“Your pardon,” says Randalin. “We meant only—”
“Out!” he says, at which point even Fala heads for the door.
“Except Jude,” he calls. “You, tarry a moment.”
You. I turn toward him, the humiliation of the night still hot on my skin. I think of all my secrets and plans, and of what it will mean if we go to war with the Undersea, of what I’ve risked and what is already forever lost.
I let the others leave, waiting until the last of the Living Council is out of the room.
“Give me an order again,” I say, “and I will show you true shame. Locke’s games will be as nothing to what I make you do.”
With that, I follow the others into the hall.
In the Court of Shadows, I consider what moves are possible.
Murder Balekin. Mikkel wasn’t wrong that it would make it harder for the Undersea to wrest the crown from Cardan’s head.
Marry Cardan to someone else. I think of Mother Marrow and almost regret interfering. If Cardan had a hag’s daughter for a bride, perhaps Orlagh wouldn’t have engaged in such martial matchmaking.
Of course, I would have had other problems.
A headache starts up behind my eyes. I rub my fingers over the bridge of my nose.
With Taryn’s wedding so close, Oak will be here in mere days. I don’t like the thought of it with Orlagh’s threat hanging over Elfhame. He is too valuable a piece on the strategy board, too necessary for Balekin, too dangerous for Cardan.
I recall the last time I saw Balekin, the influence he had over the guard, the way he behaved as though he were the king in exile. And all my reports from Vulciber suggest that not much has changed. He demands luxuries, he entertains visitors from the sea who leave puddles and pearls behind. I wonder what they’ve told him, what promises he’s been made. Despite Nicasia’s belief that he won’t be necessary, he must be hoping just the opposite.
And then I recall something else—the woman who wanted to tell me about my mother. She’s been there the whole time, and if she’s willing to sell one kind of information for her freedom, maybe she’s willing to sell another.
As I think over what I’d like to know, it occurs to me how much more useful it would be to send information to Balekin, instead of getting information out of him.
If I let that prisoner believe I was temporarily freeing her to tell me about my mother, then I could drop some information in her ear. Something about Oak, something about his whereabouts or vulnerability. She wouldn’t be lying when she passed it on; she would believe she’d heard true and spoke truth.
I puzzle further and realize, no, it’s too soon for that. What I need now is to give the prisoner simpler information that she can pass on, information I can control and verify, so that I can be sure she’s a good source.
Balekin wanted to send Cardan a message. I will find a way to let him.
The Court of Shadows has begun to formalize the scribing of documents on the denizens of Elfhame, but none of the current scrolls deal with any prisoners in the Tower but Balekin. Walking down the hall, I go to the Bomb’s newly dug office.