Chapter Text
They reached Laurine de Morange’s home fairly quickly; a pair of guards were stationed outside, standing at attention. “She’s under double guard within, sir,” one of the recruits reported to Kurt. “Kept under close watch, but easy confinement, per the governor’s orders.”
Kurt knew: one of Constantin’s guards had handed him the orders to review before sending them to the Coin Barracks to carry out. I wish I knew more of the men here, he couldn’t help thinking. Truth be told, it had been a long while since he’d known any of his peers well, but even in Serene he’d at least had a passing acquaintance with most of the other members of the palace guard. I don’t know anyone here, except Sieglinde and Manfred. That made him feel unsettled. I don’t know who to trust.
As they entered Morange House, Kurt wondered if Laurine de Morange herself was to be trusted. Emir didn’t name her, but can we believe him? Is this Asili guilty, or did he have accomplices inside the city?
One of the guards from the exterior led them from the entry to the parlor, where they found Laurine de Morange looking somewhat worse for wear, curled up in a high-backed chair facing the fireplace. As she rose and turned to greet them, Kurt saw she was clad in a deep reddish-purple gown, darker in hue and less ornate than the one she’d worn on the docks. The billowing hoops and rigid boning of that gown were gone, and he wondered if she’d been forbidden to wear them: other assassins in Serene had been known to hide weapons within those enormous hoops, and in one case had sewn a stiletto into the boning of her corset. She’d still been permitted a smaller version of the enormous starched wide ruffs she preferred, but it looked small and sad compared to the getup she’d worn the day before, as did the woman herself: the verbose ebullience from the docks was gone, and a careworn, fearful-looking woman remained. Her hair was still gathered up in the ornate weave of braids and curls, but it looked as if she had slept in it, and perhaps removed an added hairpiece or two: the style had lost a great deal of volume and looked much messier than it had upon the docks. There were dark circles beneath de Morange’s eyes, as if she hadn’t slept, and the gold-and-coral earrings she’d worn the day before were nowhere to be seen.
Even so, she rose from her chair, managing a gracious but shaky tone. “Lady de Sardet,” she said haltingly, then ventured, “Or should I call you Legate, Your Excellency?”
“Whatever you wish, I suppose,” de Sardet replied; Kurt thought she looked more distinctly uncomfortable than de Morange. “This is all so new to me!”
There was an uncomfortable silence; Kurt cleared his throat, hoping to remind de Sardet of why they were there, but it was de Morange who looked to him first. “You’ve come with your bodyguard,” she observed. “I assure you, I mean you no harm, Your Excellency.”
“I hope that’s true.” De Sardet swallowed hard, and Kurt saw the slight trembling of her own hands as she smoothed down the front of her doublet. “Captain Kurt is kind enough to accompany me everywhere, at least for the moment. We’ve spent the morning at the Coin Barracks.”
De Morange stiffened. “Questioning the prisoners there?” She flattened down her skirts. “I assure you, I had nothing to do with this. Please, you must believe me. I knew nothing of any plot, and certainly nothing of any poison. I swear to you!” Her voice rose as she went on, her words speeding up, and her distress was plain despite her best attempts to conceal it.
I can’t say I blame her, Kurt thought. Everyone knew the Prince d’Orsay’s reputation, and she had to suspect his son would be equally ruthless. He was always a good kid, Kurt thought, but he has a nasty streak, and he’s always at his most vicious when someone’s threatened him or Green Blood. The Prince d’Orsay had always taught his son to strike early and hard against potential threats, and to make his enemies fear his retribution – and Kurt feared Constantin had learned those lessons all too well. I tried to teach him about honor, but I doubt he ever truly listened to a lowly mercenary like me.
De Morange’s distress drew de Sardet from her stupor: she immediately moved to console her. “Doctor Emir said as much when we questioned him,” she said. “I have already promised all of the physicians who attended us on the docks that they will not be tortured. I extend that same promise to you. I do not believe that either Doctor Boisseau or Doctor Pelletier had anything to do with this, and I doubt that you did, either. Doctor Emir appears to be the only guilty party…in New Serene, at least.”
