StarCrossed. Part 10

"Your brother."

My entire chest turned to ice, freezing the words in my throat. "My - Contrare?" I said faintly.

"I think we both know very well who I'm talking about," Daul said.

"You're lying."

"Am I?" Daul said. "We'll see. Now, down to business."

I'd seen a troupe of players once in Gerse - an old man from Sirpal played the recorder to a thick black snake that rose up from a basket, stretching its neck like an unfurled cloak. A little girl from the company dumped a rabbit right in front of it. The terrified rabbit had frozen, wide-eyed, staring into the snake's gaze. As the music played on, the snake hung motionless in the air, but the rabbit inched closer and closer to its death.

I felt like that rabbit now.

"So what are you - like a Greenman or something?" I was nearly at the desk now. I could almost reach the heavy bronze inkwell on the corner. I'm not a great throw, but he was standing right in front of me. I could do a little damage.

Daul saw where I was looking. With a quirk to his scarred lip, he slid the inkwell to the opposite side of the desk. "Feisty, feisty! No wonder your brother thought you unmanageable. Still, I think I like a girl with a little s.p.u.n.k to her." He reached out his finger and stroked it along my cheek. I grabbed his hand and bit down - hard.

He slapped me - so hard I went down and cracked the side of my head on the corner of the desk. Gasping and blind with pain, I fought to stand back up again.

"We're not playing games here, you little thief. Now listen, and listen well."

I pressed my hand to my stinging temple and blinked up at him.

"There's something I want in this castle, and you're going to get it for me. If you don't, or if you fail, I will expose your little masquerade. How do you think Lady Nemair will like knowing her daughter's been sleeping with a thief and a murderess all these weeks?"

Murderess? What was he talking about? But I didn't say anything - what was the point? He was right about every thing. He was Lord Nemair's best friend, a n.o.bleman. He had all the power here, and I had nothing. I was whatever he said I was. Thief or murderer, traitor or heretic - Remy Daul's word was enough to get me killed.

I bit my lip and looked away from him, out into the snowy landscape. My forehead throbbed. In a thin voice, I said, "Fine. What is it?"

"There! Was that so difficult? This should be a simple matter for a girl of your talents. I seem to have been the victim of an oversight. My foster brother invited all our dearest friends to winter with him in his lovely new home, but it seems I, for whatever reason, was not included on the guest list. I'm interested to know why."

"How am I supposed to find that out? Ask them yourself!"

"I have a better plan. I want you to track down one of the official invitations for me. And while you're at it, bring me a seal of the House of Nemair."

That didn't make any sense. "You're planning on forging an invitation for yourself?"

"No! I wouldn't think of doing something so unscrupulous. This is just to satisfy my own curiosity. I'm sure you can understand that."

Don't ask questions. That was one of the first things a thief-for-hire learned. Questions got people killed. "Seal, invitation. Got it." It would be the job of five minutes. I turned to leave.

"Not so fast. The seal I'm looking for is very specific. There will be only one of its type, and it will be held closely by Lord Antoch - or possibly Lady Lyllace. I'm never certain about that one. You're familiar with the Nemair crest?"

I shrugged. "The rampant bear on the quarter field. Of course."

"Very good. The seal you want will have the wrong paw raised."

"The - what?"

"Enough. You have every thing you need to know. I'm feeling gen erous this morning, so I'll give you the day. If I don't have that seal by noon tomorrow - or if you bring the wrong items - it's 'stop, thief!' Understand?"

"It's done. I'll be back in an hour."

His hand came down on my arm, gently enough. "Take the full day," he suggested. "You're only valuable to me if you can follow instructions." He pulled away from the desk and headed for the door.

I paused in the threshold. "Why don't you do it?"

He smiled. "Because I have you."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

It wasn't a good job - Daul had been vague about the location of the target, he hadn't given me enough time to prepare, and there wasn't an escape route. The payment was also questionable. But he'd been convincing. It could be a long time before the snow cleared, and I'd rather spend that time in Meri's warm soft bedroom than whatever served Bryn Shaer for dungeons. I still thought he might be lying about his "friends." Anyone could claim to have the Inquisitor's ear - that didn't make it true. Except that it did. Greenmen took even the most frivolous accusations seriously. I knew that better than anyone.

To get the letter and the seal, I'd have to concoct some excuse for getting inside Lord Antoch's rooms, a part of the castle I had never been in and had no conceivable reason to visit. Meri usually went riding with him every morning; that would have been my opportunity, but the stables were under a foot of snow, thanks to the storm that had trapped me here with Daul.

I worked out my plan that afternoon in the solar. The Bryn Shaer women gathered most afternoons for a few hours of needlework and gossip. There wasn't much embroidery getting done today; it was stupidly cold and everyone was still too excited about being s...o...b..und to concentrate. Which was just as well for me, since I was going to have to recruit some confederates for this job, and it would be easier if everyone was already distracted.

