Treason, page 17
part #1 of Treason and Truth Series
A knock at the door preceded one of the two people now alive who knew about his hue.
“Any luck, my lord?” enquired William, closing the door.
“No. Not today. I don’t think we’re going to find them by this method. I’m reconciling myself to giving up on it for now. What time is it?”
“About half-past three, sir.” The manservant walked over to the bowl of water and emptied it into a jug, before placing the obsidian-lined gold scrying bowl, covered with a black cloth, in a secure cupboard.
“Can you get them to saddle Skit, please? I’ll go up to the Palace.”
“Certainly, sir. The King has ridden to Ceardlann. Richardson informed me half an hour ago. I didn’t like to disturb Your Lordship.”
“I’ll do my social duty and see who I can annoy at Court then. Thank you.” Landis stared out of the window for several minutes, his thoughts in a jumble. Had anything other than a wish to see his sons taken Adeone to Ceardlann? Had he been more sensible about guards? Idly, he wondered how Hillbeck was getting on. The newly appointed Captain Pixney of the Palace Guard seemed to be doing a good job, and Haster had decided that Terasia was probably the safest place for him. There would be little chance of becoming an unwilling traitor there, and it also meant he escaped his wife’s remonstrations.
* * *
On entering the Palace Stables, Landis glanced around. He dismounted, passing Skit’s bridle to a groom and would have walked away but a voice hailed him. He met the chief groom halfway.
“Somewhere more private, m’lord?”
“Of course. Shall we go and take a walk in the paddock?” suggested Landis, knowing Jack hated being inside. Once they were pleasantly leaning on the fencing, Landis raised a querying eyebrow.
“It’s a small thing, Lord Festus, but Her Grace’s horses… Tradition dictates that they can’t be ridden, but they’re still here. I don’t want to trouble the King but—”
“You’re right not to, Jack. Traditions can be changed but they shouldn’t be cooped up here. I’ll have a think and possibly have a word with the King myself one evening when he’s in a mellow mood. Was that all?”
“Nearly, m’lord. I was just wondering what you and the King have done to young Wynfeld. My old under-groom’s becoming the talk of the guards and soldiers based in Oedran.”
Landis laughed. “We’ve done nothing; the potential was always there.”
“Oh, aye, just I heard there’s an accident planned for him. The young ‘un will want him out the way. That’s what I’ve heard.”
Landis glanced at the chief groom thoughtfully. There was no doubt that by ‘young ‘un’ he meant Scanlon. “I see. What else have you heard?”
“That my old groom is on borrowed time. That’s all over the place. If I were the young ‘un I’d be looking for the lad to have some kind of failure. The King would have no choice but to replace him and Her Grace isn’t around these days to temper the sentence, if you follows me.”
“I follow you all right, Jack. I’ve taken note as well. I suppose the rumours told you who it was put Wynfeld on borrowed time?”
“Aye, m’lord. You and the Major was what I’d heard,” replied Jack. “It’s fair enough; you’ve both got your jobs to do. Just don’t blame the lad if the young ‘un gets clever.”
“Don’t worry, we’re wary of his tricks. I don’t suppose the rumour machine has told you why I considered Wynfeld on borrowed time?”
“Nah, m’lord. Too tight-lipped about that one, it is. There’s been a bit of speculation, though, one way or another. Whatever it was, would have been deserved. You’re a fair one, when all’s said and done.”
“You’ll make me blush one of these days.”
Jack laughed. “Doubt that, m’Lord Festus. You’ve never been the blushing type. Never since you were a wee lad.”
“Yes, well, I’m no longer, as you used to put it, ‘scrumping’ apples from the hayloft.”
“Never did you or us any damage though, m’lord. Seems years ago, now.”
“That’s because it was. Before I knew the King, and well before my cousin married him. Jack, will you do me a favour?” Landis explained about the two men and the attempt on Adeone’s life, asking the groom to keep an eye out for the men. He came to the end of the description.
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled. I’m guessing they were of the Palace anyway. That much knowledge of the layout and structure of the King’s rooms certainly suggests it. They knew what they needed to do to fit in inside the walls. Wouldn’t have thought they were inners. No, if they were, they’d have a servant’s badge anyway. No, they’re outers right enough. We’ll track ‘em down, my lord. Don’t fret. I’ll let you know when I’ve found ‘em.”
“You seem certain about their credentials, Jack,” commented Landis.
“From where I’m standing, it’s obvious. Had the thought not occurred to Your Lordship?”
“My conclusions are my own. Thank you, though, for your help.”
“My pleasure, m’lord. Now, get yourself where you should be.”
Landis left him still leaning on the fence and walked through the Palace to Court, considering his conclusions. They were ones he had initially dismissed. The men had been plotting in the city, which suggested they lived there. He was a fool. They could live anywhere. They could have quarters in the Palace. Why had he never given the idea proper consideration? He’d become too wrapped up in trying to scry out the men in the city! If Jack was proved right, he wouldn’t forget the lesson in a hurry.