De Morange picked up on her words immediately. “In New Serene? You mean he had allies in Hikmet?”
De Sardet started to reply, but Kurt cut her off. “How can we be sure you’re not asking her to confirm whether or not your allies have been exposed?”
De Sardet met his eyes, giving him a brief nod. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’m not the one who should be providing information here.” She looked back to Laurine de Morange. “I want to believe you are innocent. I want to believe that Doctor Emir acted alone, and that you have no reason why he would commit such a horrible crime. But first, I need reasons to trust you.”
Kurt had half-expected de Morange to take offense and protest – or at least to feign offense, trying to prey upon de Sardet’s empathetic nature – but instead, the noblewoman nodded. “You are a child of Serene, and of the Congregation. I served as a courtier in Serene for longer than you have been alive. I certainly understand your position.” She spread her hands. “But I know nothing of this plot! I will gladly tell you everything I can of the political situation here, and of Doctor Emir himself, and of what I know of the political situation in Hikmet…but I truly know nothing of this poisonous plot! I certainly had no desire to participate in an assassination of you or your cousin!”
She thinks it’s an assassination, Kurt thought. At least, as far as he could see, de Morange was telling the truth. Granted, the Congregation is full of men and women who are better liars than I’ll ever be – but I think that fifteen years among them has given me plenty of time to spot the telltale signs.
De Morange grew more animated as de Sardet gestured for her to sit back down in her chair, taking a seat upon a chaise that was opposite the chair. Kurt moved to stand at the side of the chaise, not expecting trouble, but ready for it nonetheless. “Tell me more,” de Sardet encouraged her. “Everything you know about Doctor Emir, his situation at your court, and the circumstances that led to his appointment. Who recommended him for the posting? When did he arrive? What were his interests? I know the doctors of the Bridge are generally scholars and researchers as well as practicing physicians. He brewed the contaminated fortifiers; was he generally responsible for making such medicines? Why were the Nauts not entrusted with that task?”
De Morange told her everything she could. Again, as far as Kurt could tell, she held nothing back: her words came slowly and hesitantly at first, but soon became a torrent of sentences, a barrage of information that Kurt would have been hard-pressed to halt. She’s trying to save her life, Kurt realized. She hasn’t been tortured, but the threat of torture is enough – the d’Orsay reputation for what they do to assassins.
Laurine de Morange was glad to detail the history of the settlement, from the very day she’d landed on the island five years ago to its present state. “The palace’s foundations had been laid, but I supervised its construction. It’s only recently finished, but it is the very height of luxury, with the purest glass windows imported all the way from the Congregation, and some of the marble finishes along with them, though much of the stone was indeed quarried from local mines.” She sighed. “I wish I could have given you the grand tour!”
“Emir,” Kurt pressed. The sound of his voice seemed to remind her of his presence, and de Morange gave him a look of annoyance that was tinged with fear: a noble who disliked the reminder of the authority he wielded and despised him for being able to demand answers of her when, the previous day, even speaking to her directly without first having been spoken to would have been an affront. “What do you know about him?”
“He was highly recommended. Governor Burhan himself encouraged me to take him on; he said that he was a friend and colleague of the renowned Doctor Asili, a genius among men, the inventor of inoculation and the Bridge Alliance’s best hope of discovering a cure for the malichor. He is here on the island now, Doctor Asili, receiving extensive funding from his government in hopes of discovering a cure for the malichor. Apparently there are some very promising leads: the malichor is entirely unknown here, and it is thought that there may be some cure lying dormant within the food they eat, the water they drink, or perhaps even the air they breathe. There have been no diagnoses of the malichor among any of the continental settlers here, either; there are no cases on this island whatsoever!” For a moment, sympathy flickered across de Morange’s face. “I am truly sorry about your mother, Your Excellency. She was a lovely woman, a paragon of honesty and virtue.”
“She was alive when we left Serene,” de Sardet said, very quietly.
