Page 45 of Among the Burning Flowers
‘I agree with Erma.’ Gaspart stroked his auburn beard. ‘Can anyone bemadeto write a letter, in that monstrosity of a tower?’
‘The Yscali ambassador is on her way,’ Liuthe said. ‘Let us hope she can explain this.’
It had taken Aubrecht weeks to reach Cárscaro. Its defensive position was unparalleled, but it had struck him as alonely place, and its king a cold and humourless man. Though their meetings had been civil, it was clear he believed Yscalin far superior to Mentendon.
King Sigoso had always been watching Marosa. Every glimpse of her father had clearly rattled her, even if she had tried to conceal it. And now he had turned either to madness or to evil. Aubrecht had the sense that a man like that – observant and controlling – would never hold a court so lax that someone would be able to forge a letter with his signet ring.
But it was impossible for the Vetalda family – the most loyal and committed to the House of Berethnet – to have renounced the Saint. During the Grief, they had fought to the end.
‘The Resident Ambassador to Yscalin,’ the Grand Steward announced, and the doors swung open to admit Lady Sennera Yelarigas. A handsome woman in her early fifties, she wore a gown that belled at the hips, fashionable in Yscalin.
She was married to Gastaldo Yelarigas, the Secretary of State, faithful servant of King Sigoso. If anyone in Mentendon could shed light on the situation, surely it was Lady Sennera.
‘Your Excellency,’ Liuthe said. ‘I take it you have been informed about the letter.’
‘Yes, but I do not claim to understand it,’ Lady Sennera answered in Mentish. ‘My lord companion knows the king better than anyone. His Majesty is the most pious and courageous ruler in Virtudom, save only for Queen Sabran. He must have been taken to ransom.’
Aubrecht raised his eyebrows at Liuthe, who only smiled a little at the veiled insult to Mentendon. When Liuthe hadfirst learned that he was to marry an Yscal, she had advised him to swallow any dregs of pride as soon as possible. Marosa would have enough for them both.
His aunt had been wrong on that front.
‘By whom, pray tell, Your Excellency?’ Gaspart asked the ambassador. ‘A forger or a fool?’
‘There are heretics and evildoers in every realm, Lord Gaspart. Perhaps it was one of your Eastern trading partners,’ Lady Sennera said, with disdain. ‘Do any Seiikinese live here in Mentendon?’
The idea was so absurd and close-minded, it was all Aubrecht could do not to admonish her.
‘The Seiikinese are forbidden to leave their island, as we are forbidden to enter,’ Clothild said coolly. ‘In any case, I am sure they have no interest in such chicanery, nor in your king.’
‘Then perhaps your Hróthi kin have a hand in this, Lady Clothild.’
‘You know full well the Hróthi have always been close allies to Yscalin. Too close, arguably.’
Aubrecht had to conceal a smile. Now and then, he saw a flash of Northern ice in Clothild.
‘Enough. This bickering serves no one,’ Liuthe said. ‘Lady Sennera, I understand that you must be tremendously confused and shaken, but I will brook no insults to my family, nor to any of our trading partners, in my own court. Kindly be seated so we can discuss this.’
Even as Liuthe spoke, a sharp intake of breath came from Aleidine. Aubrecht frowned.
‘Ally.’ Liuthe narrowed her dark eyes. ‘What is it?’
‘Forgive me, Liuthe. I just had a thought,’ Aleidine replied. Lady Sennera took the seat beside hers in frigid silence. ‘Has anyone else readA Flower in a World of Ashby Lady Nikeya?’
Gaspart lifted a bushy eyebrow. ‘The First Warlord of Seiiki?’
‘Indeed.’
‘She wrote a book?’
‘A very fine one,’ Aubrecht confirmed. ‘My Seiikinese is poor, but I read the Erbevez translation.’
‘I read the original,’ Ermuna said. Lady Sennera looked as if she might erupt. ‘Why do you ask, Aleidine?’
‘A Flower in a World of Ashis an eyewitness account of the Great Sorrow, as the Easterners call the Grief,’ Aleidine said. ‘Near the end, the First Warlord describes the downfall of her father, Lord Kuposa. She believed he forged a bond with a wyrm. His eyes turned grey, his disposition changed drastically, and he spoke as if with the tongue of Taugran. His physicians believed it was some new form of the red sickness. The plague.’
‘I remember,’ Aubrecht said, ‘but Lady Nikeya was an imaginative woman, with a poet’s gift for metaphor. I always thought it was an attempt to tarnish his legacy. He had conspired against Queen Dumai, whose claim Lady Nikeya had supported.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Aleidine said. ‘Perhaps she was being quite literal.’
