitious sister, paled. “Twins are devil-kin,” she said. “The work of A’Va. I’ll have naught to do with such.” She had invited Sorrel in; now she opened the house door indicating that the conversation was over.
“But what should I do?” Sorrel asked as she stood in the doorway.
The woman shrugged. “I can examine her. If she really is going to bear twins, then I must inform the Regal’s Watch.”
“And what happens then?”
“Naught to do with me. I know if I don’t report it, I could end up in the Regal’s dungeons.”
“Are twins killed?”
“Lass, I don’t ask.”
“Have you ever seen twins again after they were birthed?”
She snorted. “What do you think? Now leave me be.”
Sorrel headed for the second address she had. The woman there was even less welcoming. “I don’t deliver twins,” she said bluntly, and shut the door in Sorrel’s face.
The third address belonged to a younger midwife with small children of her own. Her reaction was more guarded. “I’m not skilled with difficult cases,” she said. “Your sister could just be having a large baby. I think you ought to go and see the shrine-keeper at Volfgard Shrine. I hear she’s skilled in such birthings.”
“Is it true that twins are drowned at birth because they are devil-kin?”
“Twins … never survive. But I really think you should go see the shrine-keeper. After all, you don’t even know if your sister is going to have twins yet!”
She would say no more, so Sorrel left and returned to the castle, more convinced than ever that Aureen was right. Twins were not welcome in Lowmeer. Entering Mathilda’s solar, she found the Regala lying down on a day bed in her morning room, complaining querulously about her fatigue while Lady Lotte and Lady Vonda, her youngest ladies-in-waiting, listened without comment.
On seeing Sorrel, the Regala dismissed the two women and demanded Sorrel tell her all she had discovered. Once she had the information, she began to pace the room, her chest heaving, her fingers clawed as if she wanted to scratch someone’s eyes out. “You’re telling me,” she said, “that when these babies are born, they will be taken from me and drowned? As if they were unwanted mongrel puppies?” Her chin wobbled, as she struggled not to cry.
“I suspect everything Aureen told us – as unbelievable as it is – is true. Mind you, you may be the exception. After all, your twins are also the Regal’s.”
“It’s outrageous! If anyone thinks they are going to murder my children, slaughter the grandchildren of the King of Ardrone, then they’d better think again.”
Sorrel blinked, torn between admiring Mathilda and worrying herself sick at her apparent inability to recognise this as a situation where being royal might not help.
“I shall return to Ardrone,” Mathilda continued. “That’s all there is to it.”
Oh, pox. “Er, I’m not sure that would be so easy. Regal Vilmar would consider your departure a – a mortifying insult. I don’t think he’s the sort of man who takes kindly to public humiliation. He’ll not let you go home. I’d be very cautious about telling him why you were asking to leave.”
“I can hardly keep it a secret,” she snapped. “This is a question of giving birth to an heir, and even in Ardrone that means there’ll be several court physicians and probably the Lord Chamberlain as well, all ogling me to witness the birth. I have to endure the humiliation of that lack of privacy when I am at my most vulnerable. There is no way we can conceal a second baby!” She whirled to stand in front of Sorrel, shaking with rage. “We have to run away, back to Ardrone.”
“How? Walk out of the castle one day, amble down to the port and ask a ship’s captain to take us to Throssel?” She swallowed back her sarcasm and added more gently, “Milady, it wouldn’t work. I’m sorry. The only thing I can suggest is that you ask the Ardronese Ambassador to call on you. Ask him to convey a letter to King Edwayn, telling him what you know. Maybe if your father puts pressure on the Regal…”
Mathilda stood still and silent for a long while, considering. When she lowered herself to sit on the window seat, Sorrel brought her a cup of water. She took it, but didn’t drink. After a long silence, she said with quiet bitterness, “The King would not assist me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh yes, I do. He’d have to return my bride price, or risk outright war. And why should he? He sent me here with no expectation of ever seeing me again. He doesn’t care much if his grandchild sits on this throne or not. Oh, he might take a little pride in his blood feeding the line of future monarchs in two countries, but any child of mine will be no one he ever knows, or loves. So what would he care if such a grandson died before ever being crowned?” A single tear rolled down each cheek. “No, he’d ignore any plea from me. He’d excuse his action by saying that the story of twin murder is a rumour. That no king would murder his own children. He’d say I was a woman made hysterical by her pregnancy. And he’d say it even if he knew they did kill twins here.”