De Morange looked uncomfortable. “I did not mean to imply otherwise, Your Excellency. I am truly sorry she contracted such a terrible disease.” Quickly, she returned the conversation to Emir. It confirmed everything that Walid Emir had told them about himself: his decision to come to New Serene to serve, his recommendations from Burhan and Asili, his reserved, serious nature. “He largely kept to himself, from what I understood. I do not know what his particular areas of study were, but he did profess an interest in creating tinctures from native plants and animals, along with the more traditional continental preparations.” De Morange seemed genuinely chagrined as she admitted, “I asked the palace physicians to produce the fortifiers because I thought them more trustworthy than the Nauts. The Nauts do have reasons to hold a grudge against your uncle, and there have been past tensions between our nation and their guild that made me wary of asking them to supply such an important medicine.”
“So you trusted the preparation to a murderer instead,” Kurt said.
“I didn’t know!” Genuine anger suffused de Morange’s voice. “I swear to you, I knew nothing of any of this! Perhaps that is my failure as governor, but it is a failure of intelligence, not of honesty!”
Kurt let out a guffaw, and de Morange gave him another glare as she amended, “A failure of my sources to provide intelligence, not intellectual deficiency. I assume that a person of greater intellect would have known my intent.”
“Kurt saved my life,” de Sardet intervened. “He saved Constantin’s as well.”
Kurt folded his arms across his chest. “And yours, unless you think that Prince Claude d’Orsay would have spared the life of the woman who offered his son and heir a bowl full of poison and encouraged him to drink before witnesses. Or if Princess Livie heard that you’d done the same to her daughter, for that matter.”
Laurine de Morange had no retort ready for that: she looked positively ill as she thought of it, and with good reason, given how legendary Claude d’Orsay’s vengeance on the men who’d killed his firstborn son had been. “I knew nothing,” she whispered, but looked defeated. “Truly, Your Excellency. I had no idea that we had welcomed such a treacherous fiend into our midst. I had no idea that he had poisoned the fortifiers, and I still have no idea why he would do so. Governor Burhan has always been most eager to maintain our alliance; I cannot believe that he would wish to poison either of you. As far as I know, he has no political ties on the continent that would have led him to encourage such an attempt…and, as you likely know, House de Morange has long favored our alliance with the Bridge, and has cultivated many contacts within the Alliance. I know of no factions on Teer Fradee that would wish for your death or your cousin’s.”
De Sardet paused, and Kurt could see her weighing her options. Finally, she asked, “What do you know of Doctor Asili?”
“He is the Bridge Alliance’s most renowned scholar, the inventor of inoculation, who has come to the island with the avowed intention of discovering a cure for the malichor,” de Morange began, then stopped abruptly as she saw the look on her face. “Are you saying that Doctor Asili was the one who ordered you to be poisoned?”
“Infected,” de Sardet replied. “According to Doctor Emir, the bowls were contaminated with an essence of malichor, capable of inducing the disease in any who drank from them.” Her voice quavered as she said the words, and Kurt’s heart went out to her, knowing what she must be imagining.
Everything her mother went through, he thought, and felt another wave of fury at both Emir and Asili. She’s imagining that for herself, and for Constantin, and thinking of her mother back in Serene, suffering through her last days alone. It was enough to make him want to go back to Emir’s cell and hit him again, though he knew that he should have been ashamed of himself for the impulse. After what he nearly did to Green Blood and His Highness, I can’t say I regret it.
De Morange looked utterly stunned. “Is…is that possible?” she breathed. “I did not think anyone knew how the malichor spread.”
“Apparently, Asili figured it out. He is supposed to be a genius,” said Kurt.
“Or, if not how it spreads naturally, then how to spread it unnaturally,” de Sardet offered. “Doctor Emir spoke of a distillation of the blood of the affected, turned into a poison all its own.”
“But…to create a poison from the malichor itself…it would be worse than the draught of de Vespe!” De Morange’s hand went to her mouth in a perfect expression of horror. “If anyone could create such a poison, it would be Marwan Asili, but…why would he do such a thing? And why infect you?”
