The Still

Chapter 3

My borrowed mount was wheezing by the time we took sight of the outer wall, and it was all I could do not to leap from the saddle and lead him on foot. I missed Ebon, left in our haste at the keep. To my right, Rustin paced his gelding. The captain of Llewelyn’s guard led the way. The rest of the troop straggled behind.

The winding hill of Stryx was not made for processionals.

As we neared, I studied the outer wall. Within, drums pounded a solemn beat. Trumpeters manned the ramparts, resplendent in the formal livery Mother had designed for state occasion, and which had so impressed Hriskil of the Norland that he’d had it copied in his own colors.

At the conclusion of each dirge the trumpets fell silent. For minutes, there could be heard only the thump of the kettle and the roll of the toms, until the trumpeters began again. Lanford, officer of the gate, who’d chased me in play through the orchard when I was but a sprig, commanded the hornsmen standing atop the wall.

As the horns fell silent once more I made for the low daily door, dreading that it would not open, that I’d have to dismount and knock, a supplicant in my own house.

No movement.

Rustin took a deep breath. “Make way for Rodri-”

Not the daily door, but the high portal of state swung wide in all its splendor, the bolt-studded iron straps creaking shrill.

I caught my breath. At the head of a gathering in the courtyard stood Uncle Mar, Duke of Stryx, in full dress and cloak, attended by the stout Lady of Soushire, Lord Groenfil, and their retinues. They’d journeyed here for a council meet that Mother would never hold. Now they’d stay for a funeral.

We passed through the portal, and I realized for the first time how thick was our outer wall at its base. I muttered to Rustin, “Were they waiting for us all the while?”

“No, you blockhead, the guards alerted them when we neared. We’ve been visible for ten furlongs.” Rust snorted. “Do you know nothing of ceremonies?”

Mother had enjoyed the planning of them, but she brushed aside my idle curiosity and sent me out to play. No, I knew not what I should. I had better learn, for Uncle Mar’s arrangements had the desired effect, and my knees trembled against my stallion’s flanks.

A groom darted forward, cupped his bridle. I waited, unsure whether I was expected to dismount.

“Rodrigo of Caledon.” Uncle Mar stepped forward, his cloak flowing. A tall man, broad-chested, with a neatly cropped gray-streaked beard, he dominated the courtyard. “I bear tidings of sorrow. Thy mother the Queen has passed from life. All here, nobles and men, mourn with thee.” His hand closed around the hem of his cloak, and he gave it a wrench. The material tore and hung loose.

A moment passed. Lady Soushire shifted in vexation before I realized they awaited a reply. I glanced at Rustin, but found no aid. “Thank you.” It seemed inadequate for the occasion. “I-We thank thee, my lord, and all those who grieve with us.” I tugged furiously at my jerkin, but it wouldn’t rip. Blushing, I gave it up. “We will don mourning clothes in our chamber. Elena Queen was a good lady, and true. She will be missed.”

“Aye, that and more.” In three measured strides Margenthar was at my side, extending his hand. “I’ll escort you.”

I swung down nimbly. “I know the way, Uncle.” Could he forget I lived in this castle, as did he?

“Protocol,” he muttered under his breath. “Behave yourself.” Louder, “Those kinsmen who would see the body of Elena may step forth.”

My words came fast on his, and equally loud. “Yes, as soon as I have my time to bid her farewell. Gather the kinsmen, that they may follow my visit.”

His arm twined with mine as we walked at stately pace toward the entry of the donjon. Softly, “I’ve made the arrangements, and you’re not to befoul them. Open viewing is part of the ritual.” His fingers dug into my forearm.

We proceeded past the banister down which I’d so recently slid. Would I ever be free to act the child again in Castle Stryx? I looked for Rustin, but he was caught somewhere behind the nobles, in the long slow procession.

At the entry to the hall wherein lay Mother’s chambers I whirled to face the stairs. “Elena Queen is dead,” I sang out. Larissa of Soushire looked startled; Uncle Mar glided purposefully toward the open door.

“Now do we, Rodrigo King and heir, commune with her remains-”

“King?” A snarl, half whisper, that only I heard. Uncle Mar’s eyes blazed. “You overstep yourself. The Council of State hasn’t yet-”

“-in the ancient and secret rite of our House. We shall be alone with her for that purpose.”

He hissed, “Secret rite? What nonsense is this?”

