Kalarus let out a booming laugh. "Joined might?" he asked. "Ceres will fall within the day, and I will press on to Alera Imperia herself. There is not enough free might to prevent it." The image turned to Lord Placidus, and said, "Sandos, I had no idea that Aria had a birthmark on her left thigh." His gaze swiveled to the image of Lord Atticus. "Elios, may I compliment your daughter on a particularly lovely head of hair-a small section of which will be delivered to you by messenger, so that you may know that she is in my protective custody."
"Protective custody?" Amara asked sharply.
Kalarus nodded. "Quite. My lords Atticus and Placidus, my quarrels have never been with you or your cities, and I desire none now. I am holding those two as guarantors against your neutrality. I do not ask you to forsake any vow or to turn against the First Lord-only stand from my way. I give you my word that if you do so, when matters settle down, they will be returned to you, otherwise unharmed."
Cereus rose slowly to his feet and walked down to the edge of the pool. "This is why you have come here, Kalarus?" he asked quietly, not looking at the image. "To make promises to your neighbors that you will not attack them, even while you assault another before their very eyes?"
"I am delivering my terms to them," Kalarus said. "My terms for you are somewhat different."
"I am listening," Cereus said quietly.
"Yield your city to me now," Kalarus said. "And I will spare your life and that of your family. You will be free to depart and make what life you would elsewhere in the Realm."
Cereus's eyes narrowed. "You would seek to cast me from my family's home? To force me to abandon my people?"
"You should be grateful I'm giving you a choice," Kalarus replied. "Defy me, and it will go hard for you, and for your line. I promise to be thorough. I know all of their names, old man. Your three daughters. Your son. Your eleven grandchildren."
"You would threaten babes in arms, Kalarus? You're a madman."
Kalarus barked out a laugh. "A madman? Or a visionary. Only history will decide-and we all know who writes the histories." Kalarus's teeth showed again. "I'd prefer you to fight so that I might destroy you. But we both know that you aren't a fighter anymore, Macius. Walk away while you still can."
High Lord Cereus faced Kalarus's image for a silent minute before he lifted a hand, clenched it into a fist, and snarled, "Get out of my garden."
The waters of the pool rippled, and Kalarus's image, like Gaius's had, fell back into droplets of water that splashed back into the pool.
"Threaten my granddaughter. I'll wring your skinny throat, you cowardly slive." Cereus growled at the pool. Then he turned to face the assembly. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have a city to defend. I welcome any help you might give. But if you don't intend to fight, you should depart the city as quickly as possible." He turned a hard look at the pool where Kalarus had stood. "If you can't help, then stay the crows out of my way."
Then the old man, his anger wrapped around him like a cloak, spun on his heel and strode from the garden barking orders to his startled-looking men, his voice ringing from the walls.
The others in the garden just stared after Cereus, startled at the change in the man. Then they began to speak quietly, most moving to leave. Amara turned to the images of Lords Placidus and Atticus. "My lords, please. Before you go, a word on behalf of the First Lord?"
The water-forms nodded, and Amara waited until the garden had emptied again. "My lords, may I ask your intentions?"
Lord Placidus, a plain, stocky man of unremarkable height and crystal blue eyes shook his head. "I'm not sure, Countess. But if he has Aria then..." The High Lord shook his head. "There are a number of dangerously volatile furies who are restrained from doing harm by my wife's will. If she dies without taking the proper measures to keep them neutralized, several thousand of my holders would perish. I have no qualms about sending my Legions into harm's way-but I am not willing to sacrifice the populations of entire steadholts. Women. Children. Families."
"You would let the Realm fall instead?" Amara asked.
"The Realm will stand, Countess," Placidus said, his voice hardening. "Only the face beneath the crown will change. I have never made it a secret that I wish nothing to do with the politics of the crown. In point of fact, if Gaius's page hadn't publicly manipulated us into supporting him, my wife might now be with me, safe and unharmed."
Amara ground her teeth, but nodded once. "Very well, Your Grace." She turned to High Lord Atticus. "And you, sir?"
