“My original thoughts as well,” Arthan said. “But then we found this in Garion’s pocket.”
Serdot placed the key on the table. Reimvick glanced at it and shrugged. “A key to what?”
“You tell me.”
“A key…Is it marked with an ‘E’ as well, perhaps in the blood of my fictitious victims?”
“It opens the door to your quarters,” Tronchet said.
Reimvick snorted. “Nonsense. I have my key right here.” Reimvick pulled the key from his pocket, and Serdot took it from him to compare.
“A perfect match,” Serdot said.
“So Garion made a copy of my key,” Reimvick said. “I cannot say why he would do that, except to deflect attention from—”
Arthan turned to the magistrate. “Are spare keys to the dignitaries’ apartments regularly made available to the Crownblades or anyone else?”
“No. I’m always informed of the smithy’s key making, for the protection of the highborn and the ambassadors.”
Arthan returned to Reimvick. “How did you manage a separate key for Garion?”
“Wait a moment,” Reimvick said. “You can’t believe I let that filth into my chambers. Why would any of us do such a thing?”
“Perhaps for the use of your alchemical laboratory,” Arthan said. For the first time he noticed genuine discomfort in Reimvick’s blanched face.
“This is ridiculous!”
“Serdot has already seen it, my lord, so it will do you no good to deny it,” Arthan said, glancing at the widsemer.
“Twice,” Serdot said. “I saw the remnants of the one you destroyed after Garion’s capture and suicide. And also the one you’ve set up since then. A brandy keg, I believe?”
“Ridiculous! I can’t—”
“I saw the keg as you wheelbarrowed it to your chambers,” Tronchet said. “The little barrel stuffed with vials, flasks, and pouches for your privy laboratory!”
Reimvick shifted uneasily in his chair.
“Not to mention the alchemical candles you’ve been burning,” Serdot said. “Presence candles. Have you suspected you were being watched?”
“Confess,” Arthan said, leaning forward on the table. “The letter, the key, the laboratory. The timing of it all.”
“Circumstantial nonsense,” Reimvick said, his voice hardening. “I see you all enjoy prying into the lives of lords behind closed doors. I’m especially disappointed in you, Lord Valient. The reputation your father built, the legacy he left for you. Look at you, reduced to questioning like a petty jailor while the kingdom struggles on every front. Very well, hear what you’ve won.
“I confess to my laboratory. Alchemy being shunned as it is, I naturally kept it a secret. But the medications I prepare help ease my gout and bladder stones. I’ll not apologize for it, even if you were to expose my alchemy to the court as part of this absurd investigation.”
“Medicine?” Arthan asked as doubt trickled into his mind. Had he made a mistake? “Then why did you destroy the laboratory?”
“Like everyone else, I saw the alchemy Garion used. His cloaking cloud and all. I feared my medicinal alchemy would be found out and blamed for what you’re accusing me of now. I panicked. But I succumbed to the need for more medication, hence the new laboratory.”
“In the middle of the night?” Tronchet asked.
Reimvick scowled at him. “Stop your chittering, you keyhole-peeper. Alchemy would bring great disrespect to my house. Of course I wheeled it in under darkness.”
Arthan leaned back in his chair, the doubt growing in his mind. He looked at Serdot, who slowly shook his head. Serdot’s eyes seemed to say don’t believe him, but Arthan couldn’t shake the doubt.
“And the presence candles?” Serdot asked.
Reimvick shrugged. “An assassin makes it into court and nearly kills the king’s brother. Forgive me for using my alchemical knowledge for my own protection.”
“You haven’t explained why Garion had a key to your chambers,” Serdot said.
“Because I can offer no explanation,” Reimvick said. “If Tronchet says he knows of every key to highborn chambers then he’s either lying or fooling himself. You want an explanation? Maybe, as skilled as Garion appears to have been, maybe he sniffed out my laboratory and acquired a key to access it. If one of these assassins can infiltrate the Crownblades, it’s not a stretch to say he found a way into my privy. Maybe he bribed a blacksmith.” Reimvick turned to glance at Tronchet. “Or the chief magistrate.”
