Sapphire Crescent (32 page)

Curiously, though, the wounded man didn’t reach the girl. As he fell, she rolled backward, bringing her feet, which were still tied together, up under him. She used his momentum against him, hoisting him high and shoving as hard as she could, sending him completely past her, over her, and toward the railing.

Vambran watched the sequence as if time had slowed down somehow. Denrick, still flying forward, was headed over the railing. He was twisted awkwardly, unable to stop himself, and he flailed about desperately for something to grab hold of, anything at all that would keep him from falling to his death.

The one thing that was there, within reach, was Evester. Somehow, Vambran’s brother had managed to get to his feet and was circling with Xaphira, when Denrick went tumbling by.

The oldest son of Ladara Matrell never saw his companion coming, but Denrick managed to grab hold of his shirt. As he fell over the railing, Denrick hung on to Evester, refusing to let go, and the force of his momentum pulled Evester right over the side with him. The last thing Vambran saw of his brother was one arm, fingers extended, grasping futilely for the banister. There was a shriek of terror, and a moment later, one large thump that Vambran felt even at the top of the house.

• • •

“I knew Dregaul was beginning to slip into a maniacal notion that any business deal, no matter how questionable, whether financial or ethical, was all right,” Hetta said.

They were all gathered in the sitting room. The elderly matriarch of the Matrell family was in her favorite chair, and Ladara was beside her, as usual, though Emriana’s mother was obviously more subdued than usual. The girl couldn’t really blame her; she had lost a son and a grandson, after all.

After Denrick and Evester’s deaths, the rest of the family had been found, unharmed, locked in the cell in the basement. Marga had not handled her husband’s death well, though in the end, after some magical calming ministrations from Kovrim, she at least began to see that she and her twin children had probably been spared a lifetime of misery under a tyrant’s rule. Still, she was left in a quandary. Her own House was devastated, just as House Pharaboldi was. Her only true family seemed to be the Matrells. The three of them were resting quietly in their rooms

while the rest of the family discussed how to honor their dishonorable dead.

“But I had no idea he was teaching those same reprehensible qualities to Evester,” Hetta continued quietly, sadly. “If I had, I would have taken control back a long time ago.”

“But Grandmother,” Emriana asked, “why in the world didn’t you do that anyway?”

“Because I needed Dregaul to do something that would get him in over his head,” the woman replied. “I needed to be able to show to everyone, you included, that I was still sharp and that he was the one unfit for running the family business.”

Emriana nodded, though she didn’t see how Hetta would think that anyone wouldn’t trust her. To her, the woman seemed to have the most sensible head on her shoulders of all of them.

“That’s not the only reason you let it go on, though, is it?” Xaphira said, sitting off to one side and studying the family.

Emriana still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that her long-lost aunt had returned from her self-imposed exile. She had heard the story about the woman’s disappearance only a couple of days before, and yet there she was, in the flesh, and Emriana had a chance to, get to know a new member of her family. The thought excited her, especially after the conversation she and Hetta had had. Such a newfound mentor, coupled with the loss of Dregaul and Evester, caused the girl’s emotions to be in turmoil at the moment.

“No,” Hetta said, answering Xaphira’s question. “I also needed to see who would recognize that the House was on unstable ground and do something about it. I had to see who I could trust.”

Emriana realized that her grandmother was looking at both her and Vambran then. She cocked her head to one side, not understanding.

“If Dregaul wasn’t suitable to manage the Matrell

family affairs, then who would be?” Hetta explained. “You are, my dear,” she said, smiling at her granddaughter.

As what Hetta was saying began to dawn on her, Emriana looked over at Vambran. He seemed just as apprehensive as she felt.

“Us?” she asked quietly, uncertainly.

“Yes,” Hetta affirmed. “You and your brother did far more than I had ever imagined for the sake of the family—not the House, the family. Of course, I never envisioned having to stop Dregaul from forcing you to marry, or for us to need to be rescued from a trio ‘,of misguided fools,” she added wistfully.

Emriana felt her chest tighten, then, for she knew that Hetta grieved for her lost son and grandson.

