Chapter 7
Our entry into the garrison caused a flurry of activity. A guard with his feet resting on the table withdrew them and sat up straight. Max stood and greeted me civilly. Quentin drew me into a hug. I laughed and hugged him back.
"Quentin!" Max barked. "That is not the way a palace guard behaves toward a guest."
"She's not a guest. She's a friend." Quentin pulled away but his bright smile didn't fade. "Can I pour you some ale, Josie? There's some bread and cheese too." He eyed the crumbs on the table. "Or there was."
One of the guards mumbled around a mouthful of food and patted his bulging stomach.
Quentin shook his head. "The pigs eat less than they do."
Dane slipped out again after exchanging a few quiet words with Max and Max pulled out a chair for me.
"Your lip is healing nicely," I said to Quentin as he handed me a cup of ale.
"Aye," he said, shooting a glare toward Max.
"And how is your shoulder?" I asked the sergeant.
"Fine," Max said and rolled it to prove it. His small wince of pain wasn't lost on me, however.
"What's going on? Why are you both acting oddly?"
"No reason," Quentin said quickly. "So why are you at the palace this time?"
"Quentin!" Max growled. "She's not here to exchange idle gossip with the likes of you."
"I was just asking." Quentin slumped in his chair with a pout. "How am I supposed to learn if I don't ask her questions?"
"Learn what?" I asked.
"Doctoring."
"You want to become a doctor? That's wonderful."
"Aye, but I can't go to college." He kicked the empty chair opposite.
"There will be a way around the entrance rules. Perhaps the captain can give you a reference instead of a local sheriff or nobleman. Surely a reference from one of the king's closest servants will suffice."
"It ain't that. We can't leave here. Not until we have our memories back. Captain's orders."
"He does have a point," I said gently. "You must stay together until you find out what happened to you."
"What if we never find out?" asked one of the other guards. "What if we never get our memories back? Will we have to stay here forever?"
He wasn't the only one thinking it, going by the nods and sighs. Even Quentin's doubts were written all over his spotty face.
"I don't want to be a guard forever, Josie," he mumbled. "I hate it. I ain't very good at it."
"Aye," several voices chimed in.
"You've got to stop listening to Brant," Max said to the men. "He's stirring up trouble, asking a lot of questions," he told me.
"He's only asking the questions we all want answers to," one of the guards said.
"We have to trust the captain. He, Theodore and Balthazar are getting closer to learning more about us."
"I trust Hammer," the guard said. "But I wish he'd tell us what he knows. I don't like being left out."
The others agreed.
I couldn't argue the point with them. I would feel the same way. If they knew Dane confided in me more than he did them, they would be even more disappointed. "Have patience," was all I said. "For now, stay together. It's safer. Quentin, you understand, don't you?"
"Aye," he mumbled into his chest.
"And when the mystery of your memory loss is solved, you can go to Logios knowing who you are. In the meantime, perhaps you can pick up some medical knowledge to give you a head start over the other students."
His face lifted. "Will you teach me?"
"She will not," Max snapped. "You know she ain't allowed, so don't ask her."
Quentin resumed his pouting.
Erik entered the garrison and hung up his sword and belt by the door. "Josie! Welcome." He embraced me in big, sweaty hug then clapped my shoulders. "Why you in here with these stinky men?"
"It didn't smell until you came in," Quentin mumbled.
Erik lifted his arm and smelled his pit. "I smell good." He shoved his armpit into Quentin's face. "See?"
Quentin pulled back, choking and spluttering. "I hate you."
Erik laughed. "You love me. Everyone loves Erik. Especially the maids." He winked at me. I couldn't help smiling. The Marginer was nothing like how I expected one of his kind to be. He was friendly and breezy, not backward and prone to squabbling.
"The maids just like you because you tell them they're the prettiest," Max said. "Problem is, you tell all of them they're the prettiest."
Erik saluted him with a tankard of ale. "They are all pretty to me. But that is not why they like me." He drank the ale and we waited in hushed silence for his explanation. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pronounced, "They like me because my little friend is big and strong."
"Little friend?" I asked.
"Don't say it!" Max cried.
Erik grinned and winked at me again.
I groaned. I should have guessed.
The other men chuckled into their cups. Quentin laughed but turned bright red. I felt my own face heat, but fortunately no one looked at me. Except for Erik.
"Talking of my little friend," he said. "I will show you something, Josie." He set his tankard on the table and fumbled for the fastening on his breeches.
"No!" Max leaped out of the chair and tackled Erik to the floor. "Keep your breeches on unless you want the captain to kill you."