I slipped between him and the door, gripped the brass handle with sweaty hand. I flashed a tight smile full of malice, as I murmured, “We’re in public, Uncle.” I clapped my hands. “Where is my liegeman? Rustin, come forth!”

A muttered oath, as Rust thrust his way through the astonished ranks. “Here, my lord.”

“Out of the way, boy.” Uncle Mar reached for the door.

I stepped back, barring Uncle’s way, scowled at Rustin. “Your place was at our side. Heed what you were told, worthless vassal!”

While Uncle Mar gaped I slipped through the doorway, hauled Rustin after. I swung the door closed, blotting out the staring faces, Mar’s rage, the nobles and their minions. I slid tight the bar.

Rust shook his head. “Rodrigo! Even Father never spoke to me so, before nobility.” Something in my face stilled his jest. “Oh, my liege!” He caught my head in the crook of his arm, pressed me tight. “Don’t cry, Roddy. I can’t abide it.”

I wiped my eyes. “I was scared witless.”

“Mar couldn’t tell. Nor I. All we saw was that you defied him in front of them all. And then to dress down a noble, in full view of the court. No man would dare provoke an inevitable duel, save the King.”

I tugged him along the corridor toward Mother’s chamber. “You’re not angry, then?”

“Mortified.” He tried to glower, but his approval broke through like a sunbeam in a scattering storm. “Unless you’re acknowledged King. What shame could there then be, in accepting rebuke from the King himself?”

“Then I must be proclaimed.”

At Mother’s chamber, from habit, I knocked.

Within, half a dozen of Mother’s ladies clustered about the bed. Nurse Hester, her acid voice for once stilled, her eyes bleak, trudged wearily to her plank table.

Lady Rowena of Halle bowed deep, the formal bow of state. “I’m so sorry, Rodrigo.” I thanked her, and shooed the ladies from the chamber as graciously as I could. Only Hester refused to budge.

As they departed, fluttering, a small form shot across the room, buried itself wailing in my arms. I staggered from the force of his assault. “Easy, Elryc.”

“Mother’s gone!”

“Be a man.” I tried to pry loose his fingers. “Don’t disgrace yourself.”

Rustin opened his mouth to speak, decided on silence. Before he turned away, I saw his reproach.

I clawed at Elryc’s fingers that locked round my waist stifling my breath. I shifted the boy to a safer position, cuddled his head under mine. How could I forget he was but eleven? “I’m sorry.” Awkwardly, unused to giving kindness, I patted his head. “Cry, Elryc. As much as you have need.”

I thought he would never stop. Even when his breath slowed, his head remained buried on my breast, as if joined to my flesh in one of those occasional caprices of nature.

I made my way to the bed.

They had done washing the corpse, and had Mother laid out in white. Her form was wasted, but seemed more at peace than ere I’d known. She was one with Lord of Nature, and the peace was fitting.

“Let go, Elryc.” I tried unsuccessfully to lower myself on the edge of the bed. I worked to loosen his grip, knowing it was unfitting to fling him to the floor, as I would on another day. “Sit on that footstool. I won’t leave you. Here, take my hand.” I looked to Nurse Hester. “When did she die, and how?”

“My lady slept the night and did not wake. I thought to bring her the sweet Francan cheese that she so liked. So I left her a few moments. When I’d returned, she’d slid into the deep sleep from which few return, while her foolish ladies babbled among themselves. It was then we called you.”

I looked at the Queen’s still form, and swallowed. “Leave us, Hester. I would be alone with my mother.”

The old woman fixed me with a disapproving eye. “What concerns have you with my lady’s remains, eh? It isn’t fitting-”

I jumped to my feet, almost knocking Elryc from his perch. My authority wavered; it was barely six months since Hester herself had hauled me by an ear to the door and expelled me from Mother’s chambers, fuming at some impudence in my tone.

“I must be alone. Can’t you understand?” No answer. I hissed, “Get out, else I’ll fling you from the window!”

Her eyes widened; she studied my face. Then, with a look of contempt, she made as if to spit on the floor, went instead to Mother, kissed her softly on the brow. With dignity she hobbled to the door.

“You too, Rust. Wait outside.” I snapped my fingers. “Go, Elryc.”

“No.” My brother folded his arms. “I stay.” He caught at a sob. “She was my mother too!” A determined look settled on his features.

“Very well.” I closed my eyes, my melancholy broken only by Elryc’s sniffles. “Shut up, brother, or I’ll-I’ll warm your rump!”

