the rooftops, shall we? Dance the allemande together down the camp road? Announce our betrothal to the whole damned army. She felt her cheeks flare red with embarrassment, and was instantly angry with Alberon for making her feel that way about Christopher, and with Christopher for attempting to force her hand.
The little servant leaned and murmured in Alberon’s ear. ‘The Merron thief had me choose a cake at random, your Highness. I stood and watched him eat it. Stood with him for over three minutes to make sure he didn’t push his fingers down his throat or any such thing. I am beyond certain that they are safe to eat.’
‘I see,’ said Alberon. He licked his lips, gazing at the scòns with an entirely different expression now he knew they were not poisoned, and Wynter realised with a searing pang of guilt that Alberon had no notion of their significance for her.
It had all been in her head. She sat rigidly expressionless, appalled by the fact that, when confronted with this warm and subtle gesture of affection, her first feelings towards Christopher had been of anger and of shame. She glanced at Razi, who was smiling fondly at the little pile of cakes. Without putting down his precious tape, he took his beaker of tea and raised it in a silent gesture of thanks to the darkness at the base of the hill.
‘Are you well, sis?’ asked Alberon. ‘You have gone terribly pale.’
‘I am fine.’ She turned to look him in the eye. ‘Why has Marguerite chosen the Merron as her envoys, Alberon? The woman has nothing but contempt for them. Why would she trust them so?’
Alberon frowned at her. ‘Do not be dense, Wyn. Who better to convey her secret messages? What person in their right mind would suspect a bunch of God-cursed Merron pagans of carting Marguerite Shirken’s papers for her? Besides,’ he said, taking a scòn, ‘even if they dared to spy, what harm could fellows like them do? Everyone knows the bloody savages can’t read. Good Christ, these are good! What are they made of?’
‘Chestnut flour,’ said Razi quickly. He kicked Wynter under the table, and she bit back her questions about the Merron.
Razi leaned forward and placed the strip of tape on the table between himself and Alberon. ‘The Haun and the Combermen,’ he said. ‘You plan to frighten them with this invention? In the hopes that they will let Marguerite be? If so, you may need to show them more than just a drawing and a flash of noisy light, brother. I suspect they would need to see the machine for themselves to truly understand its power. Do . . . do you have this weapon in your possession?’
Alberon chuckled. ‘If only I did,’ he said. ‘But Father has the one remaining machine. No, the Combermen have their own very specific reasons for being here. As for the Haun, they answered my call to parley in the smug belief that they hold a secret power over me; meanwhile they are humouring me, hoping to deepen the rift between Father and me. They have come here planning to gape at Lorcan’s wonderful designs, feign alarm at their potential – then toddle off home to their leaders, all the while laughing up their sleeves at their own secret plot. They think they have settled an alliance in Algiers that will destroy the Sultan. But tomorrow – or however soon my damned envoys arrive from Fez – I intend to jerk the rug out from beneath the Haun’s prettily slippered feet. Just wait and see.’
Alberon smiled darkly at Razi. ‘They will soon be galloping home in genuine alarm. With their plans in tatters and the noise of my machine ringing in their ears. I shall strengthen the Sultan’s court, set the Haun to fighting among themselves, and give Marguerite room to manoeuvre, all in one painless shuffle of the cards.’
Razi waited, expecting Alberon to go on, but Alberon just continued to smile. ‘Wait and see,’ he repeated.
Wynter shivered and pulled her cloak tighter still. The fire blazed high in the brazier and the beaker of tea was warm in her hands, but she was cold to the very core of her, the kind of shivery chill that came with staying up too late after too hard a day. She was suddenly weary to her bones, the pillow behind her too comfortable.
Razi said something else, something to do with the poor supplies of mercury, but the chess-like intricacies