Charon cleared his throat. “Well, yes. But, and I appreciate that it’s not a pleasant topic, the fact remains that we now have no sitting chancellor. The priority has to be our security during the transitional period, while we arrange an election.”
“Can’t that wait—” Mael began, but Vespus spoke over him.
“An election? And whose name will be on the ballot paper?”
“I would have thought that was patently obvious. Sorrow’s, of course.”
“Sorrow’s?” Vespus barked, looking her up and down. “Mael is the heir. Harun recognized him as his son. You were there. We all heard him say it.”
“You said you weren’t interested in the chancellorship.” Sorrow spoke directly to Mael, who was watching them all with startled eyes. “In Rhylla. You said you wanted to get to know your family.”
“That was then,” Vespus said coldly. “Things have changed since.”
“So now you want to govern?” Sorrow ignored him, still focusing on Mael. Her chest felt tight, her pulse hammering as though she’d run a great distance. “Do you?”
Mael opened his mouth as though to speak, but Vespus held up a hand, silencing him, before he continued. “Obviously nothing has been decided yet. No one could have known Harun was going to die. But you can’t suppose to deny what Harun said – the entire Jedenvat was there – so the fact remains he is the heir and if he wants to run for election, he may.”
“There is no doubt what Harun believed,” Charon said pointedly, as two red spots appeared high on Vespus’s pale cheeks. “But regardless of who he is – or isn’t – this boy doesn’t know anything about the practicalities of governing. He knows nothing of the intricacy of government, has no relationship with the Jedenvat or the wardens, and the people know nothing about him.”
“What do they need to know? He’s the eldest child of the most recent chancellor.”
“This isn’t Rhylla, Lord Vespus. We’re a democracy.”
“A democracy? Where there’s only ever one name on—”
The tightness in Sorrow’s chest had become a band that was burning her now, and she lashed out, snapping, “Stop arguing over the still-warm corpse of my father. We can wait a day before we decide anything. We have other things to think of.”
“She’s right.” Mael moved to stand behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Sorrow fought the sudden urge to shrug it off. “Surely this can wait?”
“It can,” Sorrow said without looking at him. “There is much to do. Notices need to be sent to all of the wardens, from their governing senator, to announce the death through their districts and counties. Today will be a national day of mourning.” She paused, realizing it already was, as the anniversary of Cerena’s death. “Full mourning. Schools and non-essential businesses should close and remain so until the day after tomorrow. Black armbands will need to be made; grant working dispensation to any tailors.”
She reeled off the list of commands she’d had to give four months earlier, when her grandmother had died. Back then Charon had coached her on them, forcing her through her grief to stand up and do what needed to be done. He’d been proud of her, though he’d not said it aloud, and she could see the same look in his eyes now as he watched her take charge.
Vespus, on the other hand, did not look pleased.
Sorrow didn’t care whether Vespus was pleased or not, and continued regardless. “The deacon of the North Marches will need to be summoned to bless my father’s body and dedicate it to the Grace of Death and Rebirth before we can move him – ask Bayrum Mizil to send for her. The body will lie in state in the temple here. I think that’s right – it’s where my mother was taken?” She looked to Charon for confirmation and he nodded. “Then I think it’s right he lies there too. Afterwards we’ll have him taken back to Istevar and interred in the family crypt.”
“And what do you plan to tell people was the cause of death?” Vespus asked, his voice quiet and dangerous.
Sorrow hesitated. “I… We’ll say his heart gave out,” she said after a moment. “That the events of the past two days were too much for him.”
“So you’ll blame Mael for it?” Vespus said.
“No, of course not,” Charon snapped before Sorrow could reply. “I’m surprised Lincel didn’t tell you that the official line on Harun’s absence from public life was that he had a weak heart – the result of his grief after the loss of his wife and son, made worse by the recent death of his mother. The Ventaxis family has a history of heart failure down the male line –” he glanced at Mael “– it’s what killed Reuben, if you recall. Sorrow’s suggestion is perfectly in line with the current message, and will save the face of the family without causing any more suspicion or fear in the people than is necessary.”
Vespus’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing.
Charon looked back at Sorrow. “I am sorry to ask this but if you’re ready, Miss Ventaxis, there are papers that you’ll need to sign to release funds for the funeral. You are the only living member of the Ventaxis family authorized to do so,” he added, earning himself a vicious glare from Vespus, and a surprised one from Mael, who again looked as though he might speak.
Charon spoke before he could. “Miss Ventaxis? The papers?” he said. “We need to send them to Istevar.”
Suddenly the message behind Charon’s pointed looks clicked in Sorrow’s mind.
Papers. Mael said Harun signed and sealed orders regarding Lamentia, but he hadn’t said if they’d been sent. Had there been other papers signed without their knowledge – papers declaring Mael his son and heir? And if so, were they still here? Was that what Charon was trying to tell her?
“I’d like a moment alone with my father,” she said.
Relief was evident on Charon’s face. She’d guessed right. “Yes. Of course. I’ll wait outside for you. Gentlemen.” He gestured for Vespus and Mael to leave before him.
As soon as she heard the latch fall into place, Sorrow rose from her stool, walked to the window and threw the curtains open, filling the room with light.
She went through his travelling cases first, ignoring how gruesome it was to be ransacking her father’s room while his body lay on the bed behind her. When nothing turned up there, she began to rifle through drawers, some of the clothes inside so old they disintegrated under her touch. She pulled the bottom drawers of the two chests out, to see if anything had been hidden under them. She explored the wardrobe, climbing up to search the top, and feeling underneath for anything that might have been taped to the bottom.
She got on her belly and crawled under the bed, searching every corner, and then, in an act that made her stomach turn, she plunged her hands beneath the mattress and felt the entire bed, trying to ignore the dead weight of her father resting above.