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Presley found few things so exhausting and tedious as what the council had been up to these past days. Detailed activities that he had to work through on his own, he found enjoyable; but when tediousness became a group activity, it drained him. The negotiations in Rawdon had transitioned to going through long, thorough lists of nobles who had supported the Sigors and lost land and titles under the Gramirens, and vice versa, and who should now have not only lands and titles, but forgiveness. It was important work, but at the moment, it also felt endless.
In fact, the day had been so tiring, he thought about requesting a light supper be brought to his room, so he could retire early. But Aldrick had invited some of the local nobles for yet another reception whose only point was to show off again the fact the Freagast of Diernemynster was staying with him. As much as he did not want to, Presley knew it was always best to mingle, so he did his duty.
Of course, rather than mingling with anyone he cared to speak with, Presley found himself in the library next to the books of old Rawdonian history with Lady Jorunn. The hillichmagnar had proven to be much as he remembered from their time together at Weldan Castle many years before. She still possessed a classic sense of style and an officious sense of self. He couldn’t blame Moira for wanting to get away from her, given that he found her superior manner of conversation tiring after only a few minutes. Decades of studying under such a woman would be unendurable.
As though she suspected his thoughts, she asked about her old pupil and her fashion. “Does Moira still dress so outrageously? I remember having the worst time trying to tame her more daring inclinations. I suppose in the Empire, she’s allowed her fashion sense to run completely wild.”
Presley cared little about fashion, and only knew enough to make certain he was always presentable and to judge the cost of others’ wardrobes for the sake of knowing how to approach them in business. “For the Empire, I would say she is not especially daring, but I have often heard her complimented.”
Lady Jorunn sniffed. “If she could control her worst impulses, I dare say I could convince Harald to allow her back into Diernemynster.”
“What are you convincing me of?” The old Freagast tottered up from behind them. Presley believed he was around 1700 years old, a number impossible to fully comprehend as an age. He came across as a kindly grandfather, not as someone who as a young man had been at the founding of the Atherton School and served as an assistant to no less than Leofe the Blessed, the greatest hillichmagnar since the original angels who had created the world. Or so Faustinus and Moira said. It still felt like those stories must relate to someone entirely different, not this tall, genial, elderly Krigadamite man.
“I’m not convincing you of anything yet,” Lady Jorunn replied with a placating smile. “May I get you another glass of wine?”
Harald looked down at the empty glass in his liver spotted hand. He shook his head. “I think one is enough for me. What about you Sir Presley? Can Lady Jorunn get you another drink?”
Presley only now remembered that he was holding his own glass, devoid of wine. “I couldn’t possibly ask her ladyship to get me a refill,” he answered. The cold stare Lady Jorunn was giving him also said that she did not particularly care for being volunteered for such a mission. Honestly, I should have taken Harald up on the offer. Lady Jorunn fetching me more wine. Moira would have loved that.
“Anything for you?” Presley asked Lady Jorunn as he stepped away.
“I am quite well, thank you very much.”
Presley had just reached the drinks table when Vittoria thrust her arm through his left, making him splash a bit of wine down his other hand. “Well, this is a bit aggressive and forward, even for you.” He awkwardly moved the glass to his left hand and licked the wine off his other fingers.
“Very funny, but there’s no time to explain. Follow my lead, and show a deep and abiding interest in tapestries.”
“Tapestries? Why?”
“By the gods, tell me you at least know the basics of tapestries.”
“The Bocburg in Leornian has the finest in Myrcia. I grew up with them. But that doesn’t explain why.”
“Because I told you to follow my lead. Let’s go.” And with no further explanation, she began dragging him toward the shelves that were a mix of hunting books and small trophies. Sir Franklin stood in front of a stuffed beaver talking with Sir Thomas Dunbar, the Lord Mayor of Rawdon.
“You don’t say! Thirty years? I can’t believe I didn’t notice the last time I was there. Oh! You’ve found Sir Presley, Domina Spontina.” Sir Franklin grinned, his handsome features looking entirely natural, even though Presley knew something had to be going on. “Sir Presley, did you know that Sir Thomas has a Kenedalic tapestry from the Odelandic Era? There are so few pre-Myrcian specimens left anywhere.”
The Bocburg had tapestries dating to the Kingdoms Era, which predated the Odelandic Era by more than 500 years, but Presley put on his best business smile anyway. “That’s remarkable. Kenedalic, you say? That would certainly be worth seeing.”
Sir Thomas’s cheeks reddened and jiggled with a chuckle. “Well, they are not as large or fine as many of the tapestries here in the Prince’s Palace, but they have been in the Dunbar family for five generations.”
“Wait!” Vittoria said, wide-eyed as she rested a hand on Sir Thomas’s forearm. “Did you just say ‘they’? You have more than one?”
