Our Lady of the Islands (55 page)

She arrived this time, not with a flotilla of armed and decorated ships, but in a small sloop shared by no one but Ennias and the boatman who had sailed them here. There were no fierce paints and gleaming gold regalia now. Her hair had been restored to its natural blonde and gray, and she wore no cosmetic mask at all. She was done with faces not her own. Alizar would know her real face from now on. Her dress today was just a simple black silk robe. Not the blazing sun. Not the might of Alizar. She was a slender shadow now, a sliver of the night, passing unnoticed through a world dreaming its own dreams, oblivious, around her.

The contrast might have been laughable, if there’d been any laughter left inside her. She had her son back, and was deeply grateful. Every day. But there was no laughter even there. Someday, she hoped. But not yet. He had come back to her a sweet but strangely silent boy, to find his father dead, his home destroyed. His uncle … mad, and in a prison. For attempting to poison him, among other crimes. Very little laughter there at all.

Arian had made every effort to help Konrad absorb these truths as gently and as sensitively as possible. But there’d been no way to keep them from him without lying altogether. Which she found she could no longer do — to him, or anybody else now. There had been so many lies. They had poisoned so much more than just her son. She could not abide deception now. Neither in herself, nor in others. The truth. She hungered for it, desperately. Would not —
could
not feel secure until she felt she had it. Which was, in part, why she had come this morning, to see Aros.

Only two men met her at the nearly empty docks this time. Het helped her from the boat, while his secretary, Linget, helped Ennias and the boatman to secure the little craft. Then, all but the boatmen turned and headed for a temple entrance carved into the cliff nearby.

“Have you seen him yet this morning?” Arian asked as they walked up and up a torch-lit stairway, carved out deep inside the living stone, Ennias and Het’s secretary close behind.

“I have,” said Het. “He seems calm. The medications we’ve administered appear to be effective. His state of agitation diminishes daily. There is almost never any screaming anymore.”

“Did you tell him I was coming?”

Het nodded. “He took the news indifferently.”

She nodded back. “I am glad to hear it.” They climbed on in silence for a while. Somewhere far below them, Duon sat in a prison cell as well, likely pondering how
he
had come to such a pass. Arian wished that she were able to find more satisfaction in his demise. But it seemed fairly certain now that Duon had had no inkling her son was being poisoned. Lies upon lies. Had any of them been left undeceived? Not that Duon was undeserving of his fate, of course. He had created quite a large patch of the soil in which such lies had thrived. “Does he seem any more capable of understanding questions, or answering them coherently?” she asked Het. “Is it permissible for me to ask them yet?”

Het shrugged. “He often seems as rational as you or I now. Ask what you wish, my lady. What he gives you in response may or may not make any sense, of course. If he becomes agitated, it is likely best to stop. Otherwise … Learn what you may.” He turned to look at her. “We
will
have the answers someday, my lady. The truth emerges. Sooner or later. The events we’ve just been through confirm that, yes?”

The events we’ve just been through
… she thought.
Already in past tense. Lucky man, able to set all of this aside so quickly.
She liked Het, as much as she’d despised Duon, and doubted that his frame of mind could be dishonest or delusional. Perhaps his apparent confidence that all of this was over, somehow, came of having a clean conscience. Would she have such a conscience someday? Could such a thing be acquired, belatedly? “The events we’ve just been through confirm the need for truth, at least,” she answered him.

“I wholeheartedly agree,” said Het.

“For which, I thank you, Father Superior. The Factorate’s relationship with your order will be ever so much more productive now because of that.”

“Here we are,” said Het, waving toward a heavy wooden door set in the wall ahead of them. “Linget? You have the keys, yes?”

“Of course, sir.” The man hurried past them, fishing the key ring from his robes, and jingling up the one he needed, turning it in the lock as they approached.

“The cell is divided, of course, as are all our treatment cells, my lady,” said Het. “There will be bars between you, but I’d advise against coming close to them. By no means should you attempt to touch him, even in affection. You’ll have your guard, of course. Shall I stay as well?”

“No, Father Het. Thank you, but … Ennias will make him uncomfortable enough, I fear. I am hoping he will speak more freely if there is no one else of importance to him present.”

Het nodded. “You may be right. Are you ready then, my lady?”

“I suppose.”

Het turned to Linget. “You may open it.”

Linget yanked upon the heavy door, and stepped aside as Ennias passed through.

Arian gave Het a nod, and followed her guard inside.

The cell was not as terrible as she’d anticipated. It was full of light, for one thing, and fresh air, unlike the stairs and hallway by which they had come here. The far wall, in Aros’s side of the compartment, was pierced by two large windows — barred, of course, but with views of sunlit sky and water. The entire space was finished in clean white plaster, sparsely but comfortably furnished with a bed, a table and a chair for Aros. All very sturdy, and bolted to the floor, she noticed. Aros himself sat on the bed’s edge, gazing at her, wearing a clean cream-colored shift of raw silk, his hair tied back with two very short white ribbons. The attire gave him an air of innocence that Arian found both disturbing and somehow heartbreaking.

Ennias had moved to stand off in one corner of the ‘reception bay,’ as Arian now thought of it, an alcove on their side of the bars with two chairs
not
bolted to the floor. She took one of them and sat, wondering how to start; what would happen when she spoke. … Who she would find, now, behind that oddly innocent gaze.

“They tell me you’re made queen,” Aros drawled. “Congratulations, sister. No more need to hide behind some man.”

Well. Still himself, clearly. Or the self he had become somehow. “They have no queens in Alizar, Aros. We’ve been through all that, I think. Any number of times.” As for
no more hiding behind some man
, she knew better than to take the bait, however hurtful.