“You two have a lot of thinking to do,” Hetta continued. “I know you’re not ready to assume control of the House yet, but it will be time, soon. I’m not going to be around forever, you know.”

That sobering thought just added to Emriana’s poignant mood. She went to her grandmother and gave the woman a long hug.

“You can’t leave us too soon,” she said in a fierce whisper. “You still have too much to teach me.”

Hetta laughed and replied, “I’m sure that whatever wisdom I fail to impart to you, Xaphira can more than make up for.”

Emriana turned and smiled at her aunt.

“I’d like that,” she said, and Xaphira smiled back. She looked over at her brother, then, and saw him still brooding. “What are you thinking about?”

Vambran sighed and said, “That everything is changing. The House, the family responsibilities…. I don’t even know how much longer I’ll remain a member of the Sapphire Crescent, with all that’s happened.”

“You still have a bright future there,” Hetta said. “Your captain was more than understanding when you abandoned your post.”

Vambran grimaced. He had received a disciplinary rebuke for his actions, a symbolic punishment and nothing more. He claimed that he was ultimately thankful for the light punishment, but Emriana could tell that he had become somewhat disillusioned with his service in the mercenary company. She wondered whether he would stay a part of it. He seemed to love it so much, and he excelled at his craft. But he was faced with becoming the head of the household, and perhaps some of the things he liked doing most would have to be set aside, for the sake of the family.

Of course, Em thought, I’m facing the same thing. Who would have thought that turning sixteen would carry so much responsibility with it?

Things had definitely changed at the Matrell estate. As Emriana looked around at her family, she wondered just how many more changes were on the horizon.

“You know,” Vambran said to Xaphira during the lull, “you still have some explaining to do to me. Why have you been following me the past few days? And what have you been doing all these years?”

“She’s been working for me,” Hetta cut in. Everyone turned to look at her, shocked. “That’s right, I’ve kept some secrets, too. The truth is, Matrell holdings are, actually ten times the size that you all think they are, thanks to Xaphira. Even after she disappeared, we kept in contact. Never mind how, just trust me that we found a way. She’s been my business partner for the past eleven years, and together, we’ve managed quite a few shrewd investments.” When everyone still gaped, the matriarch feigned indifference. “What? Did you think I was going to trust all of our assets to Dregaul? If I had, we’d be a very poor family right now.”

“And the other?” Vambran asked. “Following me?”

Emriana watched her aunt not say anything for several moments.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Xaphira said softly, “I told you last night that there was more to this than you could fathom, and there is. I’m still only beginning to put all the pieces together. But you should know that I’m almost certain you didn’t shoot Rodolpho Wianar twelve years ago.”

Emriana gaped at her aunt, then at Vambran. Her brother’s mouth hung open.

“What?” he said quietly, as though he couldn’t understand what he had just heard.

“Let me show you something,” Xaphira said.

She walked over to where her red cloak hung near the door and removed a small bundle from a pocket inside it. The bundle was long and thin and wrapped in oilcloth, and when she unrolled it, Emriana could see a pair of crossbow bolts.

“This one,” Xaphira said, holding up the first, “was in the quiver you gave me that night a dozen years ago before we parted ways. I dumped everything else into the sea once I was well out of port.”

Xaphira took up the second bolt. Emriana could see that it was darkened at the tip, stained.

“This one,” her aunt said, “was one I pulled out of my leg that night, after I ran from you.”

The woman held them up, side by side. They were identical, right down to the blue fletching.

“What?” Vambran said again. “How can that be?”

“Because someone who was shadowing me that night, following me as I ran from the watchmen, had it in his possession. He shot me with it while I was fleeing, down near the docks.”

“But, where did it come from?” Emriana asked, confused.

“It was stolen from my quiver at the Generon, before Adyan, Horial, and I ever started shooting,” Vambran said, his tone cold. “Someone used my own bolt to assassinate Rodolpho Wianar, making it look like I did it.”

“Exactly,” Xaphira said. “And that someone is the same man who has been behind the scenes, working for Grozier Talricci, Denrick Pharaboldi, and Evester. It has been that man who has tried to thwart you at every turn when you started digging into the kitchen maid’s death.”

