Echo in Emerald Read online

  Good. Disabled but not dead. Just the way I liked to leave my opponents.

  “Time for us to leave,” I said, getting to my feet with a great deal of splashing.

  Dezmen and his echoes rose from the water more gracefully, all of them staring at me. “Who are you?” Dezmen demanded.

  “Friend of Chessie’s,” I said in a low, raspy voice. “I’m Scar.” I gestured over my shoulder, where the other echo hung back a cautious distance away. “That’s Red.”

  He glanced between us. His clothes were streaming with water, and his curls were plastered to his head. He should have looked ridiculous, but even in this situation he retained a sort of aristocratic poise. “And you’ve both been here this whole time?”

  “Chessie doesn’t like to take chances with her safety,” I said. “We usually follow her around when she’s doing something dangerous.”

  “Then my thanks to all of you.”

  Now that the adrenaline of the fight was wearing off, I was starting to feel seriously cold through my soaked clothes. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go find her and get out of here.”

  We clambered out of the pool, spared one last look for Trout but decided he would be able to help himself out, and then took off in the direction Chessie had gone. Dezmen seemed interested in learning more about Scar, but I didn’t want him getting too comfortable with anyone but Chessie, so when he looked like he was going to ask me a question, I pointed a little farther down the path. When he glanced that way, I flung myself back into Chessie’s body, which was already headed toward us on a run. I let Scar and Red fall a little behind Dezmen’s echoes as Chessie came close enough to speak.

  “I’m sorry! One of the soldiers came walking through and started asking me questions and I couldn’t just leave him.” I let my eyes take in the sight of his wet clothing before I glanced at his echoes and Scar, who were just as wet. “But maybe I should have. He’d have followed me and then we both could have helped you. What happened?”

  Dezmen gestured in the direction from which Chessie had just come. “I think we’d better keep moving, because if there’s a second man waiting for us outside the entrance, he might start wondering why his companion is taking so long to dispose of me. You said there’s a back way out?”

  I nodded, and turned toward the path that led to the hidden door. Dezmen fell into step beside me, followed by his echoes, followed by mine. Practically a parade. I had to swallow a somewhat hysterical giggle. “This way. So? He tried to drown you, I take it?”

  “Pretty smart, I thought. Would have taken much less effort than beating me to death. And when the guards found me, they might have thought I’d just fallen into the water.”

  “Less suspicious than drawing a knife across your throat,” I agreed.

  Dezmen pointed over his shoulder. “Your friend Scar saved my life.”

  I turned to look behind me and gave a thumbs-up to my echoes. “He’s a good man in a fight. Red’s not bad, either. She’s better with a knife than a punch, though.” Oddly, that was really true.

  “You should have told me they were with you.”

  I shrugged. “I never give away information unless I have to. Force of habit.”

  “Well, I’m glad he was there.” Dezmen glanced over at me. He was taller than I was but only by a few inches, which I liked much better than the way Jackal towered over me. “Maybe I don’t have to meet this Jackal character after all. I can hire you to be my bodyguard. You and your friends.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, we’re not nearly as effective as some of the people Jackal would recommend.”

  “Think about it anyway.”

  I didn’t answer him because we’d arrived at the back wall of the garden and my eyes were tracing the path from the sundial to the secret exit. “This way,” I said, plunging off the path into the sea of ivy. Dezmen followed, the four echoes right behind him. The hidden door opened even more easily this time, and we were all through in moments. Dezmen helped me wrangle it back in place.

  “Do you want to go get a look at your second assailant, just so you’ll know him if you see him again, or are you ready to be done with this adventure?” I asked as we began working our way around the outer perimeter.

  “Since the whole point of sneaking out the back way was to avoid him, I think we should just head home,” he said. “I hope that doesn’t make you think I’m a coward.”

  “It makes me think you have some sense in your noble head,” I said, amused. I was actually starting to like him, though I couldn’t have said why. Maybe because he didn’t seem to mind being defended by a woman. Maybe because, even though he was rather hopeless in a fight, he didn’t just sit back and let others take care of him; when he had the opening, he threw his own punch. Maybe because I liked his natural air of curiosity. It was different from Jackal’s obsessive quest to know everything. Dezmen seemed intrigued by everything he encountered in the world around him and interested in learning more.

  It would make him a good friend, I thought, unless you were someone with secrets.

  And, really. Who didn’t have secrets?

  He laughed as he navigated his way around a protruding tree root. “Sensible is a word that has often been applied to me,” he answered. “Though I admit to a little recklessness now and then—when the situation calls for it—I try to strike a balance between being too cautious and being too cocky.”

  “I try to strike a balance between keeping myself fed and ending up dead,” I retorted. “I suppose it’s the same thing.”

  He gave me quick sideways glance. Probably my imagination that I could feel the eyes of both his echoes also turning my way. “It doesn’t sound like the same thing at all,” he said seriously.

  By now, we were clear of the landscaping that surrounded the gardens and back on a city street, a couple of blocks from the formal entrance. I wondered how quickly Trout’s buddy would go looking for him, and what he would do when he realized Dezmen had slipped the net. Would he come looking for his quarry? It seemed prudent to move to another part of the city as quickly as possible.

