Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(70)

The western docks cradled travel and pleasure vessels, and on the far west side, a breakwater extended nearly half a mile across the mouth of the harbor. At its end rose a lighthouse, the mate of a second beacon on the other side. I set out for the breakwater.

It was a popular place to walk; one could take in the sea air without the bustle and stink of fishing boats. Couples young and old enjoyed the cool breezes; carts selling eggplant fritters and sardines-on-a-stick were set up at intervals, in case anyone had skipped breakfast. Most of the walkers wore gold circlets on their heads, meaning they were wealthy Agogoi. Servants sometimes followed a few steps behind, holding a sunshade or carrying a baby. Masters and servants alike watched me with a mixture of amusement and confusion. A foreign fool, pasty, overdressed, and sweating like a pig, made a quaint novelty this sunny morning.

The promenade split and circled the bottom of the lighthouse. The strollers turned around here but did not linger. Could one grow immune to the sight of sea meeting sky? The island of Laika, where the Porphyrians harbored their navy, slumbered to the southwest. Seabirds reeled giddily around it; when the wind was right, I could hear sea lions roaring, although I couldn’t distinguish them from the rocks. I sat upon a block of stone, warmed by the sun and not too guano-covered, and called home for the first time in weeks.

“Castle Orison. Identify yourself, if you please,” said a page boy.

“Seraphina Dom—” I began, but Glisselda was apparently standing right there.

“Phina!” she cried. “You made it to Porphyry. Everyone is well?”

I grinned at her enthusiasm. “Everyone is a lot of people to account for,” I said. “But yes, I’m well. Abdo …”

Was not well. My voice snagged on that.

“We got the message you sent through Lars,” she said. “It was clever of you to make sure Viridius knew what had happened. Lars seems to have been compromised.”

The breeze turned colder; a gull screamed. “What happened?” I said.

“Lars came to tell us your news,” she said. “Just as you’d expect. Big, loyal Lars, and Viridius with him, propped up on his canes. Lars told us you ran into trouble and lost your thnik, but you were on a ship to Porphyry now, and we could get a new think to you there. The whole time, Viridius was saying, ‘Yes, but, my dear, tell them about—’ But Lars kept talking over him. Finally Viridius got fed up and cried, ‘See here, the most important news is that Lars’s brother, Josef, has usurped—’

“Then, apparently, Viridius’s cane slipped and he fell,” said Glisselda gravely. “I didn’t see what had happened, but Lucian misses nothing. Lars kicked it out from under him.”

Below me, the sea churned. I gripped the edge of my stone perch, suddenly dizzy. Lars never would have done such a thing.

Not unless Jannoula, present in his mind and listening in, had taken over and moved his foot for him.

Glisselda’s voice crackled: “Viridius hit his head and was unconscious for two days. Lars was utterly distraught, which I felt confirmed an accident, but Lucian insists it was guilt. The upshot is that the two are no longer together. Lars has moved into the south wing with Dame Okra and the Ninysh ityasaari. He’s still working on our war machines, but he hardly speaks to anyone. Lucian is having him watched.”

“Viridius recovered, though?” I asked, my throat dry. Cantankerous though he was, I was fond of the old composer.

“Physically, yes. He’s upset with Lars, as you might imagine. He told us about the coup in Samsam. Lucian’s theory is that Lars is ashamed of his brother and didn’t want us to know, but that doesn’t sound like Lars to me.”

“No,” I said grimly. “Lars would have told you, and he never would have—” My voice caught. I took a deep breath. “Jannoula is in Samsam; I saw her. I believe she has been helping Josef—maybe even with his ascension—and she’s got hold of Lars.”

There was a long silence. “That’s rather a lot to take in at once,” said Glisselda at last. “So anything we say in front of Lars might be heard in Samsam?”

“Lars, Dame Okra, Od Fredricka, Gianni Patto,” I said. “For all I know, she’s finally found her way into Nedouard and Blanche as well. Say nothing sensitive in front of any of them.” I stared up at the sky. “On my end she’s got Ingar and Abdo.”

“St. Masha’s stone,” breathed the Queen. “We feared that you meant Abdo when you called from Fnark.”

“I wish I understood what Jannoula’s up to,” I fretted.

Glisselda said grimly, “We know enough. This dalliance in Samsam, aiding and abetting an unsympathetic Regent, shows hostile intent. There’s no chance that Jannoula has taken over Josef’s mind, is there?”

“She preys on his piety,” I said. “Abdo assured me she wasn’t inside Josef’s mind. However, she …” I was unsure how to explain. “She can make her mind-fire visible to humans. It’s a trick to make herself look Heaven-touched. Be on your guard against it.”

Was it possible to resist Jannoula’s glamour? I fervently hoped so.

“Oh, I have no intention of letting her into Goredd if I can help it,” said the Queen. “Alas, the person who would most enjoy meeting her at the border and arresting her for … oh, who knows what? He’d come up with something clever and entirely legal.”