The justiciars muttered amongst themselves, deciding whether to concede the unusual request. Only Alec was worried: Richard knew that look of utter disdain and what it signified. Apparently a speech by Ferris was not on Tremontaine's agenda. But there was not much Alec could do about it, only stand there letting haughtiness mask his nerves. Richard couldn't take his eyes from him, slender and brittle and poised. All that which, in Riverside, coming from a shabby, long-haired academic reject, had inspired men to homicidal rage, was fit and meet in this elegant creature's world - refined almost to a parody, but still within the range of normal. The nobles wouldn't love him for it, but they would accept him in their midst. It was where he belonged, after all. Richard tried to picture Alec as he was now, back in their rooms in Riverside - and felt his stomach clench with an emotion he thought best to disregard. He pulled his eyes away from the secrets of Alec's comportment and back to Lord Ferris.
The chancellor had bowed his sleek head; but his squared shoulders spoke gallantry and a noble determination. Whether from his posture or the pure curiosity his plea invoked, Ferris got what he wanted. In the pause in proceedings while the Justiciary made its decision to let him speak, Ferris had been working out the details of his story; now he launched into it in a new key, not humble but fierce with the desperation of a man given one last chance to clear his name of calumny; yet tinged with the resignation of one who knows he's done wrong.
'My lords,' he began again, striding into the centre of the floor. 'As you know, in matters of honour some explanation is owed amongst ourselves. I give it to you all now, tardily and with some shame. The clear-eyed among you will already have guessed the reason: I called for the death of Asper Lindley, and then hid that fact, to prevent a surge of rumour in which the innocent might suffer. I pray that you will regard it now as I did then - as rumour only; as the malice, maybe, of an aging -' His voice rising, Ferris stopped and passed a hand over his face. 'Forgive me. This is not the place to re-fight the challenge. Suffice it to say that I had come to believe that Lord Horn attempted to dishonour a kinsman of my mother's. In his cups, Asper spoke disrespectfully of my kinsman's wife, and even began to claim that the man's son resembled him more than he did his own father. The boy - the young man, I should say, since he was almost 25 - was in the city at the time, and I feared ... what every man fears in such a case. The truth is, he did resemble Asper, in looks and... other ways.'
Ferris paused, as though collecting himself. The hall was stone silent. But he knew each man was going over the roster of slender, fair young men recently in the city. He might have been too obvious already; surely he had provided enough detail to label Michael Godwin as Horn's bastard, forever, in some people's minds. For all he knew, it might even be true. Arid there it was, his parting gift to Diane; a taint set deep on the man she had dared consider to replace him. Let her work her delicate strategems on that!
Lord David, oddly enough, was smiling as though amused. Ferris looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and was suddenly pierced with the awful thought that he'd got it wrong -that Tremontaine was not really who he said he was; she had deceived him one last time and was taking this awkward beauty to her bed - but it was too late to change his story now. He reined his fancy in sharply. It was his misfortune to be a jealous man. He must not let it get in the way of his next step, the performance he still had to give.
He turned to face the Justiciary, giving his left shoulder to the young man, not to see his face. 'My lords,' he said in a low but carrying voice, one of his specialities, 'I hope that the honour of the court will be satisfied with this. If - '
'Honour may be satisfied,' Lord David drawled in interruption, 'but Tremontaine is not. If we could dispense with honeyed rhetoric for a moment, I would like to point out that you lied to St Vier, and have tried to defame your servant's name in court to hide it.'
Ferris smiled to himself. A young egalitarian. This court didn't "care how he used his servants; the boy had been in Riverside too long. If he was Diane's latest choice, she would have a job teaching him patience in statecraft; anyone could see that he cared about things too much. St Vier, on the other hand, sat like calm itself, betraying only an intelligent interest. Ferris was sorry to lose him. He had such perfect balance.
'I beg Tremontaine's pardon,' Ferris said gravely. 'I am not unaware that I have acted shamefully. Other restitution is for the Justiciary to require. As for the rest...' A gasp went round when they saw what he was doing. The blue velvet robe, richly embroidered with the chancellor's dragon of the Inner Council, hung loose now on his shoulders. With careful formality he undid the last buttons, and slid the robe of office from his body. Lord Ferris folded it carefully, keeping it from the floor. He stood before them all dressed in stockings, breeches and a white shirt whose full sleeves and high neck covered as much as the robe had, but to much less effect. Alec had the effrontery to stare.