Arthan stared at Reimvick, trying to read the stare that reflected back at him. He now feared he had made a terrible mistake. He glanced at Serdot again, and Serdot again shook his head. Tronchet was equally disarmed. Reimvick filled the silence.
“You know it, don’t you?” he asked calmly. “You arrested the wrong man. As your fellow lord minister and the longtime friend of your father, I am compelled to forgive all. I’m only glad Maillard is not here to witness this. And Raymond as well. My older brother would have been appalled that the king’s officer in charge of rooting out his murderers wasted so much time on the wrong man.”
A light gleamed in Arthan’s mind. “Raymond…” he said. Arthan cleared his throat and leaned forward again. “Raymond was the first victim.”
“He had that distinction, yes.”
“How hard did you look for his killers?”
Reimvick fumbled his words for a moment. “Well, isn’t that your sworn duty?”
“I was only appointed marshal after Garion’s discovery. Well after the deaths of Raymond, my father, and Gottfried.”
“The conspiracy began in Wallevet,” Serdot said. “And you replaced Raymond as lord minister.”
“You can’t suggest I had Raymond killed to take his seat.” Reimvick looked at Arthan. “If you’d been killed, Rowan would have replaced you as lord minister. It’s tradition, subject to confirmation by the king.”
“Garion was also from Wallevet, wasn’t he?” Arthan asked.
“Bredahade Academy,” Serdot said. “Went missing for a year before joining the Crownblades. Doesn’t that sound peculiar?”
“I suppose…” Reimvick said. Arthan noticed sweat break on his brow. “But many people are from—”
“Arasemis is on his way, did you know?” Arthan asked.
“Arasemis…?”
“Your brother.”
“His name is Osmond. He calls himself Arasemis because it’s a nickname our grandfather gave him.”
“I spoke with him on the road. He was going to bring you a gift of wine, he said, then sell the rest.”
“I thought he was a hermit,” Serdot said. “Has wine truly brought him out of Thorendor to make the journey to the capital?”
“Why are you still in Eglamour?” Arthan asked.
“I—now just a moment. I came to pay tribute to the king, same as you, and attend the Lord Ministers Council.”
“Most of the ministers departed long ago,” Tronchet said.
“You, me, Henrey, and Voufon remain,” Reimvick said. “Well, Henrey no longer…”
“Voufon is helping to look after her sister, the queen,” Serdot said.
“And Henrey was staying in hopes of seeing the king before he was killed,” Arthan said. “My reason for being in the capital is clear. So I’ll ask again, why are you still in Eglamour? What are you waiting for?”
“I have able aldermen and generals to look after Wallevet, same as you.”
“I didn’t ask about them. I asked about you.”
“I, well…I want to know what is happening at court. And now we have the war and—”
“All the lord ministers have their representatives at court,” Arthan said. “You’re able to explain everything away except for your presence in the capital—and your brother’s.”
“I am a lord minister, free to travel and stay in the palace for as long as the king will have me in his service.” Reimvick stood abruptly.
“I expect to be left in peace for the remainder of my stay, and I expect to—”
“Sit down,” Arthan said, standing up. “Who will be targeted next, Edmond? Will Arasemis draw the knife?”
Reimvick ignored him and stepped toward the door. Tronchet reached out, but Reimvick slapped the magistrate’s hands away. “Ridiculous!” Reimvick shouted, again lunging for the door.
Serdot called the guards, and together they restrained the shouting, cursing lord minister.
Reimvick struggled. “Release me! I’ve had enough of this foolishness…I will take my case to the king, or Brugarn if necessary!”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Arthan said. “Tronchet, have the guards take him to the cells downstairs.”
“Pompous prick!” Reimvick shouted. “I never forgive—you’ll be done in Eglamour, done, I say! You cannot accuse me of anything!”