“Three,” Sir Thomas answered, a coy grin showing how clearly proud he was of this feat of middling artistic value.
“You must show them to Sir Presley,” Sir Franklin insisted. “He has a great passion for tapestries.”
Presley nodded. “It is true. And while the Empire has many beautiful works of art,” he snorted as he shrugged, “the Immani wouldn’t know a good tapestry if it fell off the wall on top of them. It’s been years and years since I’ve seen any that are truly interesting.”
“Perhaps I will find a good time to have you over before you must return to Presidium,” said Sir Thomas.
“Oh, poo, Sir Thomas!” Vittoria said, wrapping her arms through one of his. “When Myrcians say things like that, they never happen. And Sir Presley is such a magnificent guest, you can’t possibly deny him. Let’s go now!”
Sir Thomas blinked rapidly at her suggestion. “Now? But we couldn’t leave his grace’s reception.”
Sir Franklin harrumphed. “His grace has done little enough to deserve that level of deference. Whereas Sir Presley has been a counselor to kings, the right-hand man to the richest man in the world, and the person her majesty relies on more than anyone.”
Presley thought this was laying it on a bit thick, but Sir Thomas seemed like he was taking the speech to heart.
“I am afraid I will likely have to leave Rawdon soon,” Presley said, based on nothing. “It would be such a loss if I left without seeing your magnificent tapestries.”
“Well, I suppose, um....”
Vittoria squealed and pressed herself to Sir Thomas’s side. “I knew you would say yes when you heard how much it would mean to Sir Presley!”
Sir Thomas’s confusion was apparent, and Vittoria and Sir Franklin took complete advantage of it, sweeping the clueless man along, until a few minutes later they were all climbing into Sir Thomas’s carriage.
When they arrived at the lord mayor’s townhouse, which had been in the Dunbar family almost as long as the tapestries, the man had seemed to recover his composure. “The house was bought by my great-grandfather. It was in terrible repair, but what a neighborhood! As you saw, less than ten minutes by carriage from the palace. And we needed a home in the city in addition to our estate. Did you know that we are related to the Earls of Dunbar?”
Presley did not know about Sir Thomas’s relation to the Arbuthnot family, who had long been the Earls of Dunbar. But he honestly did not know at this point what Vittoria and Sir Franklin wanted him to show interest in. Vittoria had shown such enthusiasm in securing this invitation to the lord mayor’s home that Presley assumed she and Sir Franklin had something they wished to say to Sir Thomas away from the palace. But Presley had no idea what that might be.
“And here they are,” Sir Thomas said, coming to a stop before a wall in what was presumably the house’s largest parlor. On the wall hung three tapestries, each about seven by twelve feet. The one in the middle looked well enough—a faded green forest in the background and a twisting stream with ducks floating on it. The two on either side were faded pink and beige. The one to the left might have been mountains. The tapestry on the right was such a jumble that he couldn’t even guess what had once been depicted on it.
“Impressive,” Presley lied. “I see why you are so proud of them.”
“Coming from a man of your taste and experience, that means a great deal,” Sir Thomas replied with a bow. “That one has always been my favorite,” he added with a nod at the one on the far right. “Therena at her well is such a classic Kenedalic subject.”
Presley stared again. He saw nothing that resembled a human figure, let alone Therena, supposedly a beautiful hillichmagnar from early in the Kingdoms Era. A blob in the bottom left might have been a pool of water. It could also be a dog.
“So,” Sir Thomas said, rubbing his hands together. “Shall we go to the library? I’ll have some wine brought up.”
“You should all stay here a bit longer and appreciate this extraordinary art,” Vittoria said. “I, however, need to...use your facilities. Could you possibly tell me which direction?”
“But of course. Down the long hallway outside, and then a left followed by a quick right.”
“You’re a dear! You boys enjoy the tapestries.” With that, she nearly skipped out of the room.
They didn’t bring Sir Thomas to his home for a private conversation. She’s off to search his house, and she used the tapestries as a way through the front door. Well, I suppose the job of Sir Franklin and myself is to now keep Sir Thomas distracted from how long she is gone.
“I know you said the tapestries have been in your family a long time. What can you tell me of their provenance? I always find that especially fascinating.”
As Presley predicted, Sir Thomas took to this topic with enthusiasm. The family took such pride in these tiny, fading treasures, that Sir Thomas could tell Presley and Sir Franklin of two previous owners and the name of the family responsible for their weaving. His excitement for these details, in fact, meant it was a full ten minutes before he realized that Vittoria had yet to return.
“Perhaps I should have one of the maids check on her?” Sir Thomas offered.
But Sir Franklin shook his head vigorously. “I wouldn’t bother. Ladies can be...fastidious in certain...hygienic areas. I’ve no doubt she is quite well.”
Sir Thomas nodded sagely, as though he understood entirely, even though he was still a bachelor and probably understood very little of women’s hygiene.
