The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

XI

Short, Sharp Daggers

In which Edana investigates

Roswald brought them to his strategy room, where his own officers—and Duke Gagnon—waited. An imperial messenger preceded them into the room, announcing the presence of Lady Aelia.

The announcement must have surprised the duke, for his eyes were still wide when Bessa and Edana entered the room behind Lady Aelia’s guards. The guards spread out, to stand in strategic points along the walls. Roswald’s officers were unarmed, just as he was, and Bessa suspected he had arranged it that way on the pretext of honoring the duke.

The duke hastily rose, and bowed his head to Lady Aelia.

“Lady Aelia. I am Duke Antony Gagnon,” he said, his gaze shifting for just a moment to Roswald. “At your service,” he belatedly added.

One of her guards presented himself next to the duke. His mask made him seem especially forbidding.

“Your sword.”

The duke did a double take, then his eyes narrowed as he took in the fact that he alone violated the protocol. No longer did he sit high enough in the emperor’s council to have forewarning of Lady Aelia’s arrival.

And Roswald wished him to know it.

Gagnon’s lips thinned. Without a word he unclipped his sword from his belt and handed it to the guard, who strode over to the door and stationed himself there. As the door was the furthest point from the duke, the guard allowed Gagnon no easy way to reclaim his sword.

Lady Aelia stepped forward, directly opposite the duke at the far end of the table. She allowed a moment for the other soldiers to take in her presence and regain their composure. Then she adopted a pleasant expression. Salamandra were legendary for the coolness of their temper. However, Bessa suspected every human wondered if the particular Salamandran they were dealing with was ‘an exception’ who would incinerate them at the slightest provocation.

“Good evening,” Lady Aelia began. “As Aether Roswald said, I am Lady Aelia. You can plainly see I am a truth-seer and, like the rest of you, a servant of the empire. Let us begin.”

Briskly, she introduced them all, giving special emphasis to Bessa as “the reason we’re all here.”

The duke’s eyes flashed and he stared sharply at Bessa, but otherwise he showed no reaction. The soldiers arrayed at the red granite table stared with open curiosity that changed to awe when Lady Aelia had Bessa explain about the giants’ raid on her vineyard.

As Bessa expected, Gagnon made haste to make sympathetic noises and offer assurances he would do everything possible to protect Silura. In silky tones he promised “her workers did not die in vain.”

When Bessa brought up the official notice that misled Senovara he casually dismissed it, offering instead easy promises her family would be well-compensated for their losses. As though she could be bought off.

Fortunately, the suspicions she and Edana had sowed now bore fruit: Saavedra brought forth messages from other commanders all over Silura, who had questions of their own regarding what had happened at the Philomelos vineyard.

Even better, Saavedra let drop the consensus that Senovara’s battle report was far more troubling than the duke was admitting. Draco Aether Roswald apparently raised the issue before, because he pointedly chimed in that now that they had a third direct, firsthand confirmation of giants, the duke needed to put Silura on high alert.

All eyes were on the duke.

Because she was watching for it, Bessa saw the flicker of Gagnon’s eyelids, and the briefest tightening of his lips before Lady Aelia stepped in again.

With a cool stare Lady Aelia said, “As you see, Lord Gagnon, the matter before you now is of grave importance, not only to the people of Silura, but to the emperor himself. There are so many questions. Questions which must be answered.”

Bessa suppressed a shudder. Lady Aelia’s tone was familiar to her, for Grandmother used it in negotiations when she knew the other party was trying to cheat her: she had set a trap, and was simply waiting for the screaming to start.

“I agree,” Duke Gagnon said, bristling slightly, perhaps knocked off balance by Lady Aelia using his civilian title. Taken with her pointed mention of the emperor, Gagnon had to be rapidly reassessing his future in the imperial army.

Duke Gagnon cleared his throat. And proceeded to hold them at bay.