Arthan turned away and returned to his seat. Serdot sat down in Reimvick’s chair when everyone had left. “I almost let him go,” Arthan said.
“These things are rarely clear,” Serdot said. “But his reaction says enough. He had prepared for this, with the exception of the question of why he is still here in Eglamour. And he probably didn’t count on you seeing Arasemis on the road.”
“Reimvick is somehow orchestrating all of this, isn’t he?”
“Appears so,” Serdot said. “But in the Garion letter, ‘E’ seemed to have a master.”
“His younger brother? Arasemis, or Osmond—whatever his name is.”
“Possibly. Suspicious, but we don’t know enough about the brother.”
“Find Arasemis,” Arthan said. “As for Reimvick, you searched his chambers when you arrested him?”
Serdot nodded. “The laboratory was still there. But nothing else of note.”
“Go back and search it again. Every cupboard, nook, and crevice. Cut every pillow and curtain, and search the privy. Unless he decides to confess, we’ll need more than an assassin’s key and a tantrum.”
95. MILISEND
Clonmel Estate in Eglamour, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
“Take your hands off me at once!”
Livonier released her arm. “Princess, I’m very sorry. Lord Valient is too busy with—”
“I don’t care what he’s doing. You will take me to him.”
“But I—”
“I’ve had enough of trying to corner Serdot,” Milisend continued. “I will speak to Lord Valient directly, with or without your help.”
“You’ll listen to her if you know what’s good for you,” Rosellen said.
Livonier pursed his lips before answering. “Follow me, please.”
Milisend had never been to Arthan’s city estate. Despite the circumstances, she allowed herself to appreciate Clonmel’s beauty. The facade was the same weathered white marble that could be seen anywhere in the old core of Eglamour, but the interior was anything but typical.
As Livonier led them through, Milisend noticed that each room was paneled with dark wood and deep gray slabs of stone. The azure-and-violet flag with the lion of the House of Valient adorned every room, and statues of fine stone, electrum, and bronze portraying the heroes of ancient Donovan watched over each corridor. It was a fortified house fit for the Valients, and she was sure it merely hinted at their wealth. She wondered what had kept Brugarn from seizing all of it to alleviate the empty treasury.
“Please, wait here one moment,” Livonier said. The knight knocked on the door to the chamber that Milisend guessed was Arthan’s office. “My lord?” Livonier said as he poked his head inside.
Milisend shoved Livonier aside and slipped through the door, pulling Rosellen behind her. At the far end of the room Arthan was seated at a writing table. Serdot and another man she recognized as Sir Debanor, the knight captain of the marshal’s guards, were seated in front of him.
All of them stood when she entered. In the silence Milisend felt slightly embarrassed, even ashamed for her impatience. But she reminded herself of Regaume’s plight and regained her confidence.
“Pardon my interruption,” she began, pulling Rosellen to her side. “But I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, Lord Valient. I assure you I will not consume too much of your precious time.”
“Princess Milisend, please come in,” Arthan said. “No apology necessary, and please call me Arthan.” He glanced at Serdot and Debanor, who promptly arranged chairs for her and Rosellen.
“It’s a private matter,” Milisend said.
Arthan nodded, and his men departed the room. Milisend could not resist cutting her eyes at Serdot, but the widsemer paid her no attention. Milisend and Rosellen took their chairs. The princess moved gracefully, keeping her back straight and her eyes fixed on Arthan. He was a bit uncomfortable but kept a small, warm smile on his face.
“It has been some time since Clonmel hosted a royal,” Arthan said. “Would you care for refreshment?”
“No,” she said, not expecting this politeness. It was disarming and irritating.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked.
“I have repeatedly requested your assistance with a personal, delicate matter. Through Serdot. Several times.”
“Yes…a friend of yours was arrested, correct?”
She glared at him.