Max got off and Erik sat up. "Aye, I forgot," Erik said to me. "Hammer says you will go to jail if we ask you healing questions."
Max put out a hand to help Erik to his feet. "That isn't the only reason he'll kill you."
"What if Josie wants to see it? Josie, you ask me if you do, eh? I will show it to you."
Max sighed. "We've told you before, Erik, you can't say that to women. "
"Don't say it to men either," Quentin added. "I don't want to see your little friend."
"I only show maids who want to see it," Erik said. "I want to show Josie because she is healer and my little friend has grown a lump."
Max and the other guards pulled faces. One of them threw the wedge of cheese he'd been nibbling onto the table. Quentin asked Erik to describe the lump. After he did so, I told him I'd bring an ointment next time I visited. Erik looked pleased. Max looked relieved the conversation was over.
"If the captain overheard this, he wouldn't be happy," he said.
The door opened and the captain paused on the threshold. He eyed each of us in turn, his frown deepening when he got to me. "Why are you all looking at me strangely? What happened?"
"Nothing," Max said, pouring ale into a cup. "Nothing, Captain. Everything's fine." He handed the cup to Dane.
"Josie?"
I wasn't going to get away with repeating Max's words. Dane wouldn't be satisfied unless I gave him an answer. "Erik tried to show me his little friend but was reminded that I'm not allowed to perform medical tasks."
Dane's brows rose higher and higher with each word.
"And she didn't want to see it for fun either," Quentin added with a snicker.
"She might," Erik said, sounding put out.
"Not until the lump heals," Quentin muttered into his cup.
Dane regarded each of his men with a measure of bemusement. "Does 'little friend' mean what I think it means?"
"Aye." Erik sniffed. "That is the best translation I know for it. Why?"
"It's ridiculous," Quentin told him.
"Then I give it a name. I call it Quentin."
The other guards burst out laughing. Erik grinned while Quentin flushed again. Max groaned and shooed me out of the room.
"Take her away before these fools embarrass us further," he said to Dane.
Dane looked like he was trying not to laugh as we walked along the corridor toward Balthazar's office. "I apologize for their behavior," he said. "It was immature and unnecessary."
"True on both counts, but it's all right. I imagine that's what it's like to have brothers."
He didn't respond, and I suddenly felt awful. My thoughtless quip might make him long to learn about his forgotten family. A sideways glance in his direction proved he was still smiling, however.
He pushed open Balthazar's door without knocking. Balthazar sighed but did not mention the impoliteness. He merely indicated I should sit in the spare chair beside Theodore. With no other chairs, Dane had to stand.
Balthazar clasped his knotty hands on the desk in front of him and regarded me. "Tell us how your conversation with Lord Barborough went."
I told them about the sorcerer and how Zemayans believe it disguises itself in human form, and how it can manipulate people's thoughts. "It might explain why you have no memories," I said, watching Balthazar closely. "The sorcerer removed them."
"But why?" Theodore asked to no one in particular.
"Go on, Josie," Balthazar said.
I spoke directly to him so I could gauge his reactions. "He thought I was a servant at first, which explained why he readily agreed to meet with me. After I informed him I wasn't, he wanted to know what the villagers thought about the palace. I told him some believed in magic and some were skeptical. He also admitted to petitioning his king to send him here instead of the original adviser so he could study the palace. He believes the staff are key to solving the mystery of the palace's existence."
"Did you tell him about the memory loss?" Balthazar asked.
"Balthazar!" Theodore protested.
"You know she wouldn't," Dane added.
Balthazar unclasped his hands and shrugged. "I had to ask."
"No, you did not. Go on, Josie," Dane said. "What else?"
"I did not tell him about the memory loss," I said with a pointed glare at Balthazar. "I also didn't mention the gemstone, but I did ask if the sorcerer uses a device when he performs magic. He called it a talisman." Balthazar nodded knowingly. "Barborough claimed the sorcerer doesn't, but his answer was rather ambiguous."
"Ambiguous?" Theodore asked.
"He said there are more to the stories, but that's all he would tell me. If I want to know anything else, I have to help him."
"Help him?" Dane prompted.
"He wants me to spy on the staff for him. He thinks I'll gain their trust easier than he can."
"What things are you supposed to report back?" Balthazar asked.
"Anything suspicious that points to the use of magic. He suspects the staff are the key to solving the mystery. I'm sure he'd be very interested in hearing about your memory loss."
"Very," Balthazar bit off.