Kurt had to admit that, the more they spoke with Laurine de Morange, the less he thought she had anything to do with the poisoning: her look of astonishment was too genuine, as was her fear. I’ve seen courtiers who were good at acting, but this would be another level of performance entirely – and I don’t think she’s foolish enough to have knowingly supported Asili and Emir. The sheer amount of fear in her eyes as she’d contemplated her possible fate after the deaths of the heirs of the d’Orsay and de Sardet families had been enough to tell Kurt she hadn’t sought to overthrow them. She’d have to be a madwoman to defy Claude d’Orsay. Even hiding halfway across the world wouldn’t be enough to keep her safe if she was thought to have a hand in Constantin’s murder.
De Sardet’s hand went to her birthmark in a self-conscious gesture. “Doctor Emir said he suspected that this marking could confer immunity upon those who possess it. He says that it is common among the natives here. Is that true?”
“It is. The natives view it with an almost superstitious reverence. They have a special name for those who bear such a marking, and those who possess it are marked as their shamans and healers, said to possess great power and an unrivalled closeness to the earth. Given that they worship nature itself, or at least a nature-spirit said to be the embodiment of the island itself, these on ol menawi are thought to be very powerful,” said de Morange. “They do seem to have a natural talent for the islanders’ strange sort of magic, at least, it is said that is the case. They are thought to be more closely bonded to the earth. Some have strange growths emerging from their heads in addition to their birthmarks, akin to antlers or tree-branches.”
“I had heard that, but I found it difficult to believe,” de Sardet admitted. “Though I had not heard the natives had facial markings that resembled my own.” Again, her fingers played lightly over the marking, and she looked self-conscious as she said, “I’ve never met anyone with a birthmark like mine. You say they are common among the natives?”
“Very much so, Your Excellency. As I said, they have a special term for those who possess such a mark.”
“According to Emir, Asili decided that the mark gave immunity to the malichor,” said Kurt, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to tell de Morange the truth of what they’d learned. “He wondered if it would make someone from the continent immune, so he decided to try to poison Green Blood.”
De Morange’s brow furrowed. “Green—”
“Her Excellency,” Kurt amended, catching himself. We’ve been too long aboard that ship. He’d grown too used to thinking of Alexandra de Sardet without title or honorifics, and too used to speaking of her to others that way as well. “The legate.” He felt embarrassed, half-expecting de Sardet to chide him gently for the lapse, but to his surprise she smiled. I’m glad she can smile now, given all that’s happened since we landed.
De Sardet’s smile faded as she said, “He also decided to poison Constantin because he wanted to compare how the disease would progress in one who had the birthmark compared to one who didn’t. He chose Constantin as my closest relation, knowing how much we share, thinking that he would be the closest comparator.”
For what might have been the first time in her life, Laurine de Morange was so shocked that she was left entirely speechless. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, and Kurt couldn’t help but think of a fish out of water, gasping for air. It was another moment before she managed speech. “But – that is madness! To poison the only living son and heir of the Prince d’Orsay with the malichor as a point of comparison – to use him as a test subject – you are saying this was not a political plot in nature, but a science experiment?!”
“That is what Doctor Emir claims. He also says he went along with it because Doctor Asili threatened him.”
“The fool was more afraid of Asili than d’Orsay,” Kurt growled. He couldn’t fathom that: Emir might have been from the Bridge, but Claude d’Orsay’s reputation spanned the entirety of the continent. Again, Kurt had to wonder if the distance from Teer Fradee to the continent had changed the man’s perspective. He’s a fool. If Constantin had died, nothing would stop his father from hunting down the assassins. Claude d’Orsay might not have been overly fond of his last living son, but Constantin was his only heir and the last scion of their noble House. Without His Highness, His Serene Highness’s dynasty falls apart. All the decades of plotting and scheming to put House d’Orsay on top would be for nothing. Kurt didn’t pretend to understand it anyway: he’d always loathed the machinations of nobles interested only in power and wealth, devoid of honor. For all their power, none of them ever seem happy. Then again, Kurt had to wonder if he knew what happiness was; he’d had little enough of it in his own life. I think the happiest I’ve been in the last twenty years was during the voyage here. No worrying about assassins or politicking courtiers, no having to wonder whether Constantin would wander into the lower boroughs and get himself killed, just a few of us on a long sea-voyage with each other for company.
