Julio said, “She’s also fine, feisty, fabulous, and fierce if that helps.”
Jean-Claude’s heart lifted like a balloon; that was Isabelle, no doubt. “She told you to tell me that?”
“She suggested it might stop you from killing me and wasting all the hard work she did rescuing me and saving my life.”
“She rescued you?” Jean-Claude asked, cackling gleefully in his heart. Yes. Yes. Yes. That was his Isabelle.
“Yes, and she has charged me with putting an end to Kantelvar’s war.”
Questions piled up faster that Jean-Claude could voice them. “Did she have a plan for this? And where is Kantelvar?”
“He is dead, or at least incapacitated. It’s hard to tell. But the plan was for her to give me control of l’Empire’s armies and with it force Alejandro … my brothers to parley.”
Jean-Claude nodded. Yes, that’s the way Isabelle would think. “That’s not going to work now. Carlemmo is dead; Margareta has captured Alejandro and accused him of regicide. I’d wager my balls he’ll be convicted within the hour.”
Julio took a step back, his regal expression warped in dismay. “Padre de Santos.”
“It gets worse. Grand Leon plans to let Alejandro be killed so that Clìmacio can take over without shedding any additional blood.” Time to leave out the bit about holding the real Julio hostage.
“Is he mad? Alejandro’s supporters know they will get no mercy from Margareta. If he dies, they fight to the death.”
“What if Alejandro orders them not to fight?”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because Margareta put Xaviera in the Hellshard.”
Julio turned green. “That would do it. Alejandro would do anything for her.”
“It will be for nothing, though. Margareta will kill them both.”
Julio’s hand balled into a fist. “I must get in there. Members of the Sacred Hundred can only be charged with a crime by someone of equal or greater rank. That means Alejandro could only have been charged by Clìmacio, who everyone thinks is me, or Margareta. If I can present myself as an alternative to Clìmacio, the Hundred may doubt the legitimacy of the charges and nullify the trials.”
“You’re assuming anyone in that room gives a fig about what’s true.” In Jean-Claude’s experience men seeking power only acknowledged fact insofar as it supported their ambitions.
“Alejandro is the rightful heir and the best man for the job. If he dies Aragoth will shatter and we won’t see peace for a century.” In a voice of resolute conviction he added, “He’s also my brother. I have to try.”
“Pardon the obvious question, but it’s called the Hall of Mirrors and you are a Glasswalker—”
Julio shook his head. “The speculis loci in the Hall of Mirrors are all warded. Any Glasswalker can use them for egress, but only those who are keyed to them can use them for ingress, and Margareta has interdicted me. I could likely break her wards, but it would attract attention and I’d be mobbed by her guards before I ever breached that side of the mirror.”
“So all I have to do is get you into the Hall of Mirrors, and Alejandro’s trial is off?” Jean-Claude’s pulse quickened at the ever-so-quaint sensation of having a fixed and solid target.
“Perhaps, perhaps not, but it is the only chance we have.”
Jean-Claude grinned as an idea bloomed. “Can you fetch Isabelle’s espejismo here? Meanwhile, I will make my way into the Hall of Mirrors to announce her arrival. Grand Leon will send out an honor guard to bring her in, and you will enter under her aegis.”
Julio blanched. “Se?or, I cannot bring her. I used water as a mirror. I have only ever done that twice and never as a mirror guide—”
“Is there any danger in trying?” Jean-Claude asked. He could not endanger Isabelle, not for the sake of all kingdoms. “What would happen if you failed?”
“It would…” Julio caught himself and took a moment to answer. “When a mirror passage fails, the glass may shatter; sometimes it destroys the reflection. Water would splash; the ripples might tear her apart.”
Jean-Claude’s heart twisted at the thought of risking Isabelle, but abandoning her to the scheme he suspected le roi of harboring was even more unthinkable. “Do you have a better plan?”
Julio shook his head. “My not having a better plan does not make this one viable. Isabelle saved my life. I would not repay her by scattering her espejismo through the Argentwash.”
Jean-Claude regarded him seriously. “Do you imagine she would be unwilling to take that risk? Trust to her competence and courage. Whether it be attacking an entrenched position or trusting a stranger’s word, whether it be taking up the sword or setting it aside, a man’s battle is fought when he does the thing he most fears to do.”
Julio’s visage was somber, his silver eyes dark. “Or putting the fate of his whole kingdom in the hands of a foreign power’s most devious operative?”
“Or trusting a foreign sorcerer he has traded blows with to conduct his beloved princess across a dangerous threshold into a potential bloodbath,” Jean-Claude said.
Julio raised two fingers to his temple in acknowledgment of the point.
Jean-Claude said, “Go then, and make it quick. Make it fifteen minutes.”
“That’s extremely tight timing. Traversing the Argentwash is not instantaneous.”
“As fast as you can, then.”
Julio said, “We will arrive at the mirrors in the Spindle. It’s an old ceremonial tower just outside the palace grounds.” He turned and loped into the dusty dark, leaving Jean-Claude to hustle toward the Hall of Mirrors. When Grand Leon had chased him out of the audience chamber earlier, he’d at least had the wit to exit through the royal wing, so he was in the right neighborhood. Now there was no more time for subtlety. He had to go in by the most direct route, before Julio returned, before Margareta killed Alejandro.
He still needed a ploy. There was no way even the most slack-witted guard would let Jean-Claude the musketeer anywhere near that room, so he would have to be someone else. Fortunately, he was already out of uniform. He sliced his left hand with his knife, smeared fresh blood on his face, rubbed some on his clothes, and shredded any cloth that wasn’t already stained. Reluctantly, he discarded his weapons as inappropriate baggage for the role he was about to play.