The Whisper of Silenced Voices

by C. J. Archer

  "Why not?"

  "Those animals end up in the kitchen."

  A short man with thinning gray hair entered with Deanne. He smiled at me, revealing gaps where his teeth were missing.

  Quentin wrinkled his nose and stepped back. "You stink, Wes."

  "Hazard of the job," he said. "I'm Wes." He put out his hand to me only to withdraw it. "Sorry. Don't touch me. I've been cleaning out the ostrich courtyard."

  My brows arched up my forehead. "Ostriches? On The Fist?"

  He grinned. "I heard they're not common."

  "They don't exist here at all. I've only read about them in books."

  "Want to see them?"

  "Yes, please."

  "Can't," Quentin said. "No time. Balthazar would skin us if he knew we were standing around sightseeing."

  "Just a quick look from the balcony," Wes said, leading the way.

  "Balcony?" Quentin echoed. "That's all right then."

  We climbed a set of stairs to the next level and walked out onto the wraparound balcony. I peered down at the enclosure directly below where six large birds with long necks and reed-thin legs stalked about.

  "Ostriches," Wes announced. "They're flightless."

  The enclosure was wedge shaped and positioned next to the yard enclosing the path we'd walked along. At one side of the ostrich enclosure was a narrow pavilion made of the same biscuit colored stone as the other buildings on the estate. Two fountains in the middle of the enclosure offered drinking water for the ostriches and the other birds that inhabited it. I recognized a variety of ducks and peacocks, but others were unknown to me.

  Wes directed us along the balcony to the next enclosure where pelicans were given the same freedom as their flightless neighbors.

  "How do you ensure they stay here and not fly off?" I asked.

  "They have everything they want here," Wes said. "Water, food, safety from predators. This is bird paradise."

  I wondered if magic had anything to do with it too. They were, after all, as much a part of the sorcerer's plans as the servants.

  We continued around the balcony, and Wes pointed out each of the birds in the remaining wedge-shaped courtyards that radiated out from the octagonal central building. I recognized some but not all. I liked the pink flamingoes the best.

  "Their fountains pump out saline water," Wes explained. "But none of the other birds like their water salty so that's why the flamingos have the enclosure to themselves."

  "You're very knowledgeable," I said as we returned inside.

  "We all know our jobs here in the palace."

  "Yes, of course."

  "So what are these instructions of Balthazar's?" he asked.

  I showed him the list. "He wants you to clean out the enclosures and cages, and prepare the animals for a parade."

  "What!" he exploded. "I can't do all of this before nightfall!" He shook the list at me then at Quentin. "There isn't enough time!"

  "Balthazar's orders," Quentin said, jerking his head at me to indicate we should leave.

  Wes shoved the list at Quentin. "Tell him I can't do it. Not for tonight. He needs to think of something else for his party."

  "There isn't time," I said. "Balthazar has to work with what's already at the palace. He can't get dancers, musicians or gymnasts at such late notice." I took the list from Wes and read Balthazar's instructions. "According to this, the animals have to be dressed in costume." I re-read it in case I'd misunderstood Balthazar's scrawl. "Costume?"

  Wes pressed his fingers to his temple. "He means the jewels, beads and other paraphernalia in the menagerie storeroom. We've never used them before, but there are all sorts of things to fit the animals. He wants me to parade them in front of the guests like baubles."

  "Some of them perform tricks," Deanne said. "The eagle will catch a live mouse, for example, and the cat can jump through flaming hoops as well as any trained dog. It is a better spectacle with music."

  "I'll suggest it to Balthazar when I return to the palace," I said. "Perhaps it's not too late to gather musicians from Mull."

  Wes sighed and appealed to the dome ceiling. "Just when it was getting interesting, I have to put it off to entertain pampered aristocrats."

  "Shhhh," Deanne hissed. "You knew there was a party tonight."

  "I wasn't expecting it to involve me and my animals."

  "Let me organize it," Deanne said.

