As it turned out. I didn’t have to face him. He was gone by the time I limped downstairs to the breakfast room. I ate breakfast with Nobilis Aronson, then rode with him to the Vigilance Orderhouse. He had another board meeting to attend, and I told him that I wanted to discuss the children’s curriculum with Magister Carel.
“Sentinels have access to the world’s most unique and specialized art, and the Vigilance wastes its time calculating profit margins and establishing service fees,” Aronson said with scorn as his carriage rattled over the cobblestone streets through Parkside to Northgate. “It’s petty. And depressing.”
“Why don’t you quit the board and do something that interests you more?”
“I need the social influence. Money can only get me so far, and then it’s all about status. The only way I’m going to increase my status is to get noticed at court, and the only way I’m going to get noticed at court is to become somebody important in the Vigilance.”
“What advantage will higher status bring you?”
He smiled and brushed a strand of dark hair behind one ear. He tied it back too loosely and strands kept slipping out of its silk ribbon. Sometimes my fingers itched to tie it back for him, but I would never be so impertinent.
“I don’t know. Nothing you’d consider important, I’m sure. But I have to have a grander purpose in life than breeding a blue iguana.”
“The world will remember you longer for breeding a blue iguana than for becoming a courtier.”
He chuckled.
“This is why I keep you around, Axton. You’re right; I probably would be remembered longer for a blue iguana.”
“How long have you been keeping them? Did you have lizards when your parents were alive?”
He hesitated, his warm brown eyes sliding away from me to the coach window.
“Yes. But Mother didn’t like them and Father thought I should be studying business, not reptiles.”
“He wanted you to be successful.”
“He wanted his investment to pay off.”
“Your cousin had embarrassed the family. That couldn’t have been easy. I imagine your father was pinning all of his hopes on you.”
He lifted a shoulder.
“I suppose so. Sometimes I wish they’d had other children to distract them. I … I had a little sister, but she died. Very young. I don’t think Tegeus’ parents had any children besides him.”
I hadn’t known about his sister. I filed the fact away for future consideration.
“And after your sister died, your parents never tried to have any more?”
“I don’t think so.” He leaned back in the coach, looking troubled. “Mother was always busy with her philanthropies and clubs. And travel. She loved to travel. Father stayed behind to work. I don’t think they were very close.”
“What about Droit’s mother?” I asked. Aronson frowned.
“I barely remember her. She was very quiet, and she died young. I think I was ten; Tegeus must have been thirteen or fourteen. Everyone said her fall was an accident, but …” His voice suddenly grew distant and hard. “You don’t think about certain things when you’re a child, but when I got older, I started wondering about that fall. I think my uncle killed her. He was a violent man, a nasty piece of work. I never asked Tegeus about it, but there has to be a reason he changed his name, don’t you think? He’s really an Aronson. Tegeus Aronson. ‘Droit’ is just a bad joke.”
A thrill ran through me. There was so much there that I wanted to probe, but we didn’t have time. I forced myself to focus on what I guessed was his primary concern.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything your uncle did. You were a child, and your parents probably tried to shield you from any unpleasant truths.”
“Except they never really succeeded, did they?” He looked out the window again, holding the curtain aside with one gloved hand. We were passing out of Parkside into Northgate. “I’m worried about Angie. She picks fights in school just like Tegeus. Do you think she’s going to turn out like he did? What if she never gets over being abandoned by her parents?”
“She’s fighting to establish a place for herself in the school hierarchy because she doesn’t fit in. I have every reason to believe she’ll settle down. She just needs time and support.” I took a deep breath. “Tomorrow is a holy day. Why don’t you spend it with the girls?”
“I have too much work to do. And I don’t believe in holy days.”
“You’ll always have work to do, my liege. You want to give Angie and Kay more attention than your father gave you, don’t you?”
He gave me a sharp look, then exhaled, exasperated.
“I’ll think about it. The Vigilance’s a little unstable right now. It’s hard to leave when I’m in the middle of hunting down Banishat.”
The carriage jerked to a stop, and moments later Aronson’s driver opened the doors and helped us down. The great iron gates of the Vigilance arched before us, dark against the slushy street and snow-covered grounds beyond. Aronson instructed the driver to wait for my return and considerately slowed his pace to accommodate me as we walked through the Vigilance’s front garden.
