“Of course,” he confessed, wiping his brow. “It’s so strange that I didn’t know about the passages. That’s how you got Charles out, isn’t it?”
Muriele didn’t answer. She dropped the knife and clung to Alis.
“You two seem very friendly,” Robert noticed. “Alis, were your attentions to me fraudulent? I mean, I knew they were, but I supposed they came from a desire to resume your place as a palace whore.”
“Please leave her alone, Robert,” Alis said. “If you want someone, take me.”
“Oh, no, the mood has quite left me,” Robert said. He rolled his head back. “Let’s see,” he mumbled. “There was something else I was going to tell you, what was it?” He scratched his chin. “Right. That affair you planned at the Candle Grove—that was a good idea. I’m going ahead with it. And since it was your idea, I’m arranging for you to be present. Consider it an apology.”
He pushed himself up. “I’d better get this seen to,” he said, “and then decide whether I must kill the physician.” He bowed. “I bid you ladies good morning.” Then he left.
When he was gone, Muriele began to shudder.
“Sit,” Alis said.
“No,” she gasped. “No, not in that chair. Not on the bed, never—never again.”
“Well, come into my room, then. I’ll make some tea. Come on.”
“Thank you, Alis,” she said.
She let the girl lead her into her apartment, and sat on the bed. Alis went to the little stove there and began to kindle it.
“What is he, Alis?” Muriele asked. “What exactly have I made?”
Alis stopped and turned halfway, then went back to her work with the stove. “In the coven,” she began, “we studied the rumors of a creature like this. But in all our histories, it is only once recorded that the law of death was broken—by the Black Jester. He made himself as Robert is, deathless and yet not truly alive. But once the law of death has been broken, it is a simpler matter to make others. One of the Black Jester’s titles was Mhwr. Those he created were called the Mhwrmakhy. In the Chronicles of the Old North Kingdom, the Black Jester was called the Nau, and his servants the nauschalken.”
“Those last are easier to wrap my tongue around,” Muriele admitted.
She still felt his hands on her, his weight pressing down . . .
“Wait,” she said, in an effort to keep her mind elsewhere. “If the Black Jester broke the law of death, how could I have broken it again?”
“It was repaired, at great cost,” Alis said.
“But it can be repaired,” Muriele said hopefully.
“We no longer know how,” she replied. “Those who did it perished in the doing.”
Muriele bowed her head, despair filling her up. “Then I deserved—”
Alis took three quick steps from the stove and slapped her, hard.
Muriele looked up at her in utter astonishment, the sting still on her cheek.
“No,” Alis said. “Do not say it. Never say that, and do not think it.” She knelt and took Muriele’s hand, and there were tears in her eyes.
Muriele ached to cry, but could not find her own tears. Instead she curled up in the bed, closed her eyes, and searched behind them for a forgetful sleep.
Leoff answered the light rap at his door and found Areana there, looking puzzled and quite pretty in a dark blue gown.
“You sent for me, Cavaor Ackenzal?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Please call me Leoff.”
She smiled nervously. “As you wish, Leoff.”
“Please, come in, have a seat.” He noticed an older woman in the hall beyond her. “And you, lady, if you please.”
Areana looked chagrined. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just—I’ve never been in the palace, and it’s all so—well, I’m nervous, as you can see. This is my governess, Jen Unilsdauter. I thought it appropriate . . .” She trailed off, as if unsure of what she meant to say, or worried she’d already said the wrong thing.
“You are most welcome, Lady Jen,” Leoff told her. “Most especially if you can speak for Areana’s parents.”
“I’m no lady, young man,” she replied, “but I appreciate a compliment.”
“Please, sit, both of you.”
When they had, he returned his gaze to Areana, who was blushing.
“Leoff,” she began, “I—that is to say—”
He got it then. “Oh, no, you misunderstand, I think,” he hurriedly assured her. “I didn’t ask you here for—not that I don’t find you charming . . .” He trailed off. “This is getting worse and worse, isn’t it?” He sighed.
“Well, it’s certainly becoming more and more confusing,” Areana agreed.
“It’s this, you see,” Leoff said, patting the score on his workable.
“This is why I’ve asked you here. You’ve heard about the performance to be given at the Candle Grove?”
“Of course,” she said. “Everyone has. I am very much looking forward to it.”
“Well, that’s good,” he said. “That’s very good.” He hoped he hadn’t insulted her.
“And?” she queried.
Leoff realized he hadn’t actually explained. “Right,” he said. “I would like you to sing the lead role.”
Her eyes widened improbably large. “Me?”
“Ah, yes,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Or at least audition for it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was struck by your singing voice at Lady Gramme’s. It’s not only lovely, but precisely the voice I’m looking for for this performance. I think you’ll understand when you’ve read the part.”
“The part?” she said, frowning in puzzlement.
“Yes, yes—it’s a new sort of thing, somewhat like a lustspell but a bit more—um, elevated.”
“I should hope so,” the governess huffed.
“Oh, hush, Jen,” Areana said. “You enjoy the lustspells as much as I do. We only pretend to disdain them, remember?”
“Yes, but a girl of your position—”
“Hear me out,” Leoff said, “Please. It’s the story of Lihta, from Broogh. You know the tale?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You would sing the part of Lihta.”
“You mean act it,” Areana corrected.
“No, no, look here,” he said, showing her the music. “You can read, can’t you?”
“She reads very well,” the governess asserted. As Areana looked over the pages he saw comprehension begin to dawn.
“You see?” he said.
She looked at him doubtfully. “It’s my Newland accent you want, isn’t it?”
“In part,” he conceded. “And I also believe that if this play is going to be for the people of Newland and Eslen, one of you should be in it. But you have to understand, I would never compromise my music for such a whim. You have a sort of—of—innocent boldness that any other singer would have to feign. In you it is pure.”
Areana blushed again, more deeply this time. “Now I really don’t know what to say,” she said.
“Well, here, let’s try a bit of it,” he suggested.
“All right.”
He chose Lihta’s first air, which she sang beautifully, and then the trickier bit he called a spellsing, a sort of cross between talking and singing. Well before she was done, he knew his instincts had been correct.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“When sung with such a voice, it cannot help but be,” Leoff told her. “I truly hope you will consider the part.”
“If you really think me suitable, I would be honored,” she gushed.
“You are as perfectly suitable as can be,” Leoff said, beaming. Then he coughed, and composed his features more seriously. “But I need to tell you something rather important. It may change your mind.”
“And what is that?”
“Praifec Hespero has expressly forbidden the performance of this as written. When we defy him, he will be angry. I think I shall bear the brunt of his displeasure, and will certainly take all responsibility, but there is some danger to everyone involved, you included.”