"I gave one daughter to Gaius already," Atticus said, his voice bitter. "My Caria, taken to wife and held hostage in the capital. Now Kalarus has taken the other daughter. I see little difference between the two. But Gaius asks me to sacrifice men and blood, while Kalare wishes me merely to stand aside." He bared his teeth, biting off the words. "So far as I am concerned, you can all cut each other to shreds and let the crows pick clean your bones."
He turned, and the water-image flowed back down into the pool.
Lord Placidus grimaced at the departed lord of Attica. "I have no love for Kalarus or what he stands for," he told Amara. "I have no qualms about facing him on the field of battle. But if I must choose between the First Lord's life and those of my wife and thousands of my holders, I do not choose Gaius."
"I understand," Amara said quietly.
Placidus nodded once. "Tell Gaius I'll not contest him should the Legions need passage through any of my lands. It is all I can offer."
"Why?" Amara asked him, her voice very quiet.
Placidus was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Most High Lords marry for advantage. For political alliance." The image of Placidus shook its head as it slipped back down into the pool, receding. "I loved her, Countess. Still do."
Amara stared at the rippling pool for a moment, then sighed and settled down onto a nearby bench. She shook her head, struggling to work her way through a dozen trains of thought. She looked up a moment later, to find Bernard standing over her, offering her a mug of Giraldi's ale. She drank it off in a single, long pull.
Kalarus was far stronger than anyone had anticipated and had found some way secretly to train and transport entire Legions of men. He was ruthless, clever, and determined-and worst of all, to Amara's way of thinking, was that Lord Cereus's accusation seemed distressingly accurate. Kalarus might well be as mad as Cereus claimed. Though the forces of the Realm had the strength to beat him back, if only just, Kalarus had chosen a particularly vicious moment in which to attack and had struck at the most vulnerable point. If he moved swiftly enough, his coup might well succeed.
In fact, she could not think of anything the First Lord might do to stop him.
She could understand what Placidus had done, on one level, but on another she burned with fury at the man's decision to turn aside from the First Lord. He was a High Lord of Alera. He was honor-bound to come to the aid of the First Lord in the face of insurrection. Amara wished no harm to come to Lady Placida or to any innocent holders, of course, but she simply could not reconcile Lord Placidus's choice with his obligations as a Citizen and Lord of the Realm.
Bernard's ring, on its chain around her neck, felt heavy. She could hardly be the first to cast that particular stone. After all, hadn't she put her own desires ahead of her duties?
Bernard settled down next to her and exhaled slowly. "You look exhausted," he said quietly. "You need to sleep."
"Soon," she answered. Her hand found his.
"What do you think?" he asked her. "About all this." "It's bad," she said quietly. "It's very bad."
Gaius's voice rolled through the little garden, rich and amused. "Or perhaps it only seems so on the surface, Countess."
Amara blinked, rising abruptly, and turned to find Gaius standing behind them in the flesh, emerging from a windcrafted veil so fine and delicate that she had never had an inkling that it had been present. "Sire?" she said. "You were here all along? But Kalarus..."
The First Lord arched an eyebrow. "Kalarus Brencis's ego is enormous-and an enormous weakness. The larger it grows, the more of his view it will obstruct, and I have no objections to feeding it." Then he smiled. "And my old friend Cereus needed someone to remind him of what he is capable. It was generous of Kalarus to volunteer."
Amara shook her head. She should have known better. Gaius Sextus had not retained his rule in the face of dangerous, ruthless men like Kalarus by being weak or predictable. "My lord, you heard what Lords Atticus and Placidus said."
"I did indeed," Gaius said.
Amara nodded. "Without their forces to help hold Ceres, Kalarus's gambit may well succeed."
"I give him five chances in six," Gaius agreed.
"Sire," Amara said, "this is... this..." Her outrage strangled her voice for a moment, and she pressed her lips firmly together before she said something that, in the eyes of the law, could not be retracted.
"It's all right, Cursor," Gaius said. "Speak your mind freely. I will not hold anything you say as a formal accusation."
"It's treason, sir," Amara spat. "They have an obligation to come to the defense of the Realm. They owe you their loyalty, and they are turning their backs on you."