“I don’t know what we’d do if I did take the day off,” he continued. “Nine and seven — what do girls want to do at that age? I understand iguanas better than I do children.”
“Then you need to spend at least as much time with Angie and Kay as you do with your lizards,” I said. He frowned and I abruptly wondered if I’d overstepped my bounds. I’d already lost Droit — I didn’t want to lose Nobilis Aronson, too. “Why don’t you take them to the Parkside Rose Garden and teach them how to make snowmen? Or to the naval harbor to visit one of the ships? Is the palace menagerie open in winter? They both like animals.”
Aronson was silent as he held the door open. I maneuvered carefully across the gleaming floor, feeling the wooden tips of the crutches slide on the polished parquet.
“I’ll ask about the menagerie,” he said at last. “I liked going there when I was a boy.”
“Very good, my liege,” I said, relieved. He walked toward the library conference rooms, steps echoing in the high-ceilinged room, while I approached the Vigilance’s forbidding secretery, Mazarin Saint-Cloud.
Saint-Cloud’s appearance suited the Vigilance’s decor: the entire lobby was designed to look forbidding. It was much larger than it needed to be, and its walls were covered with portraits of past guildmasters and -mistresses. Saint-Cloud’s desk was broad and semicircular, giving the secretary a clear vantage point of the entire room and keeping visitors at arm’s length. Lorencz had told me that Saint-Cloud was the second-ranked sentinel in the entire guild and the Vigilance’s first defense against intruders.
The secretary gave me a cool, evaluating look. My clothes, borrowed from Aronson’s apparently infinite closet, seemed to pass muster.
“May I help you, Mister Axton?”
“Is Magister Carel available?”
“She’s finishing a report. Do you want to wait for her?”
“Yes, please.” Like the rest of the lobby, the chairs were bigger than they needed to be, but they were comfortably padded. I sat, leaning my crutches against the arms, and pulled Flowers Over the Dark Water out of my satchel.
Young Mistress Peony had just fled from the evil Count Ferasce and was stumbling through a rainstorm in nothing but her torn bodice and petticoats when Saint-Cloud called my name. I reluctantly stowed the book away. Just when the story was getting good!
Arch-sentinel Carignan Carel’s office was as well-appointed as the rest of the Vigilance and equally designed to impress. Even a mundane like me could appreciate the rarity of the bale-created artefacts that sat on the shelves behind her, glowing with a sickly radiance.
“Good morning, Axton.” Carel sat behind her desk, her silver hair gleaming against her black Vigilance uniform. “Please be seated.”
I dropped into another one of the Vigilance’s large leather chairs, placing the crutches on the floor by my feet.
“What happened to your leg?” she asked.
“I was stabbed in a bar fight.”
“I didn’t think you were a brawling man, Mister Axton. You must be picking up bad habits from your companions.”
“Perhaps.”
“So, what brings you here this morning? Have you discovered something new about Far or our youngest sentinels?”
“No, Magister.” I opened my coat and reached into the pocket of Aronson’s brocade waistcoat, feeling for the three rings I’d transferred there from my own clothing. The two I wanted had been fitted for larger hands than mine. I set them on the desk between us. The insigiled topaz glowed in the dim grey light that fell on the desktop from the window to our left.
“That ring was taken off one of the Banishat who attacked Captain Lorencz a few months ago,” I said. “The other ring was on a body I autopsied several days ago. It’s a perfect match. I cry your help.”
Her eyes gave just the briefest flicker, swiftly concealed.
“We’re doing all we can to root out the Banishat from the Vigilance,” she said, leaving the rings on the desk untouched. “Why are you reporting this to me, instead of Captain Lorencz?”
“She doesn’t know about it, Magister. I have nothing but respect for the captain, but she doesn’t understand what it will take to defend us against the coming storm.”
This time Carel leaned back in her chair, her pale blue eyes studying me. My heart pounded, although I kept my hands in my lap and my face expressionless.
“You seem to know a great deal about adjuration, Mister Axton. That’s unusual, for a mundane.”
“Just because I’m not a sentinel doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate its potential.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the third Banishat ring, holding its topaz up to the light. It had been sized for smaller hand. It would fit mine, if I ever felt like wearing it. “A man doesn’t need to be able to compose music to appreciate the song.” I tucked the ring back away.