“The hour grows late,” he said, for by now it was nearing midnight. “I believe Aether Roswald’s quarters should accommodate us all. In the morning we can discuss everything. In the meantime, I will look over the documents you have brought to me, Aether Saavedra.”

Keeping her gaze firmly on Gagnon, Lady Aelia held out a hand to Saavedra. Without missing a beat, Saavedra deposited the parchments in her outstretched hand.

She narrowed her glittering eyes at the duke when he, caught off guard, opened his mouth to object. His jaw tightened as she ran her hands over the papers, a reminder that an alethomantis could perceive the truth in what she touched. If the truth-seer certified the documents, then the duke could not gainsay it. Every lie he told would have to be reconciled with what was in those documents.

Furthermore, as Lady Aelia appeared intent on keeping them, the duke could not prepare an excuse that would take those documents into account when they held their promised morning talk. As Lady Aelia had affirmed the emperor’s interest, he could not avoid having that talk either.

Roswald’s quarters, in a square behind Red Pointe’s headquarters, were the size of a small villa. Inside, two grand courtyards were surrounded by several rooms. A roof covered the first, smaller courtyard, a concession to the home being in Silura.

The fountain in the center reminded Bessa of the Nuriel home. However, Roswald’s fountain featured a statue of Ginessa, the legendary sorceress who had summoned the dragons that gave the Sea of Five Dragons its name. Ginessa was also the basis of the caryatids, sculptures of women used as columns, in the colonnade forming the courtyard. The swimming pool in the second courtyard must have made invitations to Roswald’s home particularly coveted.

Roswald gave Bessa and Edana separate rooms, side by side, in the second courtyard. Bessa, fearing what the duke might do, would have objected but for the urgent gleam in Edana’s eye when she started to say something. Instead, Bessa thanked the aether, and busied herself overseeing the porters unloading their luggage.

The porters suspended three large glowlights from the ceiling in Bessa’s room. Glancing about, she saw enough familiar elements to make her relax slightly.

As soon as the porters left Edana entered, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Everyone is still by the pool,” Edana said. “Lady Aelia insisted Gagnon walk with her, and her room is across the pool from ours. Help her keep the duke there. Keep talking until you see me come out of my room.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

Edana’s hand slashed the air in an impatient chopping motion. “What I came here to do.”

“The alethomantis is here,” she reminded Edana. “I think you can stand down, the duke is clearly in trouble—”

“May it be the first of many sorrows for him,” Edana cut in. “My mission is not ended; I came here to learn what he knows of the giants: Where they came from, and why they’re here. Who else is helping them? Recall that I did not tell you of the giants because I feared the Red Daggers would come for you. As they came for everyone else who speaks of the giants. ‘Red Daggers,’ are names without faces for now, but they are the names we do know. Who else is allied with Gagnon? They will not have the advantage of secrecy a second time.”

Bessa’s eyes flashed. “I wish you good hunting in unveiling that secret. But if Lady Aelia—”

“Lady Aelia is no threat to us; she’s focused on the duke. To her, we are simply innocents, caught up in intrigues. Look, I will be fine. You are not helping me into my grave, I promise you.”

Bessa relented, and they exited her room together. Edana went back to her own room as Bessa approached the duke, who was still by the pool, surrounded by the aethers and the truth-seer. Aether Roswald in particular appeared intent on pressing a point. Duke Gagnon spotted Bessa and immediately waved her over. Forcing down her rage, Bessa obeyed him.

“Elisabet Bessa Philomelos. Did you not mention coming face to face with a giant? That gives you far more experience with them than I have, I’m afraid. Please tell us what happened.”

Bessa obliged him. As the resurrecting moon was only half full, she had to rely on glowlights to see, and in their light the silver of the duke’s armor took on a halo. Where the aethers wore red leather with gold-plated armor, the duke wore black leather with silver-plated armor and fittings. The aethers wore red because they rode fire dragons in battle, whereas dukes had the prestige to command a sea drake—at least they did before the Fourth Cataclysm.

