Escamoteur
1) one who juggles items, events, etc.
2) one who makes things vanish
3) sleight of hand; legerdemain.
Chapter Thirteen
ATARE CITY
ONEHUNDRED SIXTYTWODAY, SEXT
She moved slowly, keeping hold of her hood with a gloved hand, her cloak pinned by a brooch decorated with the royal crest of Atare. It was imperative Darame keep her features hidden — one look at her face and no one would believe she was Stephanie reb^Lena Atare. Sitting in that dark cave pondering their fate, Darame had hoped for divine intervention. But first thinking of impersonating Avis’s cousin Stephanie, and then actually finding her at home! That was a spark of supreme power — of omnipresence.
If you must be caught looting a closet, at least be caught by someone with brains, Darame decided, watching her footing as she glided along the side street. Almost to the palace, almost… as long as the guaard at her heels did not seize her elbow to assist her steps. Over halfway through her pregnancy, Stephanie was walking oddly, to be sure, but Darame’s bony elbow would give away the entire ruse.
I must get into the palace, and I am not sure I can, Darame had told her without preamble. Hearing a rustle, Stephanie had pulled aside her rack of dresses and found an off-worlder leaning against the back wall. Unfortunately (ominously?) Stephanie did not seem to think either the situation or the statement odd. But then Darame had suspected there was a good deal of common sense behind Stephanie’s calm.
Avis does not know you are back? was her only comment.
Not yet. I must see her, and I cannot risk anyone… questioning my movements. Panic was ungluing her mouth; why had she said that to the young woman?
Leah has asked to speak with you. Stephanie’s expression told freely what she thought of that development. A long pause… Your thought was well-taken; no one would question me. I will get you a pillow. With that, Stephanie had dropped the dresses back over Darame and moved off into her cavernous bedroom, telling her maid she would need no more assistance before her nap.
Setting her free hand on her soft, fluffy false belly, Darame checked the belt for the hundredth time. No slippage… And people avoided pregnant women in the streets, for fear of unsettling them. If no one hailed her, stopped her… This was Stephanie’s usual day cloak, a heavy black wool, without adornment. If I can only reach the grounds of the palace!
Her “own” guaard left her at the gateway to the castle, knowing she would be safe within. Hardly… But you cannot know that. Darame prayed for strength and invisibility. Brant’s Arab was about to drop from weariness, and she was little better. If I survive all this, I will earn a pilot’s license if it kills me! Such a waste, to damage White’s vehicle instead of taking it. First the message; then, maybe, sleep. And a bath, Sweet Saints, she’d kill for a bath. Sheel would be amused at your weakness.
No… But he thought she would be amused at his supposed weakness. Damn you, Sheel! We should have stayed together, there is safety in numbers! If you know how to fly one of those things, I will kill you. Had he escaped from the cave? Could she have forced him to accompany her? Not that light, child; you would have had to drag him. Damn her numb brain, that she had run out of schemes, out of suggestions. And if I’ve left him to die?
It was Avis he was concerned about, not himself. Avis, and the effect her injury would have upon his people. Well, no one was waiting at the rail depot to take her into custody, so White was apparently still far from communication lines — she hoped. Has Sheel thought once about this mess unseating him? Ah, he’s not a fool, give him some credit. Fretting won’t help.…
Pausing at the entrance, she leaned against the great door, steadying herself. Her thoughts had become staccato, her father’s crisp accent ringing in her ears as it had not in decades. You would always be less to him than his duty, no matter what comes of this. Can your pride bear it? Then, another thought: He asks for nothing he would not do himself. Are you strong enough to bear the burden? Damn you, Sheel, for being stronger than I.…
Opening the great door, which swung on well-oiled hinges into the gloom of the hall, Darame entered, leaving the servant to close the door. She had seen Stephanie act with such impatience more than once; the two guaard on either side of the door did not so much as shift in their place. Up the curving staircase, pale light illuminating the dragon of Atare coiled above her, the landing in sight…
Somehow she reached the oaken doors. And if Avis has moved for some reason? Damn my imagination. Her curses were losing both power and potency.…
Upon entering, Darame recognized immediate peril. No one would question her hood while entering the building; now, she would be expected to push it back, and that was a major problem. Stephanie and Camelle she trusted, but the others present… Still considering, she moved toward the door to Avis’s room.