"What if we told him?" Theodore asked on a rush of breath. "He seems knowledgeable on the subject of magic. What if he can help us?"
"No," Dane said, at the same time Balthazar said, "We can't trust him."
"But—"
"No!" Dane shook his head. "Not yet, Theo. Not until we know more about him. He could use the knowledge against Glancia and against Leon."
Theodore sighed.
Balthazar tapped his steepled fingertips together and regarded me. "So you must help him in order to get more information. Hmmm."
"What would you like me to tell him?" I asked. "What can I tell him?"
"Inform him that you tried to extract information from us but we wouldn't tell you anything about our pasts."
"He'll just tell me to try again until I do get answers. He has already asked me to look through Ruth's things."
Balthazar continued to drum his fingertips together in thought until he suddenly stopped. "Tell him nothing. We don't need him. All the answers are supposed to be in the book he wrote. We'll simply find a copy. Someone will have it. Hammer, Theo, make inquiries." He picked up a letter on his desk and began to read it.
"I can't tell him that," I said.
He peered at me over the paper. "Why not?"
"Because he threatened to tell the king that I suspect magic is involved in his ascension to the throne. Since I was seen leaving the palace to talk to Lord Barborough in private, it will be difficult to refute his claim."
Dane swore. "I knew I should have gone with you."
"The king won't like it," Theodore said simply. "He won't like her prying."
"Thank you for stating the obvious." Balthazar set down the paper very deliberately and clasped his hands again. "We'll think of something for you to pass on to Lord Barborough, Josie, a false piece of information that only one of us could have told you. In the meantime, you should be seen talking to various staff members. You may start with Hammer while he escorts you to the coach house. Perhaps you can begin by asking him where he has hidden the gemstone." He shot a pointed glare in Dane's direction.
Dane pushed off from the sideboard. "We've been through this. It's for your own safety."
Or was it because he didn't completely trust them, just like he hadn't trusted the king all along?
"We should be told, Hammer," Balthazar went on. "What if something happens to you? Who will know its location?"
Dane opened the door for me. "My ghost will tell you."
"This isn't a joke."
"I'm not telling you, Balthazar. That's final."
Balathazar picked up the paper again, muttering under his breath.
I followed Dane out, leaving Theodore behind with the crotchety master of the palace. "Has Brant asked about the cabinet?" I asked Dane. "He touched it in Laylana's room and felt the pull of the gem so he must suspect there's something odd about it."
"He has asked," Dane said. "He was informed it was a personal belonging of the king's and none of his business."
"That will guarantee he doesn't ask more questions," I said wryly.
"What would you have said?"
I shrugged. "I would have told him he must have been mistaken, that he felt nothing since it was simply a cabinet filled with valuables the king wanted to keep safe."
"That's more or less what I said."
"I do think it's rather more, but let's not argue over it."
He grunted a laugh. At least, I thought it was a laugh. "I don't want you left alone with Barborough again," he said.
"I don't plan to be."
"As to Balthazar's idea that you'll pretend to spy for Barborough, I don't want you doing that, either. Barborough could follow through on his threat if he discovers you're feeding him false information."
I'd worried the same thing but had been prepared to go through with it in exchange for answers about the sorcerer. "Why didn't you say that to Balthazar?" I asked.
"If you're thinking it's because I don't trust him, you're wrong."
"Then answer my question. Why didn't you tell him?"
His strides lengthened. "It's easier to ignore his suggestions than argue with him. I learned that the hard way."
I didn't press him further. He'd made it clear that if he didn't trust either Balthazar or Theodore, he wasn't going to tell me.
We left the palace through the service entrance opposite the square commons building. Visiting footmen and maids greeted Dane by name as they passed, whereas it used to be just the palace staff that did so. He'd become a well-known figure in recent weeks.
"Do you think Barborough did it?" he asked quietly, with a nod at Ruth chatting to another maid as they carried linens into the commons. "Do you think him capable?"
"Physically? It's difficult to tell if his arm works or not. I'm inclined to think it doesn't, that it merely twitches from time to time yet isn't functional. If he had two functioning arms, however, he'd certainly be high on my list. There's something about him. Something I find disturbing."
I felt his sharp gaze on me. "What did he do?"
"It was more in the way he looked at me and how he threatened me. I'll gladly avoid him in future."
"I'll keep an eye on him."
"You'll need a lot of eyes to watch all of the people you're supposed to be watching—Brant, Barborough and the other suspects."
"I'll have help." He pointed a finger at me. "But not from you."
I held up my hands in surrender. "I assured you I would stay out of Barborough's way."