"Do I not owe them loyalty in return?" Gaius asked. "Protection against threats too powerful for them to face? And yet harm has come to them and theirs."
"Through no fault of your own!" Amara said.
"Untrue," Gaius said. "I miscalculated Kalarus's response, his resources, and we both know it."
Amara folded her arms over her stomach and looked away from Gaius. "All I know," she said, "is that they have abandoned their duty. Their loyalty to the Realm."
"Treason, you say," Gaius murmured. "Loyalty. Strong words. In today's uncertain clime, those terms are somewhat mutable." He raised his voice slightly and glanced at the far corner of the little garden. "Wouldn't you agree, Invidia?"
A second veil, every bit as delicate and undetectable as Gaius's had been, vanished, replaced by the tall, regal figure of Lady Aquitaine. Though her eyes looked a bit sunken, she showed no other signs of the trauma the city's sudden surge of panic had inflicted upon its more powerful watercrafters. Her expression was cool, her pale face lovely and flawless, her dark hair held back into a wave that fell over one white shoulder to spill over her gown of crimson silk. A circlet of finely wrought silver in the design of laurel leaves, the badge of a recipient of the Imperian Laurel for Valor, stood out starkly, against her tresses, the ornament emphasized by its contrast against her hair.
"I think," she said, her tone steady, "that regardless of our ongoing differences, we can both recognize a greater threat to our plans when it appears."
Amara drew in a sharp breath, and her eyes flicked from Lady Aquitaine to Gaius and back. "Sire? I'm not sure I understand. What is she doing here?"
"I invited her, naturally," Gaius said. "We have a common interest in this matter."
"Of course," Amara said. "Neither of you wishes to see Lord Kalarus"-she emphasized the name ever so slightly-"on the throne."
"Exactly," said Lady Aquitaine with a cool smile.
"Kalarus's timing was quite nearly perfect," Gaius said. "But if the Legions of Attica and Placida are freed to act, we should be able to stop him. That's where you and Lady Aquitaine come in, Countess."
Amara frowned. "What is your command, sire?"
"Simply put, rescue the hostages and remove Kalarus's hold on Lords Placidus and Atticus with all possible haste." Gaius nodded toward Lady Aquitaine. "Invidia has agreed to assist you. Work with her."
Amara felt her spine stiffen, and she narrowed her eyes. "With... her? Even though she is responsible for-"
"For saving my life when the Canim attacked the palace?" the First Lord said gently. "For taking command of a situation which could have dissolved into an utter disaster? For her tireless efforts to rally support for emancipation?"
"I am aware of her public image," Amara said, her voice sharp. "I am equally aware of her true designs."
Gaius narrowed his eyes. "Which is the very reason I offered her this opportunity to work together," he said. "Even if you do not believe that she believes in acting for the good of the Realm, I am sure that you trust her ambition. So long as she and her husband wish to take the throne from me, I am confident that she would do nothing that would give it to Kalarus."
"You cannot trust her, sire," Amara said quietly. "If she gets the chance to move against you, she will."
"Perhaps so," Gaius said. "But until that time, I am confident of her assistance against a common foe."
"With reason," Lady Aquitaine murmured. "Countess, I assure you that I see the value of cooperation in this matter." The tall woman's eyes suddenly burned hot. "And politics aside, Kalarus's murderous attempt upon my life, on the lives of my clients, upon so many Citizens and members of the League cannot be ignored. Any animal as vicious and dangerous as Kalarus must be put down. It will be my pleasure to assist the Crown in doing so."
"And when that is done?" Amara asked, her tone a challenge.
"When that is done," Lady Aquitaine said, "we will see."
Amara stared at her for a moment before turning to Gaius. "My lord..."
Gaius lifted a hand. "Invidia," he said. "I know that you are still weary from tonight's trauma."
She smiled, the expression elegant and not at all weary. "Of course, sire. Countess, High Lord Cereus has offered the safety and security of his guest wing to all those attacked by Kalarus's Immortals. Please call on me at your convenience."
"Very well, Your Grace," Amara said quietly.
