“Ewen, do you know how we captured Brenna the first time? Coryn came upon her by accident, dreaming deep in one of Thorne’s morphia dens. You’ve heard what happened to Will downstairs. Knowing what we do now, I think Coryn was very lucky that Brenna didn’t see him coming. I wouldn’t send the best sword in the Tear to lay hold of that witch. I certainly can’t send you.”
Ewen firmed his shoulders until he stood very straight. “I know what she is, sir. I knew it the day I first saw her. And I heard about what she wrote on the wall. She means to harm the Queen.”
The Mace frowned. “Have you spoken to your father about this?”
“My father is dead now, sir. But even dying, he told me to do whatever I might to protect the Queen.”
The Mace did not reply for a long moment, but Aisa could see that he was troubled.
“Ewen, she’s not an ordinary prisoner. You can’t kill her, for the Queen gave her word to keep her alive. But if you try to take such a witch alive, I think you will die in the attempt. I appreciate your courage, but I can’t let you do this. The Queen would say the same. I’m sorry.”
Ewen stared silently at the ground.
“We will find something else for you to do. Something to help the Queen. I promise.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Ewen went down the hall toward the audience chamber, his shoulders slumped.
“Perhaps you should have let him go,” Arliss remarked quietly.
“That would be a fine legacy for me as Regent, wouldn’t it? Sending a child on a suicide mission.”
“He wants to do something honorable, sir,” Elston broke in unexpectedly. “It might be good to allow it.”
“No. I’m done with being a killer of children.”
Aisa froze, but no one else seemed surprised by his words.
“Those days are long gone for you,” Arliss murmured, but the Mace chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.
“You mean to be kind, old man, but no matter how we try to outdistance the past, it’s always very close. I’m done with those days, but that doesn’t mean they’re done with me.”
“You’re a good man now.”
“Aye, I am,” the Mace replied, nodding, but his eyes were hollow, almost damned. “But it does not wipe out what came before.”
They continued down the hallway, discussing the harvest, but Aisa remained where she was, almost rooted to the floor, her mind running over the words again and again, trying to make sense of them. She could not. She thought the Mace was the best man in the Queen’s Wing, except perhaps for Venner, and she was unable to reconcile the Captain of Guard she knew with the picture his words had planted: a man who strode through ranks of small forms, wielding a scythe.
A killer of children.
Two hours later, they assembled in the throne room for the Regent’s audience. Elston, Aisa, Coryn, Devin, and Kibb were grouped around the dais, the rest of the Guard scattered around the room. The Mace sat in one armchair atop the dais, and Arliss beside him in another, as they began to let the petitioners in. The empty throne gleamed in the torchlight.
“God help me,” the Mace muttered. “I used to wonder why the Queen couldn’t keep her temper at these things. Now I wonder how she managed at all.”
Arliss chuckled. “Queenie’s rage was a powerful thing. Entertaining, too. I miss that girl.”
“We all miss her,” the Mace replied gruffly. “Now let’s be about her business.”
Aisa turned toward the doors, fixing her face into the mask of impassive stoicism that Elston recommended. The nobles came first, an old custom that, more than once, Aisa had heard the Mace and Arliss discuss discarding. But in truth, it made business move faster. Fewer nobles attended the Mace’s audiences now, and today there were only two, both petitioning for tax relief. No one was working the fields, and even Aisa saw that this must be remedied, and soon; not only would there be no food, but the empty fields and farms gave every noble in the kingdom an excuse to dodge tax. Lady Bennett and Lord Taylor listened, their faces glum, while the Mace explained, with extraordinary patience, that changing events made it impossible for him to decide the issue yet. Aisa knew that Arliss was working on the problem of the harvest, of getting people home, but it was a slow business to provision families for such a journey on foot. Both petitioners left empty-handed and disgruntled, just as so many had before.
After the nobles came the poor. Aisa liked them better, for their problems were real. Unredressed crimes, missing livestock, disputes over property . . . the Mace often came up with solutions that Aisa would never have thought of. The Guard tended to relax a bit during this portion of the audience, even Aisa, who was almost enjoying herself, right up until the moment the crowds parted and she found herself facing her father.