‘I take it you haven’t come to apologise,’ she said.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘But I reckon I should anyway. I never was all that good at getting out of situations like that.’
‘You could have handled it better,’ she said. ‘But don’t fret. Water under the bridge. I should thank you, actually.’
‘Let’s not go that far.’
‘Well, if you hadn’t run out on me, threatened to kill me and broken my heart, I’d never have met Harbley.’
‘Glad it worked out for you, then,’ he said. She was trying to draw some resentment or regret from him, eager to see him lament what he’d lost. He didn’t have it in him to play along.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ she said. But there was an ever-so-slight hint of frustration behind her smile, and she didn’t quite mean it.
‘You, too,’ he said, and didn’t mean it either.
They walked out of the sun and down a dappled avenue. Trees rustled overhead, and they passed a carved stone font that trickled with clear water.
‘So, are you going to tell me to what I owe the pleasure of this visit?’ Amalicia prompted.
Frey wondered how to put it. This whole idea was a bit of a long shot, but Frey hit more long shots than most. ‘You remember when your father found out about us?’ he said.
She laughed. ‘How could I forget? He sent me to that awful hermitage.’ Her voice hardened just a little. ‘And you left me there for two years.’
‘It took me that long to track you down,’ Frey lied automatically.
She patted his hand. ‘I suspect that’s not quite the truth, Darian, but we’ll let that go, shall we?’
Frey wasn’t sure he liked her tone. The naïve, love-struck girl he’d known was gone for good by the sounds of it. That would make things harder.
‘I was a shit to you,’ he said, thinking that perhaps a little contrition was in order.
‘Spare me,’ she said. ‘I deserved it for believing you. But let’s not hash over the past any more. We’re different people now. Or at least, I am.’
Frey wasn’t done hashing, though. ‘You hated that hermitage, didn’t you?’ he said. ‘You hated that your father put you there. In fact, if I hadn’t saved you, you’d have a Cipher tattooed on your forehead right now, and instead of these gardens you’d be in some skaggy corner of a backwoods village, preaching the faith.’
‘If you’re subtly implying that I owe you something, might I remind you that you saved me by getting my father killed?’ she said, frosting over. ‘And any debt you think I owe you has certainly been cancelled out by your behaviour since.’
Frey sensed that he’d gone too far, and backed up. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Just making a point. You’re no friend of the Awakeners.’
‘On the contrary,’ she said. ‘My family have been staunch Awakeners for generations. My father lost his life in their service. I myself was ready to enter the faith until his death made me head of my family. And Harbley is very devout. There’s no one more loyal than I.’
But there was a wry look in her eye, and they both knew it wasn’t true. Amalicia was a woman whose passions went unchecked. Love and hate burned uncontrollably in her. She maintained strong ties with the Awakeners for political reasons, but in her heart she loathed them, and her piety was a sham.
‘Let’s just say — hypothetically, that is — that there was a way to give the Awakeners a black eye for what you’ve been through,’ he said. ‘Would you be interested?’
‘Darian!’ she exclaimed. ‘What reason do I possibly have to hate the Awakeners?’
‘For turning your father into an overbearing arsepipe?’ he suggested. ‘You know it was that Awakener bullshit that made him a tyrant. You had your childhood ruined by it. And if it weren’t for them, Gallian wouldn’t have died at all. He was doing their work, remember?’
‘You must think me a very vengeful person,’ she said, with a wicked glint in her eye. ‘But go on. As long as we’re speaking hypothetically.’
‘I need to get hold of an Imperator.’
Frey walked on a few more steps down the leafy avenue before he realised that she’d stopped. He looked back at her. She was staring at him, wide-eyed. ‘Get hold?’ she said, half-laughing in amazement. ‘You want to get hold of an Imperator? May I ask what for?’
‘Probably best you don’t know the details,’ he said. ‘Considering.’
‘I see,’ she said. ‘And what can I do to assist you in this frankly maniacal endeavour?’
‘I need you to sell someone out to the Awakeners.’
She folded her arms. ‘I’m waiting for an explanation.’
‘You remember Crake?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said venomously. ‘Your partner in crime.’
Ah, there was the old bitterness. Good. He was getting to her.
‘Crake’s father wouldn’t bend to the Awakeners, so they sent an Imperator to put his son into a coma. Said he’d stay that way unless Rogibald supported them.’
That gave her pause. Like most aristocrats, she regarded the nobility as a sacred institution, exempt from the kind of treatment doled out to the poor. It shocked her to think of one of her own being treated in such a way.
‘You’re not lying to me?’ she asked.
‘You’ve seen stories of some mysterious plague in the broadsheets, maybe?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said warily.
‘Look into it. It only affects aristocrats. Funny, that.’
‘Only aristocrats that oppose the Awakeners,’ she said. ‘Which I don’t.’ But it was a weak defence and he saw that she knew it.
He shrugged. ‘It’s a slippery slope. How long do you think the aristocracy’s going to remain safe under Awakener rule if they’re already ransoming firstborns? How long before they come for your money and your mansions and whatever else you’ve got?’
That was a hit. She believed him, and it rocked her.
She began to walk again, a dazed look on her face. Almost absently she linked her arm with his, and they went on up the avenue together.
They followed a path around the island, passing rows of statues. There was the smell of salt on the breeze, and the trees rustled. Distantly, Frey could hear the surging of the sea. He said nothing, and left Amalicia to think.
‘You’re asking me to put myself in danger,’ she said at last.
‘I’m asking you to hedge your bets,’ he said. ‘Think what happens if the Awakeners lose the war. You can be sure the Archduke isn’t going to look favourably on the families that supported them. But if he knew you’d helped him out. .’
‘If the Awakeners knew!’ she said, alarmed.
‘Who’ll tell them? Me? Listen, you hardly have to do a thing. I’ll even give you the name of the man you’re going to screw over.’
‘Darian,’ she said, wincing.
‘Sorry. Point is, all you have to say is that you heard something from someone. At worst, it’s just bad information taken in good faith, and you were being loyal by reporting it. They can’t fault you for that, can they?’
‘And then what?’ she asked. She was all but persuaded now; she was quibbling about the details, and she wanted to be reassured.
‘They’ll listen to you. They trust you. As long as you make it sound urgent enough, they’ll send an Imperator to pay our man a visit, like they did with Crake’s family.’
‘And you’ll be waiting.’
‘Right.’
‘And you won’t tell anyone?’
‘Only the Archduke, and only when the time’s right. I’ve got enough contacts to get the word to him. Might be you get yourself a medal, if the Archduke wins. Family prestige, and all of that.’
‘And the name of your victim?’
‘Ebenward Plome.’
‘Ha!’ she said. ‘He’s been on their list for a while, no doubt. He’s not been quiet about his opposition to the Awakeners. But he hardly ever leaves Thesk; they can’t get to him there.’
‘He isn’t in Thesk right now. He’s at the Tarlocks’ place in the Splinters. Very remote. If someone were to tell them where he was, how vulnerable he is right now. .’