Mistress Iliana was not a tall woman, she just gave that impression. Her face was painted white and made skull-like by great blotches of black makeup around her eyes. Her blood-red hair was cropped short. Her leather tunic and trousers hugged her body. Tattooed glyphs covered her arms. A drum inscribed with an elder sign was attached to her broad belt by a chain. Her glance found me unerringly as soon as she stepped into the courtyard. I suspected she had known where I was before she came into sight.
Ghoran and Jay put some distance between us, as if they feared being caught in proximity with me.
“There you are,” she said, strolling directly towards us. Red skulked behind my neck, trying to keep out of sight then poked his head round to watch the sorceress approach.
“Mistress Iliana,” I said. I rose and bowed and Red looped his tail around my neck to stay in place.
She said, “It’s time to resume your duties.”
“As you say, Mistress.” I nodded to my friends and then followed her out of the courtyard and into the labyrinth of palace corridors.
“Don’t say anything,” said Mistress Iliana, her lips barely moving and her voice pitched so low that only I could hear her. “Until we are in my chambers.”
Those chambers turned out not to be too far from mine although they were much larger, more luxurious and on a higher floor. The shutters opened onto a balcony with a fine view of the garden a long way below.
Her rooms gave evidence of their occupant having been in residence longer than mine did. There was a table covered in scrolls and shelves of books, many of whose spines were embossed with runes I did not recognise. There were small ceramic skulls used as paperweights. There were scrolls in racks and bottles of wine as well. A screen painted with dancing skeletons separated the study from the sleeping area. Incense sticks burned giving off a scent I associated with my mistress. She muttered a Word. Power flared around me. I recognised the spell.
“Wards, Mistress?”
“You can never be too careful.” She stood with her back to me then said, “Tell me what they asked. Tell me what you told them.”
Her voice was her normal one, aristocratic and calm, not the shrill, cracked witch tones she used when dealing with outsiders. I told her my recollections of what the inquisitors had asked and my replies as best I could.
“It could be worse,” she said. It was her invariable response when she quizzed me and I had learned not to be dismayed by her palpable lack of enthusiasm for my performance. She added, “Go on, ask your questions, I know you have many.”
“What are they looking for, mistress. I mean the inquisitors. Really.”
“Among other things, they seek to find out whether there are traitors within the church. Those assassins got their ale barrel and their robes from somewhere. It would prove most embarrassing to our clergy if they were found to be authentic.”
She sounded as if the embarrassment of the priesthood would give her pleasure.
“But they can’t be. Those men were assassins.”
She laughed. “Indeed.”
“I sense you did not take my last statement entirely seriously, mistress.”
“As ever, you are perceptive.” Her voice dripped irony.
“You think the assassins came from the church?” I could not keep the disbelief from my voice.
She considered her words. “The Universal Church of the Holy Sun has been known to employ assassins. The Inquisition has been known to do the same. I don’t think they did in this case, but if it suited the Archprelate or any of the lesser Prelates, they would not hesitate to do so. Something you need to learn and learn quickly, boy, is that there is a great difference between the doctrine our church preaches and the actions of those who administer it.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“And there’s no need to sound so sullen when you agree with me. I did not make the world as it is. I am merely pointing out the truth of things. I can’t help it if our local churchmen fall below your high ethical standards.”
“Now you are mocking me, mistress.”
“I am not. I admire your idealism, but I have lived among these priests too long to share it. You would do well to take a more realistic view yourself. In the long run, it might keep you alive.”
She claimed a lot of things she told me would do that. I wondered if she had deliberately set out to chip away what she so mockingly called my idealism. “Yes, mistress.”
“In answer to your question. It’s perfectly possible the robes and the cart will prove to be authentic. I would not be surprised to discover a party of pilgrims left Stormstead Abbey at a time that would coincide with our meeting them on the road. I also would not be surprised if a bunch of clerical corpses showed up along the route they were supposed to take.”
I took a deep breath. The image of men lying with their throats cut in a ditch sprang into my mind. I remembered Frater Xander and his level tones as he planned to murder me, and I would not have put such a thing beyond him. “You are saying that the real fraters were killed and assassins took their place.”
“I would not be surprised if that had happened. I would be equally unsurprised to discover that the wagon and robes were sold by a corrupt servant of the Abbey. I am utterly certain that whatever witnesses or evidence turns up they will exonerate the church from any wrongdoing.”
She was confusing me again, “So you think the church may be responsible.”
“I keep an open mind when it comes to the possibility of wrongdoing by our clergy.” I recognised the old bitterness in her voice. “I am saying that the inquisitor’s most important task is making sure that everyone knows the Church of the Holy Sun is not to blame for what happened. A long way behind that will come finding out what actually happened and punishing those responsible. Indeed, I very much doubt whether that last will be numbered among their priorities at all.”
She turned to look at me, her arms crossed on her chest, her head tilted to one side. She studied me cat-like as if to gauge the effect of her words upon me. “You are unusually quiet.”
