Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

“But why now?” she whispered. “Why not ask these questions before?”

Kosenmark made a hasty wave of acknowledgment. “I’m sorry. I was too quick to blame you. We both were. We should have listened to your explanations before we locked you away.”

But you did listen after all. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. All too soon it faded as she realized why he had come. “You want me to help catch this spy.”

“Yes.” Some of the tension leaked from his face. “I’ve arranged with Berthold—”

“I never said I would help you.”

Kosenmark jerked up his chin, and color ridged his cheeks. Very slowly the color faded. “I’m sorry. More proof of my arrogance. I should not expect you to involve yourself with my plot and maneuvers and petty machinations that are so damaging to king and kingdom.”

“I would not go that far,” she murmured.

There was a flicker of amusement in his expression. “You were very clear on that point, I thought. However, I would like you at least to speak with Maester Hax. Tell him what you told me. Let us try to convince you that our intentions are better than before.”

She considered his request. She had no reason to love his cause, not after five days imprisoned in her room. On the other hand, it would do no harm to speak one last time with Maester Hax before she left this household. Because she would have to leave; she could not remain in Lord Kosenmark’s

service after what she had said to him. She had no idea where she might go. Not Duenne. But there were other kingdoms with cities and universities and large merchant houses that needed secretaries and scribes, and she knew Kosenmark well enough to know he had a kind of honor, even with enemies. He would give her a recommendation in exchange for her promise to keep his secrets. That much she could promise with honor.

“I’ll come,” she said reluctantly. “Does he want to see me right away?”

Kosenmark shook his head. “Take your time. Wash and fix your hair. I’ll have Kathe send up refreshments to Berthold’s rooms. You’ve not eaten today, I know. And if you would, please bring your writing case.”

He nodded, his manner businesslike, and left.

Ilse thought the gesture appropriate. We are conducting business, she thought as she changed into fresh clothes and made herself presentable. And now we are finished with it. Tying off the last frayed strings and snipping them clean.

It felt odd to open the door and walk through. Even outside, in the corridor, the strange sensation persisted as she walked to her office for her writing case, then back through the residential wing to Maester Hax’s quarters. Twice she encountered runners on their errands. They both paused and asked about her health, which told her that Kosenmark had kept her confinement a secret.

I’ll be gone soon, she thought, giving a noncommittal reply. The truth about last week won’t matter.

She felt a pang, thinking about Kathe and Nadine and the others here. Then she remembered how impossible it would be to continue as Maester Hax’s assistant, and she braced herself against regret.

Lord Kosenmark and Maester Hax were conversing in quiet tones as she entered the room. Maester Hax was sitting up and leafing through a stack of papers while they talked, occasionally referring to one. His manner was so reassuringly normal, she could almost believe the past five days had not occurred.

Kosenmark looked up at her entrance. “Welcome, Mistress Ilse. I’m glad to see that you’ve recovered enough to join us.”

“You requested my presence,” she said warily. Kosenmark’s tone sounded forced, though the situation might account for that.

“So I did. Have you brought the letters from Baron Eckard?”

Ilse glanced from Hax to Kosenmark. “The letters?”

“Yes, the letters that arrived this morning. He told me at Lord Vieth’s that he often found it difficult to post his letters because of all the chaos about his daughter’s household. I’m glad to see nothing prevented him this last time.”

Ilse stared from one man to the other. Kosenmark had lied to her. They never meant to explain things to her. They only wanted her to help flush out the spy, who might be listening right now through one of the pipes or vents.

Before she could say anything, the doors opened and Lys came into the room with a heavily loaded tray. Kosenmark turned to Hax, as though nothing had happened, and said something about the latest afternoon party given by a Lady Issnôlt. The two exchanged desultory comments about the affair, seemingly unaware of Lys or Ilse. Lys went about her work silently. Only once did she glance toward Ilse, a brief look that was impossible to read.

Ilse waited until Lys had left the room. “My lord was not entirely truthful with me,” she said quietly.

Hax rattled his papers noisily. Masking her words, perhaps? Kosenmark’s next move confirmed it. He rose swiftly and silently to stand by her side. “We were as truthful as we dared to be,” he whispered. “Hush. I will answer your questions, but speak softly. Please.”

She met his gaze, tight-lipped. But when she spoke, she, too, whispered. “You do not trust me. Very well. But tell me this: Will you talk to the king? Will you tell him everything you’ve learned?”

“We have,” Kosenmark said, still speaking in low tones. “Many times over. I think war—this war—is wrong. Wrong because it is unprovoked. Wrong because it serves no purpose other than to forward one man’s ambitions and another man’s obsession. But I recognize that we must remain prepared. I would not wish Veraene to sleep while Leos Dzavek launched an invasion.”

Ilse paused. “You told the king?”