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“Then let me help you. I’ve heard the rumors about Lord Kosenmark and his colleagues, one of whom is my dear friend Rudolfus. Others have heard those rumors and watch this house. You were most likely not observed, because you showed sense and caution, but you will have taken even greater care to enter Tiralien. Let me offer my services.”
“Such as?” Eckard said.
“Such as a swift and anonymous passage. But let us continue this discussion in quieter regions.”
Eckard and Ilse exchanged glances.
Do you trust him?
Not completely. But what choice do we have?
Mann’s smile lengthened. “You are both so obvious with your suspicions. Very well. Let me be more precise. Mistress Ilse wishes to reach Tiralien and Lord Kosenmark as soon as possible. No, do not pretend to misunderstand. Let us assume I am correct, and that you are too modest to disagree. So, Lord Kosenmark, Tiralien, and the necessity for both speed and discretion. That is straightforward enough. The season is late, here in Melnek. I shall hire a boat for a pleasure cruise along the coastline to the southern provinces. I will break my journey in Tiralien on a whim, or the need to restock my supply of good wine. I am famous for that, as you well know.”
“That I do,” Eckard said softly. “I wonder how much else I should know.”
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“Little else,” Mann said. “Not that you would believe me. You know my reputation. I am shallow and frivolous. Lord Khandarr himself would agree.”
“If Lord Khandarr disbelieves you, you die,” Ilse said.
“I knew that before,” Mann replied.
Ilse glanced from one man to another. Both nodded.
She drew a long breath. “Very well, as you say. Let us proceed.”
* * *
MANN’S VEHICLE WAITED outside the stables with the driver and horses ready. Ilse climbed in, and the driver brought it around to the front courtyard, where Mann embarked. At his signal, the driver urged the horses through the gates and into the streets of Melnek.
Ilse expected Mann to speak, but his volubility had died away in that short interval since her farewell to Eckard. He sat, his face turned to the window. There was a half moon rising over the northern hills, but clouds obscured its light, with only intermittent flashes from the streetlamps to show the ironic smile on Mann’s lips, and the way his gaze seemed to look far beyond the dark streets rolling past.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“I told you why.”
“One reason. Not all of them.”
Mann shrugged. “Very well. Then let us say I did so because I wish to.”
“That is not enough.”
At her sharp tone, he shifted his gaze toward hers, and by the chance gleam of another streetlamp, she could see that he smiled. “You were always insistent. I noticed that from the moment we met in your father’s house, three years ago. Very well. I know our court and king. Also, your Lord Kosenmark. His methods are not mine, but I have come to see that even an imperfect alliance is better than none.”
“But you aren’t—”
“A political creature? No, I am not. I am a citizen of Veraene, no matter how frivolous you believe me. And I should not care for the dreams I should have in future lives if I were offered the choice of acting in good cause and did not.”
He turned his face back toward the window of his carriage, staring out at the blankness of the night. As if, she thought, he had spent all his conversation in that one confession.
She let her gaze drop to her hands, clasped one within the other, and let her thoughts drift in silence as they rode.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ILSE SPENT THE night in a servant’s room, tucked under the eaves of Mann’s elegant city house. Preparations for the journey would require at least two days, he told her. She had to admire how he combined attention to her needs with what had to be an innate sense of discretion, worthy of the best spies she had known. On their arrival, Mann summoned the servant who would see to all her needs. Within the hour, she had a stack of freshly laundered bedding, a bucket of hot coals to warm the room, and a tray with hot tea, bread, and thick soup, cooked just as she remembered from years before, when she and her brother secretly visited the servant’s quarters.
Through the next morning, she read the well-thumbed books Mann supplied to her via the old servant, but even though she immersed herself in antique romances from the empire days, she found her thoughts flitting back over the past two weeks. To Ryz and Maryshka Rudny. To Jannik Maier and Bela Sovic, and whether they had survived that violent encounter with Károvín soldiers.
