Chapitre Trente-Huit

Le Serment d'Assassin

Lucien

As a father, Lucien long knew that he needed to look out for his children's survival first and worry about their hopes and dreams second. In moments of honesty, however, he never imagined that they would ever achieve those hopes or dreams.

As he sent off another letter to Duchess Poignard and Andre sent off another to Cherise, he found himself becoming hopeful that at least one of his sons could find happiness in life.

So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the letter Lucilla held out to him from the other side of his desk.

"My lord?" she repeated.

"Oh, yes," he said, shaking his head. "Terribly sorry, dear girl. What were you saying?"

"This letter arrived today," said Lucilla. "I don't recognize the seal."

"A new seal?" Lucien took the letter and looked it over. "Thank you, Lucilla. Is there anything else?"

"No, your grace."

"Then you are released," Lucien dismissed her with a wave and sat back in his chair.

Once Lucilla had left, Lucien carefully broke the seal with his letter-opener and unfolded the paper.

Duke Lucien Renart,

You are hereby invited to a masquerade ball to take place on the fifth day of Moisduvent at the estate of Marquis Micaedon Étranger. The Marquis wishes to foster good relations with his fellow aristocrats.

Best Wishes,

Jean-Charles

Right Hand to the Marquis

Lucien grinned and folded the letter. Wonderful news!

Almost giddy, Lucien left his office and sought out Fitzroy, whom he found on the balcony overlooking the hedge-maze.

"Spy anything helpful?" Lucien asked as he approached.

"Yes," said Fitzroy, a smug smirk on his face. "As a matter of fact, I have. See that?" Fitzroy pointed to a specific place in the maze where a member of the kitchen staff wandered.

"Yes, what about him?" said Lucien.

"Keep watching," said Fitzroy.

Lucien leaned on the railing and stared at the servant in the maze. The servant made a left turn down one of the corridors. Just as he did, four other servants rearranged some of the potted hedges, sealing off the area he was in. When the cook arrived at a dead end, a shadow stepped out from the hedges nearby, stabbed him in the back, and dragged his body away.

"You couldn't have waited until after dinner?" Lucien chuckled. "A traitor, I take it?"

"Quite," said Fitzroy, drawing circles on the balcony's railing with his middle finger. "He was corresponding with Baron Dufour, informing him of the affairs of your household."

"Good work," said Lucien, patting him on the back. "Shame, though. He made a wonderful lobster bisque." Lucien wasn't sure how it was that Fitzroy had lured the spy into such an ideal trap as the hedge maze, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to know the details. Lucien held up the letter. "Did you know about this?"

"Lucilla said something about a letter arriving in the mail from a seal she didn't recognize," said Fitzroy, folding his arms.

"Yes, it's from Micaedon," said Lucien. "It's an invitation to a masquerade."

Fitzroy leaned in, a wicked grin crossing his face. "Oh, really? Do tell."

Lucien rubbed his palms together. "Oh, it will be a wonderful opportunity!"

"Do you want him killed?" Fitzroy asked. "Without an heir that will free up the estate to pass on to someone else, and you could maneuver to--"

"No," Lucien interrupted. "If we have him killed it just makes us all the more dangerous in the Empress' eyes. Much as I would like to see Raul Loup lose, I'd rather not risk her ire. Instead I want your agents to search for information. Anything we can use as leverage on Micaedon. Better yet, anything that can incriminate Loup."

"I imagine he's invited the Empress to this ball," said Fitzroy, scratching his chin. "And, if that's the case, then he'll make sure there's no evidence of their treason."

Lucien shrugged. "We don't need actual evidence of his misdeeds, we just need something that can pass as evidence of his misdeeds."

"True enough," said Fitzroy. "There is... one other matter, your grace..."

"I'm listening..." said Lucien.

Fitzroy glanced behind Lucien, then leaned in closer and whispered. "I don't know all of the details yet, but, apparently, Dufour's son threatened Beatrice while you were gone."

"Threatened?" Lucien's brow furrowed and his fists clenched. "I see... I take it you intend to deal with him at the masquerade?"

"Absolutely," said Fitzroy, his face just as stern as Lucien's. "Anyone stupid enough to bully a member of this family gets a blade in his lung, believe me!"

"I most certainly do believe you," said Lucien, patting him on the shoulder. "Very well. If your agents get an opportunity to kill Dufour's son then do it, but make sure that either he simply disappears that night, or it looks like the new Marquis was responsible."

"Turn our enemies on each other. I like it." Fitzroy and Lucien both chuckled for a moment, then Fitzroy's face turned serious again. "There is... yet another matter, my lord."

Lucien leaned back against the wall behind him. "Speak your mind."

Fitzroy brought his voice even lower than before. "It's about Edmund."

Lucien had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear, but, even so, he grinned widely. "Ah. I see. Shall we discuss this elsewhere?"

"That would be preferable."

The two of them retreated into the house together, and down into the less-traveled hallways and corridors. Fitzroy opened the door to an abandoned room and locked it behind them. Once inside, he lifted the rug on the floor to reveal a trapdoor, and the two of them set foot upon a long staircase into a dark cave, where Fitzroy lit a lamp.