  “Well, in the interests of not ending up dead, we should probably get out of here,” I said. “Do you know where you are, or do you need me to escort you back to the palace?”

  He glanced around, as if orienting himself. “I know where I am, but I— Aren’t you hungry? I’m starving all of a sudden. Would you want to go somewhere and get something to eat?”

  “I’m always hungry after a fight,” I agreed. Then I gestured at him, sweeping my arm back to indicate both of his echoes and one of mine. “But four of you are still soaking wet. Aren’t you cold? Don’t you just want to go home and change clothes?”

  “I’m cold, but I’m even hungrier,” he said. “Do you think there’s any café where they’d let us come inside with our damp clothes?”

  I eyed him for a moment in silence. A Pandrean lord who had just escaped a violent attempt on his life wanted to go have a civilized meal with a roguish band of strangers? This fell so far outside of my experience I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Finally I said, “Maybe the cafés wouldn’t let us in, but I know where we can go. Come on.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lord Dezmen fell in step beside me as I cut across the street and angled in a southeasterly direction. “I feel like I’m going to get a chance to see the more exotic neighborhoods of Camarria,” he said.

  I laughed. “You’ll be safe. I won’t take you to the east side. You might wait till you’ve hired one of Jackal’s friends before you explore Sweetwater.”

  We only had to cross two bridges to get to our destination, a big open plaza in the middle of a wealthy merchants’ neighborhood. It was about as respectable and safe as a place could be, patrolled by watchmen and frequented primarily by mothers and children out for their daily walks. There was a simple fountain in the middle, a handful of vendors around the perimeter, and—at this time of year—seven or eight big braziers set up to provide warmth to the citizens w
ho weren’t quite ready to give up their afternoon promenades. Each brazier was ringed by benches, and about half of the benches were already full.

  “Isn’t this delightful?” said Dezmen, looking around with appreciation. “I feel warmer already.”

  A flock of mothers and children was just now vacating a set of benches on the far edge of the plaza. “Quick—over here,” I said, hurrying past the fountain to stake our claim. The others sprinted after me, and pretty soon we had commandeered a whole section of seating. Scar and Red took one bench, Dezmen’s echoes a second one, and Dezmen himself settled on a third one. He held his palms out to the fire and I noticed that he wore a large opal ring on his left hand. It glowed with its own buried blaze, looking particularly brilliant against his dark skin. That was when I remembered that opals were the traditional jewels claimed by the people of Pandrea, though if you’d asked me the question ten seconds ago, I wouldn’t have been able to name it.

  “I am, for the moment, suffused with bliss,” he said, smiling up at me. “What simple things it takes to keep us happy.”

  “That’s been my experience, but sometimes it takes big disasters to make us appreciate the little joys.”

  “And food. That’s a little joy I’m anticipating. What are our choices?”

  “All of you half-drowned creatures stay here,” I directed. “Red and I will go see what’s available.”

  “Do you need money?”

  My expression was derisive, but I thought it was nice of him to offer. “The food here isn’t very expensive. I think I can absorb the cost.”

  Red followed me over to the circle of vendors and we investigated the options. Roasted nuts, sweet cakes, and hot cider seemed to be the best items on offer, and one of the vendors even lent me a tray to carry the six mugs on. We returned to our companions and distributed the food, then Red dropped down next to Scar and I took a seat on the bench next to Dezmen. We were half turned toward each other, our bags of food spread out between us, stuffing our mouths as fast as we could.

  “I don’t think I’ve enjoyed a meal at the palace as much as this one,” Dezmen declared when there was nothing left but crumbs.

  “Do you want more? I could get another bag of nuts.”

  “No. In fact, I am dining at the palace tonight, so I should probably save some of my appetite for that.”

  Abruptly I remembered that he was a noble lord and I was a street urchin, and although we had shared a breathless adventure, we were hardly equals. But I didn’t want to suddenly act all obsequious and shy, so I merely sat back on the bench a little and said, “The palace. What’s that like?”

  He gave a slight shrug, as if it was impossible to convey the information to someone who was so ignorant she had to ask the question. “Big. Full of people. There are rules for every type of behavior, and you don’t want to transgress because you don’t want to offend the king. Every time I turn around, there seems to be a servant coming down some hallway or out of a room I thought was empty. There’s a housekeeper. Lourdes. I swear she never sleeps. She is everywhere in that palace. At every hour of the night or day.”

  The answer made me relax again. And laugh. I’d dealt with Lourdes a number of times and I had noticed her unfailing ubiquity. “Maybe she has echoes,” I suggested. “You think it’s her, but it’s one of her shadows.”

  He laughed. “Interesting theory, but that’s not really how it works with echoes. I think it’s more likely she has a twin and she just hasn’t bothered to mention the fact.”

  “So what’s the mood at the palace these days?” I asked curiously. “The past two months have been very …” I searched for the right word. Violent was accurate, but didn’t seem politic. I settled on: “Eventful.”

  “That they have,” he said. “Starting with Jamison’s death, and culminating with the attempt on Cormac’s life two months ago.”

