of the guild, the harbour, the cliffs on the other side and further. Nearer to hand lay what was left of the formal gardens. No more vast rows of flowers, beds of roses, arbours under honeysuckle and hidden fountains. The prelate had ordered them all uprooted, replaced with a clicking clanking version of the planetaria, objects moving smoothly along their pre-described courses, unable to do anything else. Only one arbour remained, in a prime position to watch the world as it sailed past the sun on its preset course, and Egimont steered them that way.
There, finally hidden from any prying eyes, he dropped her hand and the act. She smiled, wry and teasing, put the hand back and leaned towards him. “My lord, do we need such distance?”
Hell’s teeth. “I think so. You have what Sabates wanted?”
Because she was employed by Sabates, not the king; indeed Licio had no knowledge of her. The magician had warned him, not too subtly, not to fall for her charms, because “She’s buried two husbands to my knowledge, and I’m not sure they were dead first.” He’d added, “But she’s the best winkler of information I’ve ever known. Even I can’t match her when she sets herself to a task.”
“Be still, my beating heart,” she said with a laugh now, and a delicate gloved hand went to her pale throat. “Such a charmer you are. Of course.”
She delved into a little bag and brought out a packet of papers. “A copy of the prelate’s plans. More taxes to fund the coming war with Ikaras, which seems inevitable now. More guns ordered. But I think Sabates has overlooked something.”
“Which is?”
Her mouth twitched into a cruel smile. “You make a poor spy, Petri. All that time trying to discover what was going on inside the guild, and you didn’t see what was under your nose.”
“I never pretended, or wanted, to be a good spy.”
“No, Sabates said. That you were blinded by many things: revenge, desire, Kacha.”
The way she said the name, like Kacha was some sort of disease – Egimont had never struck a woman, not outside a duel at least, but he was sorely tempted to strike the word from this one’s mouth.
“All that time, and you never realised, did you? Or perhaps you did but never told anyone.”
“Realised what, precisely?”
It was the sort of tinkling little laugh that would be right at home in an intimate soirée, and it sent shivers down Egimont’s spine.
“Whether you’d got it right, about who the assassin was. We know all the past ones, don’t we? All the most renowned men of the guild, who did dark jobs, assassinations when they must. Biken, until he died during one such job, and of course Jokin.”
“But he—”
“Was exiled from the guild, yes. Not for what Eneko told everyone, not for failing his sworn duty. Another matter entirely.” She laughed again, as though at some secret joke. “Such a poor spy you are, never to find out for sure about Vocho, but he did the job anyway. They think they’re doing it for the right reasons, you know, Eneko’s assassins, but instead they’re fed lies and half-truths and are cast off or killed when they no longer believe it, when they find out the truth, as they often do. Still, if we knew who Eneko had ordered to be killed, perhaps we’d know more about what it is he’s planning. Maybe you could ask your lovely Kacha?”
A barb in that last. She knew that wasn’t an option, and she knew why. If only Egimont did. Why Kacha doted on her wastrel of a brother, why she trusted Eneko. Why she’d sent him that note out of the blue. Why Egimont cared when he should have been just gathering information about her wretched brother, as this woman said.
“I suppose not,” she said now. “But Eneko has plans of his own, I don’t doubt it. Tell Sabates I’ll arrange to find out, though I may need assistance, if you will provide it.”
“Very well.” He rose to leave, but her soft hand stopped him.
“Take care. You’ve been out of Reyes for a time. Things are not what they were. But they will be, and better than before, if you follow Sabates’ orders to the letter.”
Egimont took his leave and the papers she’d given him, and headed for his mean lodgings up in the cramped and rat-infested roof of the palace to contemplate many things – grey drudging jobs for the prelate, youthful dreams crushed and