Two days later, Dorrin set off for Vérella with many fewer coins and many more clothes. Shirts, semi-dress trousers, the short trews she would need for the coronation itself, doublets, jackets, capelets, capes, and the formal court robe. Shoes, hose, boots. Her escort had new blue velvet caps with the Verrakai badge to wear when they accompanied her in the palace.
As she neared Vérella, traffic on the road thickened, with wagons and carts bringing in supplies, merchants, travelers. At the city gate, she presented her pass and invitation once more. “There’s no more lodging in the palace,” the officer said. “I’m not sure, my lord, where you’ll stay—the inns are crowded.”
“Do you know if the Crown took over the Verrakai residence?”
“No.” His mouth twisted with distaste. “You can look, I suppose.”
Verrakai House, when she came to it, had no guards out front and no sign of life. It was on a corner; a busy street in front, a narrow alley down one side. Dorrin tried the door; it didn’t move. She knocked. No answer. She became aware that some in the busy street were slowing to watch. She laid one hand on the door itself and one on the latch, and spoke the command words that came to her.
The door swung open silently. “Well,” she said. “It looks empty enough. There should be stabling for the horses somewhere near. Wait; I will find the entrance.”
Inside, the house smelled a little musty but had also the feel of a place enchanted, watchful. Dorrin touched her ruby, then her ducal medallion. “Verrakai!” she said. She sensed a relaxation. Wary of traps, she went down the passage ahead of her; it opened at the far end to a walled yard with stalls across the way; a closed gate to the left led, she was sure, to the alley. She unbarred the gate and went back through the house.
“Go down that alley—I opened the gate to the mews, I’ll take this—” The padded sack, on top of everything else. She had not risked having it out of her sight on the whole journey. It had made a most uncomfortable bed companion.
Two of her escort came inside with her. The house was oddly shaped, not the simple square or rectangle its front suggested. Four stories above ground … Dorrin eyed the iron-bound cellar door that stank of blood magery and decided not to open it, at least not yet. The ground floor had two kitchens, large and small reception rooms. Above that, a large study, lined with shelves, very like her uncle’s study on Verrakai land. She suspected it had many of the same traps. Bedrooms, also furnished with traps for the unwary. Above that again, more bedrooms, and in the attic, what had clearly been servants’ quarters.
Evidence of her uncle’s connection to the Thieves’ Guild and the Bloodlord were everywhere. The Horned Chain above the fireplace, barbed whips in a stand in the corner, bloodstains on the floor, smeared into words. She was sure she would find worse in the cellars.
“Let’s get these windows open,” she said to her escort. Both hangings and windows were trapped; she disarmed them. Afternoon light and air rolled into room after room as she threw the shutters wide. When she glanced down, she saw people in the street below, looking up gape-mouthed. One took off at a run.
Within a half-glass, someone pounded on the front door. Dorrin had left one of her people in the front hall to answer; now she came down the stairs to find a troop of Royal Guard in the street, and an officer standing on the doorstep.
“—By what right are you here?” the officer was saying.
“I’m Duke Verrakai,” Dorrin said, coming forward. “And this is Verrakai’s house in Vérella.”
“I know whose house it is,” he said. “But I do not know you, and I know that Verrakaien are under Order of Attainder. Come forth, and face the justice of the Court.”
“I am not under that order,” Dorrin said. “I was summoned here for the prince’s coronation, and I have a pass from the prince himself.”
“You can explain that to the Court,” the officer said.
“I will show you the pass.” Dorrin had tucked it into her doublet at the city gate; she took it out again. “Here.”
He glanced at it, then looked again and read it. “You are not under Order of Attainder … how can that be? Is this genuine?”
Dorrin waited, saying nothing.
“Stay here,” he said. “I will take this to the palace and see if it is truly what the prince meant to say.”
Dorrin looked at the man who was obviously his second-in-command.
“I have been riding all morning,” she said. “I would rest—have one of my people bring a chair. And you, too, if you will.”
“I am not going in that cursed house,” the man said. “We could not enter it when the prince told us to make sure it was empty—and now you enter it with a touch, the witnesses say. It is a trap.”
“Gani, bring me a chair, please,” Dorrin said. “Set it here, where this gentleman can see.” When the chair arrived, she had it placed so the door would not close, and sat down, smiling up at the man outside the door. “I have no intent to harm you, or anyone who does not harm me first. The prince knows why he appointed me Duke; my family disowned me tens and tens of years ago and I have served Duke Phelan for most of the time since.”
“The one who’s king now?” the man asked. “Did you meet that paladin?”
“Paks? Yes. She was not in my cohort, but Captain Arcolin’s. She is watching Verrakai Steading while I am here, in fact.”
“Lord Sir Ammerlin, he said he saw her make light over the whole battle, over there east when he was taking Phelan to Lyonya to be king.”
“She did indeed,” Dorrin said. “I was there and saw it.”
His brow furrowed. “You were there. But—how?”
Dorrin explained, as briefly as she could, and then saw the other captain riding back at a quick trot, as those on foot scattered. He looked both relieved and embarrassed as he dismounted.
“My lord Duke, I am sorry—we have had such trouble, I did not trust your pass—but the prince says you are welcome here, and not under Order of Attainder, not you nor anyone with you. Please—my apologies.” He bowed.
“You were wise to be cautious,” Dorrin said. “And fortunate in not being able to enter here, for my relatives who practiced evil left many dangers for the unwary. I know you have other duties, but could you tell me where the nearest grange of Gird is? Or a Falkian field?”
“There’s a grange not far,” he said. “Do you need a Marshal?”
“This house must be cleansed,” Dorrin said. “That is why I’m opening the windows, when I’ve untrapped them …”
“Windows were trapped?”
“Evil delights in darkness and secrecy,” Dorrin said. “Anyone who tried to let in light, without knowing the dangers, faced certain death. If you like, come inside and I will show you.”
“No,” he said, backing up a step. “If the prince says you are welcome, you are welcome and I will pass the word. We do believe passages underground lead into the cellars here, but we were not able to penetrate them.” He mounted. “Do you wish me to send a Marshal?”
“I will go myself and speak to the nearest grange,” Dorrin said. “Though if you wish to tell them I will be coming, they might like to know. But first, when I have cleared enough of the house for myself and these my escort, I must present myself at the palace.”