He bowed his head respectfully, as if she were a woman of great rank. Bessa clasped her hands behind her back, to keep from slapping him. His half-hearted charm offensive could not take away her memory of the screams of terror from her people. Nor of her own race to save her family, or the line of bodies whose former names she had carefully recorded.

Calmly she managed to reply, “I’m having a hard time accepting that we’re the only ones aware the giants are here. Edana said she heard about them as she was coming to Silura. Surely the emperor should know this, too?”

“Certainly he should,” Gagnon agreed easily.

“So it worries me that none of our legions, none of our arcana have spotted the giants or even seem to be aware of them. Why do only travelers speak of them?”

“That’s what troubles me as well,” Saavedra said.

“Not to mention those who insist there are no giants, in spite of witness reports,” Lady Aelia noted.

A pointed reminder that a faction within the empire was deliberately running interference, to keep Rasena Valentians terrified, confused, and vulnerable. The truth-seer stared straight at the duke.

Roswald observed, “These creatures can move about without being seen or heard, and they speak our language. They can disappear into thin air—or at least, their corpses do. They well have the advantage of us.”

Quickly Bessa said, “Aether, they can be killed. The soldiers in Falcon’s Hollow managed. Was there nothing in the reports to reassure you on this point?”

Roswald and Saavedra exchanged a look. Right, of course. As far as they knew, she was merely as Edana had said, “an innocent caught up.” Likely they expected to protect her from any hint her country was in mortal peril. They would only have sought to reassure her, whereas her speaking to them on equal terms seemed to have thrown them off balance.

“Many I spoke to believed my household guards made me invulnerable to attack,” she added. “They do not have guards. You see the problem? But this is Silura, and cowering is not how we do things here. I don’t imagine any soldier has trouble relating to that. You must have faced something as dangerous as the giants before. How should we prepare? Duke Gagnon?”

Her question pinned him to the spot. Out of the corner of her eye she had noticed him edging away the moment the aethers focused on her.

The duke cleared his throat. Nervous? Was her question a trap for him? Could Edana could use his words against him?

Bessa thought of the empty box she’d brought in her luggage: she had come for the duke’s head. Under her breath she prayed,

By the gods, Edana, make it so.

As soon as she returned to her room Edana put on a show for a fortress slave, who had slipped in when Edana had left to go speak to Bessa. Once Edana bustled her out, she locked the door and kicked off her sandals, snow white with gold trim. From her luggage she retrieved plain, raw leather sandals.

Off went her finery, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Clad now in her underclothes and moonbow-steel blades, Edana sought a particular item in her luggage. Triumphantly, she pulled from a trunk a long tunic and leather apron, suitable for a maidservant.

Yet again her inspection failed to detect the enchantment she knew was woven through it. She put on the clothes, and the plain sandals, and looked at herself in the bronze mirror.

Gone were her curves, even her face had taken on sharp angles. The woman staring back at her looked underfed, but nondescript. Edana tugged at a strand of her hair and brought it up to her eyes. A dull orange. But her hand—! She jumped, shocked by the pallidness of her skin. Not the luminous alabaster of her mother’s complexion, but something more sickly. She turned away from the stranger staring at her in the mirror.

For a moment she lingered over the other items in her trunk. Though amply provisioned to frame the duke, events now unfolded in a way she hadn’t expected. Thanks to Bessa she no longer needed to weight the balance scales against Gagnon. Still, she had better rid herself of the ‘evidence,’ in case she was obliged to endure a search of her own possessions.

Now she stuffed her hair into a cap, then went to the window and listened.

No footsteps echoed on the stones outside. The aether’s square was well inside the fortress’ main perimeter, patrolled by the guards, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a soldier or two patrolling the inner perimeter. Reason enough for wearing as dark a blue as she could get, blending in with the night.

From what Edana observed, Red Pointe used the same layout as other fortresses she had visited in the empire. So, the aether’s house was in the center of the senior officers’ quarters. While on the one hand she was in an exposed position, on the other hand her chosen disguise rendered her invisible.