He’d hoped Teer Fradee would prove a better place still, one where both his charges might spread their wings a little: he’d hoped Constantin would learn to shoulder a little more responsibility, and that his cousin might have a little less, able to enjoy greater freedom and independence without feeling obliged to live in Constantin’s shadow, following him around and cleaning up his messes. The legate’s post is that on a larger scale, but at least she’ll have more time to pursue her own interests. Alexandra de Sardet had lived most of her last months in Serene worrying about her mother, watching as Princess Livie had deteriorated, weeping when her mother was feeling too ill to allow her into her rooms. At least she’s safe from the malichor now, her and Constantin both – or at least, they will be. Kurt was determined to learn as much about the malichor extract as he could, and to put measures into place to keep them from being poisoned. Will Asili try again if he knows we know about his plot? Will Burhan shelter him? We could be facing a war with the Bridge.
Kurt wondered if Commander Torsten had considered that, and what the Coin Guard would do in such a case. The Bridgers have a standing army of their own; the Congregation does not. If Constantin wants to hold New Serene, Torsten would have him by the balls. He could name his price to protect the city, and threaten to refuse to allow the Blue-Silver to fight the Green-Azure if Constantin balks. Kurt hoped that Torsten would be more honorable than that; the Coin Guard was supposed to side with the more honorable side of any conflict, but in modern times, Kurt knew that the Guard more often played both sides, or went to whoever could pay them more. That isn’t why the Guard was founded, or what it’s supposed to be.
As he heard de Sardet speaking, he realized he’d let his attention wander, too concerned with a possible future to pay attention in the present. Stupid, he thought. You’re her bodyguard; you need to be on your guard. He didn’t believe de Morange intended de Sardet any harm, but he also knew that he couldn’t be too careful.
“…you were the governor of our settlements here. You’ve dealt with the Bridge Alliance,” de Sardet was saying. “How do you think Governor Burhan will react? What will he do? What should we do, for that matter?”
Laurine de Morange was clearly taken aback: she smoothed her dress down, looking remarkably self-conscious. “You seem as if you trust me, Your Excellency.”
“I think you are sincere when you say you had no knowledge of this,” de Sardet replied. “If that is the case, then I hope that you will be willing to help me, and in doing so exonerate yourself.”
“Will your cousin listen? The governor seemed quite furious.” Despite her best efforts to maintain a semblance of composure, de Morange failed: her voice quavered as she looked down, her hands trembling. A few beads of sweat appeared in her hairline, and she had to lift a gloved hand to wipe away the moisture that threatened to trickle down her forehead. “I know quite well what House d’Orsay does to traitors. I was in the city when Prince Laurent was killed, and when his murderers were put to death.”
Kurt hadn’t been in the city then, but he knew the tales, each more gruesome than the last. Some of the rumors said that he took what was left of the men and kept them alive, buried in some hell-pit beneath the deepest dungeon in the Prince’s Palace. Kurt didn’t believe that, but he did believe that the assassins had been tortured for months before finally being hauled to a very public execution, a traitor’s death that had included the full hanging, drawing, and quartering, all while the men were still alive. They said d’Orsay hired an executioner who knew how to keep them alive while their entrails were being torn out in front of them – that he held up a man’s intestines in front of him before putting out his eyes, so the sight would be the last thing he ever saw. The barracks rumors had been wilder still, but as Kurt hadn’t even been stationed in the Congregation at that point in time, he wasn’t sure of the truth. When we first arrived in Serene, Manfred asked one of the older enlisted men about the executions, one who’d been stationed there when it happened. Ruger had been a grizzled sergeant with more than forty years in the Guard, and even he had shuddered and taken a swig of liquid courage from a hip-flask before answering. He said it was the only execution he’d ever been to where the crowd went quiet at the end.
“Even the pamphlet-sellers and the street-walkers stopped crying their wares,” Ruger had said. “All you could hear was the sound of dead men screaming. Those priests in Theleme talk a lot about a fiery hell and eternal darkness, but these men looked like they’d already seen worse.”
