Michel let out a low whistle and wondered if every other house on this street had the same flurry of activity. He couldn’t voice the question before he heard a muffled sound from inside the room and Tenik swung the door open.
Yaret’s office seemed to be the only room in the house with a single occupant. It was a large room constructed in the current Fatrastan fashion with deep, built-in bookshelves, a wide window, and an immense desk. The window was open to allow a southerly breeze and the desk had been shoved to one side and replaced in the center of the room with a pair of lounging couches.
Yaret stood in front of one of the bookshelves. He spared Michel a glance, then removed a book from the shelf and flipped through it for a moment before tossing it on a large pile in the corner. “I’m amazed at the rubbish you people stack on your shelves just to look intelligent,” he commented. “There are histories, encyclopedias, medical texts, sex manuals. Very few of these books have ever been cracked, let alone studied.”
“You should see my mother’s house,” Michel said offhand. He immediately bit his tongue, wishing he hadn’t said that. Admitting to a living mother was a piece of information that enemies could use against him.
Yaret raised an eyebrow. “She likes books?”
“Loves them, sir.” Michel cleared his throat. “Mostly penny novels. She likes adventures.”
“Does she read them?”
“Every single one. Many times.”
“Then she chooses better books than the fool who owned this library.” Yaret tossed another book on the pile. “I don’t keep books unless I intend on reading them. Seems like a waste of money, space, and resources.” He gestured at Tenik. “You’re welcome to look through those and see if there’s anything you want for the Household library back home.”
“Thank you,” Tenik said with a nod. He seemed pleased with the allowance, and Michel wondered if such an act was a special privilege. At this point, he understood just enough about Household dynamics to know how little he actually grasped.
Yaret discarded one more book and walked to one of the couches. He lay down, propping his head up with one arm, and examined Michel with a sort of idle curiosity that nearly made him squirm. After a few moments Yaret said, “I understand you have information for me. Have you found the Gold Rose?”
Michel cleared his throat, trying to collect the proper words to explain a week of watching a building with nothing to show for it. He decided to tell it straight. “We’ve been following a man named Marhoush for a week,” he reported. “Marhoush is the second-in-command to a Gold Rose named Val je Tura, who I believe has remained in the city.”
“And you hoped Marhoush would lead you to this Tura?”
“Je Tura,” Michel corrected the vernacular gently. “Yes, that is what we hoped.”
“And has it?”
“It hasn’t,” Michel answered.
Yaret’s eyes flicked to Tenik with a clear unspoken question. Michel took that as his cue to forge ahead before Yaret could make assumptions about complete failure.
Michel said, “Marhoush didn’t lead us to je Tura, but he did lead us to someone equally intriguing.”
“Intriguing or useful?” Yaret asked, using the Adran word for both.
“ ‘Intriguing’ is the best term,” Tenik said, stepping in. “But I think it could be useful.”
“Well?” Yaret asked Michel.
Michel hesitated. In the Blackhats, he would have done his due diligence before such a meeting. He would have found out Forgula’s friends and enemies, whom she was useful to, and why. He would have known ahead of time whether her meeting with an enemy of the state was a surprise, a given, or something else. In short, he’d have a pretty good idea how Yaret would react to the news and whether it needed to be sugarcoated or spun. But Dynize politics was still an unknown, as was Yaret himself.
“We saw Marhoush meeting with Forgula,” Michel said. “We weren’t close enough to overhear the conversation, and Tenik didn’t think we should bring them in for questioning.”
Yaret glanced at Tenik, who gave a small nod. “Well.” Yaret tapped his chin. “One of Sedial’s cupbearers meeting with an enemy of the state. That is intriguing.” Yaret paused to sweep his eyes across the half-empty bookshelf on the other side of the room. “You were right not to bring them in. What do you make of this, Michel?”
Michel was surprised to be asked. This was no longer his territory. He simply didn’t know enough about the Dynize to create an informed opinion. But that wouldn’t keep him from trying. “I’m not certain,” he began. “It’s possible that Ka-Sedial has turned Marhoush and that Forgula is the intermediary. It’s also possible that je Tura is negotiating some kind of deal—again with Forgula as the intermediary.”
“Or …?” Yaret asked. The question was a single word, but it held, at least in Michel’s mind, a world full of menace.
How, he wondered, did the Dynize react to accusations of treason among their own people? “Or,” he finally said, “Forgula has been turned by the Blackhats.”
“Forgula is Sedial’s creature through and through,” Tenik said quietly. “I don’t think she would betray either him or the emperor.”
“I agree,” Yaret said, sitting up and leaning toward Michel. “But it’s also a possibility that we can’t entirely eliminate.”
Michel found himself nodding along.
Yaret continued. “Ka-Sedial’s Household is not supposed to concern themselves with spies and enemy agents. Sedial oversees the military and the temporary government on the emperor’s behalf. I do not—”
Yaret was cut off by a rap on the door. He nodded to Tenik, who opened it to reveal one of the youths Michel had noticed loitering in the hall earlier. “Pardon, Minister,” the girl said, “but Ka-Sedial is here to see you.”
“Now?” Yaret asked with some surprise.
“He is at the door, sir.”
“Send him in.” As soon as the door closed, Yaret stood and straightened his pants and jacket, rolling his eyes. “Do you have demons in any of the Kressian religions?” he asked.
“We do,” Michel answered curiously. “Uh, should we go, sir?”
“There’s an old saying in Dynize: Speak a demon’s name and he will appear. No, I’d like you to remain.” Yaret cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, smiling at the door. Tenik took Michel by the arm and pulled him to one side just as the door opened.
Michel had heard more than a few things about Ka-Sedial’s singular meeting with Lindet just before the invasion began. Sedial was rumored to be an old man, but Michel had not expected him to be in his late seventies, wearing a teal cloak over a comfortable-looking maroon tunic. Sedial walked with a cane, though it was not clear if he actually needed it, and he had a grandfatherly but slightly hawkish face, with sharp eyes and smile lines in the corners of his mouth.
If Ka-Sedial noticed Michel and Tenik standing to the side, he did not give any indication. “My friend,” he said warmly to Yaret, taking Yaret’s offered hand in both of his.
“Good afternoon, Sedial,” Yaret said in a gentle tone. “I didn’t expect your visit. I apologize for the mess.”
“Oh, no need. I’ve been cleaning the bookshelves in my own new home. So much Kressian and Fatrastan rubbish. It’s a pity they wasted so much paper!”
The two men shared a laugh as if they were old friends. Michel watched the sides of their faces carefully, and despite the warmth of their conversation he thought he spotted a glint in the eyes of each man.
“My friend,” Sedial said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, “I was just passing by, but the truth is that a grave matter has been weighing on me for several days.”
Yaret spread his arms. “If there’s anything I can do …”