She opened the window and hoisted herself out, taking the precaution of using another slipper to hold the window ajar. Treading lightly on the gravel road, she made little sound as she walked, purposeful but not hurried. If a truth-seer saw her, she was done for. She must avoid being noticed.

Fortunately, she was alone on the street.

Finally she came to the front door again. The sentry only nodded, and Edana strolled through. Her dossier said Roswald had only one child, a baby. Given that he was dragon class, he likely had a nurse who shared a room with the girl.

Open doors signaled common rooms, such as the dining room. Edana smiled, relieved when she heard a faint cry coming from the room directly to the left of Ginessa’s fountain in the center of the courtyard. If she were Roswald, she wouldn’t put the duke in a room next to the baby. So, try the closed door directly across, to the right of Ginessa’s fountain.

Good guess.

Glowlights illuminated the duke’s room, and his bed was turned down in preparation for his return. Be thorough and quick, she reminded herself. First thing, check the window, her only other escape. Yes, it opened readily.

Now to get down to business.

Bessa had Sorcha’s Tear, but Edana had Lady Nensela.

When you catch up to him, look for the asrai.

Lady Nensela had not meant she would capture the duke near water. Instead, Edana was to seek the elegant box she now spotted at the foot of the bed. Carved cedar, the box sported a gilt relief of asrai frolicking with the naiads they served. The lid was split at the top, joined in the center with a jade carving of an asrai’s face.

Edana pulled a bronze vial from her apron. Small enough to conceal in the palm of her hand, she’d filled it with the tears of an asrai.

Memories of her encounter with the creature still made her shudder. To make the asrai cry, she shared her grief over her loss of her parents. The asrai, sympathetic, allowed Edana to collect her tears, but Edana had to take extreme care not to let the creature touch her. Legend had it that any part of her touched by an asrai would remain cold forevermore.

Uncertain whether the rule applied to asrai tears as well, Edana carried a pair of elbow-length leather gloves in her second pocket. She pulled them on before she unstopped the vial.

Carefully, she poured the tears into the eyes of the carving. Almost instantly the carving, and the circular depression it rested in, began to glow an eerie silver. Immediately she stoppered the vial again, checking twice to make sure the liquid would not escape, and put it back in her apron.

The chest opened easily, and Edana looked inside. She paused. She frowned.

Inside the chest sat a small, highly polished chrysoprase gemstone, and two scrolls, tightly rolled. Edana focused on the stone, green as the wild apples she and Bessa sometimes found when playing in the woods. The palm-sized stone had an indentation in the center that would fit her thumb.

A keystone.

Unquestionably a keystone, on every occasion when she saw one they were made of some sort of agate. Her frown deepened when she considered the more pertinent implication of the stone: a sorcerer was involved.

Sorcerers did not secure their homes with simple locks. Magic warded their doors, and keystones served the same function as iron keys for everyone else. While dryads and naiads warded their groves or springs when moved to do so, they never created any type of key. Furthermore, it was unlikely those beings had anything to do with the duke or the giants.

Now what of the scrolls? Unrolling the first one revealed a star map, which included the phases of the agate moon in the top right corner, and the sun in the top left corner. Edana studied the map. The duke had placed marks and initials, not his own, near certain stars or constellations. For the first time she smiled. Addresses!

Sheets of blank parchment and a reed pen lay on the big round table dominating the room. Quickly, Edana took a sheet and furiously wrote her notes.

The Reaper—JK

The Relentless Seeker—RL

Phoenix—*

Fifth year of lunar cycle—*

Fourth year of eclipse cycle—*

And so on. When she was finished, Edana compared her notes to the map, and did the math. For each set of initials there needed to be two further points on the map, because each starburst glyph should represent a part of the address. If this was an address list, not a code.

To reach Lady Nensela she’d had to calibrate the oraculus machine to the Huntress, the phoenix, and the crescent cycle of the moon. Five sets of initials, and ten starbursts. So an address list, as she thought.