A hand reached to touch her shoulder. “She is napping, Stephanie. She asked to be alone.” Camelle’s voice. Dare she try?…
Decisions are best when swiftly made. Turning slightly, Darame allowed Camelle to see into the hood even as she gave a minute shake of her head.
“Are you cold, dear?” Fortunately the woman had finished her sentence. Raising her eyebrows slightly, Camelle continued without pause. “Oh, you brought it, did you? Good, she was asking for it.” Turning the brass knob, Camelle led the way into the back room and then firmly closed the door behind them.
Someone had drawn the blinds, but the fireplace gave considerable light to the room. Avis was on top of the bed, a quilt over her legs, a fire screen between her and the flames. A woman in guaard uniform stood next to the door.
“We did not expect you so soon!” Camelle started, to be silenced by Darame’s upturned hand. After checking her roman for surveillance, Darame nodded for her to continue. “Serae Leah has asked about you several times, and your ship has called. Did you find your friend?”
The questions were whispered, but Avis heard them. “Darame?” said a drowsy voice from the bed.
Loosening her hood, Darame fumbled with the brooch clasp. “In the flesh.” Glancing over her shoulder, she studied the woman at the door. Who? Faith, that was her name. How appropriate. One of the five who watched Avis ceaselessly.
“Is all well?” Avis slowly sat up as she spoke, and Darame’s heart almost stopped. But no, she was merely reaching the awkward stages of her condition. A small woman, and apparently a large baby…
“No, all is not well. Have you heard from your mother lately?”
“Not since you left. Why?” Rubbing her face, Avis peered at her friend. “Darame, you… you look terrible! What have you been doing?”
Up until now she had avoided her reflection… Darame quickly glanced at the mirror over the headboard. Her hair looked as bad as it felt, and she was bright from windburn, her lips many-colored and peeling. So much for relying on your looks for anything right now. “I look almost as bad as your brother.”
“Sheel? You have seen him?” Swinging her legs off the bed, Avis reached for Darame’s hands. “Tell me! Camelle, send for food, will you?”
“There is a great deal to tell.” Slumping, Darame pulled a chair over near the bed. How to start?… “Avis… do you trust me?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?” She was puzzled, but alert; her words were not offered lightly.
“Because what I have to tell you will require a lot of belief. You have a lot of catching up to do. For starters, do you remember when Sheel’s friend Rob was caught with that under-age heiress while you were on Emerson?”
“We promised never to talk about it!” Avis was both amazed and indignant.
“But I had to have something to tell you, so you would know Sheel sent me,” Darame explained patiently. “I suppose it was the first thing that came to his mind.” The tray of refreshment arrived then, an effective stall. It only postpones things.… “When I told you Sheel had gone east, I did not tell you everything. Actually he was taken east against his wi
ll.”
“But… why…”
“The people who took him were guaard.” Darame waited for some sort of reaction.
“Yes. I feared they were part of it.” Seeing Darame’s eyes widen, Avis added: “Did you think I would not notice that I always have the same five personal guaard? I have not Chosen — normally I do not repeat guaard for many days. And I could not think of any way for someone to get to Cort, unless they had inside help. My brothers, perhaps, but not within the palace.” Her face remained calm, but there was the slightest tremor in her voice.
“You are correct. Sheel has been trying to identify everyone in this conspiracy, which is why he stayed away. You and Leah did not seem to be in danger, while he and Tobias surely were.” Darame glanced over at Camelle, but the woman was absorbed with pouring hot water into cups and did not answer the look. “That has changed. Sheel wants you to leave the city. He thinks you are in danger.”
“Leah as well?” So, no details needed yet. But how…
“No, not Leah. You. You carry an heir within you. Sheel wants you out of the power games of Atare city.”