She looked up at Sorrel with surprising calm. “You are sure it is true?”
“I can’t be sure, but something happens to twins. Something awful.” Just thinking about it brought a feeling of sick nausea to the pit of her stomach.
“So what do you suggest I do?”
“I think we have to find out more before we make any decisions. It may well be that this law won’t apply to you. The Regal is desperate for an heir! Royalty is usually exempt from the laws other people have to obey.”
“I’ll find out. I’ll ask the Regal.”
Pickle it. “Do – do you think you could question him about it without him knowing that you fear you’re going to have twins?”
“Of course I can. I can do anything I put my mind to. And I will not allow any child of mine to be murdered.”
“You must be careful. He’s no fool.” She picked up the water ewer to pour herself a drink.
“Isn’t he?” Mathilda asked, the words laden with scorn. “Look at the way he behaves with that awful merchant Kesleer. Why, he’s talking about giving him a title! A common tradesman! And as for giving his trading company a monopoly of the spice trade – there is not a person at court who thinks that was a good idea. Not for the country, and not for the Basalt Throne. And he did it because Kesleer gave him some feathers?”
“Tread carefully, milady.”
“If need be, we’ll kill Regal Vilmar, you and I.”
Sorrel dropped the ewer. It smashed on to the floor and the water ran across the wooden boards. “You can’t be serious!”
“It would be a better result than the murder of two innocent royal children.” Mathilda’s eyes glittered with angry determination. “And don’t tell me you’re squeam
ish. You killed your husband.”
She was silenced, appalled. Regicide?
“First thing, I shall talk to Regal Vilmar,” the Princess continued. “Then we’ll decide what to do.”
Sorrel nodded, torn between admiring this new Mathilda who was prepared to do anything to save her unborn children, and being scared senseless she’d do something impetuous and ill-considered. “Your ladies will be here shortly to escort you to the Great Hall for dinner,” she said. “Shall – shall I call Aureen to help you dress?”
34
The Way of the Dagger
There are times, Saker thought, when I prefer Lowmeer to Ardrone, in spite of its dismal weather. He looked around at the bustle of the Ustgrind docks, comparing it to his memory of the undisciplined chaos of Throssel’s unruly waterfront.
Lowmeer was such an orderly place. He laughed at himself then, acknowledging that he did not often appreciate orderliness. It was boring. Lately, though? Confronted with the horror of the Lowmian twins dilemma, he could have done with more boredom and fewer challenges. There was one thing he’d kept to himself, too, and it gnawed away at him like toothache.
There had been a page in one of Fox’s ledgers that had included a list of Lowmian place names, followed by people’s names … in pairs. Two people who shared the same surname, as twins would. Sometimes two women, sometimes two men, sometimes a man and a woman. Or maybe all children…
Fox. He seemed to have his finger in every pie.
Va-damn, Fritillary, I’m glad it’s you and not me who has to make the hard decisions about Va-Faith and twin murder.
That morning, he’d told Prelate Loach he was returning to Vavala to report to the Pontifect, said his goodbyes to Witan Shanny Ide and proceeded to the port to make arrangements to catch a flat-boat up the Ardmeer estuary. Yet once he was dockside, he hesitated. For reasons he couldn’t define, he didn’t want to leave. Hints of unfinished business lingered at the edges of his mind, skittering away from definition when he tried to focus on them. All he knew for certain was that he wanted to remain in Ustgrind.