When she unrolled the second scroll, one line caught her eye:

Nikandros Bessus Philomelos.

Her heart skipped a beat. Why was the duke writing about Uncle Nikandros, and to whom? Hungrily, her eyes roved over the scroll. After a moment she calmed herself and realized she was reading a speech. No, a denunciation.

Gagnon began with praise for Bessa’s father, and extolled how brilliantly he’d served the emperor as chief engineer and artificer. How the emperor, Tarkhana, must credit Uncle Nikandros with many tactical victories given his genius for accomplishing marvels that turned the tide of battle. Of the monuments Uncle Nikandros built that honored the emperor. Gagnon even threw in the contributions of Nikolaos Bessus Philomelos as a healer.

All very moving, and Edana doubted even Bessa might improve upon it. The Star Dragons were right, Gagnon intended to exploit the destruction of the Philomelos family for his own ends.

…And what monument to such a faithful guardian of our empire? His house burned to ash and his family murdered in the night by monsters!

From there Gagnon outlined the repeated attacks the giants had made upon Rasena Valentians — and Tarkhana’s failure to stop them. Of his promotion of incompetent officers, including Centurion Makris and Pegasus Prime Senovara. Confirming Edana’s suspicion that he meant to shift blame to any officer best positioned to defend Silura and the other nations.

Next Tarkhana personally came in for cold, measured vitriol, and charges of dereliction of duty in tracking down the giants. Accusations he was distracted with dalliances with women from the decadent east. All charges that would demand an answer from Tarkhana if made in the Dragon’s Den.

So Gagnon was aiming to replace Tarkhana. But why? To better carry out his mission, or simply because he thirsted for unearned power?

Time to leave. Everything Edana touched went back exactly as she found it, save for the notes she hid in her apron pocket.

Once again she checked for footsteps before exiting the window.

Back in her own room, she slipped off her disguise and repacked it in the bottom of her trunk. In only a few heartbeats her natural appearance reasserted itself, and she smiled her relief. Now she put on a tunic she reserved for sleeping, and the sea silk shawl fringed with peacock green strands. This she used for modesty.

A memory bubbled up of her parents, halting her in her tracks. Her uncle, a man she had never met, once sent a similar shawl to her father, as a present for her mother. Seeing it brought tears to her father’s eyes, and Edana now fleetingly wished the brothers could have reunited.

Her mother had adored the gift, marveling at how fine and weightless the sea silk felt compared to any other fabric. Now Edana remembered how the rich gold trimmed in crimson had complimented her mother’s looks. Later she must commission a sea silk shawl for Bessa, as a wedding gift. Now; however, she must concentrate on waging battle.

She opened her door ajar, to peek outside.

The set of Bessa’s posture revealed how tightly she was wound. Bessa had shown such a determination to destroy the duke that Edana feared she would get too emotional, but by all appearances she hadn’t blown it.

The aethers still looked on Bessa with respect and sympathy, and looked engrossed in whatever she was saying. The seer maintained a cool expression. Only the duke seemed out of place to her, with his mouth set in a thin line, and his arms folded almost petulantly.

Edana stepped out.

The truth-seer spotted her. “Optima Nuriel,” she called out. “Your name has come to me several times, both from civilians and from officers such as Pegasus Prime Senovara. Come, tell us what more you know about the giants in Silura.”

“Rasena Valentis,” Edana corrected, as she took her place beside Bessa.

Lady Aelia accepted the correction with good grace, giving a lopsided smile she hid behind her hand.

That was when Edana noticed her ring, amber in an electrum starburst setting. Ah, so she was also Sorcha’s servant: a scryer, the seers who saw events in the present, no matter how near or distant. Those who served Aletheia often enjoyed moderate talents as scryers; those who served Her twin sister Sorcha could be similarly gifted at truthsay.

“Yes, Rasena Valentis. Elisabet Philomelos says you have heard of them in the Cloudwalk, and the Cauldron, among other places. Quite remarkable. We have all heard rumors of giants, of course.”