"Did everyone make it before the snow, Lady Lyllace?" Lady Cardom had joined the group, and sat beside me, unpacking a workbasket.

Lady Lyll gave a sigh and looked out at the snow, her untouched embroidery in her lap. "No, unfortunately. We were just getting ready to send for the Wolt sisters, but it looks like we'll be missing them."

"Wolt?" Lady Cardom's lips pursed. "Perhaps it's for the best. Your Ladyship, I've brought the st.i.tchery you were so interested in last summer." She drew a roll of cloth from the basket and pa.s.sed it to Meri's mother. "You'll see it includes the band from Talanca you were asking about, as well as the one from my daughter at Gairveyont."

Lady Lyll unrolled the cloth, revealing an intricate sampler of black- and scarlet-work. She indicated a wide row of alternating lilies, the black threads spangled here and there with gold. "This is the band from Gairveyont?"

G.o.ds, would this conversation ever end? I was ready to poke my own eye out with my needle, and I had work to do.

Lady Lyll said, "I had remembered wrong, then. I thought there were five repeats?"

"No, only four," Lady Cardom said. "She sends her regrets that she could not find the exact pattern you requested."

"Very well. Tell Dressana I am grateful for her help."

Lady Cardom smiled. "She knows, your ladyship."

Lady Lyll took the sampler and rose. "I'll just go tuck this away where I can study it later," she said. "I'll return shortly."

When Lady Lyll was finally gone, I leaned over to Phandre. "Meri has a secret," I said in a low, teasing voice.

Meri looked up, startled. "What? No, I -"

Phandre dropped the book she wasn't reading and leaned forward. "Ooh, come on, Meri, out with it."

"But I don't -" Poor Meri stared desperately at me, trying to figure us out.

"She told me that her father has a book of Vareni love poetry in his rooms." That should tempt Phandre to an adventure; the Vareni weren't prudish about their poetry. And they ill.u.s.trated.

"No, I -" Meri was still confused. "I didn't. I never heard that."

"Who cares?" Phandre said. "Let's go see." She was on her feet in an instant, with Meri hard on her heels. All I had to do was trail after.

"I don't think we should. Father -" She may have been speaking to the castle walls for all the good it did her. "Maybe we should wait until he gets back from surveying the damage -"

And miss my only shot at Antoch's rooms? Fat chance. Phandre and I grabbed Meri and dragged her from the solar.

When we neared Lord Antoch's rooms in the opposite wing of the Lodge, I skipped forward to reach the door first, blocking it with my body as I popped the lock behind my back. The new locks at Bryn Shaer were flimsy, decorative things that took hardly more than a kiss and a wish to crack. I grinned and swung the door open.

"He must not be worried about intruders," I said cheekily, ushering Phandre and Meri inside.

I almost didn't have to search Lord Antoch's rooms at all, with Phandre there. She flounced through the rooms, touching every thing, peering behind tapestries, opening drawers and cabinets, and testing out all the furniture. I just followed in her wake, looking behind whatever she'd moved. I heard a door click open, and Phandre barged into his lordship's bedroom. Meri hurried after her.

"Does your father really sleep in this bed?" Phandre asked, and threw herself bodily atop it.

Meri turned pink. "I - I expect so," she managed.

"And your mother?"

"Sometimes," Meri mumbled.

Phandre turned to her, gaze pointed and mischievous. "Anyone else?"

"Phandre!"

But Phandre only laughed, her hair splayed across Lord Antoch's satin pillows. "I want a bed like this," she said. "Too bad I don't have a father to get me one."

"If you stay with me, I'll ask Father to buy you a great oak panel bed, with a canopy of velvet and lace and crewel." Meri's voice was generous, as if giving away the world was nothing at all in the course of her day.

And Phandre turned on Meri a gaze that was full of acid and ice and every bitter thing. I winced. "I'll bet Raffin Taradyce has an awfully fine bedstead," I said.

Phandre cackled and threw a pillow at me.

"Meri, does your father have an office in here?" I asked, tossing it back on the bed.

She crossed the room and threw back the scarlet curtains covering one wall. Behind was a tiny room, with a much-used desk sitting before walls and walls of bookcases. For a moment I was distracted. Books always did that to me, almost more than a locked jewelry chest or a fat purse dangling from a fat n.o.b. I liked the creamy pages, the smell of ink, all the secrets locked inside. I traced my fingers along one gilded binding after another, thinking I might help myself to a little something extra on this job.

Meri saw me looking. "Bryn Shaer has the finest library in the Carskadons. The owners have been collecting for years."

"Then these aren't all your father's?"

"Oh, no. They were here when King Bardolph awarded the estate to the Nemair."

"What's in here? Oh, books." Phandre strode to the first bookcase and started tipping volumes out at random. "What are we looking for again?"

