Was Hugh working magic? Ai, Lady, she could not regret saving Theophanu’s life, but what if Hugh suspected—what if the others discovered—that she had made those arrows catch fire? Would she be taken before the skopos to stand trial? And yet the thought gnawed at her, like a nagging pain: If you can bring flame and see visions through fire, then why not other magics? Why did Da lie?
She was not deaf to magic. She was protected against it: against the magic of others and, perhaps, against her own. But she had no way to discover the truth, she had no one to confide in, no one to teach her. Suddenly Wolfhere’s hints and gentle suggestions, his attempts to convince her to trust him, seemed both more sinister and more welcome. If only he were here now.
Hugh returned, carrying a book. She recognized Polyxene’s History of Dariya at once. The binding was almost as familiar to her as her own skin. He had stolen it from her as he had stolen so much else. He seated himself beside Princess Sapientia, and two servants stood over him with lamps. The dozen clerics at the other end of the hall set down their pens, turning as flowers toward the sun, eager to hear him read.
“I shall read today from Polyxene,” he began.
“What should I care about such an old history, and written about heathens, at that?” asked Sapientia.
He raised one eyebrow. “Your Highness. Surely you are aware that the Dariyans, who were said to be half of humankind and half of elvish kin, conquered and ruled the largest empire the world has ever known. Only in the myths and tales of the ancient Arethousans do we hear of older and greater empires, that of Saïs which was swallowed by the waves, or of the wise and ancient Gyptos peoples across the middle sea. After the destruction of the Dariyan Empire the many lands they had once held together in greatness became the haunts of savages, and uncivilized heathens fought over the spoils. It was only a hundred years ago that the great Salian Emperor Taillefer restored the empire, by the grace of Our Lord and Lady, God of Unities. He had himself crowned Holy Dariyan Emperor, but at his death his empire was lost to the feuding of his successors.”
Sapientia’s expression cleared, and she looked oddly thoughtful. “Father believes that it is the destiny of our family to restore the Holy Empire of Dariya.”
“And so your family shall,” murmured Hugh, “and be crowned in Darre before the skopos, as was Taillefer.”
Liath shivered. Was this why Hugh had tried to murder Theophanu? So Sapientia would have no rival for the imperial throne, not just for the throne of the kingdom of Wendar and Varre?
He cleared his throat, took a sip of wine, and began to read out loud in his beautiful, almost hypnotic voice. “‘The fact is that we can obtain only an impression of a whole from a part, and certainly neither a thorough knowledge or an accurate understanding. It is only by combining and comparing certain parts of the whole with one another and taking note of their resemblances and their differences that we shall arrive at a comprehensive view.’”
Was that what Da was doing all along in the first part of The Book of Secrets? In that first part he had written down so many snippets from so many different sources, compiling them so that he could better understand the knowledge hidden in the heavens. She yawned, feeling a sudden sense of numbing lassitude, then shook herself back awake.
“‘By what means and in what time the people we know now as the Dariyans first came to Aosta rests outside my consideration. Instead, I shall take as my starting point the first occasion on which the Dariyans left Aosta, crossing the sea to the island of Nakria.’”
Sapientia snored softly. She had fallen asleep, as had two of her servingwomen; her other servants, seated around her, also nodded off. Liath had a sudden desperate fear that if she did not get up and get outside this instant, she, too, would fall asleep.
The youngest cleric spoke up from the other end of the room. “I beg you, Father Hugh, read to us of the seige of Kartiako.”
The distraction gave her cover. She crept out the door but took a wrong turn and at once was confused. The Augensburg palace boasted two reception halls, a solarium, courtyards, barracks, guest rooms, chambers for the regnant and for the duke of Avaria, a safe room for the king’s treasury, and a dozen cottages for envoys and servants. All this was built out of timber felled from the surrounding forest. Only the bathing complex and the chapel were built of stone.
Liath had left her saddlebags in the barracks, but Sapientia held her on such a tight leash that she’d had no time to commit the palace layout to memory. She retraced her steps. In the hall, everyone was asleep—and Hugh was nowhere to be seen. Backing out of the room, she tried again to find the barracks by cutting through a side corridor, but it only let her out through a tiny fountain courtyard where an old gardener sat dozing in the cold air on the lip of a frost-encrusted fountain. No water ran.