“You haven’t the right.”

“We’re orphans. Someone has to look after you. If not me, then who? Uncle Mar?”

“At least he doesn’t throw stones at me.” Elryc’s sulky expression wavered as I crossed back to the bed. “Why’d you chase them away?”

“I don’t know. So I could get to know her.” It made no sense, even to me. I knelt, took Mother’s hand. To my shock, it was cold. “Madam, I’m-” My voice seized; I could but kneel, stroke the lifeless fingers, knead the rings that once I’d kissed. I stifled a sound.

A small palm, on my shoulder; from it, a gentle squeeze. A sniffle. Then, to my infinite astonishment, a shy kiss, on the top of my head. Unable to speak, I buried my face in the bedclothes, cuddling the cold hand that responded not.

In the mournful distance, Elryc wept.

When I felt able, I got to my feet, gave Elryc a gruff embrace, pushed him away. “We’re in for it.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not crowned, and the best we can hope for is a regency.”

“The best?”

“Others covet the throne. Perhaps even you.” I threw him a crooked smile.

“Yes, me.” He sniffled, took a deep breath. “I’ve thought of it, Roddy. I’d make a good king. I’d set aside all the boring ceremonies and rituals, and spend our gold where it would serve better.” He rested his head on my arm. “But not by killing you. I don’t want a crown that badly.”

I shook him off. “Hold your tongue, simpleton. Never let it be known what you want. What if someone hears, and puts me aside, because you’re younger and more tractable?”

As was his habit, Elryc looked wise beyond his years. “More likely they’ll kill us both, and raise Pytor to do what he’s told. His mind isn’t yet made.” He peered out the window, at the trumpeters below. “I don’t want to die, Roddy. Protect me.”

“I can’t protect myself.” I sat again at the silent bed. “Mother, what do we do?”

No reply.

“Will the Power be mine, if I am King under a regent?”

The silent form waited for eternity.

I blurted, “If only I’d listened!” Always I’d been prone to interrupt her, impatient at the careful organization of her thoughts. “Forgive me, Madam.” I knelt, caressed once more the cold hand.

“Does Uncle Mar have the Power?” For a moment I imagined Elryc’s high voice was Mother’s.

“No, only a King can-” My eyes darted. “The Chalice and Receptor. Where did she keep them?” I ran past the trunk room into Mother’s dressing chamber, threw open the wardrobe, pushed aside the hanging clothes. Nothing. Once they’d been in the vault, but I recalled the day I’d been-what-thirteen? Mother had demonstrated the rite that summoned the Still, and like a foolish boy I’d been disappointed that no candles had dimmed, no thunder crashed, no velvet curtains swayed. Yet it couldn’t have been otherwise; Mother’s Power had long been extinguished.

That day, the Vessels had been set on the marble table. Mother took my hand and placed it in the proper place. Excited, still a child, I’d had no curiosity as to where the emerald-studded Receptor had been stored. I’d seen no clue, and had not asked.

“In a chest?” Elryc sounded hopeful.

I cursed; Mother had at least a dozen trunks and a vast collection of garments. The Vessels could be anywhere. I flung open the first, pawed among carefully folded clothing, slammed down the lid. “Check that one with the brass straps.” I crossed to the door, undid the bar, pulled him in. “Rustin! Help us find the Receptor and Chalice.” I waved to the trunk room.

“This is her chamber? I’ve never been admitted before.” When visiting the castle Rustin had the run of my quarters, and we roamed the ramparts without hindrance. But though Mother might receive family or intimates in her rooms, no others ever saw them, even my companions.

He opened a trunk, blushed at the undergarments within, resolutely plunged his hands to the bottom. “Not here.” He moved to another. “Where’d you see them last?”

“There.” I pointed to the pleasant salon under the high windows.

We searched on. A soft knock at the door, which we ignored. After a few moments, another, more insistent.

With a curse for which Mother would have boxed my ears, I flung open the door. Rowena and Hester not far behind. “Roddy, you left Duke Margenthar and the nobles at the stairs! He demands I open the outer door, and really there’s no reason I shouldn’t.”

“The reason,” spat Hester, “stands in front of you.”

I snarled. “Five minutes, tell him.”

“But you can’t-”

The old woman closed in on Rowena, murder in her eyes. I blurted, “Hester, we need you inside. Please.”

To the Nurse, mother took precedence over vengeance. She hobbled in and I slammed the door.

“Where’s Mother’s Power?”