"Poetry," I said firmly.

Phandre made a face. "Teska's Bestiary, History of the House of Shaer, A Holy Love - now that sounds promising."

I made a show of bending over the cluttered desk. "His lordship sure is messy," I said, moving aside a map of renowned Carskadon hunting grounds and a book in Corles. And under the map - a stack of letters. I shuffled some around; they were mostly ac cep tances from the guests who'd already arrived.

"Oh, Celyn, don't -" Meri protested, and I obligingly dropped the map back atop the desk, "accidentally" knocking one stray doc.u.ment to the floor: a folded letter, sealed in gray wax . . . and addressed to someone called Wolt. Perfect. As I bent to retrieve it, I slipped it inside my bodice, careful not to disturb the wax seal. I couldn't tell if the paw was wrong or not, but I had the first half of the job complete, without even getting my hands dusty.

The desk drawer took a little more effort to open, but rewarded me with sealing wax and two heavy bra.s.s seals, bears rearing up proudly against a shield. Why would anyone keep a wrong seal of their own house? It was the sort of mistake you'd find on a poorly done counterfeit, not something you'd have deliberately. Shielding the open drawer with my skirts, I turned them faceup, trying to decide which one was wrong. Left or right lifted? I moved my own hands, but I just couldn't remember. Pox, I'd only been staring at the Nemair arms every day for three weeks. In the end I gave up and took them both.

"A Celyst Reader," Meri was reading piously. "A Housewife's Companion." Phandre gave a snicker at that.

Successful, I turned back to the bookcase. Maybe I'd just take a small one - it didn't have to be anything elaborate. I reached for a thin volume bound in gray kidskin - And had to swallow back a startled yelp as a thick blur of hazy light suddenly leaped up under my touch. I yanked back my hand as if it had burned my fingers. I'd almost felt that. Averting my eyes, I plucked the book from the shelf and squeaked it open gingerly to pages of esoteric scrawl, elaborate diagrams, and detailed drawings in full illumination. But the swirling, sparking mist I saw around it made it hard to make out anything clearly. An image was embossed on the cover - a circle, traced with a seven-pointed star.

"What's that one? Cookery?" Meri said with disinterest. She'd finished going over her shelf and was peering up from the floor.

"No," I said slowly. I wanted to stick it back on the shelf before they saw it, but I couldn't seem to put it down. Meri watched me as I flipped to the t.i.tle page.

On the Sacrament of Magecraft.

"That's a magic book!" Phandre shrieked, ripping it from my hands. "Listen to this! 'Set thy mind and heart to the Holy Sister, most beloved of Celys. Light-bringer, dream-speaker. Give thanks for her Gift. Proceed only with a Purified Soul - ' "

"Put it back, Phandre," I said.

"Are you mad? Look - 'The Seeing Dream.' Who wouldn't want to have dreams that tell the future?"

I had enough trouble with dreams of the past. I couldn't imagine wanting to know what was coming. Meri sat very still, her knees tucked under her skirts, and stared at her hands. "I think we should put it back. I don't think my father would want us playing around in here."

"I'm with Meri," I said, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the book from Phandre as she was absorbed in "To Appear Without Form." She protested, but I tucked it back on the shelf behind the prayer book and a real book on cookery.

Daul was in his rooms when I arrived the next morning, dead on the hour as instructed. It was late, but the curtains were still drawn around the bed, and Daul was not yet dressed, clad only in breeches and a shirt, loose to his narrow thighs. I hung back in the doorway. I really didn't want to be in a room with a half-naked Remy Daul.

"Well?" he said. "In." He slithered into place at his desk, behind a platter of eggs and a thick slab of bacon. "I trust you have the items as we arranged."

I dumped the letter and the seals on the desk. "Happy?"

"Delighted." He eyed the two seals a little strangely, but the let ter drew his close attention. "Ah, very nice indeed. Let's have a look, shall we?"

That "we" probably didn't include me, but my curiosity was piqued. Daul slid a lit candle across the desk, and held the letter up to the light. But not to read - the flickering firelight warmed the wax, and Daul carefully peeled it away from the paper in one smooth, unbroken piece. I leaned in closer. Underneath there was a second mark, this one in ink, which had been hidden by the wax.

"What is that?"

Daul smiled. "Curious now, my little mouse?" But he held the letter for me to see. The new mark was slightly stained by the color of the wax: a field of four moons, arched inside a circle of bluish ink. As Daul moved it away from the flames, the mark started to fade from the page. He held the paper closer to the fire before it could vanish completely.

"Disappearing ink?"

He forestalled me, one hand lifted. He took one of the seals I had brought - apparently he could tell which one's paw was wrong - and gave the bra.s.s stamp at its base a quick twist. The disk popped right off. As I watched, intrigued, Daul turned it toward me. Hidden beneath the waving bear was a second seal, for stamping ink. Four moons.