“Whereas, I have heard facts,” Edana replied. “A seer from the Aerie was there when the giants attacked in the Cloudwalk. She spoke of it to a friend of mine. Giants. Honestly, I must know: how is it that the testimony of a Seeker’s Own is not sufficient to mobilize the legions? I am astonished that the voice of one you say is a goddess is so lightly dismissed.”

“Indeed, you ought to have been astonished,” Lady Aelia agreed. “Yet every testimony is met with adamant insistence that the seers who saw them were mistaken, and there are no giants. Not in Rasena Valentis. Of course, there is no convincing explanation for why the Seeker has given no other prophecy in the days since.”

With a nod Edana acknowledged the implication. So. At last she was sure of who Lady Aelia sided with. A servant of the empire, indeed. The wheels seemed to be turning in the minds of the aethers as well, she noted. The duke’s jaw bunched.

Now to press the point. “May I ask, is the testimony of my friend, and the officers of Falcon’s Hollow enough to rouse the legion? Will Rasena Valentis now be defended? Or is the status quo to continue of one village after another being taken unawares by the giants?”

Lady Aelia arched an eyebrow, and her lips twitched. “For my part, I will advise the emperor to go forward with his plans,” she said. A pointed stare at the duke. “And you, Lord Gagnon?”

All eyes turned to the duke.

Duke Gagnon stood stiffly at attention. “I shall carry out all orders given to me…for my part, Silura shall be prepared to face this enemy.”

He met the eyes of his aethers, who in turn adopted neutral expressions. In their place, Edana would also hide a lack of faith in him. They seemed committed to protecting Silura.

“Let us continue this in the morning,” the duke went on. “Sleep well. We must leave no stone unturned tomorrow.”

Lady Aelia turned on a heel and swept away to her room, the sash of her chiton billowing over her shoulder and down her back in the night breeze. The men bid goodnight to the ladies, with Roswald reminding them they could ring for the servants if they needed anything.

Alone now, Edana and Bessa hastened to Edana’s room.

“Well?” Bessa asked when Edana locked the door behind them.

“Evil does not sleep, nor shall the duke,” Edana said. “Expect him to run to the oraculum.” She made a beeline for her trunk.

“What can we do about it?”

“Unfortunately, nothing. To spy on him is impossible with the means I have available. Blast it all, what I would give to know the giants’ addresses!” She sighed, and rubbed her forehead. “Thank the Speaker this fortress has its full complement. The giants have worked so hard to avoid military engagements, I have to wonder if they’re strong enough to face our legions.”

Bessa paused. “You think there will be an attack?”

Edana rooted around a bit in the trunk, then pulled out the parchment copy of the duke’s star addresses. “Bessa, the scroll case on the table has a star map. Let me show you something.”

Obliging her, Bessa opened the case and unfurled the star map, which featured the zodiac, eclipse cycles, and the moon with its phases. Edana joined her at the table, and unfolded her parchment with the addresses.

“What’s that?”

“Names. And oraculum contact points, I think. The duke hid this inside a fancy box. I believe these are the call signs for his allies. The giants’ allies.”

Understanding dawned in Bessa’s eyes. “How will knowing the addresses thwart an attack?”

“It won’t,” Edana replied. “But Lady Nensela needs to know this. She and the Star Dragons can figure out who the initials belong to, they just need to know where to start looking. I want to get this to her in case—in case we don’t survive.”

A stillness settled over the room. After a moment, Bessa nodded her acceptance.

“This can’t be too difficult,” she said. “Let’s think about the way the oracula work. Don’t you just pick two points, like an arrowhead, and get the arrow shaft in the middle?”

“As far as I know. Once we map out the possibilities we’ll see what we have here.”

Part of the decor in Edana’s room included a miniature armillary sphere made of gold and cobalt. Four legs, styled as spiral columns, supported a flat bronze hoop, which lay horizontally. The hoop, representing the horizon, was incised with all of the directions of the wind. Another, thinner bronze ring vertically intersected the hoop. This represented the meridian.