In a cold and terrible way, Ferris was enjoying himself. It was all politics, after all. With every act of poignant humility, he drew his public closer to him. When he was down so low that he had nowhere else to go, they would be merciful. And of their mercy he would build his fortune.
Deeply he thanked them for permission to resign his office. Courteously he signed the depositions of his testimony. And humbly he stood in the shadow of the Justiciary dais from which he had fallen, while his recent colleagues recessed to decide his fate.
The nobles in the stands were all moving amongst themselves. They were sending out for oranges again. No one came near Ferris and St Vier, marooned in the centre of the floor. At last Ferris motioned to a clerk to fetch him a chair. St Vier was paying no attention. His friend had departed with the other justiciars.
It hardly mattered whether they believed Ferris's story or not. They were none of them anxious to punish St Vier, only to fix the blame for Horn's death. With a noble patron standing up in court, all blame shifted from St Vier's shoulders - he emerged a hero, true to his patron's faith even unto death. Of course all swordsmen were crazy. People liked them that way. It had been risky for Ferris to insist on being heard in open Council: someone might easily have brought up the mauling of Horn. But they had respected his humility, or been distracted by it, and no one did.
Expectant murmurs in the stands told Ferris that the Justiciary was returning through the double-doors. He waited a long moment before turning his head to look at them. One by one the men took their seats again, their solemn faces telling him nothing. Would they still make an example of him? Had they somehow seen through his pretence? Or were they only suffering from the trauma of his divestiture? Ferris's fingers dug into his palm; he concentrated on keeping them still. His last image must be of meeting his fate with grace.
It was Arlen who spoke, not Halliday. Ferris kept his gaze averted from the still pool of the other man's eyes: he had known them to make men blush before. Arlen spoke of financial restitution to Horn's estate, published apology to Tremontaine___ Ferris tried to fight the growing lightness of his heart.
Could it be all? Could he still hold Halliday's love and trust? The fool, he thought, the fool-----and set his face in lines of deep concern. It was a physical effort to keep it so when Arlen finished; as hard, in its way, as lifting rocks or climbing stairs not to break out in a grin of relief.
Before the silence attending Arlen's sentence could be broken, Lord Halliday said, 'This is the restitution the Council of Honour sees fit to demand. Let it be so noted. I speak now for the Council of Lords, of whose Inner Council you are late a member. We do not forget the services you have rendered there, or your skill in despatching them. Although your current position now makes it impossible for you to continue to serve there, it would please the Council to accept your service to the realm in another sphere. To that end we propose your appointment as Ambassador Plenipotentiary to the free nation of Arkenvelt.'
Ferris had to bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud-not, this time, in relief. But hysterical laughter was not the correct public response to crushing defeat. Arkenvelt! The journey was six weeks by sea, or three months overland; he would be far from the borders of his realm. The news would be two months' stale, his work useless and dull.
It was banishment, then, and they knew him at last. Banishment to a frozen desert of tribal anarchists who happened to control half the world's wealth in silver and fur. The port city, seat of all major commerce, was a giant international fishing village whose houses were carved into the very earth. He would sleep on a pile of priceless furs, and wake to chip a hunk of frozen bear meat from the carcass by the door. His work would be interceding between commercial interests, helping lost captains find their way home.... counselling the policies of merchants and of miners. The most he could hope for was to line his pockets with local riches, while he waited to be recalled. He could not know when that would be.
'My lord of Ferris, do you accept the position?'
What more could they do to him? What more could she do to him? He knew the law; he had Diane to thank for that. But then, he had Diane to thank for everything.
He heard his own voice, as if at the end of a tunnel, rattling off the right phrases of gratitude. It was not an ungenerous offer: the chance to redeem himself in a position of responsibility which would, in time, lead to others. If he behaved himself, it would not be long. And they would forget, in time.... So Ferris told himself. But it was hard not to give way to laughter, or shouting, to tell them what he thought of them all as they watched his dignified bow and straight back, all those eyes following his slow walk across the echoing floor and out of the door of the chamber of the Council of Lords.
