Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

“Not what but why,” she said. “Why did he start searching for the jewels again? They were lost over three hundred years ago.”

“Perhaps the key to that lies within our borders, with our king,” Kosenmark’s voice turned thoughtful. “Armand of Angersee spent a childhood immersed in tales of the old empire, and more tales about his grandfather’s victories over the Károvín. It was like growing up in the dark shadow of a mountain, with no chance to escape into the light.”

“He wants to prove himself as good as his grandfather?”

“Better,” Kosenmark said. “He wants to revive the old empire. But for all that he is king, he needs the support of his nobles. If Leos Dzavek does not provide him with sufficient reason, Armand might manufacture one.”

“So Leos Dzavek’s motives do not matter?”

“They do. Like you, I’m curious why he’s renewed the search for the jewels.”

“Because he found a clue?” Ilse said. “Or because … because he knows of Armand’s character, and he wants to prepare his kingdom.” It was like piecing together a puzzle. One answer begat another and another. “He’s old,” she went on. “Old and possibly dying. He wants to ensure Károví’s safety, even after he’s dead.”

“Ah, yes,” Kosenmark spoke in a wondering tone. “It is strange to think of a world without Leos Dzavek. It would be like seeing the sky without the sun, I think. And yet it must happen someday. He is a man, and however powerful his magic, he must someday cross the void. But that uncovers a new problem, one I think the priests had considered when they refused to let old kings prolong their lives with magic and the jewels. Any other kingdom expects their king to die. Any other king has appointed an heir. At least the sensible ones do. But Leos Dzavek has no queen or consort. His last heir died fifty years ago. There is no one to succeed him on the throne.”

“Civil war,” Ilse said, breathless.

Kosenmark nodded. “And more. Bloodshed and chaos within, and Veraene’s armies pressing across the borders. In that case, Armand would gain his victories, but the cost would be bitterly high. As you said, the people of Károví are loyal to their king and kingdom.”

“But with Lir’s jewels, whoever succeeds Dzavek can defend Károví against anyone, including those within the kingdom.”

Kosenmark did not look convinced. “Perhaps. Magic is well enough, but when you balance it against treachery and deceit, I wonder if treachery would win by a wide bloody margin. However, I imagine Leos Dzavek knows more about the factions in his court than I. His plan is a good one, as far as Károví’s welfare goes. Let us hope—”

He broke off, frowning.

Ilse waited a moment. “What do you hope, my lord?”

He shrugged. “Merely a worry. Leos Dzavek has a reputation for strength and honor. Let us hope that in his quest for the jewels, he does not mislay those virtues.”

Like the story of the woman who lost her beloved children while she bargained for a silver necklace. Ilse saw that Kosenmark, too, was lost in recollection. “I saw him once,” he said softly. “It was at Baerne’s Court, during negotiations over the Kranje Islands. And once more, let us say, when he was not aware of my identity. His eyes are what you notice first—old and tired and clouded with age. But if we can believe the poets, his eyes were very different when he was young—a blue so dark, they appeared black.”

“The darkest violet, like summer storm clouds,” Ilse quoted, “like the oceans at night.”

She glanced up, straight into Kosenmark’s golden eyes. Unsettled, she looked away. Kosenmark stirred restlessly. “So. You know my thoughts now, and I’ve heard yours. Thank you. I only have one more request of you today, Mistress Ilse. That is to visit with Maester Hax.”

She could not prevent herself from wincing at Hax’s name.

“Do you object?” Kosenmark said.

“No, my lord.” He was right—she had to speak with Hax before things could return to normal. “I do not object at all, but I confess I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Ah.” He smiled faintly. “I sympathize.”

She blew a breath and smiled. “Thank you. I will go to him now.”

She collected her writing case and stood. Kosenmark had already turned toward his overflowing desk. Undoubtedly his own work had accumulated during the past five days while he kept watch over her.

“My lord?”

He looked up. “Yes, Mistress Ilse. You remembered something else?”

She shook her head. “No. Not about that. But I wondered … Is it possible you might visit with Baron Eckard during his stay in town?”

“Most likely,” he said, his tone cautious. “We were friends in Duenne. Friends make visits. Why?”

This favor, asked face to face, was harder than all her speeches delivered to an anonymous air vent. “I had a question. Or rather a favor to ask him. If he could, when he returns home to Melnek, tell Mistress Klara Thaenner that he saw me safe and well. And if he could, tell her I found the books I was looking for, though not at the bookseller I expected.”

It was a risk, letting Klara know anything, but she thought it one worth taking. Baron Eckard had proven himself discreet. Klara would do likewise.