Lady Aquitaine curtseyed to Gaius. "Sire."
Gaius inclined his head, and Lady Aquitaine departed the garden.
"I do not like this, my lord," Amara said.
"A moment," the First Lord said. He closed his eyes and muttered something, making a pair of swift gestures with his hands, and Amara sensed furycraft at work, doubtless to ensure a few moments of privacy.
Amara arched an eyebrow at him. "Then you do not trust Lady Aquitaine."
"I trust her to bury a knife in my back at her earliest opportunity," Gaius replied. "But I suspect her contempt for Kalarus is genuine, as is her desire to recover the abducted members of the League-and her aid could be priceless. She is quite capable, Amara."
The Cursor shook her head. "And the busier she is with me, the less time she has to plot against you."
"Essentially," Gaius said, a smile toying at the corners of his mouth, "yes. Make whatever use of her you can and recover those hostages."
Amara shook her head. "He can't possibly be holding them nearby. Not someone as powerful as Placidus Aria. He'd need to have her within his own lands-probably at his citadel."
"I agree," Gaius said. "There has been much movement in the upper air over the past day, but I am sure that at least some travelers have departed for Kalare. You need to decide upon your course of action and leave before the sun is fairly risen tomorrow."
Amara frowned. "Why, sire?"
"You may note," Gaius said, "how the recent discussion avoided one particular subject most scrupulously."
"Yes. The stars," Amara said quietly. "What happened to them."
Gaius shrugged. "I've nothing but suspicions, at this point."
"I don't even have that much," Amara said.
"I believe," Gaius said, "that it is some working of the Canim. The change came from the west and spread over toward the east. I suspect that it is some kind of very high, very fine cloud, that colors the light of the stars as they shine down."
"A cloud?" Amara murmured. "Can you not simply examine it?"
Gaius frowned faintly. "In fact, no. I've sent dozens of furies up to investigate. They did not return."
Amara blinked. "Something... damaged them?"
"So it would seem," Gaius said.
"But... I did not think the Canim could do such an enormous thing. I know their rituals give them some kind of rude parallel to Aleran furycraft, but I never thought that they could manage something on this scale."
"They never have," Gaius replied. "But the remarkable thing about this working of theirs is that it has had some far-reaching effects I have never encountered before. I have been unable to observe activities and events passing in the Realm beyond perhaps a hundred miles of Alera Imperia. I suspect that the other High Lords have been similarly blinded."
Amara frowned. "How could the Canim have done such a thing?"
Gaius shook his head. "I've no way of knowing. But whatever they have done, the upper air groans with it. Travel has become quite dangerous in only a few hours. I suspect that it will only become worse as time passes. Which is why I must take my leave at once. I have a great many things to do, and if air travel becomes as difficult as I suspect it might, then I must set out at once-and so must you."
Amara felt her eyes widen. "Do you mean to say... sire, is Kalarus conspiring with the Canim?"
"It would seem a rather large coincidence that he would be in position to attack in so many places, with such precision, and just at the moment when the most powerful furycrafters in his path would have been disabled-just precisely at the same time the Canim released this working."
"A signal," Amara said. "The stars were a signal for him to begin."
"Probably," Gaius replied.
"But... sire, no one has ever found common ground with the Canim. No Aleran would ever..." She broke off and bit her lip. "Mmm. But the facts suggest that one has. I sound like Senator Arnos."
"Far less tiresome," Gaius said. He put a hand on Amara's shoulder. "Countess, I have two things to tell you. First, if Kalarus manages to prevent Placida and Attica from sending reinforcements, he will in all probability seize the capital and its furies. Aquitaine and the other High Lords will contest him. Our Realm will dissolve into utter chaos. Tens of thousands will die, and if Kalarus truly has thrown in his hand with the Canim, we may be facing the end of the Realm entirely." He lowered his voice, emphasizing the words. "You must succeed. At any cost."
Amara swallowed and nodded her head.
"Second," he said, more quietly, "there is no one else in the Realm to whom I would sooner entrust this task than you, Amara. In the last few years, you have rendered more courageous service than most Cursors do in a lifetime. You do them great honor-and I am proud to have the loyalty of so worthy an individual."
