The Traders' War (Merchant Princes Omnibus 2) (15 page)

Two days after Miriam visited Baron Henryk, the weather broke. Torrential rain streamed across the stone front of Thorold Palace, gurgling through the carved gargoyle
waterspouts and down past the windows under the eaves. Miriam, still in a state of mild shock from her meeting with her great-uncle, stayed in her rooms and brooded. A couple of times she hauled
out her laptop, plugged it into the solitary electrical outlet in her suite, and tried to write a letter to her mother. After the third attempt she gave up in despair. Patricia was a nut best
cracked by Helge, but Miriam wanted nothing to do with her alter ego, the highborn lady. Trying to be Helge had gotten her into a world of hurt, and trying to measure up to their expectations of
her was only going to make things worse. Besides, she had an uneasy feeling that her mother was not going to thank her for muddying the waters with Henryk.

Shortly after lunch (a tray of cold cuts delivered by two servants from the great hall below), there came a knock on her dressing-room door. ‘Who is it?’ she called.

‘Me, Miriam! Are you decent?’ The door opened. ‘What’s the matter?’ Brilliana d’Ost stepped inside and glanced around. ‘Are you hiding from someone? The
servants speak of you as if you’re a forest troll, lurking in the shadows to bite the next passing trapper’s head off.’

‘I’m not that bad, surely.’ Miriam smiled. ‘Welcome back, anyway – it’s good to see someone around here who’s happy to see me. What have you been up
to?’ She stood up to embrace the younger woman.

‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,’ Brill said lightly, hugging her back. Then her smile faded. ‘Don’t assume I’m exaggerating. I’ve been
very busy lately. Some things I can’t talk about.’ She shed her bulky shoulder bag and pushed the door shut behind her. ‘Miriam. What do you mean, happy to see you? What on earth
has been going on here? I got word by way of the duke’s office – ’

‘Am I in that much trouble, already?’ Miriam asked, sitting down again. She saw that Brill had cut her black hair shorter than last time they’d met and was using foundation
powder to cover the row of smallpox craters on the underside of her jaw. In her trouser suit she could have been just another office intern on the streets of New York – Miriam’s New
York.

‘Trouble?’ Brill shrugged dismissively. ‘Trouble is for
little
people. But I hear word, “Brilliana, your mistress needs you, go and look to her side,” and
I am thinking that perhaps not all is well – and here you are, hiding like a bear with a headache!’ She sat down on one of the upholstered stools that served as informal seating.
‘Oh, his excellency says, “Tell her to stop making waves and we’ll sort everything out.”’

‘Um. Right.’ Miriam closed the lid on her laptop. ‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked. ‘A glass of wine? Coffee?’

‘Coffee would be precious, should you have any.’ Brill looked wistful as Miriam tugged the bell rope. ‘The weather is as impoverished on the other side. Homeful for the ducks,
but not enchanting lest your feet be webbed.’

‘Nobody told me that Henryk was a palace ogre,’ Miriam complained. The door opened: ‘Two coffees, cream, no sugar,’ she directed. As it closed, she continued.
‘I’ve been stuck here, all isolated, for weeks. It’s not easy to fit in. Kara’s done her best to help me, but that isn’t much – she just isn’t perceptive
enough to warn me
before
I put my foot in it. Andragh’ – the head of her detachment of bodyguards – ‘is the strong silent type, not a political advisor. Mom’s
busy and has her own problems, Olga’s in and out but mostly out, and I’m’ – she took a deep breath – ‘lonely and bored.’

‘Yes, well, that’s what the boss said.’ Brill brooded for a moment, then burst out, ‘Miriam, I’m
sorry
!’

‘Hey, wait a moment – ’

‘I mean it! I blame myself. I was supposed to stick to you like glue, but while you were in the hospital I had other tasks to attend to and my – I can’t tell you who –
needed me elsewhere. High-priority jobs, lots of them – I’ve been run ragged. Our networks are in tatters, new safe houses must be bought, identities created, safe procedures developed,
contacts sanitized and renewed. An underground railroad which took us decades to build has to be scrapped and rebuilt from scratch, and his grace badly needs eyes and ears he can trust. I thought
that you’d be all right here on your own, that not much could happen, but I didn’t realize – if I had I’d have made a fuss, demanded to be released back to you!’

