Guillot turned to see who had spoken. There was no mistaking the new king as he walked into the room and nodded to the Prince Bishop. Five years ago, he had been a princely dilettante with whom Guillot had little interaction, but he had gained presence since, with his neatly trimmed black beard adding character to his youthful face.
“Your Highness,” Guillot said, bowing his head and standing.
“I will be the first to admit you were treated harshly,” the king said. “I was very sorry to hear about your wife. Had I been involved, I like to think things would have happened differently. I would never have put you on duty after such a tragedy, and I don’t believe it was warranted that you shouldered the lion’s share of the blame over what happened subsequently. But I was not king then, and my platitudes cannot change what happened.
“I am your king now, and I have need of you. Are you my man?”
“I am, Highness,” Guillot said. No fibre of his being would allow him to turn down a request from his king.
“That is what I wanted to hear. Thank you.”
“If I might ask, your Highness: why didn’t you appoint any new Chevaliers?”
“You know as well as I do that the Silver Circle had become a club for drinking, gambling, and whoring. I saw no reason to reinstate it. It is an irony that we now find ourselves in need of their service.”
Guillot looked at the Prince Bishop, who smiled benignly. He thought of his brief encounter with the highwayman. Were they expecting things of him that he could no longer do?
“I suspect that they would have inevitably fallen short of the achievements of their forebears,” Guillot said. “As I might. I’ll give you my best, Highness, but I’ll need help. Nobody knows how to fight these things anymore.”
“Excellent,” the king said. “The people of Mirabaya will be in your debt.” With that, he left. The Prince Bishop’s secretary closed the door behind him.
“You’ll have help,” the Prince Bishop said. “All you need. The finest men we have at our disposal. We’ve been researching the matter since it arose, and we’ve uncovered some information that may be of use. There won’t be much time to prepare, however. I’m sure you’ll agree that we need to move quickly.”
Guillot nodded. He realised that they had never doubted he would accept. He supposed men of such power never did. His obedience obtained, the Prince Bishop turned his attention to Solène.
“Now, my dear, I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you.”
CHAPTER 15
“Tell me, you are from where?” the Prince Bishop said.
Realising he didn’t have the first clue about where Solène had been before Trelain, Guillot sat in silent curiosity.
“Bastelle-Loiron,” Solène said.
“I haven’t heard of it,” said the Prince Bishop. “Where along the river is it? In the Duchy of Trelain? Or the March of Aurdonne?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know it,” she said. “It’s in the Duchy of Trelain.”
The Prince Bishop nodded in acknowledgement. “There’s no need for you to be afraid,” he said. “Indeed, I expect you’ll look back and see today’s encounter as an extraordinary piece of luck. Now, show me what you can do.”
Solène looked at Guillot, her eyes full of questions and doubt. In the office of the second-most-powerful man in Mirabaya, she had little choice but to do as he asked. Guillot nodded. The young woman looked back at the Prince Bishop, then at his desk. A piece of blank paper was set out, probably waiting to become some important missive. With a bright flash, the sheet burst into an intense flame that died out as quickly as it had come to life, leaving behind a small coating of ash and a wisp of smoke.
The Prince Bishop let out a laugh and sat back, slapping his palms on the armrests of his chair. “Well, that is quite something. Quite something indeed.”
Guillot had never seen the Prince Bishop so impressed. He seemed to have been born with the look of bored disinterest it took many aristocrats years to perfect.
“Guillot, there are a great many things I am sure you need to see to before you set off on your … quest. There’s no need for you to be here for this; you may feel free to attend to whatever it is you need to attend to. The men I’m sending with you will make themselves known to you and will make sure you have everything you need.”
Guillot frowned, looking at Solène. She was difficult to read, but he had spent enough time with her to see the fear in her eyes and tension in her face—just like when he had first met her.
“I promised Solène I’d stay with her.” At his words, she seemed to relax, increasing Gill’s resolve to remain exactly where he was.
The Prince Bishop frowned and glanced at Solène, who remained resolutely mute.
“Very well,” he said. “You’d find out much of what I’m about to say soon enough, but I need your word that you will keep everything you hear to yourself. State secrets and all.”
Guillot thought about being obtuse, just to aggravate the other man, but that would only prolong his time in the Prince Bishop’s presence. “You have my word.”
“Good. To break it would be treason, and you’re already familiar with how that plays out.”
Guillot smiled. That was the Prince Bishop he knew so well. Guillot had agreed to the king’s request, so Amaury no longer had to play nice.
“Solène, have you had any training?” the Prince Bishop said. “From the Szavarians perhaps, or the Darvarosians?”
She shrugged. “No. None.”
“None,” the Prince Bishop said, his smile looking stiff. “I don’t mind telling you that I’ve spent quite some time and expense searching for someone with natural magical talent. I was convinced such people were out there somewhere, and now here you are, arrived on my doorstep.”
The Prince Bishop’s enthusiasm appeared almost childlike to Guillot, which was worrying. That Amaury had taken such a keen interest in matters considered heinous and criminal was even more so.
“I hate to cast doubt, or to make demands of you, but what you just did … Can you repeat it?” the Prince Bishop said. “Do other things like it?”
Solène nodded.
The man opened a drawer, took out another piece of paper, and placed it on his desk. As soon as he pulled his hand away, flames erupted, turning the paper into nothing more than a few flakes of ash.
“Good,” the Prince Bishop said absently. “Excellent.” His usual intensity returned. “I’ve established an order where people study how magic might benefit the kingdom. Here is what I can offer you, Solène. First, a safe place to live and work at that order. You will never have to worry about Intelligenciers, or as Banneret dal Sason informs me, impromptu mob justice.
“Second, you will be able to explore your talent in a safe environment, surrounded by like-minded individuals. We can show you how to focus your ability, and more importantly, how to control it.”
Solène stared at Guillot. He wondered if the comments he’d made about the Prince Bishop during their trip to Mirabay were playing on her mind.
“Can I think about it?” she said.
The Prince Bishop chewed his lip for a moment. “Yes, of course.”
He smiled again, but Guillot knew him well enough to see that it was forced. He wanted Solène in his little club, and he wanted her now.
“I would add one thing, out of concern for your well-being,” the Prince Bishop said. “Don’t take too long to consider. I can only guarantee your safety if you are part of my organisation. As long as you are not, the Intelligenciers remain a danger.”