“I know where he is!”
The kicker lined up for another go at Jean-Claude’s head, but Margareta stayed him with a flick of her fingers.
“Where?”
Jean-Claude took his time pushing up to his knees. “The Naval Orrery.”
“Where at the orrery? Who is he?”
“The orrery is how I will find him. The who is a subject for further negotiation.” Because I am inventing this as I go.
Felix said, “Pay him no heed, Majesty. He is only trying to save his pale, ugly hide.”
“Quite correct, Majesty,” Jean-Claude said. “I am trying to save my skin. That is why I came here today. After Isabelle’s death, my life is forfeit if I return to l’Empire Céleste. I therefore seek employment elsewhere. Aragoth is the most prosperous kingdom in the world, and is likely to remain so if it can avoid tearing itself apart in civil war. And you, Majesty, are the most powerful patron in the kingdom. I therefore thought to win your favor with a gift, but what gift suits a queen, except perhaps her greatest enemy’s head on a pike? Alas, instead of gladness and honor, I am met with scorn and abuse.”
Alejandro looked at him askance, and Jean-Claude could only hope the man was as honorable as he seemed.
Felix said, “Your Majesty, trust not the traitor. One who has betrayed another will betray you as well.”
Jean-Claude smiled inwardly, for arguing about his character was infinitely easier than arguing about his facts; character was such a pliable thing. “And whom have I betrayed, sirrah? My disgrace comes not from disloyalty but from defeat. Protecting Isabelle was my singular duty and I failed, as any man may do. Alas, Grand Leon is not merciful toward merely human frailty and I have no wish to serve him as a bloodhollow. Queen Margareta is said to be more pragmatic, and more in need of allies. Thus I seek an elegant solution, securing a new position for myself by means of revenge on the man who robbed me of Isabelle and you of Kantelvar.”
Margareta said, “Who is this enemy you speak of?”
“You mean your lapdog here hasn’t told you?” Jean-Claude pointed at Felix with his nose. “Surely with all the resources at his disposal, he could have done more in the last four days than capture poor Xaviera.”
Felix’s face darkened with anger, but Margareta said, “Felix’s actions are not at issue here. Nor will I tolerate any more circumlocutions. Answer the questions put to you or die.”
“Does that mean I won’t die if I do answer?” Jean-Claude said.
“That depends how well we like the answers.”
“That hardly seems fair. I can only guarantee truth, not happiness.”
“The name. Now!”
“As you wish, though the name alone will do you no good.” And now the big gamble. Every good con involved making the mark think he’d figured out the trick. The question was how much the queen knew about Kantelvar’s most recent activities. “Thornscar.”
The queen scowled, but the hitherto-silent Príncipe Julio started in his seat.
Jean-Claude addressed the false príncipe. “I see Your Highness recognizes the name.” If Jean-Claude guessed aright, Kantelvar had tapped him to play the part of the fictional assassin when he hired Nufio to murder Jean-Claude. An assassin with a limp, and bodyguards.
Margareta wheeled in her seat. “You knew about this? You!”
Julio shrank from her anger. “No. I mean I know the name, but I did not know this.” Cautiously, like a male spider approaching a hungry female, he leaned toward the queen and whispered urgently in her ear. Jean-Claude could not imagine Kantelvar would have trusted such a cringing creature with the truth, only with the cover story.
Margareta’s eyes narrowed and then rounded. She brushed Julio away and returned her attention to Jean-Claude, watching him over steepled, pudgy fingers. “Tell me about this Thornscar.”
Jean-Claude held his glee close and tight; the hook was set. “There’s not much to tell. The name itself seems to be a nom de guerre. He is a man who had a grudge against Kantelvar and all his works, including Isabelle’s marriage. The only other target I know of is a man I haven’t been able to track down yet. At least I assume Clìmacio is a man’s name.”
The false príncipe, now fully absorbed in the conversation, did not manage to suppress a twitch at the mention of that name. Score one for Adel, bless her.
“I suggest, therefore, that your best and simplest option is to use this unfortunate individual as bait in a trap.”
“Clìmacio is dead,” Clìmacio said. “He died months ago.”
“Ahh,” Jean-Claude said, contriving to look disappointed. “So much for the simple solution.”
Margareta said, “You claim to know where this assassin is.”
“No. I claim to know how to find him, but for that I will need the Naval Orrery.”
“And how do you intend to use it?”
“To find his ship, of course.”
“He is lying,” Felix said. “He should not be let out of this room with blood in his body.”
Jean-Claude glared at Felix. “Thornscar killed Isabelle, and I will see him dead! By my hand!” He returned his attention to Margareta. “In this, our causes align perfectly. Let me slay this man for you.”
Margareta tapped her fingertips together, and Jean-Claude bit down hard on his tongue. He could do no work on the queen that she could not do better herself. She must have been going mad trying to figure out who had apparently killed Kantelvar, and now her false prince had confirmed that the assailant was real. And what if she refused? There were still ten guards in the room. If he could take the man behind him in the throat, he could snare the man’s sword. And how would Alejandro react? That he had not yet tried to sell Jean-Claude’s secrets for his wife’s safety was hopeful.
At last the queen said, “I would sooner trust a scorpion in my boot than your intentions.”
Jean-Claude tasted victory. She was hooked. “I, on the other hand, trust your intentions implicitly. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to secure your position, and you cannot afford to leave Thornscar gliding in the wind. In this we are utterly aligned, or do you really think I want him to escape? He murdered my princess.” Jean-Claude had no trouble conjuring rage to back his words, only in restraining it.
Margareta’s face contorted with the ferocity of some inner battle. As a traitor and a conspirator herself, she was primed to see plots everywhere. If most people judged the world by the view they saw in the mirror, how much worse must it be for a Glasswalker sorceress?
“You will go to the orrery,” Margareta said. “You will find this Thornscar’s ship.”
Jean-Claude exhaled in authentic relief and bowed to her. “Your Majesty is most wise.”
Felix spat, “This is a mistake. He is dangerous.”
“That is why you will go to guard him and ensure he does as he has promised. And if he complies, you will bring him back unharmed. In the meantime, Alejandro and I have a visit to pay to his father.”
CHAPTER