In the center of the hoop and below the meridian sat a cobalt globe, which represented Thuraia, and was engraved with a map of the world as Rasena Valentians knew it.

The globe, tilted on a golden arrow which formed the axis, was caged within four golden rings: a small arctic ring near the very top, and a matching antarctic ring near the bottom of the globe. Between, starting below the arctic ring, were the summer solstice, equator, and winter solstice rings. A fifth ring of silver, the zodiac, crossed diagonally from the summer solstice, through the equator, and onto the winter solstice.

A lapis phoenix, the emblem of the Restorer, marked the intersection of the summer solstice with the zodiac. Two more emblems marked the zodiac’s crossing of the equator: the green chrysoprase eagle of the Huntress at the spring equinox, and the reddish-brown jasper ox of the Reaper at the autumn equinox. At the final intersection, opposite the Restorer’s, was the winter solstice emblem, a ruby gate and a black onyx snake. The Destroyer held the keys to those gates, which led to the Abyssal Serpent who devoured the souls of the wicked.

Edana tapped the arrowhead three times. Suddenly, a midnight blue sphere surrounded them. The sky arced overhead, spangled with silver stars, a blue onyx moon, and a golden sun. After consulting Edana’s notes they used the armillary to manipulate the sun’s position against the zodiac, and the orbits of the moon. Soon they came up with plausible addresses for each name on the list.

When they finished Bessa tapped the arrowhead three times, and the sphere vanished. She blinked as her eyes readjusted to the glowlights.

“What now? What about all of the families around the fortress?” Bessa wondered.

“Now we enlist Lady Aelia. Ask her what she Sees. We’ll plan from there.”

“Wait—why should the duke mount an attack? How could he imagine he’d get away with it, with Lady Aelia here?”

Edana recounted her conversation with Senovara. “She didn’t believe my warning because the duke got to her first. And from what I can tell, the other garrisons don’t talk directly to each other. Everything is reported to, and filtered through, the duke or the consul.”

“But wouldn’t that make the duke an obvious suspect once the others did find out? So what was supposed to have happened then?”

“If you’re the duke, you have three options: you can say there’s an enemy arcanum or traitor running interference. You could blame the Consul of War…or you can blame the emperor. In his fancy strongbox Gagnon has a speech prepared, about having launched his own ‘investigation’ of the attack on your vineyard, because he remembered your father’s service. How your family became a fatal example of the emperor’s laxity in tracking down and defeating the giants. And because he put incompetents in place, namely Centurion Makris and Pegasus Prime Senovara, among others. Overall, the duke’s actions, and those of his faction, were supposed to be laid at the feet of the emperor: he, too, can be replaced.”

Bessa gasped. “Do you think he’ll try again to kill my family? And for what? To be emperor? The emperor is old; he was on the throne when my grandparents were children! A duke worth his salt can arrange an accident. That can’t be the sum total of the duke’s ambitions. This is far too much trouble to overthrow someone who could die at any moment anyway.”

Despite herself, Edana laughed. “Waiting for the emperor’s death is an excellent plan—if he did not have Ta-Setian blood. He’s reigned sixty-three years, but Lady Nensela says he only looks about fifty or so. Many of his enemies were born and died in his lifetime. But besides, you’re right, again. Neither I, nor Lady Nensela, nor the Star Dragons believe the giants are here to make the duke emperor. That’s merely the duke’s price for assisting them.”

“And what? The giants would let him live here and rule while doing no harm to us? Is he stupid? I thought we were going to assume he’s smarter than us.”

Edana picked up the thunder mace and wrapped it in her shawl, the folds and drape of the silk concealing it from casual observation.

“Remember the star addresses, Bessa. There are other people involved. Now let us see the scryer. If my hunch is correct, Duke Gagnon won’t care if she divines his intentions, because she’s not going to survive this night.”