She gaped. “In her soul, her essence. It’s-”

“The Receptor!”

She peered past me to the trunk room. “What do you louts meddle with, that’s none of your-her clothes? Elryc! Shut that lid or I’ll take a stick to you!” My brother leaped from the trunk. Hester brushed me aside, darted to the wardrobe, almost stumbling in her haste. “Have you no respect, no decency? Are you Llewelyn’s boy?” She snatched Rustin’s ear, led him yelping to the wall. “Your filthy hands touched my lady’s garments?” A cuff. “Out!” She herded him to the door.

Rustin’s eyes fastened on me in silent plea; it roused me from stupor. I said, “Hester, he’s helping-”

“Oaf!” The old woman stamped her foot. “What would Lady Elena think of these carryings on? Were she alive, she’d-” Again she stamped her foot, but no words came. Eyes brimming, she threw her hands to her face. Rustin rubbed furiously at his ear.

I motioned to Rustin, to Elryc. “In the salon, and shut the door.” They rushed out to escape her rage.

My voice was hesitant. “Please, Nurse …”

Her hands came down. “Desecrator!” She slapped my face.

I chopped off my words, fought the humiliation and the sting. Then, quietly, “Thinkest that thou loved her more than I?”

Her finger stabbed at the garments strewn about by our negligence. “Is that love, or greed? Oh, you great coarse boy!”

“If you loved Mother, I beg you, help me. For Elryc’s sake and mine. We must have the Vessels.”

Her eyes studied my face a long while. Then she nodded, and spoke in my ear.

After a few moments I opened the door to the salon. “It’s well now. Hester says Mother sent the Vessels back to the vault.”

Elryc looked to Hester. She nodded. “Guarded night and day, by two men of my lady’s own choosing.”

Again, the demanding knock, at the door. I ignored it. “Will they open the vault for me?”

Hester shook her head. “Even if they had the will, they could not. The vault’s locked and wants two keys, held separately by your mother and the Chamberlain.”

That didn’t sound like the Queen I knew. “She wouldn’t put possessions so valuable beyond her own reach. What if the Chamberlain-”

“Don’t be a fool. Willem of Alcazar was raised in the castle. Your mother and he played together until they grew to the age where it was not seemly. He was her closest friend, and would no more betray her than-than would I!”

The knock, ever louder.

“We’ll have to let them in.” I ran to the bed. “Where’s the key to the vault?”

“She kept it always on a golden chain around her neck.”

I reached out, pulled back my hand as if burned. I couldn’t explore my mother’s body as if it were some dead bird I’d found in the field. “Could you-would …” I gritted my teeth. This was my responsibility. Forcing down bile, I forced my hand to her neck, felt inside her garment.

“Don’t waste your time.” The Nurse scowled. “She’s already been washed and laid out. Think you they’d have left it on her?”

“Where is it?”

“In Margenthar’s hands, if Rowena had her way.”

We were lost. Dully, I sank upon the bed.

“But she did not.” Hester fished within the hem of her garment. Her wrinkled hand came forth, closed. Her eyes bore into mine. Then, in an instant, her fingers opened, bright metal flashed.

“YOU? You had it, all along?”

“Aye.” She tossed the chain, and I snatched it from the air. “I knew not whom those ladies serve, and took it when their eyes were elsewhere.”

“To do what with?”

“Ere day’s end, to give to you, or Margenthar. I’d not made up my mind. You’re not much, but you’re better than he.”

I thrust the chain in my shirt, responded with the curtness she’d shown. “I thank thee. Rust, we’ll have somehow to get the other key. Let them in, and let’s try to slip out in the rush.”

Two doors to unlock; the inner, and the main door at the end of the corridor, by the stairs. I opened the inner door, slipped past the diminished flock of ladies, got no more than halfway along the corridor before Duke Margenthar and his entourage swept down on me. Had looks the power to kill, I were extinct.

“Let the kinsmen come forth!” My tones were regal, but this time Uncle Mar would have none of it. I scuttled aside before he ran me down.

“We’ll settle this later, boy!”

Toward the rear of the throng came Lady Rowena, her face triumphant.

I said, “You couldn’t wait five minutes?”

“You’d have asked five more, and ten beyond that.” She swept past. Then, over her shoulder, “He who would be King need show a king’s grace! Like your uncle!”

When the last of the household had passed I waited, until Rustin peered out, found me. He trotted down the corridor, Elryc in tow. “Now what?”

