The Crimson Crown. Cinda Williams Chima

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СКАЧАТЬ isn’t it? I wish I knew.” Han met her gaze directly, as if awaiting whatever judgment she meant to impose. She closed her eyes, but his image was imprinted on her eyelids—his golden hair, burnished by lamplight, the faint zigzag scar over his cheekbone, his predator’s grace under the mucky clothes.

      Raisa reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Do you have time to talk now?”

      “Now?” He looked down at himself, brushing at his clothing as if embarrassed. “Are you sure? I’m sorry. I just … I’m filthy.”

      “I know you’re tired,” Raisa said. “But I’ve been gone, and you’ve been unavailable. I need to talk to you before the next meeting of the Wizard Council, and I don’t even know when that is.”

      “Can I clean up a little first?” he asked, scrubbing vigorously at his chin with the heel of his hand.

      “All right,” she said. “But make it quick. I’m tired, too.”

      Five minutes later, he knocked softly, then pushed the door open.

      He was still barefoot, but he’d changed into a loose linen shirt and clean trousers. The cap was gone, his hair finger-combed, and he’d washed his face. He looked almost boyish in this fresh-scrubbed state.

      “Could you please erect some barricades against eavesdroppers?” Raisa said.

      Han circled the room obediently, muttering charms, sliding his hand under his snowy linen shirt to grip his amulet.

      When he had finished, Raisa motioned him to the chair opposite hers at the table. He sat, his hands resting on the table, his expression guarded and yet somehow vulnerable. Now that his hands were clean, she saw that the knuckles were skinned and scabbed over. When he noticed her staring, he thrust them under the table, too late.

      “What happened to your hands?” she blurted.

      “I got into a scrape down in the market,” Han said, grimacing. “I’m a bit out of practice.”

      “Why do you go down there?” Raisa asked. “Is that where you’re spending all your time?”

      Han shifted his gaze away. “Just trying to work out who’s hushing wizards, trying to catch somebody doing the deed. I have eyes and ears down there, but if it’s a wizard doing the killing, there’s no way my people can stand up to flash. And even if they witness something and survive, it’d be their word against the killer’s.”

      “You think it’s a wizard, then?” Raisa said. “Not a street gang?”

      “I don’t really know. But if it was a gang from Ragmarket, Cat would know by now.” He nibbled at a ragged nail. When he was exhausted, his trader face and court manners sometimes slid away. “All they take is flash—they leave the other swag behind. So it could be wizard-on-wizard killings—that’s one way to deal with the shortage of amulets.”

      And then it came to Raisa—what he was up to.

      She half rose from her chair, fear and fury edging her voice. “Admit it—you’re walking the streets all night, hoping the killer comes after you!”

      He hunched his shoulders against the verbal assault. “It’s a good plan. Eventually, I’ll get lucky.”

      “It’s a terrible plan! I forbid you to make yourself a target.”

      Han tilted his chin up, the picture of obstinacy.

      “I’m serious.” She cast about for something that would sway him. “Please. I can’t afford to lose you. You’re supposed to be my bodyguard. You should be here with me, not—not—”

      “You had something else you wanted to talk about?” The set of his jaw told her that further argument would get her nowhere.

      This conversation is not over, Raisa thought. But it is late. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to give you fair warning. Next month I will name Sergeant Dunedain as general of the Highlander Army, replacing General Klemath.”

      Han looked puzzled for a moment, and then his face cleared. “Oh. Right. I met her at one of our morning meetings. She came with Captain Byrne. So … you’re putting a bluejacket in charge of the regular army?”

      Raisa nodded. “Captain Byrne has been reviewing military finances. I have found some accounting irregularities in the area of procurement that suggests our general has been lining his own pockets for years. Plus there’s the matter of the mercenaries.”

      “Where he’s also likely to be on the daub,” Han said.

      “I don’t expect Klemath will take the news gracefully,” she went on. “Nor will the direct reports who are loyal to him, since most are from the down-realms. Captain Byrne and General Dunedain have been developing a list of candidates to replace officers who might refuse to accept this change, but that will take time. I think we can look forward to a difficult few months.”

      “Especially because Klemath was hoping to marry off one of his sons to you,” Han said.

      “Right,” Raisa said, wondering, How did you know about that? Are you somehow keeping track of my suitors? Which made her think of Marisa Pines.

      “What was that all about, anyway?” she blurted. “At Marisa Pines.”

      “What was what all about?” Han asked, furrowing his brow.

      “Your behavior. That dance.”

      Han conjured a wounded look. “Well, nobody else volunteered, and so I thought …”

      “And the note.”

      Now he looked genuinely puzzled. “What note?”

      “The note you put under my pillow at the Matriarch Lodge,” Raisa said. “Warning me away from Nightwalker.”

      “I didn’t put any note under your pillow,” Han said. He paused for a heartbeat, then added, “Though avoiding Nightwalker seems like a good idea to me.”

      “It’s a match my father favors,” Raisa said.

      “Then your father is wrong,” Han said. “Nightwalker thinks the world sprouted from his bunghole.”

      Raisa dismissed this image with some difficulty. “Then you did leave the note!”

      “I did not. It just sounds like somebody else shares my opinion.”

      “I won’t be marrying for love,” Raisa said. “I’ll have to make the best match politically if we’re going to get out of this fix.”

      “So you’ve said.” Han cocked his head back and looked down his nose at Raisa.

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

      “What?”

      “That look on your face.”

      “I’m thinking that you’re the queen of the realm. If anybody can marry for love, it ought to be you.”

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