“They never have,” William replied. “Praifec, what may I have brought for you? Wine and cheese? The jade pears came ripe while you were away, and they are excellent with the blue Tero Gallé cheese.”
“A cup of wine would suit me well,” Hespero replied.
John poured a goblet for Hespero, who frowned as he sipped at it.
“If it’s not to your taste, Praifec, I can send for a different vintage,” William said.
“The wine is excellent, Sire. That is not what troubles me.”
“Please. Speak your mind, then, Your Grace.”
Hespero paused, then rested his goblet on a pedestal. “I have not seen my peers on the Comven. Are the rumors true? Have you legitimized your daughters as heirs to the throne?”
“I did not,” William said. “The Comven did.”
“But it was your proposition, the one we discussed while you were drafting it?”
“I believe we did discuss it, Praifec.”
“And you remember my opinion that making the throne heritable by women is forbidden by church doctrine?”
William smiled. “So thought one of the churchmen in the Comven. The other voted for the reform. It would seem the issue is not as clearly drawn as some believe, Eminence.”
In fact, it had taken some doing to get even one of the priests to vote William’s way—more of Robert’s dirty but effective dealings.
At times like this, he had to admit that Robert indeed had his moments.
Anger gathered for an instant on the cleric’s brow, then smoothed away. “I understand your concern over the need for an heir. Charles, while a wonderful son, has indeed been touched by the saints, and—”
“My son will not enter into this conversation, Praifec,” William said mildly. “You stand in my house, and I forbid it.”
Hespero’s face grew more stern. “Very well. I will simply inform you then, reluctantly, that I must enjoin the high Senaz of the church to consider this matter.”
“Yes, let them do that,” William said. And let them try to reverse a decision of the Comven, he thought, behind his smile. Let even the church convince that squabbling pack of lordlings they made a wrong decision. No. One of my daughters will rule, and my son, bless his soul, will continue playing with his toys and his Sefry jester until he is an old man.
He won’t be your lack-wit king, Hespero. If it came to that, I’d rather leave the throne to Robert, had he any legitimate heirs.
“Saints!” a female voice interrupted. “You three aren’t going to argue politics all day, are you?”
Robert was the first to react to the newcomer.
“Lesbeth!” He bounded across the floor and swept her up in a hug. She giggled as he spun her around, her red hair losing a comb and fanning out behind her. When Robert put her down, she kissed his cheek, then disentangled herself and leapt ferociously into William’s arms.
“Praifec!” Robert said. “He is a blessed man who returns my beloved twin from her rustic exile!”
William held his youngest sister back to look at her. “Saint Loy, but you’ve grown, girl!”
“The image of Mother,” Robert added.
“You two!” Lesbeth said, taking their hands. “How I missed you both!”
“You should have sent word,” William told her. “We would have had a grand celebration!”
“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, isn’t Elseny’s birthday tomorrow? I wouldn’t want to cast a shadow on that.”
“You could never cast a shadow, sweet sister,” Robert told her. “Come here, sit down, tell us everything.”
“We’re being rude to the praifec,” Lesbeth said. “And after he was gracious enough to escort me the whole, long way. And such delightful company! Praifec, I cannot express my thanks.”
“Nor I,” William added quickly. “Praifec, forgive me if my words were sharp. Though it is early, it’s been a taxing day already. But now you’ve brought me joy, and I’m in your debt for seeing my sister home safe and sound. I am ever the friend of the church, and will certainly demonstrate it to you.”
“It was my pleasure,” the cleric said, bowing. “And now I hope I may excuse myself. My staff is somewhat helpless without me, and I fear it will take weeks to straighten out my office. Nevertheless, I would be honored to advise you when you hold court.”
“I shall be honored to have you there. I’ve been too long without your wisdom, Praifec.”
The churchman nodded and withdrew.
“We must have more wine!” Robert said. “And entertainment. I want to hear about everything.” He spun on his heel. “I’ll arrange it. Lesbeth, will you join me in my gallery, at half-bell?”
“Without doubt, dear brother,” she replied.
“And you, brother?”
“I will stop by. Then I must hold court, you know.”
“A pity.” Robert wagged a finger at Lesbeth. “Half-bell. Don’t be late.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Robert hurried off.
When they were alone, Lesbeth took William’s hand and squeezed it. “Are you well, Wilm? You look tired.”
“I am, a bit. Nothing for you to worry about. And I’m much better, now.” He squeezed her hand back. “It’s good to see you. I missed you.”
“And I missed you. How is Muriele? And the girls?”
“All well. You won’t believe how Anne has grown. And Elseny, betrothed! But you’ll see her at her birthday tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Her eyes flickered down, almost shyly. “Wilm, I have a secret to tell. And I must ask permission for something. But you must promise me that it won’t interfere with Elseny’s birthday. Will you promise?”
“Of course. Not something serious, I hope.”
Her eyes sparkled strangely. “It is, I think. At least I hope so.”
Muriele Dare, the queen of Crotheny, stepped back from the peephole. Whatever Lesbeth had to say to William, Muriele would let the siblings speak in private.
Quietly, she padded down the narrow passage, gliding on the smooth stone beneath her stockinged feet, through a secret red-oak panel and the small room beyond, down the stair behind the statue of Saint Brena, and finally to the locked and concealed door to her own chambers.
There, in near darkness, she took a moment for a few deep breaths.
“You’ve been in the walls again.”
Muriele started at the female voice. Across the room, she made out a gowned shadow.
“Erren.”
“Why have you started doing my job? I’m the spy. You’re the queen.”
“I was bored, you were elsewhere, and I knew the praifec had returned. I wanted to know what he would say.”
“Well?”
“Nothing particularly interesting. He reacted as we expected to my daughters being named as heirs. On the other hand, have you heard anything about Hanzish troops in Saltmark?”
“Nothing so definite,” Erren said. “But there is much happening in Hansa. They will take action soon.”
“Action of what sort?”
“Crotheny will be at war within the year, I’m certain of it,” Erren replied. “But there are nearer things I fear more. Rumors abound among the coven-trained.”
Muriele paused at that. Erren was a very special sort of assassin, trained by the church to serve noble families.
“You fear for our lives?” she said. “Would Hansa be so bold as to use coven-trained to murder us?”
“No—and yes. No, they will not employ my sisters, for that would incur the wrath of the church. But there are others who will kill for kings, and the mood in Hansa is that there is in Crotheny a king needing killing. That I know.” She paused. “But something else is in the wind. Talk of new kinds of murder, of encrotacnia and shinecraft unknown to the coven-trained. Some say perhaps assassins from Hadam or some other foreign place are responsible. Across the sea they may have unfamiliar skills.”
“And you have cause to fear that these new killers will be turned against my family?”