“We visit Willem.” I loped down the great stairs, Elryc clutching my hand with unfamiliar intimacy. Below, servants and hirelings had gathered, muttering among themselves and staring toward the Queen’s chambers.

I clapped sharply. “Have you no business? Is dinner ready, are the week’s chores done? Get about your work!”

Sullen murmurs. Grudgingly they made way, but they did not disperse. By the time we three had circled the stairs to the Chamberlain’s entry, they’d resumed their uneasy places at the staircase.

Rustin raised an eyebrow. “You’ll just walk in and ask? ‘Willem, may I have Mother’s key?’”

“Well, I … um.” I hadn’t thought that far. “We’ll follow the quarry where it runs.”

At the Chamberlain’s door, I debated whether to walk in as if I were master of the place, decided I’d best knock.

A clerk opened. “Yes? Oh, Rodrigo. I’ll tell him you’re here.” He disappeared into an inner chamber, leaving me frowning through a side doorway at a room full of clerks on high stools, bent over their papers and accounts.

I paced the anteroom, fists knotted, feeling the boy who’d so often come to collect his stipend, preparing to endure the admonitions and censure that were part of its dispense.

Elryc, also accustomed to the place, took a chair meekly, hands folded in his lap.

Rustin studied the wall hangings. “We have a tapestry much like that at home. Do you recall?”

I nodded, having not the slightest idea what he was talking about. “I want you with me, when we confront him.”

“As you wish.” He took a book from a shelf, examined the gold-leafed adornment in the leaves. “Love Poems of Milibar?” A sly grin flitted across his features. “Ever read them? They’d make a gelding rise-”

“Rodrigo.” The stocky Chamberlain was framed in the doorway. In his velvet-trimmed robes he looked prepared for a meeting of state. “A terrible day. Come in.”

I passed through the doorway, Rustin at my heels. We settled ourselves in the stiff high-backed chairs set around Willem’s ornate desk.

He studied Rust. “I recognize you. You’re … the envoy’s son, from Eiber?”

Rustin flushed. “No, Sir Willem. My father is Llewelyn.”

The man’s eyes rose. “Time races. Forgive me; the last time we spoke, you were so high.” He patted the desk, and dismissed Rustin from his mind. “I’m sorry, Rodrigo. She was a wonderful soul, and I’ll miss her more than you can know.” His eyes teared. Perhaps he even meant it. I waited, while his commiseration played out. “So, Prince Rodrigo, how may I be of service?”

I licked my lips, risked a glance to Rustin. He sat straight, eyes on the Chamberlain. “I want to enter the vault.”

His jaw dropped, then a chuckle. “So do many folk. Whatever for?”

I took the bit between my teeth. “To see if the Vessels are in their place.”

“Do you think she kept them there?”

“Did she not?”

“That’s not mine to disclose, Prince Rodrigo. If the Queen wanted you to know, surely she’d have told you.”

“They’ll be mine to wield!”

He nodded. “When you are King, yes. Soon, I hope.”

“I’m King now.” I wished I didn’t sound petulant. “Mother didn’t renounce me, and now she’s dead. I am King, crowned or not. I want to open our vault.”

“But why come to me?”

Rustin intervened. “How else would one gain entry, Sir Willem?”

The Chamberlain looked astonished. “You think the Queen let clerks such as myself wander freely among her treasures? I have no access.”

“You don’t?” Could Hester have made up the whole story, to divert me? Did she gloat over the Vessels, even now?

“No one entered the vault, save in your mother’s presence. She herself carried a key.”

I said, “And you-”

“Oh, Lord of Nature and his minions!” Rustin jumped to his feet. “The fitting! Roddy, we’re late. Did you forget your appointment for the mourning robes? Hurry; if the earls get fitted first you’ll have to wear that ridiculous sable that you’ve outgrown. Do you want to look a country lout?”

“What nonsense-”

“Make notes, like I do, and you won’t forget. When will you learn!” He hustled me protesting from my chair. “I’m sorry, Sir Willem, may we see you after the fitting?”

“It’s going to be a frightful day, youngsire. The funeral wreaths, the cortege to organize-”

“But you’ll find a moment for us, won’t you? Roddy, hurry!” He propelled me to the antechamber. Elryc gaped at our quick retreat, but followed.

Dumbstruck, I let Rustin drag me clear of the Chamberlain’s wing before I dug in my heels. “Let go, you lunatic! Have demons taken you? I was about to ask-”

His hand shot across my mouth. I swatted it away. “How dare you!”