Amara felt her back straighten as she looked up at the First Lord. Her throat felt tight, and she swallowed and murmured, "Thank you, sire."
He nodded once, and withdrew his hand. "Then I leave you to it," he said quietly. "Good luck, Cursor."
"Thank you, sire."
Gaius flicked his hands a few times, and the privacy furycrafting dissipated, vanishing from Amara's senses. At the same time, a gentle wind that hardly stirred the plants of the garden lifted Gaius from the ground, even as he wove another delicate veil around himself, vanishing as he took almost silently to the skies.
Amara stood staring up after the departed First Lord for a moment. Then she felt Bernard's presence at her side. He slipped an arm around her waist, and she leaned against him for a moment.
"I don't like this," he said.
"Nor I," Amara replied. "But that doesn't matter. You and Giraldi should go and inform the Steadholder of what happened here."
"Giraldi can take care of it," Bernard said. "I'm going with you."
"Don't be ridiculous," Amara said. "Bernard, you're-"
"Your husband. A veteran. An expert hunter and woodsman," he said. His jaw set into a line. "I'm going with you."
"I'm not-"
"Going to stop me from going with you. No one is."
Amara's chest suddenly felt very tight. She turned to her husband and kissed him once, on the mouth, and very lightly. Then she said, "Very well. If you're going to be a mule about it."
Giraldi limped up to them and grunted. "Now you be careful, sir. I don't want to be the only centurion in the Legions to get two of his commanders cut down."
Bernard traded grips with him. "Keep an eye on 'Sana. When she wakes up, tell her..." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. She knows better than I what I'd say."
"Course," Giraldi agreed. Then he caught Amara in a rough hug, hard enough to make her ribs creak. "And you. Don't let him distract you none."
Amara hugged back, and said, "Thank you."
The old centurion nodded, saluted them, fist to heart, and limped from the garden.
"Very well, my lady," Bernard murmured. "Where do we begin?"
Amara frowned, and narrowed her eyes. "With someone who has seen Kalarus's operation from the inside, and who might know his plans." She turned to Bernard and said, "We're going to the dungeons."
"You told the assembly that all of Kalarus's assassins had died rather than be captured," Lady Aquitaine murmured as they descended the last steps to the cells beneath Lord Cereus's citadel.
"Yes," Amara said. "I did. But this one we took alive. It is she who attempted to take the life of Steadholder Isana."
"She?" Lady Aquitaine asked, her tone interested. "The others were all men."
"Yes," Amara replied. "She was one of Kalarus's bloodcrows. It is possible that she might know something of his plans. She was high in his councils."
"And therefore loyal to him," Lady Aquitaine mused. "Or at least very much under his control. Do you actually believe she will divulge such information to you?"
"She will," Amara said. "One way or another."
She could feel the pressure of Lady Aquitaine's gaze on the back of her head. "I see," the High Lady murmured. "This shall be interesting."
Amara put a hand on Bernard's shoulder to signal him, and stopped on the cold stone stairway before her. She turned to face Lady Aquitaine. "Your Grace, I ask you to remember that you are here to assist me," she said quietly. "I will do the talking."
The High Lady narrowed her eyes, for a moment. Then she nodded, and Amara resumed her pace.
The "dungeon" of the citadel of Ceres was seldom in use. In fact, it appeared that the chilly place was primarily used for storing foodstuffs. Several crates of cabbages, apples, and tubers had been stacked neatly in the hall outside the only closed and guarded doorway. A legionare wearing a tunic in the brown and grey of the House of Cereus stood outside the door, a naked sword in his hand. "Halt, sir," he said, as Bernard entered the hall. "This area is off-limits."
Amara slipped around Bernard. "Legionare Karus, isn't it?" she asked.
The man came to attention and saluted. "Countess Amara? His Grace said you're to have access to the prisoner."
Amara gestured at Bernard and Lady Aquitaine. "They're with me."