  Relief flooded Wes's face. "You're a marvel, Deanne." He hugged her and she hugged him back, smiling.

  "I'll have the others help me," she told him. "You return to the surgery."

  "Surgery?" I asked.

  Wes waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm dissecting the cat that used to share the cage with that one." He indicated the large feline with the pointed ears. It resembled the cats roaming Mull's streets in many ways, yet it was different, with a rounder shape of its eye, and mottled markings on its fur, not to mention those impressive pointed ears. "It died yesterday, and I want to study it. I've looked all over the books, both here and in the palace library, and there is very little information on the internal structure of animals. I'd like to add to my knowledge and this is the only way to do that."

  "I understand," I said.

  "This is only the second animal that has died here, so it's a unique opportunity," Wes went on. "It must be done before the body decomposes, which won't take long in this heat."

  He thanked Deanne again, making her blush, then he raced out of the building. Deanne also made her excuses and rushed off to organize the animals.

  Quentin studied the list of instructions as we exited the menagerie through the gate. "Next stop, the head gardener. Problem is, I don't know where to find him. He could be in the greenhouse, the orchard, the potting shed, or any of the formal gardens."

  "Are the gardeners visible to the guests or king during their walks?"

  "No." He snorted. "Can't have the servants being too obvious."

  "This is the best time of day for walking, isn't it?"

  "S'pose." He looked to the sky. The sun had advanced considerably while we were making our way to the menagerie.

  "Then the gardener won't be in the formal gardens where the nobles could see him. Where does he do the potting, grafting and the like?"

  "The greenhouse."

  We both sighed. The greenhouse was all the way back near the palace.

  The exercise did me good, however. It helped shed the last remnants of anxiety from my encounter with Lord Barborough as I talked with Quentin, mostly about medicine and surgery. There were no lulls in the conversation; Quentin was too chatty, and I was too eager not to allow myself time to reflect on my abduction.

  By the time we found the head gardener, the shadows had grown long. Like the rest of the gardens, the greenhouse was deserted of noblemen and women. It didn't feel empty, however, not with so many fruit trees. They were potted in large square containers and arranged in rows to form avenues from one end of the building to the other. The trees were tall but didn't even reach half way to the vaulted ceiling.

  We headed along one of the avenues toward the statue at the end, but found no one. I heard clipping and followed the sound to the next avenue, where a gardener trimmed an orange tree. He directed us to the potting shed adjoining the greenhouse, and it was there that we found the head gardener, Lewis.

  He read through Balthazar's instructions and groaned. "Does he know how much work this entails?" He handed the paper back to me, smudged with soil.

  "What does it mean change the color?'" I asked, pointing at the line on the paper.

  Lewis removed his straw hat, scratched his bald head, and slapped the hat back on. "It's supposed to be a secret. Bal won't like me telling people his ideas, 'specially to someone not from the palace."

  "Josie is here all the time," Quentin said. "She's one of us. Besides, I want to know too. Come on, Lew, tell us, if only because it'll annoy Bal and he's making you do so much extra work."

  Lewis pouted as he considered that. "C
hanging the color means just that: changing the colors of the flowers. According to those instructions, the guests will be taken to the menagerie. The route from the lake to the building will be lined with flowers all of the same color, but when they leave, the flowers will be a different color."

  "Wow," Quentin murmured in awe. "How do you do that? A dye on the petals? You'd have to use a spray. Dabbing each petal will take too long."

  "They're not dyed." Lewis's smile turned smug when Quentin and I failed to offer another suggestion. "It's easier to guess when you realize all the flowers will be in pots."

  "You swap the pots!" I said.

  "Correct. It'll be done while the guests are all inside. They won't even see us. Some won't even notice the difference, despite the lighting."

  "But that's a lot of pots. We've just walked from the lake to the menagerie and it's not a short distance. You'd need hundreds."

  "A thousand, and a lot of men to move them in a short space of time. After Balthazar warned me he wanted to do this for a party, I practiced it. But only once. I thought he'd give me more time to practice again if he was going to use the idea."