Chapter XXVII
It seemed that the nobles of the city wanted to congratulate Richard St Vier. They wanted to apologise to him. They wanted him to admire their clothes, they wanted to take him to lunch. He was going to hit someone, he knew he was going to hit someone if they didn't back off, stop clustering so close around him trying to touch him, get his attention.
The deputy of the Fort appeared at his elbow. Richard followed the path his men cleared out of the chamber, into the little waiting room. There a voice he knew said, 'Surely you didn't think they'd just let you walk away?'
He was thirsty, and every bruise in his body ached. He said, 'Why not?'
'They adore you,' said Alec, sounding horribly like himself. 'They want you to have sex with their daughters. But you have a previous engagement with Tremontaine.'
'I want to go home.'
'Tremontaine wishes to express its gratitude. There's a carriage waiting outside. I've just spent a fortune in bribes to secure the path. Come on.'
It was the same painted carriage he remembered handing the duchess into, that day at the theatre. The inside was cushioned in cream-coloured velvet that felt like it had a layer of goose down under it. Richard leaned back and shut his eyes. There was a gentle jolt as the carriage began to move. It was going to be a long trip; the Council buildings were far south and across the river from the Hill. They couldn't be planning to drop him off in Riverside, the streets wouldn't accommodate a carriage this size.
He heard a rustle of paper. Alec was offering him his pick of a squashed parcel of sticky buns. 'They're all I could get.' Richard ate one, and then he ate another. And another somehow disappeared, although he didn't remember taking it, but he did feel less hungry. Alec was still poking around in the creases of the paper looking for dropped bits of icing. Despite the splendour of his black velvet he didn't seem to have a handkerchief, and Richard had lost his somewhere in prison.
'There'll be champagne up at the house,' Alec said. 'But I'm not sure I dare. I haven't been drunk in days; I think I've lost my head for it.'
Richard leaned his head back and shut his eyes again, hoping to go to sleep. He must have dozed, because he didn't have any coherent thoughts, and sooner than he expected they had stopped and a footman was opening the door.
'Tremontaine House,' said Alec, stepping down after him. 'Excuse me, please, I -' he glanced warily at an upper window - 'I have a pressing engagement.'
It had, apparently, all been foreseen and arranged. Richard was led, alone, to the kind of room he remembered from his own days of playing on the Hill. There was a very hot bath, which he stayed in for less time than he'd have wished, because he didn't like the servants hovering around him. They left him to dress himself. He put on a heavy white shirt, and fell asleep across the dream-soft covers of the bed.
The door opening woke him. It was a tray of cold supper, which he was privileged to eat alone. He set the tray on a little table by the window, overlooking the landscaped grounds and lawns rolling down to the water's edge. The sun struck the river to burnished brass; it was late afternoon. He was almost free to go-Servants always made him uncomfortable, especially the well-trained ones. They seemed to be trying to act not like people but like self-effacing automatons that just happened to breathe and have speech. Everyone was always very polite to them, but the nobles were adept at ignoring their presence, and he never could do that. He was always aware of the other person there, the unpredictable body and the curious mind.
The Duchess Tremontaine's people were among the best. They treated him with courteous deference, as though they'd been told that he was someone powerful and important. Keeping just far enough in front of him, they escorted him down halls and staircases to his interview with his benefactor.
He didn't know what he should expect, so he tried very hard to expect nothing. He couldn't help wondering if Alec would be there. He thought he would like to see Alec again, one last time, now that his head was clearer. He wanted to tell him that he liked the new clothes. In the duchess's house it seemed less surprising that Alec was a Tremontaine, as he walked through the ornate corridors whose overcareful display seemed to mock their own opulence.
The duchess's sitting room was so ornate that it confused the eye. It was cluttered with intriguing possessions of diverse shapes and colours, all caught up and reflected in the enormous convex mirror hung over the fireplace. On a chair in front of the fire, a woman sat sewing.