About five minutes later when Presley had gotten Sir Thomas on the topic of his relationship to the Earls of Dunbar, Vittoria finally swept back into the room. She looked well—just as if she had simply been to Sir Thomas’s privy and much as she had appeared when she had left a quarter of an hour earlier. Only now, the magysk amulet that had been tucked in the rather high bodice of her loose-fitting brown dress, swung free. And it was blazing a bright green.
“My goodness! It’s so easy to get lost in all these hallways!” She giggled as she said this, never slackening her pace directly for Sir Thomas. “It really is quite a house. So many treasures.” And then she reached their host. She pressed the gem on the necklace against Sir Thomas’s chest and whispered something Presley didn’t understand. But the way the man swooned into Sir Franklin’s arms, Presley assumed it had been a sleeping spell.
“It’s here?” Presley asked.
“Yep,” she smirked. “The way he kept putting off Rohesia and then Harald and Jorunn made me think he didn’t want them in his house. And while this,” she swung the necklace, “has been useless for the most part as a detection device, it always glowed brightly around those doors in the palace. I figured if there was anything else that could make it glow like that, it would be Finster’s book. And guess what?”
“It got bright in the privy?” Presley said.
Vittoria smacked his arm. “At the door to his cellar. It has to be down there.”
“I’ve got the keys.”
They turned to see that Sir Franklin had deposited Sir Thomas on a couch and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.
“Let’s go confirm it’s all there,” Vittoria said. “And then you get your ass back to the palace and get Rohesia here any way you can as fast as you can.”
They were already moving toward the cellar door, when Presley thought of another option. “Why don’t I go? It will be less suspicious if I ask for a private conversation with Rohesia.”
“Good point,” Vittoria said, now kneeling in front of the cellar door—an old oak affair down a dark hallway in the opposite direction of the privy. “Except you’re old as fuck. Sir Franklin can get there twice as fast.”
“How suspicious will he look running through town?” Presley asked as she tried another key on the ring. “I could even tell the staff here that Sir Thomas gave me leave to use his carriage. As he said—it’s less than a ten-minute drive.”
Vittoria snorted. “What a pompous prick. No idea what Broderick, Jr. sees in the idiot. Ah ha!”
The lock clicked, and the door swung open.
A few steps heading down could be made out in the gloom, but no more. Sir Franklin took up a lamp from a table nearby and lit it. A moment later, once Vittoria closed the door quietly behind them, they started down.
“Do we suppose he just left everything in the middle of the floor?” Presley asked. “Because one of those keys might open a locked door down here, but have we thought about what we will do if he’s buried it, bricked it up behind a wall, or something of that sort?”
“I find people tend to over plan,” Vittoria answered. “Once we find it, we can figure it out from there.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs. The cellar appeared sectioned off from this main chamber, lined with shelves of food and wine. Corridors led in four directions, but three were open archways, and only one had a door. There was another lamp down here, which Presley lit as Sir Franklin quickly began examining the three unblocked options. Vittoria started trying keys on the locked door, since the necklace burned its brightest yet next to it.
As Sir Franklin disappeared down the second passage, Vittoria found the correct key. He hurried back, and they spilled into a small, cold room. Within was a single roughhewn table and chair. Nothing lined the gray stone walls, but for a crate in the far left corner. Atop the table sat a thick, oversized tome, bound in plain leather. Presley had been privileged enough to see it once before when he worked at Weldan Castle, so even though it had no markings, he knew it.
“Finster’s book,” he whispered.
“Are you certain?” Sir Franklin whispered in reply.
Vittoria strode confidently over to the table and tried to pick it up. The book wouldn’t budge. “This is it, alright. And I’m going to guess the sword and crown are in that crate.”
Pulling a dagger from her boot, Vittoria pried off the top of the crate. At first, all they could see was straw, but with a little digging, Vittoria revealed a jeweled crown and sword in a scabbard, both of which Presley again knew. He had no doubts left.
“The Crown of Myrcia and Edmund Dryhten’s sword,” he said. “This is it. I’ll go get Rohesia, so she can get the book.”
“You know,” Vittoria said, “why don’t you go with him, Franklin? In case any of Aldrick’s men give him trouble.”
“But aren’t Sir Thomas’s men more likely to cause you problems here when they find him unresponsive?” Franklin asked. “I should stay with you to protect the treasure.”
“I can do that fine on my own,” she said, twirling her dagger. “Presley and Rohesia are more likely to need your help.”
Presley could not believe this. After everything they had been through, and as vital as this was to Myrcia’s future, Vittoria was really trying to do this. If I could get away with punching Faustinus in the face, I really would do it. “You mean with both of us gone, it will be easier for you to leave here with the sword and crown. You can’t do anything about the book, but you can still get Faustinus some of his capital for the bank. How much does he intend to charge Edwin for their return?”
