‘Who in the name of Saint Ebron-who-steals-breath is “Magrit Denezia”?’ I asked.
The guard was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, then he let out a despairing sob, quite at odds with his deep voice. ‘I think that was her name . . . before she . . . became whatever it is she became.’
I had known this strange woman more than half my life and yet I’d only recently learned that she was the King’s mother – and even then, it had never occurred to me to wonder who she’d been before she became the Tailor. Now I stared at that name on the paper, Magrit Denezia, and wondered why she’d never told me before.
The answer was obvious, of course; it just took me a little while to work it out. The Tailor was an Inlaudati – an unknowable genius with the ability to cunningly shape events that could change the course of history. Magrit Denezia was a grandmother, to Aline, and to Filian too. Duchess Patriana had created the perfect trap for her deadliest adversary: she’d given her a choice no woman could ever bring herself to make.
That was why the cell was empty. That was why the Tailor was gone, and had written down her old name for me. She needed me to know that she was no longer the Tailor.
*
I left the cell feeling unmoored, confused and filled with an unexpected sorrow. For all the Tailor and I had fought, and sometimes come perilously close to one of us dying, she had been a constant in my life for longer than I’d been a Greatcoat. Her schemes had more than once come close to killing me, but the coat she’d crafted for me had saved me from death more times than I could count. Now she was gone, and I felt alone.
‘The hour grows late for this little country of ours,’ Duchess Ossia said.
The surprise of hearing her voice sent me stumbling into the open cell.
‘It’s time for you and me to save it, Falcio.’
It took me a moment to make out her form, sitting on a chair in the shadows of the hallway leading out of the dungeon. Even in such surroundings, she was a strikingly elegant sight. ‘You surprised me, your Grace.’
‘A great number of things surprise you of late, First Cantor. You should have anticipated that the Tailor would be removed from the board.’
Excellent. Just what I needed: another talking-down-to by our illustrious nobility. I was still feeling raw, so I retreated into my old defences. ‘I am a magistrate, your Grace. My role is to adjudicate the law and see it enforced, not to play games with the future of nations.’
She rose, the heavy fabric of her skirts falling into place as she stepped towards me. ‘I think not, Falcio. You gave up the right to such facile answers the day you and the other Greatcoats took up King Paelis’ final commands. Or would you pretend that the missions he gave you were simple legal disputes?’
She was right, of course, but still I resisted. ‘Each of the King’s commands was a step towards restoring the rule of law to Tristia, nothing more.’
‘Is that so? We are in an interregnum, Falcio. Since when has the judiciary taken it upon itself to choose the next monarch?’
Why is she pushing me?
‘As I have explained to others of late, your Grace, we are not in an interregnum. We have a lawful heir to the throne.’
‘In fact, we appear to have two: a matter I believe you could have resolved in a cell in Avares. I wonder, did you spare the boy’s life because you do not believe he is Paelis’ son, or because you do not care and will see Aline crowned regardless?’
‘I spared him because I am not a murderer.’
She looked as if she was about to object, so I cut her off. ‘I have killed men who were trying to kill me or those in my care, or who were guilty of crimes worthy of death. You know the difference, Duchess Ossia, so please don’t waste my time with whatever -philosophical speculations on the nature of justice happen to appeal to you today.’
‘The deaths which concern me, First Cantor, are those which will flood this place with blood once Filian’s lineage is proven.’
‘The City Sages have only just begun to arrive, your Grace. Perhaps they will declare that he is not of Paelis’ issue. I doubt Trin has spoken an honest word in her life; why should we believe her now?’
‘She speaks true,’ Ossia said bitterly. ‘Damn Paelis and his “charoites”: a fool’s scheme to keep his line alive. And now, thanks to other fools, we will all pay the price for it.’
‘You know, your Grace, I’ve been on the receiving end of these little chats ever since the day the King died. It occurs to me, however, that both Duchess Patriana and Duke Jillard – among others – knew that King Paelis had sired children and kept them hidden from the world. So while I accept my part in never realising there might be an older child with a stronger claim, I wonder why someone like you – someone who has always been obsessed with bloodlines – managed to miss this possibility.’
She blinked, and now I saw that she had known; this was the true reason for her anger, not that I’d been a fool.
‘Patriana,’ the Duchess spat. ‘She boasted – she crowed – that she had killed them all, every one of them. Her own allies believed she spoke truly – after all, why keep one alive when we all knew she was planning to put Trin on the throne? What kind of mother steals another’s child only to keep it safe as a spare, just in case her own daughter should die?’
I didn’t reply because the answer was as simple as it was horrifying: Patriana understood the ways of power better than any of us. There’d always been a chance that she might be found out and killed, that Trin would be prevented from being crowned. So she’d raised another heir in secret, inculcating him with her values, growing him like a weed hidden amongst the flowers of a garden, so that once it had taken root – once he took power – he would bring Trin with him. They would marry, and Trin would be Queen at last.
Jillard had told me Aline’s betrothal would be the first step towards her elimination; that choosing her husband would be her single act as monarch. Would that happen if Filian became King? Would he die of mysterious causes shortly after his joyous marriage, his death blamed on . . . well, me, probably, somehow, leaving Trin – Tarindelle – to rule alone, as Patriana had always intended?
Ossia caught the look in my eyes, the expression on my face. ‘Forgive me, Falcio. We have all of us been played for fools, I more than most.’ She took my arm. ‘But now we must take action before it is too late.’
I shook my head. ‘The matter isn’t settled yet. The City Sages might still—’
‘I told you, they will not! Filian will be revealed as the true heir and all will be lost!’
‘No, listen, Kest has been looking into the matter and it might not be as simple as that. The Ducal Coun—’
The slap surprised me; usually my reactions are better.