“The thug who confronted us last night, in the alley, during the fight for Uncle Kovrim!” Vambran said, his face lighting in recognition.

“Yes. His name is Junce Roundface, and he’s a very skilled assassin.”

“You knew this, and you didn’t say anything?” Vambran asked, looking squarely at his aunt.

“We had more important things to take care of,” Xaphira replied just as firmly. “First your uncle, then your sister, were in trouble. I didn’t want you distracted with my news when you needed a clear head to save everyone else.”

Vambran nodded, understanding his aunt’s reasoning.

“After all these years, you still understand me too well,” he said, a slight smile creeping onto his face.

Emriana noticed that Xaphira smiled, too.

The woman continued, “Besides, all of my suspicions are just that, still—suspicions. I don’t have any other proof than these two bolts. And I’ve only recently managed to connect him to the shootings that night. I was following him to get some sort of additional proof of who he’s connected to, who might have been behind the attack that night.”

Hetta cut in: “And by following Junce, you began following Vambran, simply by extension.”

Xaphira smiled at her mother.

“Something like that,” she said warmly. “Once I saw that Vambran was getting involved in activities Junce was behind, I decided to keep on eye on my nephew full time, just to be nearby if he should need me.”

“But that means that whoever is behind Junce’s actions—and Grozier’s, Denrick’s, and Evester’s—was

also behind the murder of Rodolpho Wianar twelve years ago,” Emriana said, understanding at last the connection.

Her stomach was fluttering.

“Yes, it does,” Xaphira replied. “I don’t know what the connection is, but there is one there. You’re involved in it from both ends, Vambran.”

Emriana’s brother nodded and said, “It’s all connected somehow. Grand Trabbar Lavant is still looking to manipulate events to broker an alliance, I’m sure. And he’ll find other Houses willing to rally to his cause. Uncle Kovrim and I are going to have to stifle him politically, because we have no real proof that he’s behind any of this.”

“You couldn’t prove that he and Grozier Talricci were working together?” Hetta asked.

Vambran shook his head.

“No,” he answered, “we haven’t yet begun truth-reading either him or Bartimus. They’re both very good at masking their thoughts, so we’re going to have to bring in more powerful magic to break them down. And Uncle Kovrim can’t actually say that he rooted out Lavant’s involvement by going through the high priest’s personal records. Those have undoubtedly been destroyed or moved, so it would be his word against the Grand Trabbar’s and I think we all know who’s side the temple would take in that instance. So, we’re going to have to deal with this one subtly.”

“What about the four Halanthi priests who tried to waylay him yesterday?” Xaphira asked. “Can’t you make a connection between them and Lavant?”

“I wish we could, but they have all disappeared. The temple is in turmoil over all this, and of course, the Grand Trabbar is screaming longest and loudest for justice on Uncle Kovrim’s behalf.”

“Of course,” Xaphira replied.

Emriana’s brother didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, as the silence grew uncomfortably long,

the girl asked shyly, “How did you get into and out of the warehouse without me seeing you?”

Xaphira laughed and said, “You’re going to be quite the little sneak when you get some more seasoning. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve learned a few tricks that you don’t know about yet.”

“And aren’t going to learn about any time soon,” Ladara said firmly, stirring from her spot beside Hetta. “You are only sixteen, and you have no business sneaking out like that all the time. Do you understand me?”

Emriana opened her mouth to protest, but then she caught a look from her grandmother out of the corner of her eye and she repressed a smile.

“Yes, Mother. I won’t do it anymore.”

To herself, Emriana thought, As far as you know. She stole a glance at Aunt Xaphira, who was hiding a smile of her own.

The girl’s thoughts were interrupted as a figure appeared in the sitting room doorway. It was Uncle Kovrim, ushered in by one of the servants.

“Kovrim, welcome,” Hetta said, smiling and rising to greet their guest.

The priest wore a dark frown as he said, “I wish my visit were for a happier purpose, but I’ve got unfortunate news.”

Vambran sat forward in his chair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Grozier Talricci and Bartimus the wizard escaped custody during the night. They were helped by someone on the outside, someone very good at getting in and out of the watch headquarters where they were being held.”