Richard saw the fox-coloured hair, and turned to leave. But the door had been shut behind him. Katherine Blount stumbled to her feet, dropping her sewing. 'My lady -' she said softly, her throat constricted with fear, 'my lady should be here -'
'Never mind,' Richard said, still standing by the door, i expect I was brought to the wrong room.'
'Richard,' she said, nervously rushing her words, 'you must understand -I was told you wouldn't be hurt.'
'You can't disarm a swordsman without hurting him,' he said calmly. 'But I'm fine now. Can I open the door myself, or am I supposed to knock and let a servant do it?'
'You're supposed to sit down,' she snapped; 'sit down and look at me!'
'Why?' he asked politely.
She gripped the back of the chair for strength. 'Don't you even care?' she demanded. 'Don't you even want to know how it happened?'
'Not any more,' he said. 'I don't think it matters.'
'It matters," she said fiercely. 'It matters that Lord Ferris pushed me too far - that I came here to my lady - that she sent me down after you. I didn't want to, but I trust my lady. She's been better to me than Lord Ferris ever was. She didn't want to hurt me, and she didn't want to hurt you. But Ferris wanted you to kill Lord Halliday. If you'd done it, it would have bound you to him. We had to get you out of Riverside, to stand-trial before the Council so that my lady could clear you and set Ferris up to be punished in your stead.'
'What did she have against Ferris? And does she expect me to work for her now?'
Katherine stared at the overly self-possessed man standing across the room. 'Don't you know? Alec is here.'
'Oh, I know he's here. He was at the trial.' He looked at her. 'You should be careful of how you let yourself be used, Kath. Once you let them start, they'll go on doing it.'
'It's not like that-'
'Why not? Because she's nice to you, makes it worth your while? Look, I'm all right - but I wish you hadn't done it.'
'Oh, shut up, Richard!' He realised with dismay that she was crying. 'I thought I'd never have to see you again!'
'Kathy...' he said helplessly, but made no move to comfort her. Her nose was red, and she was dabbing her eyes with the backs of her wrists. 'I don't owe you anything,' she sniffled. 'Except an apology - well, you have that. I'm sorry I can't be a tough little Riversider. I'm sorry I let people use me. I'm sorry you got beaten up and it was my fault - now will you please go away and leave me alone!'
He did turn to the door, but it opened and a woman in grey silk came in.
-'Katherine, dearest!' said the Duchess Tremontaine. 'You made my dear Kathy cry,' she scolded Richard, sweeping past him to take the woman in her arms and let her tears stain the silk. The duchess offered her a snow-white square of lawn to use. 'Never mind it,' the lady said soothingly to them both. 'It's all right now.'
He realised that the duchess had meant for them to meet this way. Richard stared at the elegant lady busily comforting his friend, and kept his frank gaze on her even when she looked up at him.
'Master St Vier,' she said, as though nothing had happened, while Katherine continued to sob on her breast; 'welcome. And thank you. I know what you had to do to save - Alec's - life from Horn, and what it must have cost you. And I know you cannot be altogether pleased with my letting Lord Ferris take the credit. You have compromised your position twice to my benefit. I cannot think of any repayment for all this that would be less than ingratitude.'
If she was expecting him to thank her in return, she would have to wait for it. Katherine blew her nose on the pristine handkerchief.
'But,' the duchess said, 'I would like you to have something. A memento only.' From between her breasts she drew a chain. On it hung a ruby ring.
'That's Alec's,' he said aloud.
She smiled. 'No. This one is set in yellow gold, you see? His is white. They are a matched set of twelve, culled from the disbanded ducal coronet. Valuable, and highly recognisable. It would be hard to sell; but it makes a pretty toy, don't you think?' She dangled the chain, setting the jewel spinning.
'You're very generous.' He made no move to take it. 'Would you be good enough to give it to Lord David as a' - what was the word she'd used? - 'memento from me? I think he'll have more use for it.'
The duchess nodded, and slipped the chain back into her bodice. 'Gallant,' she smiled. 'What a noble you would make. It's a pity your father was- but no one knows who your father was, do they?'
'My mother always claimed not to remember what she called insignificant details.' It was an old story; it had made the rounds on the Hill once already.
'Well, then, Master St Vier, I will not keep you any more. I wish you godspeed', she said with quaint, old-fashioned grace, 'in all your endeavours.'
