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Moira was so very close with Hamon. She felt pretty sure she had his trust now; he’d confessed all the things he had never liked about the monastery. She had sympathized with him and told him that he ought to have been allowed to go to the university if he had wanted to go. They had talked about religion and politics, too, and he seemed to accept now, without question, that she felt about those topics precisely as he did.
He still seemed to be attracted to her, and she rather liked him, but she had done her best to deemphasize that aspect of their relationship. She wanted him to see her as a friend and confidante, not as a potential lover. At least not right away. Later, once she’d learned where the Gramirens were, she might revisit the issue and see if perhaps they could be more than friends. But for now, she thought it best not to confuse him. Or herself, for that matter.
She was thinking of sending him a note, inviting him to go on a walk around the university district together that afternoon. Pleasant, yet not overly intimate. But then Marzia, one of the younger Emissariae, had come up to the office with a note asking that Moira stop by Faustinus’s chambers for lunch and a discussion of their new bank.
Moira shook her head. Sometimes when Faustinus got an idea in his head, he wouldn’t let go of it. She wasn’t sure why they couldn’t steal the treasure from the Gramirens and then claim a reward from the Sigors. That seemed a much simpler way to make money to her. But Faustinus thought a new bank would be the end of all their money problems forever, and nothing she could say would dissuade him.
It wasn’t lunchtime yet, but she had finished all her messages since she would have to put off the invitation to Hamon, and she had some time on her hands, so she decided to go over to Faustinus’s place early.
When she got up to the big, round chamber, she found he wasn’t there. But once again, Gina was. The girl sat at his table, transcribing messages and sealing them. Looking up, she gave Moira a bright smile.
“Good morning, ma’am,” she said. “Legate Faustinus is meeting with some senators. It’s something about a bank license.”
The girl’s feet were bare, as were her legs—naked and on full view up to mid-thigh. In fact, now that Moira looked again, she was pretty sure the girl was wearing one of Faustinus’s shirts. And only a shirt—nothing else. Gina, following Moira’s gaze, looked down at herself, and her smile faded instantly. Her face reddened, and her lip quivered.
“I...I was very dusty,” she said, in a terrified squeak. “So...so Legate Faustinus let me...um, use his private baths, and then...um, he loaned me...this.”
Moira could have let the girl go on, twisting helplessly in the wind. But she pitied the poor thing. “Gina,” she said gently, “you don’t need to lie. I know you and Faustinus are together now.”
“You know?”
“Yes.”
The girl burst into tears and begged Moira to forgive her. “I’m so, so sorry, ma’am. I know I shouldn’t have let it go as far as it has.” She got up from her chair and fell at Moira’s feet. “And now I’ve done a terrible thing, and I’m a terrible person, because I owe you so much, both you and the legate. I should never have asked him if he wanted to go have a drink. I knew it was wrong; I knew I should’ve waited. I don’t know why I didn’t. Then, when he asked me back here, I should have stopped myself before—”
Moira knelt down and put an arm around the girl. “Faustinus couldn’t have stopped himself, either. Believe me, I know. Don’t worry, Gina. I don’t mind.”
“You don’t?” The girl looked up, eyes blinking away tears.
“No, I don’t.” That was true, at least at that moment. Moira couldn’t have given any guarantee that it would still be true a week or a month from now. “Servius is a good man. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with him.”
That wasn’t quite so true. Faustinus might be a good man, at least for certain broad definitions of the word “good.” But from her own experience, and from what she’d heard about her husband’s previous relationships, Moira felt sure that poor little Gina would deeply regret becoming involved with him someday. Not that he was vicious or violent, or that he neglected his lovers or abused them. But he used people up, without even knowing he was doing it, and when they were exhausted and drained, a shell of what they once had been, he would move on with a cheery cry of, “Well, it’s been fun, then!” To her knowledge, in his long life, Vita was the only one of his lovers to escape unscathed. Moira wanted to tell the girl that there was only one Emperor, so she was unlikely to get as lucky as Vita, but Moira feared it would come across as bitterness or envy. So, she said nothing, helped Gina dry her tears, and gave her a hug.
“I’ll resign if you want, ma’am.”
“There’s no need for that,” said Moira. “Lily would be furious if I let you quit. However,” she gave a little cough, “there is something you can do for me.”
“What is it, ma’am? I’ll do anything.”
“I would appreciate it if you put your own clothes back on.”
Gina did so immediately, ducking into the little bedroom area and returning in a very attractive blue riding outfit. The tunic fitted perfectly, and it featured little pockets with silver buttons. Despite the dust, it was clearly new. Moira wondered if Faustinus had paid for it, then reminded herself it didn’t matter.
She gave Gina another quick hug, and they sat down together at the table, where Moira started helping Gina transcribe the messages.
They were barely through the first stack, when Moira suddenly felt a pulse of pressure along her jaw. It was magy, and it hadn’t come from Faustinus. But it seemed oddly familiar for some reason. She stood and faced the door, a defensive spell ready on her lips. She and Faustinus had burned a lot of bridges over the years with fellow hillichmagnars, and this visitor might not be a friend. At least not anymore.
Then the door opened, revealing Caedmon Aldred. He looked almost exactly as he had when they had first met, in her days as a young student hillichmagnar, with his hair tied back with a cheap piece of string, and his contemplative frown. She thought the lines around his eyes and mouth looked slightly deeper than the last time they had run into each other, but then, she thought that every time she saw him.