Her eyes narrowed. The three passwords had been given and, combined with the rings, she could no longer have any doubt about my intentions. I sat and waited, gambling that her curiosity would keep me safe.
“Two rings came from corpses. Where did the third ring come from, Axton?”
“I inherited it.”
“From Jonathan Ivory?”
Her question shattered my composure. I froze a moment, feeling as though she’d knocked the breath out of my lungs. Then I shook my head, sharply.
“No? One of your parents, then?” Her lips curled up slightly. She knew she’d scored a point. “It would fit a woman’s hand. Was your mother Banishat?”
She didn’t know, then. Knowing about Jon was one thing. Anybody could have learned his name. But she didn’t know my parents.
“I’d rather not talk about my mother,” I said, still shaken. “She’s dead.”
“Then what do you want to talk about, Axton?”
I made an effort to collect myself.
“I want to talk about the children — the demonstrations they’re giving to the Banishat, the times at which those demonstrations are occurring, and the reasons why Nobilis Aronson hasn’t been invited to them.”
“That’s quite a conversational agenda.”
“The second ring was found on corpse whose half-melted state corresponds to an experiment discussed in The Veil of Flesh; an experiment in changing one’s own body with bale. I haven’t reported that to the Cislunar Watch yet. I think it would stir up more trouble with the Vigilance … and neither of us wants that.”
“It might also raise the question of how you happened to read The Veil of Flesh. I believe the book is prohibited in Cislunar.”
“It is.”
“There’s no record of your findings?”
“My report is sitting in Nobilis Aronson’s mansion. Nobody has read it yet.”
“Then you plan to involve Aronson in this.”
“I would rather not, Magister. I’m very devoted to his peace of mind. I take great pains to avoid telling him things that might disturb him. He has enough to worry about, as the legal guardian of the Vigilance’s youngest and most talented cadre of sentinels, without learning that his supervisor is involving them in questionable activities for an illegal secret organization. An organization, I would hazard to guess, that she leads herself.”
The grey light from the window gleamed off Carel’s silver hair and was absorbed by her black Vigilance uniform. She rested her forearms on her desk, weaving her fingers together and looking steadily at me.
“I, too, appreciate Aronson’s peace of mind,” she said, “which is why I don’t tell him things about his friends that might distress him. Such as the real nature of the crimes that were behind their ten-year incarceration in Hellsgate. It’s good to have such a shared interest in our friend’s well-being, don’t you think?”
We had both signaled what was in our hands. Now it was time to play. I wasn’t in as powerful a bargaining position as I’d hoped, but I still felt confident enough to stay in the game.
“I would like to be present during any future demonstrations of the children’s skills that might be scheduled at times inconvenient for Noble Aronson,” I said. “That way I can protect his interests without bothering him.”
“I may need to cancel those demonstrations if I’m going to be subject to increased scrutiny from the Watch.”
“I could arrange to give my report to a member of the Watch who is sympathetic to the Vigilance’s interests.”
“It would be better if the report were lost completely.”
“Professional standards prohibit me from such negligence, although a page or two could be misfiled for the foreseeable future.”
“I could tell Aronson about your ring.”
“It’s not illegal to own a ring.”
“Perhaps not, but in light of your past, I think he’d find it … suggestive. Especially if he also found a copy of The Veil of Flesh in your possession.”
“That’s true. I hope he doesn’t find out. I don’t want to be arrested again.” I took a deep breath. “Because if I do get arrested again, Captain Lorencz and General Droit will start asking me questions. I’ve seen how they conduct interrogations. I’m a coward. Everyone knows that. I’ll tell them everything I know.”
Her eyes searched my face, wondering how much I knew. I was bluffing. Most of the secrets I knew pertained only to myself. But she didn’t realize that, and although she could kill me with a split-second’s call across the Line, I could beat her at poker any day.
“I’ll make sure you’re get an invitation.” She lifted her chin. “Good day, Mister Axton.”
“Good day, Magister Carel.” I picked up the crutches and plucked the rings from her desk, tucking them back into my waistcoat. For a faint moment I thought I smelled something foul: a scent of the balewind blowing across the Line from Perdition. It was, undoubtedly, only my imagination.