Chương 8

Cal Rook watched her from the iron-framed bed, his eyes half-lidded and his face giving away very little. The narrow window placed a bar of daylight across the blanket. He had one hand resting beside the cup on the side table, close enough to take it without stretching his healing flank. Sensible. Even here, under guard, he seemed impossible to read. The guards remained outside at Elara's insistence. One shifted in the corridor, leather creaking beyond the closed door, but neither had entered.

Mirelle stood near the single visitor chair while Elara occupied it. The room smelt faintly of liniment and boiled linen.

"I can have a purse drawn against my allowance," Elara said.

"Coined silver and gold. Enough to keep you for a year on the southern roads." Cal looked at her. No quick widening of the eyes. No glance towards Mirelle, or towards the door, as if calculating how soon he might collect it. His hand stayed beside the cup. His stillness made it difficult to tell whether the sum had impressed him. Elara continued.

"I would also request an arcane obfuscation from the Academy. It may make locating you more difficult. You would leave Asterhall, travel south and find work under another name." The petition would cost her. Perhaps Dorr could have it attached to the compromised contract investigation, though the registry might decide that protecting a confessed conspirator exceeded its obligations. She would argue that Cal remained a witness. If that failed, she could pay. Worth it, if he took the offer.

She had expected some response by now. Greed would have been useful. So would suspicion. A demand for double might have told her more about him than every answer he had given at the deposition. The purse remained imaginary, yet she had placed it between them as bait on a clean hook. Cal drew in a slow breath and released it through his nose.

"Don't bother." Elara frowned, confused. That was not a response she expected. He gave the same unhelpful shrug she had seen whenever a question reached ground he preferred to leave untouched. It pulled at his right side. His mouth tightened for an instant before settling again.

"I don't think the people who want you captured are men I can outrun,' he said.

"Properly done, the working would make even arcane pursuit, scrying and divinations difficult."

"You might be correct." That, clearly, was not him agreeing. Elara studied his face. Perhaps her guarantee was not reassuring enough. Perhaps the offer had been too small, though a man with unpaid levies on his record ought to have found a year's living persuasive. She wasn't sure what to make of his response. Instead, he had sighed.

"What do you intend to do?" she asked. Cal's gaze moved towards the narrow window. He considered the pale stone around it for several seconds.

"I've been thinking about asking for a humane execution." Mirelle's skirt whispered as she shifted her weight. Elara kept her hands folded in her lap.

"You would ask the Academy to kill you?" Cal reached for the cup. He drank, set it down, and returned his hand to the blanket.

"The watch, probably. I doubt the Academy offers the service. Saves me the trouble of doing it myself." There it was again. That dry, careless tone, this time applied to his own death as though it were an inconvenience. Elara searched his face for mockery and found none. Mirelle shifted again.

"You speak very lightly of such matters, Master Rook."

"I feel escaping would be pointless," he replied.

"If the people behind the tollhouse reach me first, the ending will take longer. I would rather not have such an agonising death." The cup had left a wet half-circle on the side table. He rubbed it away with his thumb.

"You have considered this seriously," Elara said.

"Since two days ago." He paused.

"Finding the courage has been slow." This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. The inquiry had left him in a sort of legal limbo. His confession made release difficult. His cooperation made the rope harder to justify. The Academy had use for him while her case remained active, but that use would end once her name entered the Roll and the compromised admission ceased to require protection. After that came the city watch. The senior warden still wanted the transfer.

He had made his preference clear enough during the deposition, despite Dorr's objections. A common mercenary with no patron, no family in evidence and no money beyond blood-stained advances would be easy to surrender. Cal's testimony might earn him leniency. Leniency could still mean a cell with ordinary locks and ordinary guards while offices continued to dispute his matter. That might take weeks. It might take years. They might forget about it altogether.

A sufficiently interested enemy would need only a gaoler with debts. Elara looked again at the hand beside the cup. Scarred knuckles. Clean nails, recently trimmed. The hand that had been moved to betray her yet was ultimately her deliverance. He had given up on escape. That was the specific thing beneath his calm. He had stopped searching for a road out and begun trying to choose which authority ended his life. The conclusion was unpleasantly sensible.

"You will make no such request," she said. Cal's eyes returned to her.

