Ch. 65: Minimal Commentary and Ch. 66: For The Record

Chapter 65: Minimal Commentary

Daravan had come for salve. Lia took off the dressing at his side, declared the wound inconvenient but improving, and applied the salve before wrapping it again.

“Wash your eyes before bed for the next few nights,” she said. “You can manage that yourself.”

He returned to the chair beside Marielle’s cot. She was still awake. The new card stood beside the first, its blue flower visible from both chairs and most of the doorway.

He did not ask what she remembered. That would come when Lia permitted questions and Marielle chose to answer them. Instead, he told her that the morning rain had cleared. It was the first thing he could think of that didn’t require an answer.

Lisette and Osric returned a few minutes later, still in their traveling clothes. Marielle’s gaze went straight to them. Daravan stood and offered Lisette the chair.

“I’ll leave you with your parents,” he told Marielle.

She blinked once. He had not asked a question, but he took it for acknowledgment and went to collect his coat.

“Straight to your rooms,” Lia said.

“That was my intention.”

He had no reason to come back. Lisette was beside the cot, and Osric was asking the apprentice whether Marielle could have water. Between them, they had already thought of everything he might have stayed to do.

At the east stair he passed two guards changing posts. One was finishing a remark the other had evidently found funny. They stopped when they saw him. He nodded them on.

Everly had told him exactly where she’d got the idea for the drawing. Uncle Hagen said. Harrek said so too. She had no reason to think either of them was joking. As far as she knew, she’d come to tell Marielle something everyone else had already worked out.

If Daravan wanted to correct the story, he could walk into any room in the palace and do it. Marielle had been answering questions by blinking. He couldn’t think of a question he could ask her about the drawing that would let her say what she actually thought.

He stopped at the stair and asked the guard where he might find Harrek.

“In the small receiving chamber, Captain. Prince Hagen’s with him.”

Good. He would only have to say it once.

Harrek sat behind a collection of Watch reports with a cup of tea he looked offended to possess. Hagen stood beside the window with toast he had probably acquired from someone else’s breakfast.

“Captain,” Hagen said. “You look almost alive.”

Daravan shut the door.

Harrek looked up. “That seems ominous.”

“Princess Everly visited Lady Marielle this morning,” Daravan said. “She brought a card.”

“She made another one?” Hagen asked.

“Yes. In this one I am standing beside the bed holding a flower.”

Hagen lowered his toast. “Are you?”

“According to Her Highness, I had ‘done a romance.’”

Hagen looked at him for a moment. Then he set the toast down altogether. “Did she?” Hagen looked delighted. “How observant.”

Daravan waited for Hagen to finish laughing. It took longer than he’d hoped.

“Did she give it to Marielle?” Hagen asked.

“Yes, and she showed it to me herself. She said she heard it from you.” Daravan turned to Harrek. “She attributed this conclusion to you both.”

“I said nothing of the kind.”

“You said badly but thoroughly.”

Harrek froze with his cup halfway to his mouth. “Not to Everly.”

Daravan waited.

“That is an important distinction.”

“No,” Daravan said. “It is not.”

“In fairness,” Hagen said, “badly but thoroughly is excellent phrasing.”

Harrek closed his eyes. “I was in his rooms delivering the Watch report on Vaelis. We were deciding which streets to search again.”

“And then you discussed me.”

“He discussed,” Harrek said, setting down his cup. “I objected.”

“You added commentary.”

“Minimal commentary.”

“Memorable commentary,” Hagen corrected.

Harrek gave him a look. “I thought the door was shut.”

“It may have been by the time you left,” Hagen said. He was still smiling, but he had stopped laughing. “I didn’t know she’d heard us, Daravan. I wouldn’t have sent her in there with that.”

“I know.” Daravan folded his arms. His side objected, and he let them fall again. “What did you say?”

“I said you carried Marielle out of a sewer, refused to hand her over, and held her hand between adjoining cots. I may have remarked that you were making it difficult for anyone to draw an unromantic conclusion.”

“Lia ordered me to remain for treatment.”

“Did she also order the handholding?”

“Marielle was frightened. She needed something familiar.”

Hagen’s amusement faded a little. “I know.”

“Then you know there’s no romance.”

Harrek sighed.

Daravan turned to him.

“A man can breathe,” Harrek said.

“That was commentary.”

“It was fatigue.”

“It can be both,” Hagen said.

Hagen ignored the look Harrek gave him. “Daravan, I say this with brotherly affection.”

“You are not my brother.”

“With courtly affection.”

“No.”

“With strategic concern?”

Daravan waited.

“Only you could hold a woman’s hand through treatment and then insist nothing personal has occurred because no one filed the appropriate paperwork.”