A courtier strode past, on his way to see the Chamberlain. Rustin leered. “Outside, then, if you want to see who’s the stronger!”

Elryc rammed him with a bony shoulder. “Leave Roddy alone!”

Rust shoved me into the wall, aimed a kick at Elryc, dashed for the door. Cursing like one possessed, I gave chase.

Rustin charged up the rampart steps two at a time, just ahead of my grasp. He veered for the high towers manned only in time of war. I flew after, Elryc bringing up the rear. At the watchtower Rust made his mistake; he dashed up the stairs that had no exit, and I knew I had him. Grimly, I climbed the three flights. At the landing I shoved aside an empty barrel, swung open the door to the open deck, girded myself for the battle to come.

I rushed out into sunlight. Panting, Rust leaned against the battlement. “We should be safe here.”

“Betrayer! False vassal!”

“What? Didn’t you realize I was-”

I circled. “Fight, you bastard son of a serf!”

He rolled his eyes. “For the love of … you dimwit, I had to get you alone before you ruined everything. Elryc, make him understand.”

My brother stepped between us. “Listen.”

I raised my fist to strike him down.

Elryc’s eyes fastened on mine, unafraid. “Roddy, who’ll protect me, once you’re dead?”

My hand stayed.

“Hear him out. You can always fight after.” Elryc sat against the parapet, drew up his knees.

Rustin examined me with wonder. “How would you be King, with such a temper?”

“Have your say!”

“We went to Willem to get his key. Would he have given it?”

“How would I know? I had no chance to ask before-”

“Think, dunce!”

His scorn penetrated my fury. “Willem said Mother had her key, and allowed no one access without her presence. So?”

“He was helpful?”

“He told truth in what-oh!”

“What, Roddy?” Elryc.

“Willem didn’t admit he had a key. He was waiting to see if I knew.”

“Brilliant.” Rustin’s tone dripped irony.

I asked, “So why not tell him?”

“Whose man is he?”

“Mother’s. Now she’s gone-” My shoulders slumped. Wearily, I sat alongside Elryc. “If he denied he had the key, I’d be powerless to prove it.”

Elryc asked, “Why should he lie?”

“He need not. Say he admits he has a key. ‘But my lady the Queen had the other key, and without it, mine is useless.’ Then I must admit I have Mother’s.”

“And?” Rustin.

“And if he’s Uncle Mar’s man, they’ll have me, and both keys, and the Vessels.” My voice turned bitter. “Shall we put you on the throne, Rust? You have a head for these matters.”

He dropped to one knee. “You are my liege lord, and I will have no other King while you live.”

I had to look away. “Forgive me.”

“Never mind that. What now?”

We crouched together like three boys scheming to evade their tutor. Rust and Elryc waited for my lead.

I pulled the cast brass key from my shirt, examined it. “Should I give this to you, for safekeeping?”

Elryc asked, “Who’d search you, Roddy? The Chamberlain? Only Mother could order that. If he tries, refuse.”

I snorted. “Brother, you’re a babe in arms.” He colored. “The crown’s at stake; Uncle Mar wouldn’t hesitate to lay a hand on me. He never has. Remember last year when he caught us at his hawks?” My uncle had boxed my ears, and sent me wailing on my way with a contemptuous kick in the rear.

I took the key from round my neck, and felt unclothed. Reluctantly, I extended it to Rust, pulled back my hand. What if he sold the key and my kingdom to Margenthar? Rustin’s moods were legendary.

“Keep it.” His tone was curt, as if he’d read my mind.

“A day ago you knocked me from my horse, shoved my face in the mud. Now I’m to rely on your loyalty?”

Rustin’s voice was thin. “Is there anything else you want of me this day?”

I drew a breath. “I’m going to see the Chamberlain.”

Elryc asked, “Isn’t all you said about Willem still true?”

“Of course. But I’ll know to guard my speech. And I won’t carry the key.” I hesitated again. Without faith in Rust, life seemed too bleak. I stood, opened my hand, tucked Mother’s golden chain into Rustin’s brown tunic. “Keep it safe, my vassal.”

“You’re sure?”

“I have to trust someone. Besides, they’d never imagine you carried it.”

“Your grace inspires me.” His tone was acid.

I sighed. I might as well accommodate myself to Rustin’s moods. As much sense to complain as about the weather.