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She hurried off, leaving Ilse to ponder what might happen if Kathe took over as chief cook and left her mother to do the pastries herself. That was as likely as her taking over Lord Kosenmark’s business.
Lord Kosenmark. He would not send for her, she realized. And he would relay no orders. He was waiting for her decision. Should she seek him out? But the thought of traversing the pleasure house made her stomach flutter.
A hint first, she thought. One for him, and one for me.
Someone had returned her writing case to her rooms during the morning. Ilse wrote a quick note, apologizing for her delay, and asking Lord Kosenmark what her next assignment should be. “Take this message to Lord Kosenmark,” she told the first runner she met. “But do not disturb him if he’s occupied.”
Within the quarter hour, the runner had returned with a fresh note in Lord Kosenmark’s script: Come to me upstairs, please.
She came with writing case in hand. The alcove outside his office was empty, and the door stood open. Kosenmark stood by the doors leading to his rooftop garden, but his desk was covered with stacks of letters, maps, and scrolls, while another table held the remains of his breakfast. Dinner, too, she thought, taking in the quantities of dirty dishes.
“Mistress Ilse.” He looked at her expectantly.
She found it strangely hard to speak. “My lord. I’ve come to ask about my day’s work. If you have any for me, that is.”
“Ah.” His mouth relaxed into a pensive smile. “Work. Yes. We have much to do.”
He gestured toward the chairs by the fireplace. “I wanted to talk with you about the meeting at Lord Vieth’s—the one Lord Khandarr interrupted so easily.”
“Was there more than one?” Ilse said, half to herself. She caught the briefest of changes to Kosenmark’s expression. “I’m right … there was more than one meeting. Wasn’t there?”
Kosenmark tilted his head and regarded her with a half smile. “What do you think?”
“There were two meetings,” she said slowly, watching his expression for clues. “More than two. One was the public meeting where you expected an interruption. Now I remember how disappointed Lord Khandarr looked. He expected to discover more of the people in your shadow court, but you brought only the ones he knew about. When you left me to wait outside the ballroom, you met secretly with the others one by one. Or perhaps in pairs.”
He was shaking his head. “You are too clever, Mistress Ilse. I’m glad you never did spy upon me. Yes, it happened j
ust as you just described. However, because we could not meet all together, we were unable to reach any conclusion about the news from Károví. Since then, we’ve suspended any further meetings.”
To resolve other matters, she thought. Yes. How much had he told the other members of his shadow court about his suspicions?
“They know,” Kosenmark said softly. “Both the beginning and the end of that affair. You should know that Mistress Ehrenalt disagreed with my methods—with very loud and plain words. But enough of that. You asked about your day’s work. I have only one task for you right now. Or rather, a question.”
He motioned again for her to sit. She did, but he remained standing, pacing around the chairs as he talked. “It’s about King Leos. And the news about his search for the jewels. We have watchers and listeners in both courts—Lady Theysson calls that keeping a vigilant guard.” He paused in his flow of speech. “You spoke very strongly against intrigue and spies. I cannot say you are wrong or naïve, but I cannot agree. Not entirely. If we close our eyes, we walk in blindness.”
“If we stop our ears, we live as the deaf, our senses muffled by a willful ignorance,” Ilse said, completing the quote.
He smiled. “So you did read all those texts I gave you. Yes. We must watch and listen and gather our clues. But as you warned me, we cannot watch only for clues we expect. Lady Theysson and Lord Joannis expect war. Lord Iani expects a search for the jewels. Baron Eckard admits he does not know what to expect, and that troubles him more than anything. So I ask you: What do you expect?”
Ilse thought for several long moments before she answered. This was a test of sorts, whether Lord Kosenmark intended it for one or not. “Not war,” she said at last. “Not unless Veraene begins one.”
“Interesting. Why?”
“Because it’s not like his nature. You gave me books to read about his earlier years, and I’ve heard stories from my grandmother, who lived under his rule for thirty years. He’s known as a good king. A strong and careful king. He would not launch a war unless provoked. And … he’s old.”
“Why should that prevent him?”
That was harder to answer. She tried to put into words the vague impression she felt whenever she heard Leos Dzavek discussed. “Because he is old,” she said. “Because for all his magic, he will die someday. He would not launch a war if he could not live to see its end.”
Kosenmark paused by the fireplace and stared into it. Except for the shadows, the tiredness had vanished from his face, and behind that shuttered face, Ilse sensed great concentration. Finally his gaze cleared and he looked around at her.
“What if he thought the jewels were in Veraene?” he said.
“That would be a provocation, I think. But what makes me curious …”
She paused.
“Go on,” Kosenmark said. “What makes you curious?”
