Sword Catcher (Sword Catcher, #1)

As Kel approached Scarlet Square, he recalled how sure he’d been, the last time he had spoken to Andreyen, that he had severed their connection. That he owed Andreyen Morettus, inheritor of the title of the Ragpicker King, nothing at all.

And yet here he was, feeling a sense of near-relief as his feet carried him through the Warren to the Black Mansion. Jerrod had been very convincing, but Kel had known a great many convincing people. He thought of the Council, sitting around the face of their great clock, each one untrustworthy, each one convincing in his or her own way.

Of course, Andreyen, too, was not to be trusted. But the key was not trust, Kel thought. The key was knowing in what ways someone could be trusted, and in what ways they would lie. And Kel did not think Andreyen would lie about this.

The garden in the square’s center was brilliant green in the sunlight. As Kel approached the mansion, he saw the door swing open, and Merren and Ji-An, wearing her foxglove jacket, came down the stairs to meet him. He saw Ji-An close the door firmly behind her. So he was not going to be let inside, Kel thought. Not yet.

“Does he not want to see me?” Kel said as Merren sat down on one of the middle steps. He wore a yellow jacket, stained at the cuff with something green and dangerous looking. Kel thought of Jerrod: Send my regards to the pretty poisoner.

Merren might sprawl, but sprawling was not in Ji-An’s nature. Back straight, she raised an eyebrow at Kel and said, “If you want to see Andreyen, he’s not here.”

“I can wait,” Kel said.

“All day?” said Ji-An. “You might not have heard, but Prosper Beck has gone. The Maze is unguarded. Andreyen has some strategy to work out.”

“So it’s true,” Kel said. “Beck’s really left?”

“Like a shadow in the night,” said Merren cheerfully. “All his people left wandering about, looking for someone to tell them what to do.”

“I don’t suppose you know anything about why,” said Ji-An, looking closely at Kel. “You talked to him.”

“I’d like to flatter myself that I charmed him into telling me all his plans,” said Kel, “but I doubt it. Jerrod said he fled because he knew of a danger to Castellane, but—”

“But Jerrod Belmerci cannot be trusted,” said Ji-An.

“Mmm,” said Merren. “Really? More so than any other criminal?” He turned to Kel, ignoring Ji-An’s surprised look. “Was that what you wanted with Andreyen? To tell him about Beck?”

“More to confirm that he was gone,” said Kel. “Andreyen came to me asking me to look into Prosper Beck. But that investigation seems finished. So—”

“So you’re done,” said Merren. “Now that Prosper Beck is gone, you’re done with us and the Black Mansion?”

“I think Andreyen hoped for more from Kel than just that,” Ji-An said, clearly aware that Kel was watching her, but addressing her comments to Merren. “He said there was more for Kel to do on the Hill. That he wasn’t finished.”

“And yet,” said Kel, “I find myself tired of tangling with business in the city and on the Hill. My loyalty is with the Palace. With Conor. I should never have tried to do more than that.”

Merren raised his face to the sun. “I admit,” he said, quietly, “I hoped you might know something about Artal Gremont. About when he was coming back.”

Kel wondered for a moment if he should mention what Jerrod had said about Gremont—but if Artal had other enemies, he doubted that was something Merren didn’t already know. “I can get word to you as soon as I hear of his return,” he said. “But that’s all.”

He thought of Roverge, of the wine, of Antonetta’s locket, of Sardou’s peculiar overtures. But it had all taken on the quality of chasing clouds or shadows. There would always be another nobleman exhibiting suspicious behavior. Another scheme on the Hill, another corrupt secret to be uncovered. It was the way things had always been. Power and money, the getting and the keeping of them, was the realm of kings and princes—those on the Hill, or down in the city. They were not his realm, and the further he went down this path, the further it would take him from Conor.

“I am sorry,” Kel said to Merren, “that I tried to poison myself in front of you. It was discourteous.” Merren looked surprised as Kel turned to Ji-An. “And I am sorry if I pried into your personal business. We all have our secrets and are entitled to them.”

Ji-An smiled, just the corner of a luminous smile, like a glimpse of the moon through clouds. “A carriage drawn by black swans,” she said, “does sound glamorous.”

Kel bowed to them both—the sort of sweeping bow he would have offered to a foreign dignitary. “Good luck,” he said, “with your criminal endeavors. And give my regards to Morettus.”

As he left the square, he was aware of Ji-An and Merren watching him go. He wondered if he should have said something about Jerrod’s intention to seek employment at the Black Mansion, but suspected that there would be many such seekers in the next days, as the world of the city—and perhaps the Hill, as well, in ways unseen—rearranged itself around the absence of Prosper Beck.





In the vision of Makabi, Queen Adassa showed herself to him, and he was aware immediately that she who he had once known as a human woman had become something else. She appeared in the shape of a maiden, but a maiden woven of gematry, of shimmering words and equations like chains of silver. And she said to him, “Do not despair. You have wandered in the wilderness for so long, but you are not unprotected. I am no longer your Queen, but your Goddess.

“My earthly body was destroyed but I am transfigured. I will watch over you and protect you, for you are my chosen people.”

And she showed to him a sword, upon whose cross guard was etched the image of a raven, the wise bird whose shape Makabi had once taken at the behest of her who stood before him now. “Tell all my people what I have told you, and that I will prove myself to them: Go forth tomorrow against this interloper King and face his army. and you will be victorious, for I will be with you.”

And when the sun rose the next day, Makabi rode at the head of the army of Aram once more, and the Aramites were victorious, though they were outnumbered ten to one.

—Book of Makabi





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


Kel decided to take the long way back to the Palace to give himself a chance to think. This meant the Sea Path. As the city fell away below, Kel could not help thinking of what Jerrod had said: You’re thinking too small, Anjuman. You’re thinking about your Prince and your House Aurelian, like you always do.