Gill nodded. Dal Ruisseau Noir wasn’t messing around. It was fast, assertive action, but there wouldn’t be much time to prepare. High risk. High rewards.
“I’ll make sure my people are ready. Have you worked out how we’ll be getting into the palace?”
“We have people looking into options in that regard also.”
“I might be of help in that regard. An old quarry shaft runs down through the hill to the river’s edge. It’s been there since before the palace was built.”
“It was sealed shut with steel panelling a number of years ago,” dal Ruisseau Noir said.
“I was still there when that happened. Some of the Silver Circle used it to bring women into the palace. One of the ladies—I think she was a friend of Charlot’s—got a little familiar with the Duke of Fontonoy in front of his wife, the old king’s sister. The princess kicked up a stink. Everyone at the palace knew about the passageway, guards included. They’d been using it to sneak stuff in for years too, but the old king needed to keep his sister happy, hence the steel barrier bedded in concrete, and the instant drop in pox and drunkenness amongst the palace guard.”
“I’ve heard the story. I didn’t think it was true.”
“Oh, it’s true all right.” Gill smiled, realising that was the first time he had entertained a fond thought of his time in the Silver Circle in quite some time.
“I don’t see how that solves our problem. Getting through that door is impossible.”
Bringing up the topic of magic in front of an Intelligencier was not something a smart person did. When there was likely a second Intelligencier tending a bar close by, it was an even worse idea. Nonetheless, he couldn’t think of any other way to get through six feet of engineered steel.
“I think I may have a way for us to deal with that.”
Dal Ruisseau Noir looked at him quizzically for a moment, but evidently decided not to pursue the thought, for he said, “And you? What do you hope to gain out of all of this?”
Gill had thought about this since they’d first met. There was no need for dal Ruisseau Noir to know about the Cups. “I have an old score with Amaury, and the time has come to settle it. We’ll likely provide perfect distractions for one another.”
Dal Ruisseau Noir nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see how that might work.” He held out his hand.
Gill shook it.
CHAPTER 10
Ysabeau never questioned her employers’ desires, so long as she was free to determine the most effective method of bringing them about. She wouldn’t tell them how to negotiate trade deals or manage their estates, so never expected them to tell her how to disappear a person who was vexing them. That her father felt the need to instruct her on every minute detail was tedious, and insulting. She’d survived, and thrived, on her own for years, both before and after they had discovered one another.
The team he had cobbled together for her was motley to say the least. It was composed of three academics who looked like they had never been on horseback before and three members of the Spurriers for security. The scholars were clearly not thrilled by having to venture into the wilds of the provinces, and the Spurriers were clearly new inductees—only one had an actual uniform.
That one had some magical talent, which might be needed to decipher the inscriptions, but Ysabeau didn’t have too much confidence in his powers, given his appearance.
He was tall and skinny, with a nose too large for his face, and was topped with lank, mousy hair. He had a hangdog look about him, and Ysabeau could only hope that her father hadn’t been scraping the bottom of the barrel when he recruited him. If she wanted to get through this mission quickly, effectively, and without burning herself out playing with types of magic she knew nothing about, she’d need him.
The Spurrier her father sent to Bauchard’s with them to collect her had made introductions, but she had not been long out of a very deep sleep and now couldn’t claim to remember any of them. As they rode away from the city, she called to Hangdog.
“You,” she said. “Can you shape rejuvenation spells?”
He looked back at her. “I am Sergeant Pur—”
“I don’t care. Answer my question.”
“Yes. I can.”
She could tell her attitude had put him out, but she didn’t care about his name. She wanted to get this job done and dusted as quickly as she could, so she could get her very worthwhile reward. “I don’t plan on stopping until we get there. I want you to keep all our horses fit and rested. Us too, if anyone needs it. I doubt our three learned friends over there will last the distance without a little help.”
“When should I start?”
“I just told you to,” she said, but knew her anger was partly with herself. She should never have come back to Mirabay. She had plenty of money and could have set herself up nicely in any number of places. Instead she was racing to an ancient temple on virtually no sleep. For the second time in just a few days.
There was no sign that her pursuers were waiting for her outside the city, although she hadn’t expected there to be. They were after the Cup. It occurred to her that in her tiredness, and because she resented the way her father had controlled her for the short time she was in the city, she hadn’t thought to tell him that she had been actively pursued. It was an oversight, but she was sure that with all his power, three people wouldn’t pose him much of a problem.
“The Counts of Aubin and Chabris have both declared against your regency. They’re in the process of raising their levies and calling in whatever favours they can.”
Amaury stood at the window in his office, listening to the report from his minister of state and looking down on the empty garden. It had been some time since he had seen anyone other than the gardeners in it, and he suspected that word had finally spread that he had a vantage point on what most had hitherto considered a secret getaway within the palace. It seemed his watchful gaze could make the serene beauty of the garden toxic. He didn’t know if he should be disappointed or proud. He turned to face the minister, a man substantially older than Amaury who had given his entire life to service of the Crown. He still possessed razor-sharp faculties and had done nothing to make Amaury question his loyalty. He seemed to have swallowed the story Amaury had offered to explain the king’s condition, and had received advancement as a result.
“How many men are they likely to be able to raise?”
“I can’t say for certain. It’s been many years since either of them mustered their levies.”
Amaury took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And the likelihood of them uniting against me?”
“There’s no love lost between them, and I expect their rival claims will only drive the wedge between them deeper. The Count of Savin remains an unknown and could tip the scales one way or the other.”
“Tell me about Savin, then,” Amaury said. Might it be too much to hope that the extended royal family hated one another so much they’d destroy their armies fighting for prominence before ever reaching his walls? It wouldn’t be the first time in Mirabaya’s history.
“He’s something of an unknown,” the minister said. “He’s never been to court and has shown no interest in politics.”
“What does he do with his time?” Amaury said.