from the tavern.
After they’d gone, Duchess drained her cup. “I never heard of blackarms spying on Imperial Whites,” she said at last. “Sounds to me like someone’s using Takkis for reasons of his own.”
Lysander picked up what was left of Deneys’ drink. “To embarrass the empress, right? I suppose it’s the reason you keep someone like Takkis around in a place like Rodaas. Then again,” he added flatly, “these days you see cat’s-paws everywhere.”
She didn’t know how to take that comment, no more than she knew how to make things between them right again. “Did you just move to this city?” she replied. “I can’t help seeing what’s already there. Take a man known for integrity and put him between the empress and her own guards....”
Lysander laughed, almost naturally. “Now you sound like Minette.” He signaled to a serving girl for wine. “Next you’ll be beating me at tiles, too.”
“So if Pollux is in jail,” said Duchess, refusing to be baited, “where is this mistress?”
“Dead of fever, or so I’m told. I was about to get to that before Brenn rushed off in another sad attempt to bed Deneys.” He held up a hand. “Before you ask, I don’t know her name, or the name of the son Pollux gave her. The boy’s six summers or so, which means Pollux must have moved heaven and earth to keep a secret that long.”
“He must have loved the mother very much,” Duchess said, for the moment all Silk. She wondered what it would be like to have a man so in love he would flout centuries of tradition. Most of the men she knew lacked any honor to discard, and cared little for tradition. Steel was more practical, however, and was already making connections. A man who could keep a secret, trained in all the martial skills an Imperial White required, willing to risk his very life for a bastard child. Temptable, but with a sense of honor. Such a man could be a useful lieutenant...assuming of course he were willing, and not locked in a cell and surrounded by blackarms.
“I suppose so. But she’s gone now, and Pollux must have been trying to find someone to take care of the boy when Takkis found him out,” Lysander was saying. “Now the court is in a terrible fix. They can’t very well approve of what Pollux was doing, but if they execute him publicly it brings shame on the empress herself.” His wine arrived and he drank as deeply as if it were his first and not his fifth. “The only thing sweeter than summer wine is summer gossip,” he gloated. Then he looked away, out over the crowd.
Still not fully there with her, then. No talk of anything real . She pushed aside her dismay and toyed thoughtfully with her empty cup, focusing again on the practical. “Lysander,” she asked after a moment, “what would happen if Pollux were to die in prison?”
“Most like the court would probably breathe a secret sigh of relief, quietly hand the body over to the cult of Mayu, and then forget the whole thing happened. Saves them a world of trouble.” Although well in his cups, he did not miss the gleam in her eye. “I’ve seen that look before. It’s usually followed by, ‘Lysander, I’m about to suggest something insane.’” He eyed her with suspicion as Duchess sat quietly, her mind whirring. “If this is about Takkis, don’t even start. Someone might be using him to hurt the empress, but you don’t have a shred of proof.”
She tried to smile, but it wasn’t in her. “Who said I needed any?”
* * *
They left the Bier just before the owner threw them out, spilling into Pike Street with the other patrons. Although she and Lysander left under their own power, others were less able and some had to be heaved into the street by the Bier’s staff. By morning those unfortunates would be picked clean by the lightboys, who were as adept at cutting purses as they were at guiding nobles.
Her apartments were larger but Lysander’s garret was closer, so they turned in that