She had been in awe of him when they first met, and he had seemed to regard her as a promising young protégé. But then she had chosen to go with Faustinus and to kill Daryna Olekovna. And even worse (from the point of view of someone like Caedmon), she and Faustinus had become lovers. And then they had actually gotten married. Probably no one had ever disappointed anyone as much as she had disappointed Caedmon Aldred.
“Ah, Moira,” he said, reddening slightly. “I had not expected to find you here, but this is just as well.”
Moira introduced Gina, who seemed very impressed by Caedmon. They talked about his journey to Presidium and the weather for a little while.
Then, after a long, painful silence, he said, “Faustinus wrote to me and said that you and he...would not be together anymore.” He stood and walked to the window, avoiding her gaze. “I am very sorry.”
He didn’t say, “I told you so,” but he didn’t need to.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said sadly.
There was an even longer, more awkward silence after that, which was only broken by the joyous arrival of Faustinus himself.
“Why, Caedmon! How good to see you!” Then Faustinus noticed Moira and Gina. If he was unnerved to see them seated together, he didn’t show it. “Ah, Moira, darling. You got here early. And Gina, how are the messages coming along? Why don’t you run over to the sideboard and get us some wine to celebrate Caedmon’s visit?”
“No, thank you,” said Caedmon, with a kindly smile at Gina. His expression hardened as he turned to Faustinus. “I regret to say this is not a social call. We are facing a very serious situation, and I need your help.”
“You mean the theft by the Gramirens?” asked Faustinus. He nodded to Moira. “We’re already working on that, and I assure you that I have every intention of returning the treasure as soon as we can locate it.”
Caedmon raised a bushy eyebrow. “When you say you have ‘every intention’ of doing something, Faustinus, I am less than reassured. But no, this is now about more than the treasure. I am afraid Astrid has done something...unfortunate.”
“Oh, Earstien,” sighed Moira. “What has she done now?” In her experience, everything that Astrid of Haydon did was unfortunate. The woman might be the closest advisor to the Freagast and an old friend of Caedmon, but she had never liked Moira or Faustinus.
Caedmon settled stiffly into a folding chair by the window. “When young King Edwin Sigor told me of the thefts, he asked that I convey a request for help to Freagast Harald. Harald was shocked and appalled to hear that the Gramirens had stolen Finster’s Book, and the crown that Finster used in the coronation of the first king.”
Moira had an inkling where this was headed.
So did Faustinus, because he said, “Don’t tell me—Harald wanted to help get the treasure back, and he delegated the job to Astrid.”
“Naturally,” said Caedmon. “And she has done very well so far. Hillichmagnars—including myself—have been dispatched to follow Gramiren agents and try to discover where the treasure is being kept. However, she has also put King Edwin in contact with other hillichmagnars, people outside our community, or people who have left it for...various reasons.” He scowled at Faustinus for a second, and then continued. “There are now magysk assassins chasing down the Gramiren family.”
Moira and Gina gasped, but Faustinus’s response was a slight smirk. “Anyone I might know?”
“Perhaps,” said Caedmon, his scowl deepening. “I do not know for certain who the Sigors have employed, but I would suspect many of them are no friends of yours.”
“So, Astrid is going to let hillichmagnars kill young Broderick and his family?” said Moira. “That’s cold blooded even for her.”
“Sadly, yes,” said Caedmon. “But it is not merely the morality of her actions that bothers me. The Duke of Severn—young Broderick’s uncle—has fled to Annenstruk, and he may raise an army there. If Broderick is assassinated, as his father was, the duke may invade, claiming to act as regent for Broderick’s son. The King of Annenstruk, too, is a relative of the Gramirens, and I fear they will join forces. Myrcia is weak and divided right now. It cannot withstand a determined foreign invasion.”
“Surely Astrid understands this,” said Moira.
“She does not think the danger is as great as I do,” said Caedmon. “And to be fair, it is hard to know which option is more dangerous. If Broderick the younger and his infant son are allowed to live, there might be another civil war again in a generation.”
“That is a difficult choice to make,” said Faustinus. “Trading a war now for a war in the future. I suspect Astrid sees her choice as the only right answer, though.”
“She wants the civil war ended because Harald wishes it so. And I think...,” Caedmon blushed slightly and cleared his throat, “that she hopes to impress me with what she is doing, since I have long been a supporter of the Sigor family.”
“Well, I’m certainly impressed,” said Faustinus. “I really didn’t think Astrid could still surprise me, but she has.”
“If you happen to find Broderick,” said Caedmon, “then make sure he survives. Take him somewhere safe. Until the threat from the Duke of Severn and Annenstruk has passed, the security of Myrcia, ironically enough, depends on keeping the usurpers alive.”
“Oh, is that all?” Faustinus asked with a smirk.
“Well, there are hopes of a marriage alliance to help bolster King Edwin’s support, but Duke Aldrick is not always helpful, even when his own interests should be clear to him. However, I will not bore you with that. I simply hope I can count on the two of you to help keep Broderick the younger alive.”
Faustinus nodded. “You must remember that young Broderick once served as my squire. I’ve always been quite fond of the boy. I would genuinely dislike to see any harm come to him.”
Everyone nodded, but Moira wasn’t feeling especially reassured about any of it.