Knowledge – even the knowledge that your enemies had unified to outnumber you – was strengthening. Fire saw now quite assuredly what she must do. What she could do, if she took care and kept hold of all the stray ends. You see? she thought now charmingly to Murgda. You've shown your face, and you're still alive.
Murgda's mind sharpened and closed. She narrowed her eyes at Fire and rested her hand on her stomach in an interesting manner Fire understood, because she'd seen it before. Murgda spun around and walked out of sight, never once noticing Gentian, who was still craning his neck at her below.
Fire stepped back into the shadows. Flatly, without dramatics, she communicated to the others all she had learned. They were surprised; horrified; unsurprised; eager to proceed. She answered as best she could what she believed to be their questions.
I don't know if I'll ever get Lady Murgda out of her rooms, she thought to them. I don't know if Murgda will die tonight. But Lord Gentian will do whatever I say, and I can probably manage Gunner. Let's start with them. Lord Mydogg's allies can tell us Lord Mydogg's plans.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fire wanted Gentian, and more particularly Gunner, to see her clearly. So she went to the king's own living quarters, which were on the second level overlooking the courtyard, and walked right out onto the balcony. She looked straight into the dazzled faces of Gentian and Gunner, whom she'd placed in fine position to see her. She smiled suggestively at Gunner and made eyes, which was ridiculous and embarrassing but had the desired effect. And then Nash himself stormed onto the balcony, looked to see whom she was flirting with, glared at Gentian and Gunner, took Fire's arm, and yanked her back inside. The whole thing lasted possibly nine seconds, a fortunate brevity, for the mental strain on Fire was enormous.
There had been too many minds in the courtyard to control at once. She'd had help. Welkley's people had been on the floor creating distractions to deflect attention from her. But persons here and there had seen, and Fire had to make a list now of people who must be watched with extra care on the chance they'd found it interesting that the lady monster seemed to be working her charms on Gentian and Gunner – interesting enough to talk about it, or even do something about it.
Still, it had worked. Gentian and Gunner had stared, paralysed by the vision of her. I want to talk to you, she'd thought to them as Nash had dragged her away. I want to join your side. But don't tell anyone, or you'll put me in danger.
Now she sank into a chair in Nash's sitting room, her head in her hands, monitoring Gentian's eagerness, Gunner's suspicion and desire, and skimming the rest of the courtyard and the entirety of the palace for anything relevant or worrisome. Nash went to a side table and came back, crouching before her with a cup of water.
"Thank you," she said, glancing up gratefully and taking the cup. "You did well, Lord King. They believe you guard me jealously and I've a wish to escape. Gentian is positively brimming with indignation. "
Clara, sprawled on a sofa, snorted in disgust. "Gullible no-heads."
"It's not their fault, really," Nash said soberly, still crouched before Fire. He was having a hard time getting up and leaving her. Fire could feel that he was trying. She wanted to put a hand on his arm, out of gratitude for all the ways he always tried, but she knew her touch would be no help to him. Why don't you take water to your brother, she thought to him gently, for Garan had begun to sweat with one of the fevers that overtook him in moments of stress, and was resting on the sofa with his feet in Clara's lap. Nash bent his chin to his chest and stood to do what she said.
Fire considered Brigan, who'd leaned back against a bookshelf, arms crossed, eyes closed, ignoring the argument beginning now between his sister and brothers about the whys and wherefores of Gentian's stupidity. He was neatly dressed and shaved, but the bruise on his face had darkened to something purple and ugly, and he looked so tired, as if he'd like to sink into the bookshelf and become a part of its solid, inanimate bookshelfness.
When did you last sleep? she thought to him.
His pale eyes came open and regarded her. He shrugged, and shook his head, and she knew it had been too long ago.
Who hurt you?
He shook his head again, and mouthed a word across the room. Bandits.
Were you riding alone?
"I had to," he said quietly, "or not get here in time."
I was not criticising you, she thought. I trust you to do what you must.
He opened a memory to her. He'd promised her, one green and gold day at the start of summer, not to wander alone at night. Yet he'd ridden last night alone, and most of today. It was within her right to criticise.
I wish, Fire began, and then stopped, because she could not think to him that she wished they did not have this task to do, she wished she could comfort him and help him to sleep. She wished this war away that he and Nash would fight, hacking with swords and fists on a frozen field against too many men. These brothers. How would they get out of such a thing alive?
Panic bunched inside her. Her tone grew tart. I've grown quite fond of your warhorse, Big. Will you give her to me?
He stared at her with about as much incredulity as such a question, posed to the army's commander on the eve of battle, rightly deserved. And now Fire was laughing, and the sudden, unexpected lightness soothed her aching brain. All right, all right. I was only testing that you were awake and in your right mind. The sight of you taking a nap against the bookshelf doesn't inspire confidence.
He was still looking at her as if she might be half-crazy, but he flexed his hand and rested it on his sword hilt, pushing himself upright, ready to go wherever she told him to. He cocked his head at the doorway leading to Nash's other rooms, where Fire's guard, a group of messengers, and a small army of soldiers were waiting to assist however they were needed.
Fire stood. The others stopped their chatter and looked to her.
"Levels seven and eight," she said to Brigan, "the far northern wing. The rooms overlooking the smallest courtyard. At this moment it's the emptiest part of the palace, and it has been all day, so that's where I'll take Gentian and Gunner. You and Clara go there now. Find whatever empty room you can, on whichever level is easiest to get to without being seen, and I'll try to lead them as close to you as I can. If you need my help getting through the halls, or if Murgda's tails give you trouble, call for me."
Brigan nodded and went to the side rooms to collect his soldiers. Fire sat back down and dropped her head again into the palms of her hands. Every stage of this process required focus. Right now she must monitor Brigan and Clara and their soldiers and their tails and everyone who noticed any one of them. While keeping stock of Gentian, Gunner, and Murgda, of course, and perhaps sending Gentian and Gunner occasional blips of helpless desire; and holding on to a sense of the palace as a whole, in case anything anywhere, at any time, should feel wrong for any reason.
She breathed through a mild headache forming above her temples. She stretched out with her mind.
Fifteen minutes later, Clara, Brigan, and a number of soldiers had found their way to an unoccupied suite of rooms on level eight in the far northern wing. Three of Murgda's spies and three of Gentian's were with them also, several unconscious, and the conscious ones boiling with fury, presumably at the indignity of being bound and gagged and shoved into closets.