Alexandra de Sardet had not been present; her mother had taken her from the city so she would not have to attend. In contrast, Constantin had been present at his father’s side, but for once, he’d had little to say about the occasion, and Kurt would not press him. If de Morange was there, she has to be wondering if she’s facing the same fate. Constantin may not have his father’s reputation yet, but he’s still a d’Orsay, and she saw how furious he was on the docks. He’d have killed her then and there if no one had stopped him, and with his own hands at that.
“Constantin will see reason,” de Sardet assured her. “No one will be executed without a fair trial – and, as I’ve said, I do not think you were involved in this at all. You were deceived, as my cousin and I would have been had Kurt not grown suspicious.” She paused. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“If you can convince your cousin of my innocence, that will be more than enough. I will never be able to repay you, Your Excellency!” De Morange spread her hands. “I will be glad to tell you everything I know of Governor Burhan and his court – and of Mother Cardinal Cornelia, for that matter, if Governor d’Orsay considers seeking a closer alliance with Theleme – and anything else you might wish to know, including all I know about the palace’s physicians and the other attendants here. My only wish is that you will believe my innocence, for I truly am. I may not have relished giving up my governorship, but I knew this day would come; it was made clear to me when I arrived that my position was a temporary one, and that I would be holding it for another. I truly love this island and our settlement here and hope for its prosperity above all things. I hope you will come to feel the same way…”
She chattered on, but Kurt knew he couldn’t let his mind wander: the details de Morange provided about San Matheus and Hikmet were useful to him as well, and he paid close attention as she spoke of the island’s political factions, the major players in each city, and her opinions on them all. As she did, she grew more relaxed and more garrulous: he thought that de Sardet’s kindness had convinced de Morange that she wasn’t in imminent danger of execution.
By the end of the conversation, de Sardet seemed to have made a friend: when it came time for her to leave, Laurine de Morange rose with her, and actually reached forward to embrace her before stopping awkwardly, glancing sideways at Kurt. “I would not want your bodyguard to think I was intending anything untoward,” she sniffed, and Kurt knew that she still hadn’t forgiven him for his temerity in questioning her earlier.
Kurt didn’t care. My duty is to Green Blood. I have to keep her safe. That’s all that matters.
De Sardet gave Kurt a warm smile. “Kurt has always seen to my safety. Given what happened, you cannot fault him for any overprotectiveness.” Her smile faded. “He’s thwarted more assassination attempts than I can count…likely more than I know of.”
“Indeed.” De Morange’s hostility faded. “Given my own failures, I suppose I cannot fault him.” She inclined her head very slightly toward Kurt in a gesture of acknowledgment. “My apologies, Captain.”
Kurt gave her the slightest of nods in return, touching the brim of his hat in reply. “Apology accepted, Your Excellency.”
De Morange gave a slight snort of amusement that gave way to despair. “Excellency. I have no idea how much longer I shall hold such a title…or if I shall keep my head.”
“I promise, I will do everything I can to secure your release. You may have failed to adequately assess Doctor Emir’s background and willingness to accede to threats, but I do not believe you knew of this plot, or of the poison contained within those bowls.” De Sardet bit her lip. “I will not lie: I know that Constantin will find it difficult to forgive, even if there was no ill intent, but I hope that I will convince him to see reason.”
“If anyone can, it’s you,” Kurt agreed. He felt mildly uneasy about de Sardet’s decision: while he didn’t think that Laurine de Morange had known about the plot, part of him was still angry that she’d failed to detect the viper in her midst. Old d’Orsay would never have allowed such a man on his staff. Even Princess Livie would have seen through him. Both Livie de Sardet and Claude d’Orsay had been known for their ability to command loyal staff. Part of that, Kurt knew, was the Prince d’Orsay’s reputation, and the knowledge of what would be done to any traitor who attempted to harm one of the members of his family, but he also thought that both Prince Claude and Princess Livie had been good judges of character, gifted with shrewdness and insight.
Though Green Blood seems to have inherited that same skill, he thought as de Sardet reached forward, embracing Laurine de Morange. It was a sign of trust, and he could tell that it touched de Morange deeply: the older woman’s eyes looked wet as she leaned in, thanking de Sardet profusely. She’s made an ally today.