Brill was upset and Miriam, who hadn’t expected any of this, was taken aback. ‘Whoa! It’s all right. Seriously, we’ve been in the middle of a real mess and if you had to
go fight security fires for Angbard – or whatever – then obviously, there were higher priorities than acting nursemaid for me. And you’re here now, which is the main thing,
isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but I
should
have been here earlier.’ Brill frowned. ‘Not letting you run amok.’ For a moment her flashing grin returned. ‘So what else have you been
up to?’

Miriam sighed. ‘Etiquette lessons. Basic Hochsprache.’ She began ticking points off on her fingers: ‘Learning to ride, memorizing long lists of who’s related to who,
learning to dance – court dances, over here, that is – endless appointments with the dressmaker. Oh, and getting pissed off about being given the runaround. About when I can get back to
my business, that kind of thing. What’s missing from this picture?’
Besides brooding over –
She stopped that line of thought dead. Brill hadn’t concealed her
opinion of Roland very effectively, but she knew better than to pick a fight with Miriam over his memory, especially when Miriam very definitely wasn’t over him.

‘Let us see. Long lists of who is who – did Kara think to instruct you in their scandals or holdings? Or worse?’ Brill raised an eyebrow. ‘No? Methought it unlikely. The
rest is not unexpected. The travel restrictions . . .’ She frowned again. ‘I think if it was solely the decision of your uncle you should be able to return from whence you were summoned
immediately. He instructed me to tell you to pay your corvée regularly. I think he wishes to shine your loyalty, to demonstrate you are reliable enough as a courier to trust with
world-walking. One week or two, he says, and you should be assigned a regular courier duty to the new outposts, with permission to overnight there when not needed here. This would be unofficial,
but should anyone ask they can be told you’re running errands simple, not looking to your faction. Discretion is the watchword.’

‘Uh.’ Miriam blinked, taken aback. ‘That’s – well. That’s far too easy. After yesterday, I was expecting the third degree . . .’

‘Henryk convinced you that you were under arrest?’ Brill tossed her head as the door opened. ‘I’ll take that.’ The maid closed the door and Brill transferred the
silver tray to the top of a chest of drawers. ‘The baron is jealous of the demands upon his time, whosoever makes them,’ she said. ‘He wished you subdued for the while. Either
that, else there’s a discord over how to handle you. Here, this is yours.’

Miriam took the mug. ‘I’m confused. Or he
was
trying to lower my expectations. Wasn’t he?’

‘In all probability.’ Brill sat down again. ‘I can’t believe you bearded the lion in his den, without appointment,’ she added with a curious grin.

‘I’m not sure I can, either,’ Miriam admitted. ‘Understand, I’m not going to blame Kara – but if she was up to managing my affairs herself I’d have
known better than to go barging in. The whole issue just wouldn’t have arisen in the first place. I’m not an idiot, Brill, just – ’

‘I would never say you were an idiot!’

‘ – inadequately informed. And I never said you thought I was, but you
know
what I mean, right? I don’t like looking stupid, Brill.’

‘Well.’ Brilliana took a deep breath: ‘Be it so little consolation to you, I am supposed to be your confidante, and your honor is mine. It dishonors
me
–
directly – should you look stupid. I plead purely out of self-interest, you understand, not at all speaking as your friend who wishes to return the favor you did me in Boston. So if you tell
me what you want to achieve, I shall try to find a way to make it happen, if not instantly then certainly as rapidly as possible. How should that go?’

‘Okay.’ Miriam screwed her eyes shut. ‘That’s what Baron Henryk told me, you know: to work out what I want, then tell him. Over dinner, maybe next week.’ She opened
her eyes and focused on Brilliana as if seeing her for the first time. Perhaps she was, for Helge’s ghost was prompting her,
Take your allies where you find them
, and Brill was
surely the nearest thing to an ally Miriam had within the Clan. ‘So. How about it? First, we should arrange for me to dine with the good baron next week – and yourself, I think.
Secondly, I want to get back out to see how my company is running, as soon as possible. Thirdly, Ma has been dropping scarily vague hints about marriage, and this crazy old –’ She
caught herself. ‘Sorry. The king’s mother. Angelin. She’s dropping broad hints.
I need to know what she wants
. Never mind that creepy Prince Egon. And what’s got
into Ma – Patricia. Can you find out?’

Brill’s eyes went very wide at the last confessions. She clenched her hands between her knees and leaned back on her stool: ‘The
Queen Mother
bespoke you? About
Egon
?’

