escort, I knew that much. Lies now would only cause trouble later. ‘I need to know what damage has been done.’
His left eyelid twitched. ‘My lord’s men did not pillage or plunder,’ he said.
An image of the soldier pawing Helena for trinkets flashed into my mind.
‘More than halls and mortar can be damaged, and more than sculptures and idols can be plundered,’ I replied.
He acknowledged this point with another twitch. ‘The palace is secure, my lady, but it’s not necessarily safe to wander about.’
I fixed him with my best imitation of Grandmother’s stare. ‘If I were in the habit of avoiding dangerous pastimes, I would not now be your lord’s wife.’
‘Very well,’ he said, shifting his grip on his stave.
They fell in on either side of me, barely a half-pace behind – prisoners were accorded more space. It didn’t matter, I reminded myself. All the better to maintain the ruse of my defeat.
As it transpired, Mathis had spoken truly. Barring an occasional spill of blood, and nicks and chips in the facing of the walls at odd spots in the corridors, the Turholm was physically intact. The idols stood undisturbed in their niches. Even the various statues of Tamor had suffered no damage – surprising given Amalia’s vehemence, which Dieter’s men might reasonably be expected to share. In fact, judging by the petals and cut glass gathered at the various statues’ feet, they’d received further prayers overnight. All the daughters of Turas had received devotions, but the ravens in particular, their eyes of jet alive in the carved ebony figures, stood over a tumbled hoard of offerings.
When death stalked the corridors and spared you, it paid to be grateful.
The offerings were the first hint of the emotional damage wrought by the violence. All the rooms in the living quarters stood open, most of them featuring shifted furniture and wardrobe doors hanging open – the result of a search for concealed exits, or perhaps seeking those in hiding. Thralls still crept about their duties, but they wore a haunted and hunched look. Not a one failed to scowl, turn away, or spit at the sight of me.
Soldiers in Dieter’s blank livery were everywhere: the living quarters, the rooms of state, the courtyards, the stables, even the sties and fields sported a handful of the plain steel-grey tunics. Their unfamiliar faces, flat and wary, sapped any sense of home I might otherwise have found in the subdued and depopulated palace.
Stopping in a window embrasure, I watched those at practice with staves in the courtyard. It was no wonder he’d overrun us with ease. But how had he gathered such a number of swords? There were too many possible answers. Some of the men might be mercenaries. Maybe Gerlach had bought them – the man was not a normal soldier, with the light of learning in his eye and his presterly past. Or perhaps Dieter had acquired troops from wherever he’d learnt his arcana.
At every turn, the reality of foreigners conquering the Turholm increased. What I could do about it was another, more frustrating matter. Pondering it, an idea dawned slowly. The kitchen chimneys stood still and smokeless against the sky. Organisation is a form of power, child, Grandmother whispered. Pushing away from the window, I made my way to the kitchen, braving the upper courtyard and its sparring soldiers.
Mathis stopped me at the door. ‘If we’re to venture outside, you’ll need a larger guard,’ he said.
‘We’re not venturing outside,’ I replied. ‘We’re going to the kitchen. If a courtyard full of your men can’t keep me safe while I cross it, a legion can’t either. Let’s go.’
He didn’t argue. It was probably the promise of food.
The clack and clatter of the soldiers’ practice stuttered to a halt as I walked past, feeling self-conscious with every over-loud step. Fixing my gaze on the kitchen doors, which stood ominously closed, I fought the urge to run.
If the lack of smoke and the closed doors hadn’t been warning enough, the cold flagstones before the doors would have surprised me. Pushing inside, I found the great stone hearths cold, grey and dead, the benches and stoves empty, the cavernous room deserted.
I rounded on Mathis. ‘What did you do, kill all the kitchen staff as a matter of priority?’
That opened his heavy-lidded eyes sure enough. ‘We’ve had greater concerns than the running of the kitchen, my lady.’
‘More like you didn’t dare let the staff back in for fear of a revolution,’ I retorted. ‘Go on, fetch them