The silence resettled as they gazed at one another. He certainly showed no evidence of remorse. That hurt her, even now, but also freed her to do or say whatever she had cause to. No point in niceties, or delay. “I wish to understand a great many things, brother. To understand
you
better.” He just continued looking at her. Quizzically. “May I ask some … difficult questions?”

“You’re the queen now,” he said, deadpan. “What power have I to stop you?”

She took a breath, cultivating calm. “All right. To begin with, then, I wish to know, simply and plainly, whether it was your idea, or the Census Taker’s, to overthrow Viktor’s government?” This had been the fundamental question burning inside her almost since she’d realized that her own brother had been part of the conspiracy. Just as Viktor had so often warned her, and she had never for a second believed possible. Had Aros really been that villainous, or had her feckless brother just been used? It might not matter to the courts, or to the state, but it made all the difference in the world to her.

“Really?” Aros asked. “That’s your question?” He seemed astonished, as if she’d asked why beans were green. “It was no one’s idea at all. I would think that should be obvious by now.”

“What … do you mean? Are you trying to deny there was a plot to —”

“Arian, it was over in
a day
! Have you seriously not wondered why? If anyone had been
plotting
civil war here … Well, it was certainly a half-assed effort, don’t you think?”

“Then …”

“No one had planned on using force for anything. That’s why it failed.” Aros seemed surprised that Arian should prove so dull. “Escotte just panicked. That’s what really happened. When he realized he’d been exposed, he ran around threatening everybody into solving
his little problem
this way. Even me! Stupid man.” Aros turned away to gaze out the window. “And now he’s run away, I’m told. After throwing all the rest of us into the fire. How like him.”

Stupid? … Escotte? Not the Escotte she had ever known. “But, if no one had intended to overthrow the government, then what was this conspiracy about?”

“Succession.” Aros shrugged. “Someone’s surely told you that by now. It was all supposed to have been politics. Nothing more.” He turned back to look at her. “Are these questions ever going to get interesting? Because, as you can see, I am a very busy man. A queen should be equipped to figure out such simple things without her
younger brother’s
help.”

Yes, she had been told by Hivat that Aros had imagined himself next in line for the Factor’s seat, if Konrad died. “But why would Escotte have been involved in such maneuvers at all?” she asked. “He was in power already. Arguably more powerful than Viktor himself, given the state things had fallen into here.”

“He would not have been for long. Not once your son died. As he seemed so certain to — before this god arrived to save him. We’d all have been quite quickly set aside then, wouldn’t we? Escotte included. Why wait around for an unpopular Factor without an heir to die, when some other house, with a future, could just march right in and get the nation sailing in the right direction again? That’s how Escotte saw things, anyway. That’s why he agreed to support my bid for the throne, after Konrad died. I promised to keep him on.”

“We don’t
have
a throne here,” Arian said severely. “This is not a continental court, Aros. Not since Alizar won their independence — more than a century ago! Your stubborn failure to accept that has cost … everybody everything.”

“It’s as good as any continental court, whatever they may wish to call it here. The rules are all the same. The rules that matter anyway. Escotte knew that, and so do you,
my lady
.” Aros drew a breath, and sighed, his sullen frown becoming sad instead. “I’d have kept you and Viktor on as well. I would have needed you. I’m not an idiot, whatever you believe. And we
are
family, after all. I never wanted anybody dead. You have to know that.”

“Except my son,” she said coldly. “Who arranged to have him poisoned? Was it you?”

“
I asked nothing of the kind!
” he shouted suddenly, rising to his feet. “I never told those idiotic priests to …” He’d begun to tremble. “I just … I told them they need not … prolong his
suffering
. That was all I ever said!”

“Was this before or after he had started to recover?” Arian was trembling now as well. “You’re his
uncle
! He trusted you.
I trusted you!
I
defended
you to Viktor! Time and time again!”

“
I didn’t do it!
” he all but shrieked, breathing like a bellows now. “
He was dying anyway! Slowly! Terribly!
Were you not there? Did you not see?” He sank back onto the bed, his face fallen, his gaze turned inward. “I love my nephew. I just told them not to make him suffer.”

“Politics is all conveyed in nuance, Aros,” Arian snapped. “You know that at least as well as I do — with all your continental airs and ambitions. Did you really think, even for a moment, that those priests would not understand what was meant between the lines? What was
wanted
? By the Factor’s self-proposed
successor
? Did you imagine they wouldn’t think about how best to curry favor with their potential future ruler?” She wished there were no bars between them. It was not
her
those bars protected at that moment. “I do not think so,
brother
.”

“I am not a murderer,” he moaned, clutching at his head again, his inward gaze still fastened on the floor. “I am not. … I am not. I am —”

“How could you have done this?” Arian demanded. “To
me
, much less to Konrad? You were so sweet once. Timid even. Who taught you to be such a snake? When did this happen?”

He looked up at her, his eyes almost as soulful, suddenly, as Konrad’s. “You do not know what it is like to be
surrounded
… and
ignored
… by people who all
matter
.

“Father, always off advising kings and councilmen. Alexandros, with his aspirations to the House of Guilds, if not the royal council of advisors; Father’s pride and joy. You, the gem of Copper Downs, constantly courted by Factors and princes. And me … a little afterthought. The last-minute by-blow of some final flare of lust before Mother died. Trotting about that giant house all but unnoticed by anyone — except when I was in the way. Held in abeyance by the army of governesses and tutors our father hired to
suppress
me while he tended to
important
tasks, like grooming you and Alexandros to become the ones who
mattered
.”