“Is Sheel all right?” This was very quiet.
“He lived when I last saw him.” That was all she could offer. Darame prayed Avis would not pursue that point.
“Because I carry an heir,” she mused. “Am I in danger from the same people who tried to kill him?”
“Yes.” Sweet Magdalen, can I get out of this without elaborating —
“We must get help for Sheel! Let me call Leah — ”
“No.” The word dropped into the room like a stone into water. Avis gave her a puzzled frown.
“No?”
“Avis… somehow Leah is a part of all this. It is Leah who may be most dangerous to you. We must — ”
“That is ridiculous!” Avis waved away the cup Camelle offered her, emotion flushing her cheeks. “Darame, Leah could never be a party to such things! Did Sheel tell you this?”
“Yes.” That visibly disconcerted Avis. Exhaustion stole over Darame like a cloud covering the sun, slowly separating her from the source of her strength. “I do not think I can remember it all right now, I can hardly see straight. I made the trip back in less than eight days; a lesser horse would have died. You simply must believe me.”
“That my sister is a murderer?” This was terse.
“No, no: that she was part of a plot to unseat Cort Atare. Sheel thinks things got out of hand. Too many people with too many schemes going on. He thinks it has gone beyond whatever Leah agreed to, gone beyond long ago. Wait, listen — “ Avis was shaking her head negatively, and looked as if she would rise from the bed. “Martin was your uncle’s most loyal guaard, right? He was on duty during the party, that night everything happened. But Martin was found at your brother’s house the next morning. Why, Avis? Why would the roster suddenly read that Martin was on duty at your brother’s house, when we saw him with Cort the night before?” Now Avis looked puzzled. “Who would have the authority to send Martin to another place, another shift — enough authority that Martin would not question it? Do you remember taciturn old Martin?” Darame was babbling, she knew she was, but Avis no longer attempted to pull away. “Only Dirk could do that, Avis. Only Dirk could tell a trainer something and not have it questioned. And it was White out in that desert, Avis. White who has been trying to break your brother into tiny pieces, for reasons I did not have time to fathom.” Alarm was growing in the woman’s face. “Maybe White who stabbed Iver, who definitely killed Fion, Sheel’s guaard. We do not know exactly how they managed it, or why they are doing it, but Dirk has attempted to overthrow the legal line of Atare… and has very nearly succeeded.” Out of breath and saliva, Darame stopped, trying to drag oxygen into her lungs.
A cup nudged her hands. “Drink some of this, you probably need fluids,” Camelle said calmly. “And use some of this balm, for Mendülay’s sake, before your lips fall off.”
Numbly, Darame complied, grateful for wetness coursing down her throat. She kept her gaze on Avis. The young woman had grown pale, but did not seem in danger of passing out.… She was staring into the fire as her hands twisted in her quilt.
“Why do you think Leah is involved?” she whispered.
“Leah has power, Avis, and she wants to keep it. As regent, she can run the entire show. She must have figured out that Sheel would not name her ragäree until she had a daughter, so sharing the throne was impossible. And she needed someone strong, someone with good information sources, to help her run things. Like Dirk and the guaard. Or Brant, and Embassy Row.”
Avis turned at this, studying Darame. “But why me? I am not a threat to her. I do not care about her scheming; a judgeship is enough for me. Why — ”
Darame felt a hoarse chuckle erupt. “Do you think she can leave you at her back, like a weapon, blithely producing numerous progeny? You would become de facto ragäree without the words ever being pronounced.” She coughed, and turned away, praying it was only dryness.
“Her children will rule, not mine.” Avis looked confused, even as fear touched her; she was beginning to realize Darame was serious.
“What children?”
No one spoke. Finally Camelle said: “Nualan woman often go years between pregnancies — ”
“She is sterile, Avis. Sheel is positive of it. He does not know whether it can be reversed, because she will not let anyone examine her. And she knows she is sterile.” Waiting quietly, leaning on one arm of her chair, Darame watched for reaction.