  "You could tell Balthazar you need more time," I said. "You can do something simpler tonight instead."

  Both Lewis and Quentin snorted. "You don't know him," Lewis said. "It's easier to mobilize all my men than get Bal to change his mind."

  Lewis left to gather his gardeners, and Quentin and I returned to the garrison. It was a relief to see Dane there, addressing the guards. He paused upon seeing me but continued giving his orders for the evening's roster.

  Afterwards, he pulled me aside. "You seem to always have trouble leaving here when you're supposed to." Going by the firm set of his jaw, he wasn't trying to make light of it.

  "Lord Barborough stopped me."

  His gaze drilled into me for a long moment. "I'll walk you to the coach house."

  Once outside, we headed towards the training ground rather than the forecourt. No one was using the space for sparring, and we were quite alone.

  "Did Barborough hurt you?" he asked.

  Barborough's rough handling had stopped hurting long ago, but the memory of it hadn’t. My throat constricted at the thought of his hand wrapped around it. "No," I lied.

  He stared into my eyes, and I knew he'd see the truth if I didn't look away. He caught my chin, however, and forced me to meet his gaze.

  His nostrils flared. "Return to the garrison." He walked off.

  I ran after him. "Where are you going?"

  He didn't answer.

  I caught his arm. "Dane."

  Using his real name seemed to get through to him, but fury continued to simmer in his eyes. "Go back to the garrison, Josie. I'll come for you."

  He shook me off and strode away, back straight and fists clenched at his sides.

  Chapter 8

  I couldn't let Dane confront Lord Barborough. It was too much of a risk. I caught his hand again.

  "Stop! Calm down, Dane!"

  He tried pulling his hand free, but I clung to it. He rounded on me. "Let go, Josie."

  "No."

  He sucked in a breath. "He can't keep getting away with bullying you. He has to be stopped."

  "Not yet."

  He tried walking off again so this time I raced past him and shoved him in the chest with both hands. He blinked at me.

  "You're going to ruin everything," I growled at him.

  He looked past me to the training yard exit and clenched his jaw. "I'm going to tell him to end his harassment."

  "And how will you do that? With a punch to the jaw? And then what will happen?"

  He gave no indication he was listening but at least he no longer tried to leave.

  "If you charge into Barborough's rooms now, he'll know I've been deceiving him all along," I said. "He'll know we've been colluding to feed him false information."

  "It's time he knew. It has to end."

  "We don't know what he'll do next. He might leave in the middle of the night and then we can no longer spy on him or he might retaliate."

  He suddenly grasped my shoulders. "I'll take care of you. You can stay at the cottage."

  "No, Dane," I said, gentler. "No. I have patients who need to find me. Listen." I drew his hands away and held them. "He's more dangerous than we thought. He admitted to killing his predecessor so he could take his place here."

  His focus sharpened. "I'd heard the rumor, but I assumed it was an exaggeration."

  Now that I had his attention, and he seemed a little calmer, I told him how Barborough had tricked me into going to his rooms and demanded I find the gem. "Brant must have told him about it," I finished.

  Dane rubbed his gloved hand over his mouth and chin. Where before he was all fierce anger, he now simply looked worried. "What did you tell him?"

  "That I would do my best to find it. I couldn't refuse him."

  "You did the right thing."

  "He's desperate for information about magic. If he doesn't succeed in finding a magical connection between King Leon and the palace, King Philip will execute him for murder."

  "The gem can prove it."

  "Possessing the gem will also stop King Leon from making more wishes. According to Barborough, the sorcerer's power is contained within it, but only the one who found it and freed the sorcerer can use the power."

  "The king," he said heavily.

  "He needs to hold it to use the power. That's why he wants it back. He wants to use one of his wishes to heal himself."

  Dane folded his arms over his chest and tapped his thumb on his arm, a restless figure of pent-up power. "Theodore informed me the king is feeling better," he said. "That, coupled with preparations for the party, have helped him forget about the gem."