‘No, Egon threatened me – the Queen Mother just wanted a chat – ’

‘He
threatened
you? Miriam, that is completely beyond my conscience! Does Duke Angbard know?’

‘Why wouldn’t he?’ It was Miriam’s turn to look startled. ‘He’s head of the Clan’s intelligence apparatus! Isn’t it his
job
to know
things like that?’

‘Only if people tell him!’ Brill stood up, clearly agitated. ‘I imagine I can do something toward your first two desires, but this – this is new to me. I think I had
better write to the duke, by your leave. Miriam, you must steer clear of Prince Egon! He’s not – he’s – ’

‘Whoa. I got the message, very clearly, that he doesn’t like me, or my relatives. Is that it? Or is there something more?’

Brill nodded, vigorously. ‘You know their nicknames? The two princes?’

‘The . . .’ Miriam’s forehead creased.

‘The Idiot and the Pervert,’ Brill said tightly. ‘The Idiot is clear enough. The Pervert – there are rumors. Pray you don’t come to his attention.’

‘Huh?’ Miriam stared. ‘What are you trying to tell me? He’s a rapist? Wouldn’t there be some kind of . . .’ She trailed off, a sick realization stealing over
her.

‘He’s the
heir
to the
throne
,’ Brill said, clearly and slowly, as if talking to a young and rather stupid child. ‘He has, as a prince in his own right,
the right of summary justice. The only lord with the authority to hear a case against him is his own father. Such a case would depend upon the plaintiffs and the witnesses living long enough to
bring suit. This is not America, Miriam. There, if the rich and powerful want to get away with murder, they must pay lawyers and judges. Here, they
are
the judges. Having said that, if the
crown prince tried to use such as you or I for sport, he could expect the full weight of the Clan to oppose him. Likely, even his father would disown him. You are not some peasant.’

Miriam shuddered. ‘And if he comes to power?’

‘He won’t move against us.’ There was a hard edge to Brilliana’s voice. ‘He may be wicked, but he isn’t stupid. We are like your America in some ways: our
king rules by the will of the people – at least, the people who count. The succession has to be ratified by the landsknee, the dukes and barons. If he offends too many of them, he risks his
coronation.’ Her expression softened. ‘But please, make sure someone knows if he menaces you again. Otherwise . . .’

‘I get the picture.’ Miriam nodded jerkily.
Jesus, is Egon some kind of serial killer? Or am I misunderstanding something, and it’s just hardball politics?
Somehow the
idea that her encounter with Egon was simply political business as usual didn’t make sense. ‘What about the Queen Mother?’

‘Oh, she’s safe,’ Brill said dismissively. ‘She’s family, after a fashion.’ She paused, looking thoughtful. ‘And she noticed you? Ha. It can’t be
about Egon, he’s already earmarked for an alliance with the Nordmarkt, which means – Creon? She aims to put him into play?’ She looked distant for a moment. ‘A royal match
would seem fantastical, upon its face, but – ’

‘Not a hope,’ Miriam said, tight-lipped. ‘I mean that.’

‘But are you . . . ?’ Brilliana paused, taking in Miriam’s expression. ‘You would reject it?’ she asked, wondering aloud. ‘You would reject a match,
uncountenanced, to such a high estate?’ For a moment she was starry-eyed, before practicality reasserted itself. ‘It would hamper your plans, true – ’

‘In spades,’ Miriam said grimly. ‘And in case you’d forgotten, we’re not talking a prize catch, here, we’re talking sloppy seconds. The one everybody calls
the Idiot, to his face.’ She clenched her hands between her knees. ‘Not enough that Roland had to get himself killed, but
this
– ’

‘I’m sorry, my lady!’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Miriam said, startled out of her gloomy introspection. ‘Don’t ever think I blame you!’ Brilliana had been there when Roland was killed,
in that terrible minute in the duke’s outer office with Matthias’s psychotic bondsman. If Brill had gotten there faster, or if Roland hadn’t tried to play the hero, if
she
hadn’t been there, a lure for him – ‘This is not about you,’ she said. Roland she might have married, giving her tacit consent to being bound into the
Clan’s claustrophobic family structures. ‘I’m not planning on marrying anyone, ever again,’ Miriam added. Anything else would be too much like an admission that she was
absolutely part of the Clan. She had read about Stockholm syndrome once, the tendency of hostages to come to identify with their abductors. It was a concept uncomfortably close to home: sometimes
her new life felt like a perpetual struggle not to succumb to it.