"Yes, Your Excellency." The guard withdrew to the door, drawing the key from his belt. He hesitated for a moment. "Countess. I don't know who that woman is. But... she's hurt pretty bad. She needs a healer."
"I'll take care of that," Amara told him. "Has she tried to speak to you?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good. Leave the keys. I want you to take station at the bottom of the stairs. We're not to be disturbed for any but Lord Cereus or Gaius Sextus himself."
The legionare blinked, then saluted. "Yes, ma'am." He took up his shield by its carrying strap and marched to the bottom of the stairs.
Amara turned the key smoothly in the well-kept lock, and opened the door. It swung on soundless hinges, and Amara frowned.
"Problem?" Bernard whispered.
"I suppose I expected it to clank. And squeak."
"First dungeon?"
"Except for where they locked me up with you."
Bernard's mouth quirked into a small smile, and he pushed the door the rest of the way open and entered the room first. He stopped there for a moment, and Amara saw him stiffen and heard him draw in a sharp breath. He stood stock-still for a moment, until Amara touched his back, and Bernard moved aside.
Rook had not been treated kindly.
Amara stood beside her husband for a moment. The bloodcrow had been chained to the ceiling, the cuffs cutting into her wrists, held so that her feet barely touched the floor. Her broken leg was wholly unable to support her weight. A six-inch-wide circle grooved into the floor had been filled with oil, and dozens of floating wicks surrounded the prisoner with fire, preventing the use of any water furies-which she obviously possessed, if able to change her appearance to double for the student murdered several years before. Her tenuous connection with the earth, as well as a lack of proper leverage, would make the use of earth furies a useless gesture. No living or once-living plants adorned the room, ruling out much use of woodcrafting, and the close quarters would make the use of any firecrafting essentially suicidal. Metalcrafting might be able to weaken the cuffs, but it was something that would take a great deal of time and effort, and Rook would have neither. This deep beneath the surface, wind furies would be of very limited use-a fact not lost on Amara, who never felt comfortable when Cirrus was not readily available.
That left only simple ingenuity as a possible threat to her captors-and no one who had worked long in Kalarus's service would be in short supply. Or at least, would not be under normal circumstances. Rook hung limply in the chains, her good leg trembling in a kind of constant state of collapse, barely able to keep enough weight off her suspended shoulders to keep them from being dislocated. Another day or so and it would happen in any case. Her head hung down, hair fallen around her face. Her breathing came in short, harsh jerks, edged with sounds of basic pain and fear, and what little of her voice Amara heard was dry, ragged.
The woman was no threat to anyone. She was doomed, and she knew it. Part of Amara cried out at the woman's plight, but she pushed compassion from her thoughts. Rook was a murderer and worse. A bloody-handed traitor to the Realm.
All the same. Looking at the woman made Amara feel sick.
Amara stepped over the ring of floating candles, walked over to stand before her and said, "Rook. Look at me."
Rook's head twitched. Amara caught the dull shine of the low candlelight on one of the woman's eyes.
"I don't want to make this more unpleasant than it has to be," Amara said in a quiet tone. "I want information. Give it to me, and I'll have your leg seen to. Supply you a cot."
Rook stared and said nothing.
"It won't change what will happen. But there's no reason you have to be uncomfortable until your trial. No reason you should die in fever and agony while you wait."
The captive woman shuddered. Her voice came out in a rasp. "Kill me. Or get out."
Amara folded her arms. "Several thousand legionares are already dead thanks to your master. Thousands more will die in the coming battles. Women, children, the elderly and infirm will also suffer and die. In wars, they always do."
Rook said nothing.
"You attempted to murder Isana of Calderon. A woman whose personal courage, kindness, and integrity I have seen demonstrated more than once. A woman I count my friend. Count Calderon here is her brother. And, of course, I believe you are acquainted with her nephew. With what they have all given in service to the Realm."
Rook breathed in short, strangled rasps, but did not speak.
"You face death for what you have done," Amara said. "I have never been one to believe in spirits bound to earth for their crimes in life. Neither would I wish to have such deeds as yours on my conscience."
No response. Amara frowned. "Rook, if you cooperate with us, it's possible that we can end this war before it destroys us all. It would save thousands of lives. Surely you can see that."