"And Ivor Morgrain's."
I saluted him.
He merely grunted. This time it definitely wasn't a laugh.
"Captain!" one of the guards called as he jogged up to Dane. "Captain, the king requires your attendance."
"Why?"
"He didn't say, sir."
Dane hesitated.
"Go," I told him. "I can organize a carriage home."
Dane looked as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. He left with the guard. It wasn't until he was out of view that I realized we hadn't arranged to meet again. There was no need for us to meet again.
Unless I devised a reason.
For half the distance to the coach house, I thought of scenarios that would bring me to the palace again. For the other half, I wondered if Dane didn't want to see me. He had not asked to do so, after all. He hadn't even looked back after walking away.
I was entirely lost in my own thoughts and didn't see Lord Xavier Deerhorn until it was too late. He stepped into my path, and I didn't stop quickly enough. I trod on his toes.
"Watch it!" he snapped.
"Sorry," I said, adding a curtsy for good measure. "I didn't see you."
"You did it deliberately."
"No, my lord, I did not." I met his gaze then wished I hadn't. His eyes were so pale they were almost colorless. Looking at them was like looking through a veil of ice to barrenness beyond.
He caught my elbow and squeezed, hard. "You did. Admit it."
"I did not, sir. Let me go or I'll shout until the guards come."
His grip weakened but not enough for me to withdraw. I struggled and received another bone-crunching squeeze for my efforts. "Go ahead. I'll tell them I caught you sneaking around again."
"I am not sneaking. The captain of the guards knows I'm here."
"It's true," Lady Deerhorn said, approaching. Both dressed in riding capes and high black boots, mother and son looked remarkably similar. They were both tall and fair with an arrogant lift of the chin and a high arch of the brow. "She's fucking him," she added.
I opened my mouth to protest but shut it again. It might make it easier to get away if they thought it true. Indeed, Lord Xavier released me. Perhaps he was scared of incurring Dane's wrath.
He looked at me anew, however, and I shivered. It was the same way some men look at another man's possession—with calculated envy as he plots a way to win it at cards.
I rubbed my elbow and went to push past them but Lady Deerhorn stepped in my way. She didn't grab me as her son had, but she made it very clear she wasn't going to let me pass until she'd said her piece. Her chin lifted even higher as she regarded me down her nose.
"The king was very interested to hear that you'd tricked your way into the revels," she said. "He was most upset with your duplicity. I'm sure he'll be even more upset when he hears how you're distracting his staff from their duties."
I bit down on my retort. I couldn't tell her about Ruth, Lord Barborough, magic or any of the reasons why I was at the palace. If she chose to speak to the king, then hopefully he would ask Dane or Theodore for an explanation. He was sensible enough to do that instead of listen to the nastiness spread by Lady Deerhorn. I hoped.
I tried to maneuver around her but she stepped in my way again. She smiled at my growing frustration. Her son chuckled.
"Kindly allow me to pass," I said, doing my best to keep that frustration from spilling into my tone. "I have important medicines to make at home. I cannot tell you what it's for, but do feel free to mention my visits here to the king. Don't be too put out when he doesn't look surprised."
Her mouth flattened and a forest of tiny lines formed across her top lip.
"Miss Cully?" asked a woman behind me. "Miss Cully, is that you? Look, Miranda, it is her. How delightful."
I turned to see Lady Miranda Claypool and Kitty, the duchess of Gladstow, walking toward us along the avenue from the palace. Miranda let go of the duchess's arm and hurried toward me.
"Is everything all right?" she asked.
"Of course," Lord Xavier said cheerfully. He bowed deeply. "You look as radiant as the sun, Miranda."
"Josie?" she prompted.
Lord Xavier's smile faltered at her snub.
"Everything's fine," I assured her. "I was just leaving."
She didn't look convinced. "We'll wait with you. Have you organized a carriage?"
"Not yet."
"Then we shall have to correct that." A wicked gleam lit up her eyes. "Lord Xavier, would you be so kind as to ask a groom to see that a carriage is made ready to take Miss Cully to the village."
He blinked slowly, and I could almost hear his mind searching for an appropriate response. He clearly wanted the attention of the very beautiful Miranda, yet running errands for me was beneath him.
Like many weak men who can't make up their minds, it was his mother who stepped in. "My son has better things to do," Lady Deerhorn said crisply.
"Oh? He seemed to be just standing about, conversing with Miss Cully. I thought he might like to do something for her since he seems so interested in her."