“There would be a form,” Harrek muttered.

“Three. Verya would create them.”

Daravan looked toward the window. Beyond it, servants were crossing the gardens. The palace had gone back to work. Somewhere in the city people were hearing that Lady Marielle had been found and the search for the remaining operative was continuing. None of that told them what it had cost her to let Lia lift the dressing from her throat.

“She was abducted,” he said. “She was hurt and frightened, and I did what I could to help. If you find me entertaining in private, I can live with that. But she should not have to sit there while people tell her what it meant. She can barely answer them.”

Harrek took his hand off his cup. Hagen looked at Daravan for a long moment.

“You’re right,” he said.

Daravan had prepared for several responses. That had not been among them.

“I’ll be more careful,” Hagen continued. “And I’ll speak to Everly. She can make as many cards as she wants. She doesn’t have to ask Lady Marielle about flowers.”

“Nor tell her what anyone else thinks of them,” Daravan said.

“No.” Hagen looked down at his plate. “She was frightened, too. She knew what to do about ‘a romance.’ I don’t think she knew what to do about most of the rest of it.”

Daravan thought of the flower, blue enough to be seen from the door. Everly had put it there so Marielle would know what she meant. He could hardly fault her for wanting to draw something she understood.

“She asked for pie,” he said. “I think Lia confiscated one.”

“I can give her something to do about that,” Hagen said. “Something Lia might even approve of.”

“Ask first,” Harrek said.

Hagen picked up his plate. “I can learn from other people’s mistakes.” At the door, he looked back at Daravan. “I heard you, Captain.”

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Then he left.

Harrek took another sip of tea and made a face. “How was she when you left?”

“Awake. Her parents were with her.”

“Good.” He drew one of the reports toward him. “Now go and rest.”

“I have rested.”

“Enough that Lia let you out. The search teams have their orders, and your officers know where to find you. I’ll send word if anything changes.”

Daravan looked toward the door. From here, the way back to the infirmary was shorter than the way to his rooms.

“She’ll still be there,” Harrek said.

Daravan’s throat tightened. Her parents were beside her. Lia had the room in hand. There were officers in the corridor. He could leave without making her unfound again.

He nodded once and went to his rooms.

By the time Hagen reached the nursery, Everly had made it as far as the wedding. Lessa sat beside her, trying to persuade her that the drawings ought to stay in the nursery.

“It’s only to show them,” Everly said. “They don’t have to wear these today.”

She held up the top sheet for Hagen. “That’s Lady Marielle in yellow. And that’s Captain Daravan. I haven’t decided what he’s wearing.”

“Does he get a say?”

“He can have his uniform.” She lifted the wedding drawing to show him the one beneath it. “They have dinner first.”

There were two figures at the table and a third beneath it.

“Who’s that?”

“Me. In case they need anything.”

“Lady Marielle has had enough surprises for one morning,” Lessa said.

“But I told them both.” Everly looked up at Hagen. “I showed Captain Daravan the card and told him he did a romance. So now they both know.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he came for salve.”

Hagen pulled up a chair. “I see.”

“Did you hear me talking to Harrek in my rooms last night?” Hagen asked.

“Yes. We came to say good night, but you were busy.”

“I thought she was looking at the pictures in the passage,” Lessa said. She busied herself gathering the pencils that had rolled to her end of the table.

“I was,” Everly said. “I could still hear. You said Captain Daravan held her hand between the two beds. And Harrek said ‘badly but thoroughly.’”

“I was rather hoping you’d forgotten that part.”

“I saw Captain Daravan by her bed when I went to see her, too.” Everly straightened the dinner drawing in front of him. “Even if you and Serali can’t have a romance, Lady Marielle and Captain Daravan can.”

Hagen could hardly tell her she’d imagined it all. He’d seen Daravan look back toward the infirmary, and the man hadn’t been counting guards. Unfortunately, Daravan could find an official reason to see Marielle every day for a month, and Marielle, meanwhile, would take him at his word and give him another report to read. It might take them a while.

“I think they’re at the part where neither of them knows yet,” he said.

“But I told them,” Everly said again, slower this time.

“You told them what you think. They have to work out what they think.”

“Which is why we give them some privacy,” Lessa said.

Everly looked down at the little figure under the table. “What am I supposed to do while they’re working it out?”

There it was. Lessa had asked her to leave them be, and Everly was already looking for the next thing she could do for them. If Hagen left her to find it herself, there would be a seating plan by supper.

“I could appoint you Royal Romance Observer,” he said.

Lessa turned to look at him.