Avis was studying Camelle, as if looking for cues. The older woman made no sign. Wavering, but not convinced…
“Was she not always the rebel? The one to take chances? The one to actually slip past her guardians and run free on the Feast of Souls? Think of her behavior the past moons, the past year! Do not think how you would feel, what you would do if such a thing happened to you. Think about Leah.” Darame tried to keep her voice soft and persuasive. It kept cracking, roughly betraying her at every word. “Avis, it can be so easy! If you bear a girl, someone merely makes sure you die of the delivery… and then Leah is regent for the future rulers.” That was more brutal than she had planned, but.… Sheel would not have spared you. I would not let him.
Suddenly Avis’s hand shot out, reaching for Darame. “Avis!” Camelle’s cry was a command, freezing her action. Completing the young woman’s motion, Camelle felt Darame’s head for signs of fever and pulled down a lid. Only after inspecting her throat did she turn to Avis. “Exhausted, but healthy. And as sane as she ever was.… I think I will run you a tub of hot water.”
“Bless you,” Darame whispered, not caring if anyone thought her irreligious.
Color was returning to Avis’s face. Remembering the baby, Darame suddenly wondered if she had gone too far, but Camelle did not seem concerned. Handing Avis a cup of saffra, Camelle stood and moved to the sanitation.
“I… cannot — ” swallowing painfully, Avis tried again. “It does not matter, either way. Sheel has asked me to leave.” She smiled faintly. “He always gets his way in the end. No one can wear me down like Sheel.” She sipped at her steaming saffra. “So… Where do we go — and how?”
Darame’s relief was so intense that black spots actually swam before her eyes. Only someone’s swift grab at her arm kept her from falling out of her seat. To her surprise, it was the guaard who held her. Silent and unobtrusive until now, Faith pulled Darame to her feet and courteously suggested that Avis take the chair.
“Just… very tired. Very glad to find you safe,” Darame whispered, trying to summon up a protest. “I am just fine, I merely need sleep, and some protein — ”
“I think you should let us decide what you need, Serae,” the guaard responded, pushing her onto the bed and sweeping her legs out from under her. “This is the best place to hide you until the tub is full. Perhaps you should request… a cheese and fruit tray?” Faith’s frown wavered above Darame’s head. “A meal would cause comment.”
“N
eed… Ayers. He will know where to hide.” It took strength to speak; Darame had spent what was left. She drifted in and out of sleep, unaware a tray of food had arrived, and startled as Stephanie herself gave a knock and popped out of a sliding panel in the wall. Camelle was the most help, keeping Darame from falling asleep in the hot water, scrubbing her hair, trying to make her relax.
“But I left him, Camelle. He told me to come here, and I left him.” The enormity of what she had done still haunted her.
“That is what obedience is, Darame,” Camelle told her placidly, handing her a bar of soap. “A guaard may tell The Atare that an action is foolish, and risks his life — may even try to prevent the action. But the rest of us can only do as we are told.” Her voice dropped in volume as she continued. “Even if you succeeded in getting him somewhere safe — what if Avis had been killed in the interim? A ruler must be able to ignore both personal pain and personal wants and needs. A pregnant female of the line, the only possible ragäree if his suspicions are correct, must come before his own situation. Granted, Avis would be terrified at the thought of becoming regent, but she is capable of it. She is much tougher than any of you seem to think.”
“I keep telling Sheel that,” Darame mumbled, shivering as hot water slid down her back.
“Indeed. Avis is very precious to Sheel, and not only because of her current position. Whatever abuse White has thrown his way, Sheel still feels that Avis in the palace is at greater risk than Sheel in the Ciedär — are they actually in the Ciedär?” This last was openly curious.
“The eastern face of the mountains,” Darame replied. “I might be able to find it on a map.”
“No matter now. Sleep, first, and then talk to Ayers about it. We will relay your message to him. Do not worry about Sheel. He has been well trained, I am sure. If he… I think the phrase is, ‘got the drop’ on someone watching him, he could break the individual’s neck. I think you should assume he is alive until it is proved otherwise.”
Fires of Nuala Page 33