Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

“And I dis

agree,” Hax said, somewhat louder than before.

“She must learn of it sometime.”

“Why? Because I’m dying?”

Kosenmark jerked his face away. “Berthold—”

“I already know about Lord Kosenmark’s business,” Ilse said.

Both men went still. Kosenmark slowly turned his head and stared at Ilse, his expression unreadable. “Go on,” he said softly.

Again she was reminded of a hunting cat. Wetting her lips, she said, “I saw—by accident—a letter with the words Vnejšek. Jewels. Yes. It came from your spies in Károví. I don’t know the question, but I know it has to do with Lir’s jewels. You’ve had other letters from Károví—I could tell by the handwriting. You are also in contact with nobles in Armand’s Court. They ask you advice, and you give it. At least, I suppose you do, since you often send letters to Duenne. You do this secretly, however, and the addresses you send letters to do not always match the ones for letters you receive. I believe … I believe you are running a secret court, here in Tiralien. A shadow court, my lord.”

A thick silence followed her announcement. Ilse’s pulse beat hard against her throat. Surely this time she had dared too much.

“Clever girl,” Hax whispered. “Too clever at times.”

“How long have you known?” Kosenmark asked.

“Ten days, my lord.”

“And yet you said nothing. Not to me. Not to anyone.” He turned to Hax. “You see, Berthold. We must let her attend.”

“No, my lord. You know my reasons.”

“I do. And I disagree with them. But to please you, I promise to take precautions. We both shall.”

He touched Hax’s hand and murmured a spell. Hax muttered a protest, but already his eyelids drooped. Within moments he was deeply asleep.

Kosenmark studied Hax’s face a moment longer. Whatever he saw did not reassure him, because he frowned as he turned away. “Come with me,” he whispered to Ilse.

They left Hax’s quarters for a nearby room, comfortably fitted with couches and padded chairs. Servants had built a fire; carafes of tea and wine waited on the low table by the fireplace. Rosel was just arranging napkins and silverware. She glanced at Ilse, plainly curious. At Kosenmark’s command, she poured out two cups of tea and withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

Kosenmark gestured for Ilse to sit. “So,” he said, “you’ve guessed what I do here. I’d like to know how. Was I careless? Was Berthold?”

Ilse took a moment to choose her words, knowing she had to tread with care. “You were not careless, my lord, and Maester Hax was more than discreet. It was more … a series of accidental discoveries.”

“Which you connected into a solution. I see.” He took up his cup of tea and began to pace the room. “I told Berthold that we had to decide how much to trust you,” he said. “I would like to make a trial with you and see how much more responsibility you could assume. Berthold disagreed for several reasons, but mostly because he thinks the burden too great. However, since you already know … Would you agree to attend the banquet in Berthold’s place?”

He was offering a great deal of trust, she thought. Even as it pleased her to make such a good impression, another part of her wondered why. Lord Raul Kosenmark had constructed an entirely new life in secret. She could not imagine him yielding those secrets to anyone other than an old and trusted adviser. And his oldest adviser, Berthold Hax, had not liked to include her, she could tell.

She met his gaze steadily. “My lord, may I speak plainly?”

“Yes. Please.”

She paused to give herself another moment. There was a tautness in his face, around his mouth, and the way he held himself. Perhaps he didn’t trust her entirely. The thought helped to dispel her suspicions … a little.

“My lord,” she said slowly, “I only guessed a part of your business. So I understand only a part of what you expect from me. I need to know more. I would like to know more,” she corrected herself.

Kosenmark smiled briefly. “You were right the first time. You need to know much more, I should say. Ask whatever you like.”

Anything. She drew a long breath. “Will you tell me why Maester Hax does not want me to attend Lord Vieth’s banquet?”

His lips puffed in silent laughter. “You are too clever. You’ve picked the one question I would not answer.”

“Only one, my lord?”