“From a distance,” Hagen added. “You don’t arrange dinners or ask anybody about kissing. You certainly don’t get under the table. But if you happen to see something while you’re doing something else, you can write me a report.”

“Can I do something else outside Captain Daravan’s office?”

“No,” Lessa said.

Hagen nodded gravely. “The palace is very strict about where its observers may loiter.”

“What goes in the report?”

“What you saw first. What you think it means underneath. If Captain Daravan brings Lady Marielle a stack of papers, we must be prepared to consider the possibility that he’s brought her a stack of papers.”

“What if there’s a flower in it?”

“Draw the flower. I’ll want a good look at the evidence.”

Everly considered this, then erased the figure beneath the table. “Can I still make Lady Marielle cards?”

“You can,” Lessa said. “You could make her one about how glad you are she came home.”

“We can add a pie so that she can look at it until Lia says she is ready to have a real one,” Hagen added.

Everly reached for a fresh sheet. “Can I give it to her when she’s ready?”

“Of course.”

Hagen stayed to help her spell home. Lessa moved the wedding drawing out of reach while Everly was deciding how much room to leave for the pie.

Chapter 66: For the Record

Serali’s reprimand arrived with a cushion.

Mara put the cushion behind her back. Lia put the reprimand on the table.

“You are enjoying this,” Serali said.

“I brought mine too.”

That was less reassuring than Lia probably intended.

Allandra entered a moment later with Verya and Hagen. Serali made an instinctive attempt to straighten.

“No standing,” Lia said.

Serali remained seated.

Hagen looked around the sitting room. “A remarkably comfortable disciplinary chamber.”

“Ten minutes,” Lia told him.

“For the reprimand?”

“For all of you. Then she rests.”

Allandra took the chair opposite Serali.

Last night she had held her until Serali slept. This afternoon, her hair was pinned, her hands were folded, and Verya had brought copies for the record.

Serali could still feel warmth beneath the formality.

It helped.

It also did not make the paper disappear.

“Three commendations,” Allandra said. “Two reprimands. I wanted you to hear the distinction before either becomes a palace interpretation.”

Hagen’s attention sharpened.

Serali disliked that immediately.

“Lady Marielle’s commendation recognizes the evidence she created and preserved while captive,” Allandra continued. “Her attempts to escape, and the trail that allowed the Watch and palace guard to pursue her.”

Verya looked down at the document in her hand.

“The window,” Serali said.

“The window,” Allandra agreed. “The pantry. The continued production of evidence under duress.”

Serali pictured Marielle, exhausted and tied, examining a room for something everyone else had overlooked.

“She will want to correct the account.”

Verya’s mouth moved. “She may submit corrections when Mistress Lia permits.”

“Not today,” Lia said.

“Captain Daravan’s commendation recognizes pursuit, recovery, and capture of the commander. Commander Harrek’s recognizes containment and coordination between the Watch and palace guard.”

“Harrek will say that sounds like paperwork,” Hagen observed.

“It is,” Allandra said. “He may accept it under protest.”

Hagen smiled.

Then looked at the two remaining sheets.

“And the reprimands?”

Lia narrowed her eyes.

“Lady Serali,” Allandra said, “for undertaking unauthorized magical transport through hostile blood-work without notifying the Crown or the officers responsible for the operation.”

Serali’s fingers pressed into the cushion beside her.

Allandra’s voice remained even.

“Mistress Lia, for participating in that transport and assisting its preparation without notification.”

Hagen’s delight became visible enough to be indecent. “Lia is being officially reprimanded?”

“You heard her,” Lia said.

“I did. I wanted to hear it again.”

“Out.”

“I am a royal councilor.”

“And currently a nuisance beside my patient.”

“I am also the queen’s brother.”

“I have sedatives.”

Hagen looked at Allandra.

She did not help him.

“I recommend retreat,” Verya said.

“Will it be read aloud in Court?” he asked.

Lia began to rise.

“Mistress Lia,” Allandra said.

Lia remained seated.

Serali chose not to smile.

It required effort.

“These are formal records,” Allandra continued. “The public account will recognize the contributions to the rescue without describing a method we do not understand sufficiently to encourage anyone to repeat.”

Hagen’s expression settled.

Verya nodded. “The operational account will retain the details.”

Serali looked at her sheet.

Unauthorized.

No word there disputed that Marielle had needed help. No word could show how long it had taken to decide.

Both facts could remain true.

“We also need an account of the preparation and landing,” Allandra said. “When Lia permits you to provide one. Including what you expected to happen and what did.”

“Those will be different columns,” Serali said.

“Yes.”

She looked up.

Allandra held her gaze.

They had spoken privately. Serali had apologized. Allandra had accepted it.