Richard bowed to both ladies. He followed the servants out of the room and down the corridors he had already memorised coming in.
It was blue dusk in the city. He had his sword back, and a bundle of his old clothes, washed and pressed for him by Diane's staff. The new suit he was wearing, he realised now, was peacock blue - Hypochondriac's Veins, Alec had called it. It fitted Richard perfectly; but then, Alec knew the tailor who had his measurements. The cloth didn't look so gaudy out of doors. Now that he was popular with the lords again, he could wear it to their parties. He quickened his step, breathing in deep draughts of freedom in the evening air.
Alec found the two women still sitting together in the duchess's parlour He burst in without knocking, announcing, 'He's not in his room. The servants said he might be with you.'
'Oh,' said the duchess sweetly, her calm only mildly disturbed. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't know you wanted me to keep him particularly for you to see, so I let him leave.'
'Leave?' The young man stared at her as though she were speaking gibberish. 'How could he have left?'
'I believe he wanted to go home, dear. It is getting dark, and it's a long walk down.'
For the first time, Katherine felt sorry for Alec. She'd never seen his face with that raw and defenceless look, and hoped she never would again. 'Oh,' he said finally. His face closed like a cabinet drawer. 'Is that it. I see.'
'It's for the best,' Diane said. 'Your father's getting old. He'll need help with the estate soon.'
'He wouldn't notice if the sows started farrowing two-headed calfs,' Alec said conversationally. 'And don't say my mother needs someone to wind yarn for her, either. She is in the prime of domination.' Katherine hiccuped a helpless giggle. Alec's eye fixed on her. 'What's the matter with her?' he demanded. 'Why are her eyes red? She's been crying - You let her see Richard, didn't you? You promised she wouldn't have to, and then you -'
'David, please,' the duchess said wearily. 'I was delayed upstairs, and he came too early.'
Alec stared at her, his face white with anger. There was no point to that,'- he said to her. 'None. You did it to amuse yourself.'
Katherine's flesh prickled. In Riverside, there would have been a fight. But the duchess turned, still smiling. 'You're a fine one to talk, my dear. Don't you do most things to amuse yourself?'
Alec flinched.
'It amused you to go to University', she went on pleasantly, 'because it gave your parents hysterics. You liked that, you told me so.'
'But that's not why -'
'Oh, you could have thought of something else well enough. But that served.'
'You sent me the money. I wasn't of age; I hadn't any of my own.' Alec's flat voice tried vainly to match her insouciance. 'I didn't know which you wanted more - for me to spy on the University people for you, or just to upset my mother.'
'Well, you refused to spy for me, so I suppose it must have been to upset your mother. I don't like her very much. I told her she was throwing herself away on Raymond Campion, but she wouldn't listen to me. She thought she was getting a hero, but she ended up with an ageing cartographer with no dinner conversation. It has made her very unpleasant. I always could get a rise out of her through you. It's not as if I couldn't afford to support you. And there wasn't much she could do if I wanted to let her eldest study and drug himself with a lot of cowherds.'
'They weren't - ' Alec carefully unclenched his hands.
The duchess made a dismissive gesture. 'There's no need to justify any of it: they amused you, and that's quite enough. You see, already you know more about the perquisites of power than most who have it; and when the time comes you'll be able to use your knowledge. They amused you: and when they ceased to do so you abandoned them for other... pleasures.'
He must have done the same thing to other people hundreds of times: but here he was walking right into her trap, his emotions utterly engaged; reacting with the pain and fury of a man who's been kicked in his soft spot, no longer aiming his blows or planning his strategy.
'You're wrong,' Alec said, his voice gruffly musical like an angry cat's. 'They were kicked out - for having ideas no one else had, no one else could even understand - all stripped of their robes but me. The school didn't ask me to leave. I suppose no one wanted to offend you. I suppose it amused you to keep me there.'
'You amuse yourself, my dear. It wouldn't have been much fun for you to go home to mother, and you wouldn't come up here to me. So you chose to stay; because there were still the drugs, and the people who didn't know who you really were to argue with.'
'Can't you shut up about the drugs? They're on the Hill too, you know. But we did something with them, we made notes - '