:But he said himself he could be bought!: Kantor protested—then stopped. :And he said that once he was bought, he stayed bought. Didn’t he.:
:That was exactly what he said,: Alberich replied. :I think he could be a valuable agent. More valuable alive and working for us than in prison. If we could even find something to charge him with. Which I doubt.:
:Emotionally, I don’t like it,: Kantor replied unhappily. :But logically—you’re right. He’s an amoral beast, but better he’s been bought by us. At least then we can control him.:
:As much as such a one is ever controlled,: Alberich finished. And sighed. :And this assumes that his patron—whoever that is—loses interest in him. If he’s the sort who stays bought, we’ll never get him otherwise.:
:Good,: Kantor said firmly. :I’d rather we didn’t. I’d rather we could have him thrown in jaiclass="underline"
:Which we can’t, because he hasn’t done anything wrong,: Alberich pointed out. :All he’s done that we know of is to give the Prince lessons on how to woo and win the Queen. Which is hardly illegal. And we can’t even prove that he did that much, really, not to satisfy a law court. But oh, how I wish he hadn’t been here tonight!:
:I know exactly what you mean,: Kantor said glumly.
***
Karathanelan might have been an arrogant, self-centered beast, but apparently he was bright enough to know when he was getting good advice.
He was also phenomenally lucky.
Because the next day, the very next day, word came from Rethwellan that his father, the King, was dead.
Now, that might not have been thought of as luck, except that word also came from Rethwellan that the King had already been buried, that Karath’s presence was not required at home, and that, in fact, his brother the new King, Faramentha, suggested strongly that he should remain in Valdemar at the side of his new bride and do his mourning in private.
Even while the Rethwellan Embassy was being swathed in black, Karath hurried to the Palace, and in full view of everyone as Selenay herself was hearing the news, and flung himself weeping at her feet.
Selenay canceled the rest of her audiences that day, and took him with her back to her chambers. Alberich could not know, of course, what the Prince told her, aside from the “script” that Norris had provided for him, but he could guess. What would appeal to Selenay more, than to have her beloved husband suddenly bereft of his own father?
Certainly he went about after that in heavy mourning, and certainly Selenay was as unshakably attentive to him as he was to her. To Alberich’s disgust, he was more firmly in Selenay’s good graces than he had been before, always by her side, and playing the devoted husband. Selenay spent a disturbing amount of time gazing at him or into his eyes with every sign of being firmly under his spell.
And in public, at least, he was as devoted as she could ever have wished.
In public, he was also playing the tragic figure of the mourning son and rejected brother. When a new Ambassador came from Rethwellan to replace the old one, he showed a very chilly face to the man, who was, in his turn, no better than icily polite.
Which meant nothing to Alberich, until Talamir enlightened him, one late summer evening.
“Oh, do think about this for a moment,” Talamir told him, with unusual impatience. “The Prince was not told of his father’s death until Faramentha was firmly on the throne. And he was not recalled. What does that tell you?”
“Ah.” Alberich shook his head. “I was thinking too much of our own side of this, and not beyond our Borders. Faramentha does not trust his brother. And the Prince holds Faramentha in enmity.”
“So—?”
“So—whether or not the old King was privy to Karathanelan’s plans, the new one is not, probably.”
Talamir nodded. “And unless I miss my guess,” he added shrewdly, “the Prince’s grief is not all sham. Not that he is brokenhearted over being rejected by his brother, nor mourning terribly for his father—”
“If he is,” Alberich was moved to point out, “The ladies of the Horn have not noticed.”
“Precisely. But if there is one thing the Prince cares about, it’s his own well-being. And with his father dead and his brother, who despises him, on the throne?”
“He has nowhere to go if he fails here—” Alberich felt cold. “I do not like this.”
“Neither,” Talamir said delicately, “do I.”
But there was not much either of them could do about it. Karath had too many good cards in his hand, and Selenay’s own condition was aiding him; by summer’s end, as the first leaves began to turn, Selenay was deep in work, and when she wasn’t working, she was generally asleep, or at least, resting. Her pregnancy was hard on her, not so much that it was difficult, but that she was finding it exhausting, according to Crathach, who made no secret that he disapproved of her getting with child so quickly. This left ample opportunity for the Prince to comport himself as if he was a bachelor.
But he went about it so discreetly that most of the Court had no idea.
Unfortunately, one of the things that was wearing Selenay out was that he still had not given up the notion of being crowned. Even though he was not fighting with her about it, using less aggressive means to get his point across, roughly once a fortnight, he would find some other reason to bring the tired old plaint back up, or some new scheme to get around the law. This, Alberich heard from Talamir, usually when Alberich came up to the Collegium to report on whatever new information he might have gathered on his prowls in Haven. The city was quiet of late, as the season passed from summer into autumn; even the criminal element was up to no more than the usual trouble. There seemed nothing that required Alberich’s intervention. Stalking Devlin to try and find the identity of the “patron” was proving to be fruitless; where Devlin went, none of Alberich’s personae was welcome. As for Norris, the actor was so busy with his new theater that even he was beginning to look a little frayed about the edges.
“He’s come up with another one today,” Talamir said, lowering himself wearily down into a chair by the hearth. He looked ancient tonight, and very transparent; Alberich wondered what he had been doing to wear himself so thin.
He wants to be gone, came the unbidden thought. He’s faced with things he can’t do anything about, and he just wants to be gone—from problems, from life. And he wants it with all of his heart.
He might want it—but he wasn’t pursuing it, at least. Duty held him here at Selenay’s side, however poorly suited he thought himself to the task.
At that moment, Alberich pitied the Queen’s Own.
“This time, what?” Alberich asked, knowing that the “he” could only be the Prince, and that the “another one” was yet another ploy to pressure Selenay into somehow getting him a crown.
“That she’s shaming him in front of his family—or so he says,” Talamir said wearily. “According to him, that she hasn’t made him King means that she thinks he is unworthy of a crown, and now he says that this is why his own brother has rejected him and kept him from his father’s side when the King was dying.”