"That sounds like terrible advice." Mirelle turned her head. Elara could feel the question gathering before it was spoken, but she had already decided.

"Once my enrolment formalities are concluded, I may name one sworn retainer," she said.

"I will name you." Cal stared at her. For the first time since she had entered, the blankness left his face. His eyes opened fully, though he made no other movement. Mirelle did.

"My lady." She stepped away from the wall.

"You are permitted one sworn retainer within the charter. One. That appointment was intended to provide a student with proven protection when her household troops cannot enter the district."

"I know what it permits."

"I am not certain, my lady. It is reserved for someone who has served a noble household. A veteran with references. Someone whose loyalty is guaranteed and cannot be bought with a pouch of gold." Mirelle's voice stayed low enough that the guards outside would hear only its murmur.

"Cal Rook is injured, compromised and confessed. His name attached to yours will only invite the wrong kind of questions.' Cal glanced at Mirelle.

"A strong recommendation." She ignored him.

"My lady, I know you must feel indebted in some way to this man, but please reconsider."

"I require a guard," Elara said.

"Mr Rook requires employment."

"There are better-bred men available whose first service to you will not involve accepting payment for your abduction." The words were harsh, but Mirelle, in many ways, had earned the right to say them. Elara kept her attention on her.

"His rank and circumstances make him affordable. I can pay him from my allowance rather than be forced to petition my lord father on the matter of my retainer as well."

"Cost is not the concern."

"It is one concern."

"Your reputation is another."

"My reputation? What reputation? Even my house scarcely remembers I exist." Mirelle's mouth thinned. Elara continued before she could answer.

"Master Rook had every opportunity to complete his contract. Instead, he turned on the men who shared it and reached the Academy half-dead. If I were to declare today that before I name a retainer I require evidence of what they would risk for my safety, he has already supplied it." Mirelle looked towards the bed. A small sound came from Cal. It might have been a laugh, though he turned it into a cough and pressed one hand against his side. Mirelle gave him a severe look.

"You may find this amusing. Lady Elara is offering you the protection of her name."

"I noticed."

"Then treat it with the proper seriousness." Cal looked back at Elara. The silence stretched. He had surely understood the legal advantage by now. Doing this would convert Academy custody into her personal surety, keep him inside the walls as a witness, and make any external writ against him a writ against a chartered student's household, essentially tying his safety to hers. He smiled. The expression changed his face far more than it should have. His usual lethargy made the curve of his lips appear private.

"Thank you, my lady," he said. Elara felt warmth reach the tips of her ears. She rose before Mirelle could look at her.

"You may thank me after the enrolment formalities conclude." The smile remained.

"Of course." Elara turned towards the door. Mirelle collected her gloves from the back of the chair and stepped aside for her. The administrative visit had lasted long enough. Any further discussion could take place after Dorr confirmed that the old retainer right applied without restriction during provisional sanctuary. Her fingers had reached the latch when Cal spoke.

"My lady." She stopped. The tone had changed. Its hesitation made her turn before she meant to. Cal was watching the door now. Beyond it, one of the guards moved, followed by the faint scrape of a boot against stone. He waited until the corridor settled.

"Be wary of House Agnew," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"I can't prove anything." Cal looked down at the blanket, then back at her.

"Nor can I disclose my sources. Worst still, I might be wrong; but I think House Agnew arranged the attempted kidnapping." Mirelle's attention sharpened. Elara kept her hand on the latch. Agnew? The house had old reasons to work against House Vey. So did half the families surrounding the western pass. But none of the evidence Dorr had provided them had pointed there. Serrat had been the name attached to the countinghouse, not Agnew. Mirelle drew breath. Elara looked at her. That was enough.

Mirelle closed her mouth before the countinghouse could be brought up.

"You omitted this from your deposition," Elara said, turning her attention back to Cal.

"Yes."

"You were questioned more than once."

"I remember." The curt answer irritated her.

"Why tell me now?" Cal's shoulder lifted again. The familiar shrug.

"The enemy may have listeners in the Academy offices. City watch too." Elara nodded, opened the door and stepped out. Both guards turned towards her from their positions in the corridor. Neither asked what had passed inside. She and Mirelle walked away while one guard pulled the door shut behind them. At the first turn, Mirelle glanced back and lowered her voice.

"House Agnew?"

"Not here," Elara said.