Lucien closed the trapdoor overhead, turned to his spymaster at the bottom of the stairs, and said, "What about Edmund?"

"He learned... something of grave concern while you were gone," said Fitzroy.

Lucien frowned and crossed his arms. "You mean he was communing?"

"Well... yes..."

Lucien groaned. "When you found out did you remind him how I feel about that?"

"Actually..." Fitzroy wrung his hands together. Lucien silently prayed that he wasn't about to say what he expected him to say. "I asked him to."

Fitzroy braced himself, and rightfully so, as Lucien slapped him on the left cheek. "You know what the Hymns say about necromancy and communing with the dead!"

Fitzroy raised his hands, defensively, "They condemn all forms of sorcery, even alchemy."

"Don't you dare!" Lucien hissed, smacking him with the back of his hand. "Don't you dare turn this around on me! Leon was dying! I had to do something!"

"So did I!" said Fitzroy, folding his arms. "Hit me if you must, but witch born like Edmund are being killed all the time, probably far more than we hear about! This family is one of their only hopes for survival!"

Lucien struck him once more, though this time he put significantly less force into it. "And if they practice black magic they cease to be just witch born and become actual witches!" Lucien paced back and forth in the dark cave, his own shadow looming and flickering on the walls. "The oldest Hymns are silent about what to do with witch born, only the Church's recent additions speak of punishing them for their unfortunate birth. But witches? The Hymns have spoken against the use of black magic since the very beginning! Lyr himself taught us not to tolerate the occult, yet here you are encouraging the boy to risk his soul!"

"For the good of the family!" Fitzroy retorted.

"He's part of the family, Amadeus!" Lucien growled and pointed an accusatory finger. "He's not my blood, but he is as a son to me, you know that!"

"A Renart is going to die before the year is over!" Fitzroy blurted out.

Lucien grew silent and stared at his spymaster.

"That's what he learned," Fitzroy continued. "When he communed and listened to the spirits of those long gone they said that a Renart is going to die before the year ends!"

Lucien sighed and hung his head in his hands. "The spirits didn't say whom?"

"No, my lord."

Lucien snorted. "They didn't say how?"

"No, my lord."

"Well, then thank you for that useless piece of information!" Lucien threw his hands up. "We know that some member of the family, could be anyone, will die before the year is over, but we have no idea who it is or how it will happen. That means we have no way to prevent it! All you've succeeded in doing is creating distress. Until it happens I'll be constantly worried about all my loved ones, now more than ever!"

Lucien pointed to the gray in his temples. "You see this? I had this before I turned thirty! You know why? Because my family is constantly in danger, Amadeus! They always have been! I live with the constant knowledge that any one of them could be killed at any moment! Now..." Lucien sighed. "Now I know for sure that one of them will be killed soon..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't tell me how sorry you are!" Lucien hissed. "Tell me how you're going to fix this and do better in the future." Lucien seized him by his collar. "Swear to me that you will never encourage Edmund to commune with the dead again."

"I..." Fitzroy hesitated, but Lucien glared into his eyes. "I swear it."

Lucien let go of his collar. "Good. May Lyr hold you to your oath."

He retreated up into the secret room, and soon into the rest of the house. Fitzroy checked for any sign that they had been followed, or for anyone attempting to eavesdrop.

Damn that Fitzroy! Years ago, when Edmund was just learning to speak he'd told Lucien that is second wife was going to die. Lucien told himself at the time that the boy simply had an over-active imagination, but when his wife did, indeed, pass away he was forced to take what the young witch-born had to say more seriously. Now he was faced with yet another prophecy of a death in the family, and part of him questioned sometimes if Edmund's prophecies would still come true even if he hadn't spoken them.

Was there any way to avoid this? The Renart Estate had proven to be a dangerous place on a number of occasions, in spite of Fitzroy's valiant attempts to keep the place secure. Maybe Lucien could take his family and hide in some cottage in the countryside? No. Now that Lucien thought about it, one of his father's enemies had attempted that, and this simply made them an easier target. Taking his family out of the country was out of the question, for the barbarian lands were far more dangerous, and even the other civilized nations could prove perilous. A noble family from Salia, especially one so powerful and influential as the Renarts, moving to Hyksos or Piast would be seen as the start of an invasion, and they would find themselves promptly eliminated, with no allies to assist them.

As Lucien walked the halls of his family estate he couldn't help but ponder who was about to die.

The physician had diagnosed Andre as a diabetic, and had suggested treatments, but if Andre mismanaged his condition he could die.

In the past several months, Leon had gotten himself into harm's way more often than any member of the family ever had in Lucien's memory.

Then there was Beatrice, whom Dufour's son had threatened.

Moreover, there was Annette, who was both hunting witches and spying on the Church for him. This put her in all sorts of danger.

Then, of course, he himself could be the target.

If he was being honest with himself, though, it could be any member of the family. No Renart was safe, not even his youngest children; Tristan, Aurélien, Alizée, and Léa.

Damn these infernal prophecies!

But, he had to admit, there was one positive side to hearing what Edmund had learned. A Renart was going to die before the year was over. At least he could rest assured that the whole family didn't have one foot in the grave.