Vittoria batted her eyelashes at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I can’t believe this!” Sir Franklin said in an echoing voice. “I thought we were in this together for the future of Myrcia.”
“The future of Myrcia is going to be fine,” Vittoria insisted. “And only made stronger by the presence of the Verrus Bank.”
“I will never allow you to leave with Myrcia’s treasures,” Sir Franklin growled. “I will not hesitate to use force.”
“I’d like to see you try,” she answered with a grin. “You have no idea what spells this necklace has.”
“I cannot believe we are having this argument now,” snapped Presley. “Both of you stay while I go get Rohesia, as planned. And no one leaves or takes anything away.”
Vittoria shook her head. “That’s very sweet, Presley, but who is going to stop me from leaving?”
“That would be me.”
Presley whipped around, his swinging lamp casting manic shadows on the face at the door. On Aldrick.
“As soon as I saw you three leave with Sir Thomas, I knew something was up,” Aldrick explained. “I always knew he was a Gramiren-loving traitor, so it all made perfect sense. And now the treasure is mine, along with everything else I have always desired.”
Now that Presley’s lamp had steadied, he could see a dozen of Aldrick’s house soldiers fanned out behind him. Unless the necklace contained a truly powerful spell, they could never hope to overpower so many. They had lost.
And Rohesia more than anyone. As often as she has managed to put off marrying him, if it’s the only way to recover Edwin’s literal crown, she will have to do it. Aldrick, stepfather to the king. What a disaster for the kingdom.
“Do something,” Presley could hear Sir Franklin whisper to Vittoria.
“Can’t. Only spells are detection and sleep. I was bluffing.”
Presley sighed.
“Now, I want you three to drop your weapons and stand against the walls,” demanded Aldrick. “If you so much as twitch when my men come in, they will run you through.”
Vittoria dropped the dagger in her hand, and Sir Franklin released his sword belt with a clatter. Presley, as always, was entirely unarmed. He wouldn’t be surprised if the other two still had blades hidden on them somewhere, but what they might manage in such a small space so outnumbered, he couldn’t imagine.
Once they were against the wall as instructed, Aldrick said, “Felix. Anthony. Go get that crate.”
“I would appreciate it if you did not,” came a new voice from beyond the ring of soldiers. The men parted and through them stepped Harald and Lady Jorunn. “I believe it would be best to leave the crate where it is,” Harald said.
“Um, Freagast,” Aldrick stammered and bowed. “I... well... came to recover these treasures of the Kingdom of Myrcia as the head of the Sigor family.”
“King Edwin is the head of the Sigor family,” Lady Jorunn corrected him. “If your intention was to recover all the treasure, why did you not bring the dowager queen with you? She is the only person in the city who knows the spell to move Finster’s book, after all.”
“I wanted to make certain it was here before I troubled her,” Aldrick said.
“Funny,” said Presley, moving away from the wall and entering the larger chamber. “That is precisely what we were doing. Why don’t we all go get her now?”
“You can’t do this!” protested a groggy Sir Thomas, stumbling forward from behind Lady Jorunn. “Those treasures belong to King Broderick II, and he entrusted them to me!”
“As there is no coronated King of Myrcia at the moment, and negotiations are ongoing, it might be best if neither side had possession,” said Harald.
“But Edwin is the true king,” Sir Franklin said, stepping forward to join Presley.
“The Freagast has spoken,” Lady Jorunn bluntly replied. “The treasure will not be removed from this room until such time as a new king shall be coronated.”
“And who’s going to stop them from coming back and stealing it?” Aldrick asked, waving a finger at Presley, Sir Franklin, and Vittoria, who had now joined them as well.
“Lady Jorunn and I will,” Harald answered. “Is everyone out of there now?”
Two of Aldrick’s soldiers exited the room, and Presley looked in once more at the book. Slowly the door closed without anyone touching it. Magy.
“Lady Jorunn, if you would be so kind as to add your spell to mine,” Harald said.
She nodded, and the two of them began to whisper in, presumably, Old Trahernian, the language of much magy. The treasure was now safe, Presley told himself, even though he felt disappointed that he had not cleanly recovered it for Edwin. At least Rohesia is safe from Aldrick.
“I bet Faustinus and Moira can get through that,” Vittoria whispered to Presley.
Lady Jorunn, however, overheard and snorted. “He cannot. And if he should try, I would know his magy anywhere.” She nodded at the gem, still shining bright green on Vittoria’s chest. “How do you think we knew to come here?”
Vittoria swore under her breath in Immani.
“And now, I think we should all retire to bed,” said Harald. “It has been a long and exhausting day.”
At those words, Presley remembered that he was supposed to be retired, and not just for the night. I think it’s time to go home. I have done as much as anyone could ask.