  "Until he feels ill again," I added.

  "How often will he get the pains in his chest?"

  "After every meal, if he indulges. If you can control his diet, he'll get better, but it'll take time. He won't improve overnight."

  "Then we must continue to distract him and reassure him until the fake gem arrives." He cast a glance toward the gate. "It better arrive soon."

  "In the meantime, there's tonight's party," I said as we walked out of the training yard together. "I wish I could see it.

  "You're not staying."

  "I know. After last time, when Lady Deerhorn saw me and reported me to the king, I can't be caught again. Still, it would be—"

  "No!"

  I sighed. "Is that why you're personally escorting me to the coach house?"

  "And waiting until your carriage is no bigger than a speck at the end of Grand Avenue."

  I laughed and would have looped my arm through his if things were different between us and we had not sworn to keep our distance. I glanced sideways at him, only to find he was watching me. He quickly looked away.

  "How are things in the village?" I asked.

  "Fine, or I wouldn't be sending you back there."

  "I can't go anywhere else. My patients need me. One of them is a first-time mother, and she's nervous."

  "Babies have never been born without a midwife's assistance?"

  "I won't shirk my responsibility, Captain." I'd almost said his name but stopped myself. We were passing too close to some maids carrying ladies' gowns. "Anyway, the village is quiet, so this discussion is pointless."

  "You still have to be careful. Avoid The Row and keep your mouth shut. Don't say anything to offend the governor. He's the Deerhorns' man."

  Speaking of the Deerhorns reminded me of Lady Deerhorn accosting me in almost the same spot we now passed. I didn't tell Dane she'd warned me not to inform the king that Lord Morgrave had been poisoned. He had enough to worry about, and I didn't plan on telling the king what I'd seen and smelled in that sedan chair.

  Dane nodded at his men on duty at the gate and they saluted him. "Balthazar says he asked you and Quentin to organize the party for him," he said to me.

  "We just delivered some messages," I
said.

  "He likes you. He trusts you."

  "I trust him too," I said, realizing it was true. I no longer suspected the master of the palace was involved in sorcery. He was as much in the dark about his past as any of the servants.

  "You don't quite understand," Dane said. "Balthazar trusting you is an important step for him. He doesn't trust anyone except Theodore and me. Not even the other servants."

  "Why not?"

  "Do I need to remind you of what Seb the footman did? What the others in the cells have done? What the king is doing?"

  "I see your point." After a few steps, I added, "Tell Balthazar I'll be happy to help him whenever he wishes it. If he needs an assistant, send someone to fetch me."

  "Nice try, Josie, but the less time you spend at the palace, the better. While Barborough is here, anyway. Besides, you have a lot of expectant mothers who need to know where to find you, so you like to remind me."

  "Not as many as you'd think."

  He frowned at me. "Enough that you can live off the fees?"

  "I'm also an apothecary," I said.

  "Do you still sell a lot of remedies, even now after…?"

  "My father's death?" I filled in for him.

  I nodded my answer, but now that I thought about it, the last few days had been quiet. While we'd never sold medicines in great numbers, the tisanes, herbal teas, poultices and salves had been a good supplemental income. But that had recently dried up to almost nothing.

  Dane ordered a carriage to take me home and, true to his word, he waited until I was inside. He went to shut the door but paused. He met my gaze. "Thank you for stopping me from confronting Barborough." He rested one hand on the doorframe and the other on the velvet covered seat beside my skirt.

  I rested my hand beside his. The movement caught his attention but I couldn't tear my gaze away from his face. His features had softened over the course of our walk, flaunting his handsomeness to full effect.

  "My temper got the better of me, and I couldn't see reason." He waited, perhaps expecting me to say something, but I was too mesmerized by the quiet vulnerability in his voice to speak. "Hammer," he suddenly bit off.

  He went to move away, but I caught his hand. He looked up at me, his blue eyes huge.