Court was the normal roundabout of duty, politeness and gossip. Wynfeld was there, and Landis was pleased to see it. They exchanged greetings in passing but that was all. He bore in mind what Jack had said about Scanlon wanting Wynfeld demoted. Ironically, it was a vote of confidence. If Scanlon wanted someone out of the way it meant they were a threat to his plans. He wouldn’t let Scanlon get what he wanted. Wynfeld had transformed the regiment. He wondered whether to warn the captain or not and then decided not to. If nothing happened, it would draw Wynfeld’s mind away from protecting the King.
Chapter 31
OF TRAITORS AND POSSIBILITIES
Septadai, Week 25 – 7th Ralal, 7th Ralis 1209
Palace – Gardens
AT THE END OF the first week of winter, Landis took an early morning walk through the Palace grounds. He fell into step with the chief groom on one of the paths.
“This is where you hide early in the morning!”
Jack turned. “Only on occasion, m’Lord Festus.”
“That’s a shame. None of the gardeners will have a natter with me.”
“Aye, the head keeps ‘em all in their place. Just been talking with him about our manure and his roses.”
“So, what’s the gossip?” enquired Landis without subterfuge.
“Well, m’lord, only that George Adson and his cousin Eric Adson, known as Gad and Adson respectively, have been out on the town once too often. Other than that, the gardeners seemed as happy as ever. Our head gardener was his normal mixed self. Not quite sure whether he’s simply irritable by nature or by choice.”
“Is anyone? What’s the talk on the rest of the situation?”
“Bit mixed. Winter’s ne’er a good time for a gossiper. People stay inside too much. Though my old groom, Wynfeld, still seems to be causing some. Not as much as you might ‘ave thought but some. Things are quieting down nicely.”
“Still think there’s something planned for him, Jack?”
“Aye, m’Lord Festus, I do. I’d watch some of the men coming to Court if I were you. There were a couple I distinctly disliked the look of the other day. Couple of the new advisors, for a start, had something more than usually evaluating in their gaze. They also seemed to be hiding uncertainty, if you catch my drift. Trying to act like they knew what they were doing, I thought. How’s the King?”
Landis glanced at Jack shrewdly. “As well as ever. Why?”
“It’s none of my business, m’lord.”
Landis made sure they were alone. “No, but you are obviously concerned.”
“I thought he looked a bit drawn last I saw him. As I said, none o’ my business. Well, I think this is where I leaves Your Lordship,” stated Jack turning down the stable path.
Landis watched him for a moment before gazing back along the path they’d ambled along. There was no-one there, so why did he have a nagging itch in his mind that someone was following him?
Trying to rid himself of paranoia, he moved off down the path. Entering the building by a little-used door, he strode along corridors. The few people he did meet moved out of his way pleasantly enough. He went to find the Steward, a man with the physical appearance of rich living but a harassed air. Landis knocked at his office door to be met with the words,
“Unless it’s important, I’m busy.”
“Do my enquiries class as important, Steward?” enquired Landis, entering.
“Depends how long they’re likely to take, my lord.”
“I wondered who was new at Court in the last couple of weeks…”
“List’s in the top drawer over there.”
“Thank you. I also wondered if I could have sight of the list of staff for the Palace.”
The Steward frowned. “Never one thing, is it? Can you narrow down the search for me? There are quite a lot of staff, you see.”
Landis smiled. “Of course. Then I’ll see the list of outside workers first.”
“Right, my lord. I’ll get one of the clerks to copy it out for you today. First though, I’ve got to deal with Advisor Meyer who thinks he can say and do what he pleases. Graduated from the school in Lufia. Thinks Oedran is right for his talents, whatever they may be. One of these days, I’d love my job to be easy. Was that all, Lord Landis?”
As he reached the door, Landis said, “For now.”
“I wish!” muttered the Steward as the door closed behind Landis.
Landis walked to the Rolls Library, not far from the Steward’s office, which contained books on lineages, and graduates of Advisor Schools around the empire.
When the perplexed librarian asked if he needed help, Landis declined and gazed around, apparently disinterestedly. Two scriveners had their heads bent over their work. He sat down, placed the scroll in a holder and unrolled it. There, in a neat hand, was the information on all the new faces at the Court that year. He ran his eye and finger down the lists. Most were visitors who had left again, a couple were young lords and ladies who had turned fifteen and so could now attend. He read the next entry:
Advisors Adrian Meyer and Henry Blunt: Age 24: Separate Interviews concur: Lufian Advisors’ School: Trying their hands in Oedran. No invitation.
Had the Steward checked the story? They’d travelled across half the empire on a vague hope of being allowed to attend based solely on their Lufian credentials; that was intriguing.
He called the librarian over, asking for sight of the Lufian Advisors’ School scrolls for the last six years.
“Is there any name Your Lordship is interested in? I have a cross-reference system which might help.”
“If it saves me time, I’d be grateful.” He gave the two names.
The librarian left, noting the names disinterestedly on his wax tablet.
Whilst he waited for him to return, Landis glanced incuriously around the library and at the obscured windows; the libraries and archives of the Palace were mostly kept dimmed to protect the scrolls and books. Suddenly, he had the feeling he was being watched again but when he turned around nobody was observing him. He tried to shake off the preoccupation but couldn’t. He was irrationally glad when the librarian reappeared.