“I am trying to take in all you have said, mistress.”
“There’s more. You have something else on your mind, don’t you?”
I forced the words out, “Was it a trap, mistress? For the assassins, I mean.”
She had no trouble following my line of thought. “Let us just say I thought it possible there might be another attempt on the Lady Alysia’s life, and I was proved right.”
“Whose body was burned mistress when Ruth was put on the pyre.”
“A serving girl called Ruth’s, who else? A poor, distant cousin of the Lady Alysia murdered by the false fraters.”
“Why, mistress?” She must have heard the distress in my voice for her manner became less supercilious.
“Because it was the only way I could think of to keep Lady Alysia safe, boy, and perhaps strike down some of the assassins. They had already poisoned Ruth during their first attempt.”
“And now everyone else thinks Ruth is dead and the Lady Alysia miraculously recovered from her poisoning.”
“It is best that things look that way. We would not want rumours abroad that the Lady Alysia had been consorting with servants, or that she might have died and been replaced by a sorcerous duplicate created by an evil wizard woman. Best that no stories at all circulate. Best that you talk of such things as little as possible. You saved the Lady Alysia from the assassins. That is nothing less than the truth. The exact details surrounding the circumstances need to be blurred but it in no way alters what you did. She is grateful. As am I.”
I was genuinely surprised by that last admission. I kept my mouth shut though.
“You did well. If you continue to do so, you will go far.”
“You mean if I keep silent about what really happened.” I could not keep the bitterness from my voice.
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Boy, there are those who would kill you if they knew the truth of what happened. The virgin daughter of the most powerful noble in Umbrea associating with a peasant sorcerer. It would stain the family name irrevocably. It would destroy her chances of an advantageous marriage if word got out.”
“You think the Duke would have me killed because of that.”
She shook her head. “He is too honourable, but there are those who would do it for him and he would not ask too many questions.”
She did not sound angry. She sounded sad and I remembered her telling me that nothing could come between Ruth and myself. “You tried to warn me, didn’t you?”
She shrugged, a small melancholy human gesture I would not have expected from her.
“You could have forbidden us to see each other.” The unfairness of the situation made me blurt out the words.
“People would have wondered. It would have been better if you had not met at all but once people had seen you together it would have drawn attention to things if I had forbidden your association. Also, in my experience, forbidding a young woman and a young man to see each other usually gets you the opposite result.”
There was something almost rueful in her tone. I stared at her. She could not possibly be talking from experience, could she? She seemed so old to me then, in her thirties at least. It was hard to imagine her ever being young or interested in boys.
“You are gaping like a recently landed fish. What’s on your mind?”
It seemed wiser to keep my speculations to myself so I said, “I saw Vorster go down to talk to the inquisitors.”
She smiled as if she knew that was not really what I was thinking about, “and that pleases you does it?”
“Oddly, it does not.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t think Vorster had anything to do with the assassins.”
“And you think he might be wrongly punished because he was seen talking to Xander? Put your mind at rest there. Sir Vorster’s family are too rich and powerful for that to happen. They are old Sunlander nobility.”
For some reason her certainty annoyed me. “So, you are saying that even if he was guilty, he would get off.”
“No. I am saying the Inquisition would not punish him. There are others who would although they might not do it directly.” Her tone let me know that she would most likely be one of those others.
Once again I felt the murkiness of my surroundings. It was not like in the stories I heard in the marketplace where everything was clear and simple and morality always triumphed. My shoulders slumped and Red tumbled into the air, wings cracking as he took flight.
“What now, mistress?” I said. “Do you think the assassins will strike again?”
“Perhaps, although we struck them a savage blow that night. They lost a lot of men and we have one of their leaders in the dungeon. They must be worried he will talk.”
“You think they will try and stop that happening?”
“It’s not easy to infiltrate a fortress like this. And the Brotherhood does not have endless resources. If they are sensible they will take a warning from recent events.”
“Why did you heal Xander, mistress?”
“So we could question him.”
“We, mistress?” I thought about visiting Xander in the dungeons below. I did not know what frightened me more, the thought of seeing him or the thought of being present while he was tortured.
She ignored my distress. A frown flickered over her face. A moment later a knock came and it occurred to me that she had sensed the approach of whoever was banging on the door through her wards.
“Enter,” she said.
The door opened and a youthful looking man with silver-grey hair stood there. “His Grace requests your presence Mistress Iliana and the presence of this worthy young man. He is to be found in the Glass Wing.”
“Please inform His Grace, we shall be along momentarily, Gile.”
“As you wish, Mistress Iliana.”
The door closed smoothly behind the man.
“It appears the Inquisition has given you a clean bill of health along with Master Lucas. So it is time to present you to Duke Marco.”
At once I felt flustered. I had no idea what to say or do in the presence of the highest-ranking nobleman in Umbrea. I felt sure I would spout something foolish and embarrass both myself and my mistress.
It was too late to do anything about that though. I had already been summoned to his presence.