“That doesn’t answer my question,” Rojer said. “You were both in on the plot. What does it matter who did what?”
“The Damajah was vexed when your mistress’ influence caused my uncle to create the Sharum’ting,” Sikvah said. “The women of Krasia were ever her purview, and she had another fate planned for them.”
“You tried to kill my friend because she persuaded Jardir to give rights to women?” Rojer asked.
“I put blackleaf in her tea because the Damajah commanded it,” Sikvah said. “For my own part, I was pleased with Shar’Dama Ka’s proclamation. My spear sisters have been allowed to come out of hiding, and earn glory in the night. I regret I was never allowed to do the same.”
“That can change,” Rojer said. “The secret’s out. When we get back to the Hollow, you can …”
“Apologies, husband, but the secret remains,” Sikvah said. “None alive can tell the tale save you and my sister-wives. My ability to protect you and my Jiwah Ka would be greatly lessened if others knew of my skills.”
“And if I, as your husband, command that you cease hiding what you are?” Rojer asked.
“Then I will obey,” Sikvah said. “But I will think you a fool.”
Rojer laughed at that. “You said you could break me out of here. How?”
“The door is thick, but it is only wood,” Sikvah said. “I could break it, but it would take time, and rouse the clerics. Easier to slip out the window and climb down to a lower level. Your chin Holy Men are not warriors like the dama. It would be simple to kill the guards and retrieve the keys.”
“I don’t want you killing anyone,” Rojer said. “Not unless our lives depend on it.”
“Of course,” Sikvah said. “The Jiwah Ka knew you would wish it so.”
Rojer thought of his chinrest, safe in its warded case. “Is she listening to us now?”
“Yes,” Sikvah said. “My choker allows her to hear me when she wishes.”
“And can she speak to you as well?” Rojer asked.
“Yes,” Sikvah said again. “But the hora is attuned to me alone. It will not work for you. The dama’ting labors even now to craft an earring for you. She apologizes for not having done so sooner. In the meantime, I shall be her voice.”
“And what does she have to say?” Rojer asked.
“That it is late,” Sikvah said, “and we do not know what the coming day will bring. She bids you sleep while there is still some darkness.”
Rojer stared up into the darkness. “Are you going to sleep in the rafters?”
“I do not need sleep as you,” Sikvah said. “I will meditate to restore myself, remaining alert to any threat. Close your eyes, my love, and know that I am watching over you.”
Rojer did as she asked, indeed feeling safe, but there was too much swirling in his thoughts, and he was restless. “I don’t think I can sleep.”
There was barely a sound as Sikvah dropped to the floor. Rojer flinched as she slipped naked into the bed with him.
“The Jiwah Ka commands I soothe you to sleep, husband,” she purred.
“Has everything between us been a command?” Rojer asked.
Sikvah kissed him, her lips no less soft now that he knew how hard she could be. “Just because I am commanded to do a thing, husband, does not mean I do not wish it.” Efficiently, she removed his motley pants. “Or that I do not take my own pleasure in it.”
Leesha turned the dial, adjusting her lens chamber.
The difference in samples was immediate. There had been few living seeds in the one Rosal provided. This one was positively brimming with them, though they were sluggish and weak.
Drugged.
She looked out the window. The sun was barely cresting the horizon. Would Araine be up at this hour?
It was too important to wait. She sent a runner, and the girl returned almost immediately with a summons from the Duchess Mum.
“You’re sure?” Araine demanded when she arrived. “This isn’t some trick of the white witch to bargain for her husband?” The old woman was still in her dressing gown, a surprisingly worn and simple cloth, but she lost none of her regal bearing, and was in no mood for pleasantries.
Leesha nodded. “Amanvah may be looking to bargain, Your Grace, but she was right. This isn’t the same man’s issue. Unless you mistrust Melny …”
Araine waved the thought away. “That girl hasn’t an ounce of guile, and nothing to gain by lying in any event.”
“Then Rosal lied to us,” Leesha said. “And I doubt the conspiracy ends there.”
Araine nodded. “This has been going on since that girl was soiling her nappies.” She tsked. “Pity. Your Gared will be heartbroken when she’s hung for treason.”
“She may only be a pawn in this,” Leesha said carefully. “Perhaps we can show mercy, if she leads us to the real traitor in your court.” Already she had her suspicions.
“You think Jessa did it,” Araine said.
Leesha shrugged. “Perhaps. In part.”
Araine huffed, getting to her feet. “Send a runner to summon the white witch in one hour, then wait in my sitting room while I put my armor on.”
An hour later, Araine was once again clad in fine raiment with her crown in place, staring down Amanvah, who at least had the humility to bow more deeply than the Duchess Mum.
“Do you know who has been drugging my son?” Araine asked.
Amanvah’s head dipped slightly, eyes revealing nothing behind her veil. “I do.”
“Not just who gave it to him, but who ordered it done?” Araine asked.
Again the slight nod. Araine waited, but Amanvah said nothing more. The minutes crawled by as they stared at each other, each a study in royal dignity.
“Will you share it?” Araine asked at last.
Amanvah gave a slight shrug. “My husband sits locked in a tower alone, just for defending himself under your roof. My sister-wife is missing, and you have done nothing to search for her. Kendall and I remain prisoners in our chambers. Tell me, Duchess Mother, why should I help you?”
Araine’s finger began tapping the side of her delicate porcelain cup, causing little ripples in the surface of the tea. “Apart from the obvious? I could free your husband. Search the city top to bottom for Sikvah. Release you from confinement.”
Amanvah shook her head gently as she stirred her tea. “Apologies, Duchess, but you cannot. I have cast on this. You do not have the power in your son’s court to assure me of any of those things. Your power is great, but you rule Angiers in the details between decrees, and my husband’s fate is too public to avoid the duke’s notice. The future is full of divergences, but all fates agree that you cannot sway his judgment.”
Araine kept her poise, but her lips disappeared as she pressed them together. There were few things the woman disliked more than reminders of the limits of her power.
“Perhaps not,” Araine said at last. “There will be a trial—nothing can stop that—but do not be so quick to dismiss my offer. I may not be able to sway my son’s judgment, but clemency is one of the few legal powers I still command. Even if Rhinebeck sentences your husband to execution, I can pardon him with a wave of my hand, and not all my sons together could stop it.”