“That’s a long story.”
“I can stand here as long as necessary.” She glances around the entry hall of the villa.
Lerial smiles. “I think I mentioned Majer Altyrn to you…”
“You said his consort had a lovely smile.”
“He was a great man. I don’t think many understood how great. She was great in a different way. They were very much in love, and despite many difficulties and very different backgrounds, they never argued, although they shared feelings that, from what I saw, had to have been very different in the past. I got the sense that they got on so well because neither had any illusions about either life or each other…”
“You’re verging on the presumptuous, you know?”
“I didn’t mean to. What I was trying to say was that I think that many troubles between people come from illusions that they hold.”
“Perhaps. But you have no illusions about Duke Khesyn. He is ruthless and bloody. That lack of illusion doesn’t mean Afrit or Cigoerne will ever get on with him.”
“The lack of illusion means that we know that.”
“I think that might undermine your point.”
Lerial shakes his head in a mock-serious fashion. “I should not debate with you.”
“You respect the majer a great deal, don’t you?”
“I did. I still do. I probably respect him even more after what I’ve seen and been through in the last season.”
“You should tell him that.”
“I can’t. He died just before I left for Afrit.”
“Oh … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“I never told you. You wouldn’t have known.” Lerial pauses, then says gently, “I should get back to the palace to see if Sammyl has discovered anything more about what Khesyn may be doing.” Lerial regrets having to leave, but he also worries about what may be happening in Estheld … or elsewhere in Heldya.
“I suppose you should. I shouldn’t be keeping you.”
“You will send word if your grandfather doesn’t improve?”
“We will.”
“Good.” Lerial smiles, hoping Kyedra will smile back, then turns when she just nods.
She does not come out onto the entry terrace to watch as he departs.
When Lerial returns to the palace and the sitting room, both Sammyl and Rhamuel are still there, each behind a table desk. Neither looks particularly pleased.
“How is Aenslem?”
“It appears as though he is largely recovered. It’s likely he was poisoned…” Lerial goes on to explain what Aenslem had said about the tonic. He does not mention Veraan or anything about Myrapol House, except what Aenslem has said.
“Trusting Alaphyn … about anything…” Rhamuel shakes his head.
“What is happening in Estheld?” Lerial asks.
“Two more merchanters have arrived,” replies Sammyl. “So far as we can tell, none have left, and none appear ready to cast off. There’s no sign of flatboats on the river.”
“Not yet.” Rhamuel’s voice is dry and ironic, with a foreboding tone.
“All we can do is prepare and wait,” says Sammyl. “What else can we do?”
What else can we do? Lerial is still pondering that question later that night as he lies in the bunk in the senior officer’s quarters at Afritan Guard headquarters, trying to go to sleep.
XLII
Lerial wakes up on fourday, his thoughts on Veraan and Myrapol House. Had Veraan’s father Apollyn actually created a chaos-based poison for the tainted tonic … or had Veraan just used a fast-acting tincture of some sort? And why would he have done that? Lerial can certainly understand why Alaphyn would have wanted Aenslem to order the deadly tonic directly from Myrapol House, but why would Veraan have agreed to it? For golds? The sum would have to have been quite significant. Or perhaps, in an odd way, Veraan felt that the death of an Afritan merchanter would not hurt Cigoerne … or more likely, would reduce rivals to Myrapol House.
And then there was Maesoryk … who had to have been involved in the explosions and the invasion landings at his tileworks, but with no proof … except indirectly …
Lerial bolts upright in his bunk, recalling what Aenslem had said the afternoon before about Maesoryk—two chaos-mages around him all the time. “Of course,” he murmurs to himself, “the fog … the unnatural chaos-caused fog.” The fog that had enabled the ships to land had to have been created by a mage on land—at the tileworks. And there had been at least four mages when Lerial and Twenty-third Company had first faced the invaders. That was how they knew they’d be covered. Two mages from Maesoryk and those with the Heldyans. Except … again, the fact that the fog had been created on land wasn’t definitive proof of Maesoryk’s involvement or guilt. Even if Maesoryk should return to Swartheld without his mages, that would not constitute real proof.