"Interested!" he blurted out. "In the village girl!" He snorted. "My dear, Miranda, you are misinformed. She's nothing to me. I hardly know her. I don't even wish to know her. If she hadn't trodden on my toes, I wouldn't have stopped at all."
"Very well, I shall see that a carriage is organized for my dear friend myself. Good day."
"Wait! Don't go!"
"But I must. My friend needs my assistance."
"I'm sure she can do it herself. These village girls are very capable, you know. I once saw one carrying a crate filled with dead, stinking fish all by herself." He wrinkled his nose as if he could still smell them. "Would you do me the honor of walking back to the palace with me, Miranda? Both of you," he added for the duchess's benefit.
"Kitty and I are going riding," Miranda said.
"I love riding. I'd be happy to keep you company."
His mother rolled her eyes skyward.
"We don't require any company but our own," the duchess of Gladstow said.
Lord Xavier ignored her and addressed himself to Miranda. "There may be undesirables in the woods. You should have a man to protect you."
"Yes, you're right," Miranda said with utter seriousness. "We'll take a groom with us. Thank you for the suggestion."
Lord Xavier stiffened, finally feeling the barbs she'd been flinging at him.
"For Merdu's sake, Xavier," Lady Deerhorn hissed. She steered him away and bent her head to his. Perhaps she thought we could no longer hear her. It was the only explanation for what she said next. "She may be pretty but she's no longer the king's favorite and she's debasing herself by associating with that village girl. There are more important conquests to be had elsewhere."
Miranda remained remarkably calm and did not say a word, but my blood boiled. It was the duchess who spoke, however.
"Yes, run along, both of you."
Lady Deerhorn's step faltered. "Your Grace?"
"Be warned, madam, insult me again and my husband will hear about it." I had never heard her sound so imperial. The silly girlishness was replaced with ice. She even looked more commanding. She regarded Lady Deerhorn down her nose the way that lady had regarded me.
Lady Deerhorn stood quite still, her unblinking gaze on the duchess, perhaps wondering where the silly girl had gone.
"B—but my mother didn't insult you," Lord Xavier spluttered.
"An insult to either of my two friends is an insult to me," the duchess bit off. "Good day, sir, madam."
Lady Deerhorn dipped into a deep curtsey, keeping her head demurely bowed. "Forgive us, Your Grace. We've lived so long out here, away from the civilized world of Tilting and the old king's court, we've forgotten how to behave in fine company." She rose, grabbed her son's elbow, and pulled him away from us.
We watched them hurry off without waiting for a sedan chair to collect them.
"Well then, that's that," the duchess said with a toss of her head that set her blonde curls into a bouncing frenzy. "Being a duchess has its uses after all."
"It certainly does," I said, no longer sure if I'd been treating her with enough deference. I decided to curtsy too. If Lady Deerhorn thought it necessary, then it must be the done thing. "Thank you for intervening, Your Grace."
"Oh, don't curtsy for me, you lovely thing. Leave that for the sycophants like the Deerhorns." She hooked her arm through mine and we set off for the coach house.
Behind us, Miranda broke into giggles.
"I don't know what you find so amusing," the duchess said over her shoulder. "You've got Lord Xavier to contend with now. He seems to have taken a liking to you."
"Ugh," Miranda said, joining us. "I wish the king would banish him from court so we didn't have to put up with him."
"I know a way to stop his attentions," the duchess said lightly. "It's the reason he shows no interest in me."
"Go on," Miranda said.
"Get married."
Miranda pulled a face. The duchess and I laughed.
I was still smiling when the carriage deposited me outside my house at dusk. I thanked the coachman and considered heading across the street to see Meg but decided against it. It had been a long day, and I ought to do the housework I'd been putting off.
The house felt strange without my father. I doubted I'd ever get used to it. I paused outside his workroom and regretted tidying it up after his death. He liked clutter and disorder, with his books only an arm’s-length away. Now the desk was bare except for the thin layer of dust covering it. I rarely went in. I didn't like the emptiness of it.
I sighed but my breath caught. My heart leapt. I was not alone. I don't know what alerted me—a footstep or a creaking board? Whatever the sound, it had been small and fleeting, and it came too late to warn me.
I had no time to react before a hand clamped over my mouth and an arm wrapped around my waist from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I was pulled back hard against a man's body. Hot breath ruffled my hair and a rapid heartbeat hammered against my shoulder blades. I struggled but he was too strong. I screamed but it came out muffled.
He found that amusing. His chuckle chilled me to the bone.
"It's about time you showed up," Brant said. "I'm glad you're alone, Josie. Very glad."