None of that entitled her to make the consequences private too.

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Notification would not have made the jump less dangerous,” Lia said.

“No,” Allandra replied. “It would have allowed the people supporting you to know what had changed.”

Serali looked at Lia.

They had discussed whether to tell Allandra. She remembered the answer she had not said aloud: that telling her meant being stopped.

“It might also have delayed us,” Serali said.

Allandra nodded. “That belongs in your account. It does not remove the risk you left everyone else to discover.”

Verya made a note.

Serali disliked seeing the choice reduced to a line on a page. She disliked imagining it omitted more.

“Include that I considered notification,” she said. “And chose not to.”

Verya looked up, then nodded.

Lia picked up her own sheet. “As did I.”

Hagen opened his mouth.

Verya looked at him.

He closed it.

Allandra’s shoulders eased a fraction. “Good.”

Serali put the reprimand back on the table.

It remained there.

So did the warmth in the bond.

Lia ended the visit before Hagen could find another question.

Verya took the copies. Allandra stood, but paused beside Serali’s chair.

“Rest first,” she said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Allandra looked toward the small stack of unopened correspondence.

Serali followed her gaze.

Halal’s seal was visible on top.

“I have not opened it,” she said.

“An excellent beginning,” Lia replied.

“The wall has not stopped requiring attention.”

Allandra looked between them. “Can she answer correspondence?”

Lia considered Serali’s face with unwelcome thoroughness.

“After resting. A short session. Mara writes if the headache returns. No experiments, no summoning College visitors, no discovering that an urgent letter requires a walk to the workroom.”

“That last instruction seems specific.”

“You are a specific problem.”

Allandra’s mouth softened. Only a little.

“Keep the preparation moving,” she told Serali. “You do not need to complete it all yourself.”

Serali nodded.

For once, the permission and the restriction were easy to distinguish.

An hour later, Mara opened Halal’s letter while Serali drank water with the medicine Lia had left.

“He wishes you a satisfactory recovery,” Mara read.

“Generous.”

“Then asks which portions of the inspection comparison are unavailable because Lady Marielle is recovering, which are unavailable because you are recovering, and which remain unavailable because the Crown has not authorized access.”

Serali stared at her. “Three categories?”

“Numbered.”

Of course.

Halal had also requested an exact list of work he might continue. He considered delay in examining the remaining discrepancies undesirable and warned against relying on assurances from reports whose reliability was the subject of the investigation.

Serali disliked his manner.

She disliked more that the last point was correct.

“Arvellan?” she asked.

Mara opened the second letter.

Arvellan expressed relief at Marielle’s recovery. He offered to assemble the College’s available drawings and maintenance revisions, identify gaps in the records, and prepare materials for the next comparison. Nothing would be altered without the team’s agreement.

Serali let her head rest against the cushion.

One man had itemized the inconvenience.

The other had offered to reduce it.

Between the two letters, there was enough to keep people occupied without pretending Marielle's absence made no difference.

Serali could use that.

“A reply to Halal first,” she said.

Mara took up a pen.

Serali considered the wording.

“Tell him neither Lady Marielle nor I will attend a further inspection until permitted. He may continue comparing the records already made available.”

Mara wrote.

“No changes to the wall or its wardwork. Discrepancies recorded, not corrected during review.”

“He will object.”

“He may number those too.”

Mara’s pen paused briefly.

Serali suspected amusement.

She allowed it.

“And Arvellan?”

“Thank him. Ask for the drawings to be arranged with the revisions they replaced, not only the latest copies. Include missing records in the list.”

Mara looked up. “Copies here?”

“The list here. The materials to the designated workroom, through the usual attendants. Nothing to the infirmary.”

Marielle would see a folio and decide she had been cured.

Serali understood the temptation sufficiently to keep it out of reach.

She asked Mara to read both replies back.

“Add that the findings will be reviewed with Lady Marielle when she can participate,” she said. “Preparation may proceed. Conclusions remain provisional.”

Mara added it to both letters.

The original investigation had begun with damage that could have passed for frost damage. Deliberate sabotage, made to look Lyehiran if someone noticed.

Now they knew there were also connections that allowed a report to look reassuring when the wall itself was not.

Marielle’s kidnapping had not explained either.

It had only taken her away from the work.

Serali looked at the reprimand beside the correspondence.

One problem did not stop being important because another had become frightening.

Neither did importance make her the only person allowed to act.

“Send those,” she said.

Mara set down the pen. “And then?”

Serali considered saying she could read one more letter.

Lia would hear about it. Allandra would hear about it.

More inconveniently, both would be right.

“Bed,” she said.

Mara stood. “Good choice.”