"Darby!" she cried in exasperation. "Of course I'm angry! You lied to me and manipulated me! My own friends were singled out for killing! One is ill because you tried to burn her printing shop!"
"We did not want to hurt her, Lady Queen," said Rood desperately. "She was printing books and teaching people to read. She had papers and strange letter molds that frightened and confused us."
"And so you set it all on fire? Is that part of your method too? Destroy anything you don't understand?"
Neither man spoke. Neither man seemed entirely present in his chair. "Captain Smit?" she snapped. "Am I likely ever to see him again?"
"He wanted to tell you the truth, Lady Queen," Rood whispered. "It was a great strain on him to lie to your face. Thiel thought he'd made himself too much of a liability, you see?"
"How could you be so careless with people?" she said, furious.
"It is easier than you might think, Lady Queen," said Rood. "It only requires a lack of thought, an avoidance of feeling, and the realization, when one does think or feel, that being careless with people is all one is good for."
Thirty-five years. Bitterblue wasn't certain she'd ever be able to comprehend what it had been like for them. It wasn't fair that nearly a decade after his death, Leck was still killing people. Leck was still tormenting the same people he'd tormented; people were committing appalling acts in order to erase the appalling acts they'd already committed.
"Ivan?" she said. "The mad engineer? What happened to him?"
"Runnemood thought he was calling too much attention to himself and, hence, to the state of the city, Lady Queen," whispered Rood. "You yourself complained of his incompetence."
"And Danzhol?"
"Oh," Rood said, taking a breath. "We don't know what went wrong with Danzhol, Lady Queen. Leck did have a few special friends who would visit and find themselves drawn into his hospital; Danzhol was one. We knew this, of course, but we didn't know he'd gone mad and intended to kidnap you for money. Thiel was so ashamed afterwards, for Danzhol had asked him beforehand how highly your administration valued you, Lady Queen, and Thiel thought, in retrospect, that perhaps he should've guessed the purpose of the question."
"Danzhol was planning to ransom me back to you?"
"We think so, Lady Queen. No other party in the world would have paid so much for your return."
"But how can you say that," Bitterblue cried, "when you'd made a point of making me useless?"
"You would not have been useless, Lady Queen," Rood said, "once we'd eradicated all that had happened! You were our hope! Perhaps we should've kept Danzhol closer and involved him more in the suppression. We could have made him a judge or a minister. Perhaps then, he wouldn't have lost his mind."
"That doesn't seem likely," Bitterblue said in disbelief. "Nothing you say is logical. I was right when I thought Runnemood was the most sane of you all; at least he understood that your plan couldn't work while I was alive. I will testify on your behalves," she continued. "I will testify as to the injury Leck did to you, and the ways in which Thiel and Runnemood may have coerced you. I'll do whatever I can, and I'll make absolutely sure that you're treated fairly. But," she said, "you both know that in your cases, it's not a matter of 'if ' there will be a trial. Both of you must go on trial. People have been murdered. I myself was almost choked to death."
"That was all Runnemood," Darby said, frantic. "He went too far."
"You have all gone too far," said Bitterblue. "Darby, see reason. You have all gone too far, and you know that I can't let you go free. How would that be? The queen protecting advisers who conspired to murder innocent Monseans and who used all the parts of her administration to see it done? You'll be imprisoned, both of you, as will anyone else who was deeply involved. You'll stay in prison until I've isolated people who can be trusted to investigate your crimes, and judges who can be trusted to try them justly and with an appreciation for all you've suffered. If you're found innocent and returned to me, I'll honor the court's ruling. But I will not pardon you myself."
Rood was breathing into his hands. He whispered, "I don't know how we all became trapped in this. I can't understand it. I still cannot fathom what happened."
Bitterblue felt as if her words were coming from a deep, hollow, unkind, and stupid core, but she pushed them out nonetheless. "Now," she said, "I want you both to write down for me how it worked, what was done, and who else was involved. Rood, you stay here at my desk," she said, handing him paper and pen. "Darby," she said, pointing to Thiel's stand. "You work over there. Separate reports. Take care that they match."
There was no comfort in making her distrust so obvious. There was no joy in depriving herself of two people whose minds and bodies she needed, depended on, to run these offices. And how horrible to send them to the prisons. One man who had a family and, somewhere deep inside him, a gentle soul, and another man who couldn't even call upon the escape of sleep.
When they were through, she arranged for members of the Queen's Guard to escort them to prison.
NEXT, SHE SENT for Giddon.
"Lady Queen," he said as he entered, "you don't look good. Bitterblue," he said, crossing the room in two strides, dropping down beside her, taking her arms.
"If you touch me," Bitterblue said, eyes closed, teeth clenched, "I'll lose my head, and they can't see me losing my head."
"Hold on to me," he said, "and breathe slowly. You're not losing your head, you're just under a massive amount of strain. Tell me what's going on."
"I'm facing," she said, then stopped. She wrapped her hands around his forearms and took a slow breath. "I'm facing a rather catastrophic staff shortage. I just put Darby and Rood in prison, and look at these papers."
She indicated the papers on her desk, covered with the scribbles of Darby and Rood. Four of the eight judges on her High Court had been involved in the suppression, convicting innocent people and people who needed to be silenced. So had Smit, of course, and the Master of Prisons. So had her Minister of Roads and Maps, her Minister of Taxes, various lords, and the head of the Monsean Guard in Monport. So many members of the Monsean Guard had learned to turn a blind eye that it had been impossible for Rood and Darby to list them individually. And then there were the lowest of the low, the criminals and the lost individuals in the city, who'd been paid, or compelled, to carry out the actual acts of violence.
"All right," Giddon said. "That's bad. But this kingdom is full of people, you know. Right now, you feel alone, but you're going to put together a team, a really magnificent team. Did you know that Helda has been making lists all day?"
"Giddon," she said, choking on a slightly hysterical laugh. "I feel alone because I am alone. People keep betraying me and people keep leaving me." And suddenly it was all right to lose control, here for two minutes of being dizzy against Giddon's shoulder, because he was safe, and he wouldn't tell anyone, and he was good at holding on to her with steady, strong arms.
When her breath had calmed, and she could wipe her eyes and nose on the handkerchief he gave her, instead of on his shirt, she thanked him.
"You're welcome," he said. "Tell me what I can do to help you."
"Do you have two hours you could give to me, Giddon? Now?"
Giddon glanced at the clock. "I have three hours, until two o'clock."
"Raffin, Bann, and Po—should I assume they're busy?"
"They are, Lady Queen, but they'll put their work aside for you."
"No, that's all right. Will you get Teddy for me, and Madlen and Hava, and bring all of them here with Helda?"