“I must apologize,” he continued. “The responsibilities your father bestowed upon me have not let me rest since I returned from Rachard. Forgive me for asking you to repeat the details of the situation.”
“Regaume is his name,” Milisend said. “He is more than a friend to me. He will be taken away by the magistrate of Ralmogard unless you order his release.”
Arthan nodded. “I remember. He is a thief, is he not? I’ve heard about his crimes and those of his band of bandits.”
“He is precious to me. And he’s never murdered anyone.”
“Princess, I regret that I cannot simply order his release.”
“You are a lawkeeper.”
“But I’m not the Lord Minister of Toulon, or the Chief Magistrate of Eglamour. My lawkeeping is focused on these assassins, not common criminals.” Milisend looked down at her hands as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Princess. I can see he means a great deal to you. Alas, I can only speak with Tronchet.”
“He has delayed Regaume’s transfer but claims he cannot do more.”
“Then he’s certainly done more than is in my power to do.”
“What does it matter, if the result is the same?” Milisend felt her eyes well up. She shook her head, determined not to let despair take her yet. “Could you free him secretly? Tronchet might turn a blind eye if it were you. The Ralmogard magistrate would never know what happened.”
“I’m afraid such an effort would undermine the authority your father gave me, Princess.”
“What authority does my father have to give? I’ve not seen him, have you? My uncle Brugarn is destined to do as he wants. Will you not save one life before his reign takes many?”
“I mustn’t give Brugarn a chance to undermine me. I must focus on the assassins so our kingdom can better defend and rebuild itself.”
Milisend looked away. The window framed her father’s tower.
“I’m sorry for everything that has happened,” Arthan continued. “You and your sisters are the strength of the Avaleaus now. My advice, hard as it is, would be to forget about Regaume and focus on the preservation of your house.”
“Isn’t that what you’re here for? You didn’t save Henrey, but I suppose you are no Maillard. You are only concerned with yourself.”
Milisend stood and turned for the door, Rosellen in tow. Arthan stood behind her.
“Princess, truly, I am sorry for your troubles.”
“I don’t need your pity,” she said over her shoulder. “I needed your help.”
Rosellen opened the door, and Livonier stepped out of the way. Milisend resolved never to return to Clonmel again.
She held back her tears until she was safely in her carriage with Rosellen.
96. WREDEGAR
Eglamour, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
“No, Wredegar. You’re not going anywhere.”
“You are not my commander, Ambassador.”
“Look out these windows,” Vesamune said, snapping open the curtains. “That Donovard rabble would tear me apart if not for the king’s guards. I’ll not have you wandering around the capital again.”
“I blend in far better than you.”
“You’re cocky because the Borel rioters didn’t sniff you out, but you were lucky. What if someone had followed you back here? This house would be a bonfire like the Borel alderman’s keep. If you continue this way, you’ll blend in as a dead rioter.”
“I told you, I met some of the leaders of this upheaval,” Wredegar said. “Including one who helped lead the Mordmerg revolt. I can learn a lot from them, and learn how to harness them for the empire. If I don’t go back to them soon, they’ll think Ricot has abandoned them.”
“The time for those games is over. I’m an ambassador, not a warrior, held hostage in a kingdom we’re at war with. I shouldn’t be here. As the emperor’s representative, you must protect me. Is that understood?”
Wredegar glared at her, knowing he did not have to comply. Ultimately he answered to her sister, Meliamour, who also took orders directly from the emperor.
“Vesamune, if I can liaise with these riot leaders, we could turn them into proper rebels—as we did in Durgensdil. We can use them to cause problems for the Donovards, maybe enough to topple the Avaleaus and save the lives of our own soldiers.”
“That is for Emperor Theudamer to decide once we’re back in Heingartmer.”
Wredegar noticed her hands shaking. He knew she was not trained for this environment. He did feel responsible for not being there when she was last attacked on the street by a mob, before she was put under house arrest for her own protection. And she was probably right that the rioters would sniff him out at some point, or that he would have been killed.
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