When the spy did not reply, Amara leaned in closer, making eye contact. "If you cooperate, if your help makes the difference, the First Lord may suspend your execution. Your life may not be a pleasant one-but you will live."
Rook drew in a shuddering breath and lifted her head enough to stare at Amara. Tears, absent until then, began to streak down her cheeks. "I can't help you, Countess."
"You can," Amara said. "You must."
Rook ground her teeth in agony. "Don't you see? I can't."
"You will," Amara said.
Rook shook her head, a slight motion of weary despair and closed her eyes.
"I've never tortured anyone," Amara said quietly. "I know the theory. I'd rather resolve this peaceably. But it's up to you. I can go away and come back with a healer. Or I can come back with a knife."
The prisoner said nothing for a long moment. Then she inhaled, licked her lips, and said, "If you heat the knife, it's easier to avoid mistakes. The wound sears shut. You can cause a great deal more pain with far less damage, provided I do not faint."
Amara only stared at Rook for a long, silent moment.
"Go get your knife, Countess," Rook whispered. "The sooner we begin, the sooner it will be over with."
Amara bit her lip and looked at Bernard. He stared at Rook, his face troubled, and shook his head.
"Countess," murmured Lady Aquitaine. "May I speak to you?"
Rook looked up at the sound of her voice, body tensing.
Amara frowned but nodded to Lady Aquitaine, who stood silhouetted in the doorway, and turned to step close to her.
"Thank you," Lady Aquitaine said quietly. "Countess, you are an agent of the Crown. It is your profession, and so you are familiar with many of the same things as the prisoner. You are not, however, personally familiar with Kalarus Brencis, how he operates his holdings and uses his clients and those in his employ."
"If there is something you think I should know, it might be more productive if you told it to me."
Lady Aquitaine's eyes managed to be cold and perfectly restrained at the same time. "She asked you to kill her when you saw her?"
Amara frowned. "Yes. How did you know?"
"I did not," Lady Aquitaine replied. "But it is a position one can understand, given a few key facts."
Amara nodded. "I'm listening."
"First," Lady Aquitaine said, "assume that Kalarus does not trust her any farther than he can kick her, if it comes to that."
Amara frowned. "He has to."
"Why?"
"Because she's operating independently of him most of the time," Amara said. "Her role in the capital had her away from Kalarus for months at a time. She could have betrayed him, and he would never have known about it until long after."
"Precisely," Lady Aquitaine said. "And what might possibly compel her to perfect loyalty despite such opportunity, hmm?"
"I-" Amara began.
"What might compel her to deny potential clemency? To urge you to finish her as quickly as possible? To ask you to kill her outright from the very beginning?"
Amara shook her head. "I don't know. I take it you do."
Lady Aquitaine gave Amara a chill little smile. "One more hint. Assume that she believes that she is being watched, by one measure or another. That if she turns against him, Kalarus will learn of it, and that regardless of how far away she is, he will be able to retaliate."
Amara felt her belly twist with nauseated horror as it dawned on her what Lady Aquitaine was speaking about. "He holds a hostage against her loyalty. Someone close to her. If she turns against him, he'll kill the hostage."
Lady Aquitaine inclined her head. "Behold our spy. A young woman. Unwed, I am certain, and without a family able to support or protect her. The hostage must be someone she is willing to die for-willing to face torture and agony for. My guess..."
"He has her child," Amara stated, her voice flat and cold.
Lady Aquitaine arched a brow. "You seem offended."
"Should I not be?" Amara asked. "Should not you?"
"Your own master is little different, Amara," Lady Aquitaine said. "Ask High Lord Atticus. Ask Isana her opinion on his decision to relocate her nephew to the Academy. And did you think he hasn't noticed your relationship with the good Count Bernard? Should your hand turn against him, Amara, do not think for a moment he would not use whatever he could to control you. He's simply more elegant and tasteful than to throw it in your face."
Amara stared steadily back at Lady Aquitaine. Then she said, in a quiet voice, "You are very wrong."