  “So one of the king’s sons is dead and another one could have been dead,” I pointed out. “Does that make anyone suspect that someone is trying to kill all the royal heirs?”

  “Believe me, that notion has been discussed endlessly at the palace. But Lady Marguerite confessed to killing Jamison and she was executed before Cormac was attacked. It seems unlikely the two crimes are related.”

  “Does anyone have any idea who tried to kill Cormac?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “But it’s the question the inquisitor is working night and day to solve.”

  “How about this other lord who showed up dead? Does anyone know who killed him?”

  “Not so far,” Dezmen said. “We’re still trying to discover who he is. We know he’s noble, but we haven’t learned much else.”

  “If you don’t know who he is, how can you be sure he’s noble?”

  “His clothes, for one thing.”

  I shrugged. “There are a lot of places in the city where you can buy cast-off clothing that’s as fine as it was the day it left the shop. Clothing doesn’t mean anything.”

  “You’re good at this,” he said in an admiring voice. “You ask the right questions and everything makes you suspicious.”

  I tried not to be pleased. “Well, but clothing is the easiest thing in the world to fake.”

  “I made the same point as soon as I was asked to work on the case. But there’s another reason we believe he’s noble. He had been seen a few days prior at a function at the royal palace. No one remembers inviting him, no one could identify him, but several people interacted with him, and found his deportment flawless. So either he is a lord—at least a low noble—or he knows how to play the part because it occurred to no one that he didn’t belong.”

  “Better evidence,” I agreed. “But not conclusive. He could have been an actor.”

  “An actor usually has specific lines, and he can deliver those convincingly. But to move through a crowd of royals and nobles and never once say the wrong thing? That sounds like the work of someone born to the part.”

  “So these people who talked to him that night. They don’t remember anything about him that would be helpful?”

  “Only one thing—that he was wearing an amethyst ring. So he’s probably from Alberta, where amethyst is the traditional jewel.”

  “Or he wanted you to think he was from Alberta.”

  Dezmen laughed so loudly that people on nearby benches looked over at us, smiling in response. Even his echoes looked amused, and they hadn’t shown much emotion so far. “Or he was hired by someone from Alberta, or he was hired by someone from Thelleron who wanted us to think he was hired by someone in Alberta,” he rattled off. “Yes. All those things have occurred to me as well.”

  “But you still think he’s from Alberta.”

  Dezmen tilted his head. His echoes copied the motion. “There’s been a lot of unrest in Alberta lately,” he said at last. I had the feeling he was editing out wide swaths of information that I would probably have found very boring—except, the fact that he was concealing it made me want to know it all. “There are factions that want to ally with Empara and Orenza and secede from the Seven Jewels. There are factions that want to stay loyal to the crown. Marguerite’s death has stirred up a great deal of resentment and even some violence in the three western provinces.”

  Well, that wasn’t interesting after all, but I made an attempt to seem engaged. “Even if there are factions turning against each other in Alberta,” I argued, “why would someone follow a lord to Camarria just to kill him? Why not kill him in Alberta?”

  “Maybe the lord was carrying information to the king and whoever killed him was trying to prevent him from sharing that information. And the murderer just didn’t catch up with him until he was in the royal city.”

  “That would make me a little nervous about doing deals with Alberta, if I was King Harold,” I said. “Knowing people were going around trying to kill off all my messengers.”

  “Indeed, and I think it does make him nervous, but he is determined to maintain good relations with Alberta—if he can. That’
s why Prince Jordan might be compelled to marry Lady Elyssa of Alberta, even though he can’t stand her. To strengthen the bonds between Alberta and Sammerly.”

  “That makes me glad I’m not a noble,” I observed. “I wouldn’t want to marry someone just for the good of the kingdom—especially someone I hated.”

  Dezmen grinned and leaned back against the bench, stretching his feet out toward the brazier. His clothes looked like they were almost dry, and he appeared utterly relaxed. I thought it had to have been a strange day for him, since I didn’t imagine a high noble often had the chance to consort with criminals and nearly get drowned by a malevolent stranger. But he seemed to be completely at ease. Enjoying himself, even.

  “Well, sometimes arranged marriages work out very well,” he said. “From all accounts, Harold had a very good relationship with his first queen—Cormac and Jordan’s mother. But he hasn’t been so fortunate with his second wife. He and Tabitha despise each other. They got married back when Empara was the most restless of the western provinces, and Harold thought a royal wedding would bring some stability to the realm. It seemed to work from a political standpoint, but from a personal one? Cormac says he never would have thought two people could hate each other so much.”

  “‘Cormac says,’” I repeated. “You’re friends with the prince?”

  “Since we were children. My father and Harold were friends as well.”

  “Is that why they asked you to look into the death of that lord that you’ve decided is from Alberta?”

  “Partly, I suppose. Partly because Pandrea and Sammerly have always had a special relationship. Pandrea has always been unswervingly loyal to the crown. In return, the crown relies on Pandrea when it has a problem it cannot solve on its own. My father served King Harold, and my grandfather served Harold’s father, and there are stories that go back another five generations.”

  “So the king trusts you,” I said. For the life of me, I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

  Dezmen tilted his head. “You say that as if you think he shouldn’t.”