Chapter 262: The Inquisitors at Maren (3)

"You wanted to see me, Inquisitor?"

Zuri stood in the doorway in her riding coat, with the white griffin on its breast and her long braid over one shoulder. She did not come in until Grane gestured to the chair across the table. Even then, she sat down as if she might need to stand up again at any moment.

Grane had good reasons for wanting to speak to her.

She was the Duke of the North’s daughter, even if she did not carry the Gannon name. She had commanded the Fifth Legion of the White Griffin until a few days ago. And she had taken that legion north without orders, leaving the eastern front at the very moment Orsini fell.

The Duke of the East had already written to the Crown demanding that someone answer for it.

If the Strategist had used his family’s soldiers for his own purposes, this was the person who would know.

"Thank you for coming, Lady Zuri," Grane said. "I’ll try to be brief."

"You don’t have to be brief," Zuri said. "I’m not going anywhere. Sir Gareth has made sure of that."

Varne’s pen paused for a moment, then moved on.

Grane folded his hands on the table.

"You left your post on the eastern front with four hundred knights. That is a serious matter. I’d like to understand why."

"Because my brother wrote to me."

"What did the letter say?"

Zuri was quiet for a moment.

"He said he was alive," she said. "He said the food at the Wall was terrible. And he reminded me of a promise I’d made to take him to a restaurant that makes good braised lamb."

Grane waited. When she said nothing more, he raised an eyebrow.

"That was all?"

"That was all."

"Forgive me, my lady, but you led a legion across half the Empire because of a letter about lamb?"

For the first time, Zuri smiled a little. It was not an unkind smile.

"I wrote to my brother for a year and a half, Inquisitor. Every two weeks. He never wrote back, and he never once asked me for anything. Not money, not help, not a single favour." She looked down at her hands. "Then, one night, he wrote me the shortest letter I’d ever had, and it was about a promise. He was telling me goodbye without saying it. I knew what that meant."

Grane studied her face. He had heard a great many stories in this chair, and most of them had been too neat. This one was not neat at all. It was the kind of thing a person could only make up if they knew the other person very well.

"So your brother did not order you to bring the Legion north."

"He couldn’t have," Zuri said. "He had no authority over me or my knights. Nobody ordered me. I decided."

"Even knowing what it might cost the East?"

"I knew the East was thin," she said quietly. "But I didn’t know it would fall. The Duke was holding the line well. I didn’t let myself think about it. That was my choice, and I’ll answer for it."

Grane noticed how carefully she said it. She was not only answering the question. She was making sure that whatever happened to her, none of it could be laid at her brother’s feet.

He moved on.

"You were on the south bank of the Riven on the last day. What did you see?"

Zuri’s hands tightened on the arms of the chair.

"I saw my brother walk to the north end of the bridge alone. I saw the horde come at him. And I saw them stop." She took a slow breath. "It went cold. Colder than any winter I’ve known. My own Star is water, Inquisitor. I felt the river under the bridge go still, as if it was listening to him."

"Did he say anything to you before he went?"

"He gave things to Gus to hold. A lamp. Some papers. He said he’d want them back." Her voice wavered slightly, and she steadied it. "Then he went."

Grane let a moment pass. Then he asked the question he had been waiting to ask.

"Your father told me your brother used a relic of your house. Do you know anything about it?"

It was a careful question, and Zuri understood it at once. Grane could see it in her eyes. If she said no, it might look as though the Duke had invented a story. If she said yes, and she was lying, he would know.

She did neither.

"I’ve never heard of it," she said simply. "But I wouldn’t have. I don’t carry the Gannon name, Inquisitor. Nobody ever showed me the family treasury. If my father says it exists, then he knows a great deal more about his own house than I do."

It was honest. Grane was almost certain of that. And it gave him nothing he could use against the Duke at all.

He sat back.

"Thank you, Lady Zuri. Your answers have been very clear." He paused. "However, I’m afraid I must ask something of you. You are now the most important witness I have to the events on the bridge, and to the movement of the Fifth Legion. Until my inquiry is finished, I can’t allow you to leave this ridge."

He expected her to argue. Most nobles did, when told they could not go where they pleased.

Instead, Zuri looked at him for a long moment, and then, to his surprise, she smiled properly.

"Good," she said. "I didn’t want to leave anyway."

She stood, nodded politely to both of them, and went out.

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When the door had closed, Varne put down her pen.

"She’s also protecting him," she said. "Every answer was built to keep him out of it."

"Yes," Grane agreed.

He looked at the door. "She isn’t lying to protect him, Varne. She’s telling the truth in the way that protects him best. That’s a different thing, and a much harder one to break."

"Then who’s next?"

Grane was quiet for a while.

"The Grand Magus," he said at last. "If anyone can tell us what really happened on that bridge, it’s the man who dropped a hill on it."

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