“I’m sorry, Lord Landis, but neither of those names appears on the lists. I’ve checked and indexed them for the last ten years.”
“Right, thank you. That’s all for now.”
Landis returned to the Steward’s office with the scroll, contemplating whether to tell the Steward there was a problem. The men weren’t what they claimed to be, which raised a lot of questions about who they were. With the hunt still underway for the two men who had attacked the King’s life, strangers from outside Oedran who weren’t what they claimed, or didn’t appear on the correct scroll, were of interest. Who Meyer and Blunt were and why they were at Court would need investigating.
He decided not to alert Wynfeld; the regiment still had a long way to go before it was an effective body of men and a case involving the Court wasn’t technically their expertise anyway. It would burden Wynfeld too much whilst he was reforming the regiment. It would also be interesting to see if Jack’s summation of the situation was correct. The old groom had seen and heard much over many years and tended to feel which way the wind was blowing whilst it was still the susurration of a breeze, which was why Landis had confided in him. He’d convinced himself that Wynfeld didn’t need to know by the time he reached the Steward’s office.
He knocked on the Steward’s door to be greeted this time by,
“I’m still busy!”
Landis opened the door. “What gave me away?”
“The simple force of your knock, my lord. Welard knows to leave me in peace at this time, as do the rest of my clerks.”
“I shall endeavour to remember that, Steward. I’m simply returning your scroll. Thank you for the loan of it. I shall leave you in peace.”
“I’m sure Your Lordship can see yourself out.”
Landis’ tolerance snapped. “I can and you might do well to remember to moderate your tone, Steward. Or at least to pretend you can bear to be interrupted. We might have a history, but there is no reason for that attitude.”
The Steward looked over, discomfited. “Sorry, my lord.”
“So am I for disturbing you twice in one morning. Goodbye for now.”
Lord Landis left, inwardly muttering. Glancing out of the window, he reckoned it must be about half-past nine and he still had to see the King before he went to Court.
* * *
He ambled through the corridors to the King’s Chambers. Richardson. busy as ever, greeted him with a pleasant ‘good morning’, asking if he wanted announcing. Landis didn’t. He entered the Inner Office as normal – without fuss or herald.
“Morning, Festus.” Adeone saw tell-tale signs in the set of Landis’ head and slight worry lines that usually weren’t there. “What’s bothering you?”
Landis tried to avoid the question. “Anything I should know for Court today, Sire?”
Adeone crooked an eyebrow. “Nothing new. Does whatever is bothering you endanger me?”
Landis hesitated. Refusing to answer twice wasn’t acceptable in the Inner Office. “I keep getting the feeling I’m being watched when it’s absolutely impossible for me to be being observed.”
“That’s technically known as paranoia. What are you doing when these fits come on you? Planning something dubious?”
“No, Sire. Normal everyday things. Walking through the gardens here, for example, talking to old Jack.”
“How is he?” asked Adeone with a grin.
“Well enough. Still going strong.”
“Actually, thinking about Court, there is one thing you can do for me. Discreetly, make sure Wynfeld’s coping. I think he is, but you never know.”
“Right, Sire. I’ll see if I can manage that.” He went to leave and caught sight of a mirror above the sideboard. He blanched.
A sixth sense alerting him, Adeone saw his friend’s reflection. “You’ve gone somewhat pale, Festus. What is it?”
“Have I, Sire? It’s nothing.”
“You’re not leaving until you stop lying to me, Landis,” ordered Adeone.
Landis knew if he left there would be repercussions. Adeone wouldn’t be able to let it pass. They might be alone, but there were unwritten rules he needed to obey.
“It’s the mirror, sir. For some stupid reason, I suddenly remembered the stories Laioril used to tell. I’m wondering if I’m being followed by a scryer.” That was as close to the truth as he’d be telling Adeone at that point.
“You’ve let your concern get the better of you, Festus, you would only be able to sense a scryer if you were of Ullian predisposition…”
Landis was thinking that was exactly the point. Should he tell his friend the truth here, now, whilst the opportunity presented itself? No, it was the wrong atmosphere. Admitting he’d kept secrets when he’d just annoyed the King wouldn’t be wise.
“…You’re probably just getting paranoid. One thing: don’t stop watching your back because suspicion is getting the better of you. There’s something brewing. I can feel it. You’d better go and make sure people are behaving themselves. Give my regards to Cornelia.”
* * *
Fretting, Landis walked to Court. Could it be a scryer watching him? If so, he had a problem. He couldn’t stop them; there was nothing he could do. He was as vulnerable as a baby.
He spoke to the sergeant allocated to the rooms that day. The gentleman had nothing to report but, as normal, Landis asked him to keep a careful eye out. The sergeant enquired if they should watch anyone in particular. It tended to keep the guards alert if they had specific people to watch for. Landis thought for a moment before saying he’d like the advisors observed: how many attended Court and who they were and who they spoke to. The sergeant inwardly groaned. Lord Landis was notorious for coming up with complicated requests. As he walked away, Landis knew what the sergeant was thinking, but he gave them such broad challenges to mask who he was interested in and to check the clerks were recording people correctly.