The High Lady's mouth curled into another cool little smile. "You are very young." She shook her head. "It is almost as though we live in two different Realms."
"I appreciate your insight into Kalarus's character-or rather the lack thereof. But what advantage does it give us?"
"The lever Kalarus uses," Lady Aquitaine said, "will serve you just as ably."
Amara's stomach turned in disgust. "No," she said.
Lady Aquitaine turned more fully to Amara. "Countess. Your sensibilities are useless to the rule of a realm. If that woman does not speak to you, your lord will fail to muster the support he needs to defend his capital, and whether or not he lives, his rule will be over. Thousands will die in battle. Food shipments will be delayed, destroyed. Famine. Disease. Tens of thousands will fall to them without ever being touched by a weapon."
"I know that," Amara spat.
"Then if you truly would prevent it, would protect this Realm you claim to serve, then you must set your squeamishness aside and make the difficult choice." Her eyes almost glowed. "That is the price of power, Cursor."
Amara looked away from Lady Aquitaine and stared at the prisoner.
"I'll talk," she said finally, very quietly. "I'll cue you to show yourself to her."
Lady Aquitaine tilted her head to one side and nodded comprehension. "Very well."
Amara turned and went back over to the prisoner. "Rook," she said quietly. "Or should I call you Gaelle?"
"As you would. Both names are stolen."
"Rook will do, then," Amara said.
"Did you forget your knife?" the prisoner said. There was no life to the taunt.
"No knife," Amara said quietly. "Kalarus has abducted two women. You know who they are."
Rook said nothing, but something in the quality of her silence made Amara think that she did.
"I want to know where they have been taken," Amara said. "I want to know what security precautions are around them. I want to know how to free them and escape with them again."
A short breath, the bare specter of a laugh, escaped Rook's lips.
"Are you willing to tell me?" Amara asked.
Rook stared at her in silent scorn.
"I see," Amara said. She beckoned with one hand. "In that case, I'm going to leave."
Lady Aquitaine-and not Lady Aquitaine-stepped into the light of the circle of fire. Her form had changed, growing shorter, stockier, so that the dress she wore fit her badly. Her features had changed, skin and face and hair, to the perfect mirror of Rook's own face and body alike.
Rook's head snapped up. Her tortured face twisted into an expression of horror.
"I'll go for a walk outside," Amara continued in a quiet, remorseless voice. "Out in public. With her. Where everyone in the city might see. Where anyone Kalarus has watching will see us together."
Rook's face writhed between terror and agony, and she stared at Lady Aquitaine as if physically unable to remove her gaze. "No. Oh furies, no. Kill me. Just end it."
"Why?" Amara asked. "Why should I?"
"If I am dead, she will be nothing to him. He might only cast her out." Her voice dissolved into a ragged sob as she began to weep again. "She's only five. Please, she's only a little girl."
Amara took a deep breath. "What is her name, Rook?"
The woman suddenly sagged in the chains, wracked with broken, harsh sobs. "Masha," she grated. "Masha."
She pressed closer, seizing Rook by the hair and forcing her to lift her face, though the woman's eyes were now swollen, mostly closed. "Where is the child?"
"Kalare," sobbed the spy. "He keeps her next to his chambers. To remind me what he can do."
Amara steeled herself not to falter, and her voice rang on the stone walls. "Is that where they've taken the prisoners?"
Rook shook her head, but the gesture was a feeble one, an obvious lie. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no."
Amara held the spy's eyes and willed resolve into her own. "Do you know where they are? Do you know how I can get to them?"
Silence fell, but for Rook's broken sounds of grief and pain. "Yes," she said, finally. "I know. But I can't tell you. If you rescue them, he'll kill her." She shuddered. "Countess, please, it's her only chance. Kill me here. I can't fail her."
Amara released Rook's hair and stepped back from the prisoner. She felt sick. "Bernard," she said quietly, nodding at a bucket in the corner. "Give her some water."
The Count did, his expression remote and deeply troubled. Rook made no sign that she noticed him, until he had actually lifted her head and used a ladle to pour some water between her lips. Then she drank with the mindless, miserable need of a caged beast.