Throughout the meal, the seat on Andri’s left remained conspicuously empty. Irulan was trying to figure out a discreet way of asking about it-perhaps it was customary for Keepers to set a place for Tira Miron at their table-when the fourth guest finally arrived.
The double doors opened wide and Cardinal Riathan hurried into the room, his face wreathed in an apologetic smile.
“Forgive me, Your Holiness. I was detain-”
He stopped abruptly when he realized he was not alone with the Keeper. His smile wavered when he saw Irulan, then evaporated completely as his gaze fell on Andri.
As anger and worry chased themselves across his features, Irulan realized that the dinner had been an ambush after all-for Riathan.
Belatedly, Irulan and Andri made as if to rise, but Jaela waved them back into their seats.
“Cardinal Riathan,” she said coolly, and Irulan had to remind herself yet again that this girl was only eleven years old. “How good of you to join us for dinner. What a shame that you seemed to have missed the main course.” Even Irulan could not fail to miss the double meaning in her words.
Riathan blanched and prostrated himself on the floor. “Your pardon, Holiness! I-”
“Enough. Get up.” The same words she had said earlier to Andri, but short and hard this time, holding none of the affection.
Riathan stood, using the edge of the table to help himself up.
“I trust you’ve met my guests already?”
The Cardinal forced a smile. “Yes, Your Holiness.” He inclined his head toward Irulan. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said to her, though it was obviously anything but.
He turned to Andri, and the smile became thin and strained. A single droplet of sweat formed at his temple and rolled slowly down his cheek.
“Aeyliros,” he said, as though unable to bring himself to say the man’s given name. With that, Irulan abruptly remembered where she’d heard it before.
Lukar Aeyliros had been a renowned lycanthrope hunter during the Purge. Not so well-known as her own ancestor, but famous for slaying the family of Zaeurl, a vicious werewolf who once terrorized the Eldeen Reaches and was now rumored to reside in Droaam, under the protection of the Daughters of Sora Kell. That might explain the claws Andri wore-perhaps they belonged to one of his great-grandfather’s victims, and not to a shifter at all. And … wasn’t there another Aeyliros who’d gained notoriety some years back, when Irulan had first come to Thrane? A massacre of some sort, wasn’t it? In Flamekeep, maybe even in the Cathedral itself? That would certainly account for the unfriendly reactions that seemed to follow Andri wherever he went, if his father were some sort of mass murderer. Maybe even why he wore his sword in the Cathedral, when both decorum and common sense advised against it.
Andri surprised her by ignoring the Cardinal completely. Instead, he took his wine glass, which had remained untouched throughout dinner, and drained it.
“It has come to my attention, Riathan-as I know it has come to yours-that there is a situation of some concern in Aruldusk. Since it affects the shifters of that community, a people for whom I know you have a special affection, I have decided to assign you to help uncover the truth behind these awful murders.”
“I’m honored, Your Holiness, certainly, but-”
“You will not need to leave the Cathedral, of course. Andri and Irulan will go to Aruldusk to investigate. You will give them whatever assistance they need, up to and including letters of credit issued in your own name, and drawn on your own accounts, not those of the Church. As both an advocate of the shifter people and a personal friend of Bishop Maellas, I know you will be happy to help resolve this issue in any way that you can.”
“But, Your Holiness, with all respect, I hardly think-”
“Enough!” Jaela’s small fist slammed down on the table’s surface, making the wine glasses jump. She drew herself up to her full height, which suddenly seemed much taller than four and a half feet. Skaravojen rose as well, growling at the Cardinal, who took an uncertain step back.
“Any unlawful persecution of shifters brings us one step closer to repeating the evils of the Purge. I will not allow this to blossom into a second such horror,” she said, enunciating each word with cold precision. “I would sooner see one of my own Cardinals stripped of his rank and banished. Am I understood?”
Riathan’s face was a white as his robes.
“Yes, Your Holiness,” he replied weakly, looking as if he might be ill.
“Excellent,” she replied with a faint smile that did not reach her eyes. She turned to Irulan and Andri. “Gather your things. You’ll leave on the next lightning rail for Aruldusk.”
Chapter FOUR
Mol, Therendor 16, 998 YK
Zoden relaxed on the plush couch, easing his boots off and putting his feet up with a contented sigh. He hadn’t expected a first-class rail ticket, but on reflection, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Silvervein had said Queen Diani would be grateful if he could find anything that might incriminate the Church in the rash of murders plaguing Aruldusk-no doubt, this was a taste of that gratitude, meant to motivate him and keep him hungry for more. And, he had to admit, it was doing the trick.
Except for a somewhat ragged-looking gray tabby curled up on a rug, he had the four-passenger compartment to himself. But House Orien wouldn’t have booked a first-class cart if they didn’t have the passengers to fill it, so he knew his solitude wouldn’t last long. Not that he cared. He intended to spend a good part of the nine-hour trip to Sigilstar sampling the fine array of complimentary drinks set out on a side table. He’d already begun with a glass of fruity Aundairian Orla-un wine, and planned on continuing with the Nightwood Ale and then perhaps some of that bottle of Frostmantle Fire he’d noticed in the back.
His brother would have enjoyed the delicate Orla-un, Zoden thought as he took another appreciative drink of the exceptional vintage. His twin had always enjoyed the finer things in life, though his tastes ran more to art and literature, while Zoden preferred the wine and women end of the spectrum. Host knew, they’d seen little enough of either since their father had lost his luck, along with their wealth.
Which had led directly to his own involvement with the Galifar loyalists-or Throneholders, as they were more widely known. The Throneholders were a motley group, made up of those who’d lost faith in the rule of the Church, petty criminals who felt their businesses interests would stand a better chance of survival under a monarchy than a theocracy, and nobles whose families had served the Wynarn line faithfully for generations before the advent of the Silver Flame, and continued to do so even now, though secretly, for fear of reprisal. He’d first worked for them out of necessity, drawn in by a drinking companion who knew he was badly in need of the coin they offered. But as he’d gradually come to understand their goal-a Thrane united under the banner of the Wyvern and not the holy standard of the Silver Flame-he’d discovered within himself a deep love for his country and a passion for the reforms the Throneholders advocated. He had no problems with the Church, but when the mayor was also the voice of the gods, or the priest also commanded the city watch, it was just too easy for justice and freedom to be sacrificed on the altar of personal aggrandizement. Both governments and religions were hotbeds of corruption, and the marriage of the two could only lead to decay, eroding the very foundations of Thrane until there was nothing left but scraps for the carrion birds to fight over.