Chương 163: Chapter 184: Interrogation

In that fucking wagon again. I remembered small details from last time. The space where the wood warped away to make a little crack I could see straight down. The textured part of the bar that looked like a dog's head. Last time I rode in this for weeks, traveling from the ashes of my childhood home to the building that would become my prison for three years. Today, I rode in it for a dozen miles to the same building.

Last time, I rode with a procession of the Royal Cavalry Guard's elite combat unit and a ranking officer from the secret police division. This time, I'm arrested by the prancing-pony pageant parade platoon. When I was twelve they arrested me like I was a threat to the kingdom, now on my sixteenth birthday they are arresting me to make a political statement. Honestly, the insult of that is burning me as much as anything. Other than the fact that they kept it here this whole time.

The last time I was in this wagon we traveled on cleared roads and hidden tunnels until we got to a secure facility that they thought could contain me. Today, they're taking the route with the most traffic and visibility to dangle me in front of as many witnesses as possible. This is unnecessary because they already arrested me in front of everyone who's made the society pages for the past five years. And what's more, they're all right here.

As soon as I was loaded into this stockade wagon, I was hearing voices raised to summon drivers. Carriages flooded the streets in minutes, and by the time my disgrace was in motion behind the oxen, there were already carriages following us. Richly gilt finely-carved vehicles with splendid steeds to draw them. More carriages all the time, until my wheeled kennel was the lead exhibit in a fabulous parade that attracted every gawker you could ask for.

All the uniformed liverymen and house crests in evidence just attracted more attention, lent more impact to the sight. For my part, I did my best to make the most of this opportunity. If I looked sad or scared, I would look guilty. That's how cages work. If I looked angry or defiant, I would look guilty. If I sat in patient dignity as if I could ignore all of this, I would be intriguing, but not sympathetic.

So instead I smiled and waved like I was at the Rose Bowl parade, treating this like a publicity opportunity instead of a public shaming. I sought out as much eye contact as I could, reaching out to the people. And most of them responded in kind. If I was lucky, the popular sentiment would be "there goes Princess Natalie, still in trouble with the law, still confident she's going to come out on top again." If your enemy wants to drag you in front of the world to mortify you, you fight back by not being mortified.

Never give your enemy what they want. The wagon rolled through a smallish gate, just barely big enough for this cage, and guards with halberds turned away the rest of the procession, crossing their halberds and yelling a lot. Doors slammed shut behind me. The parade guards peeled off and handed me over to a much less flashy escort that guided the oxen back to a familiar processing chamber. And there I found a familiar face.

"No way," I gasped, grinning widely.

"Is it really?" Inspector Pina looked deeply, deeply annoyed to be seeing me again.

"Don't get too excited," she called out as the drovers brought the wagon to rest.

"I'm not interrogating or prosecuting, my job here is entirely to provide security for your inprocessing." Why would they put her here of all people? They did not send me back to my old cell, with the luxury accommodations. Instead, we went downstairs, a new basement chamber I had not seen before. Pina walked behind me with her staff, and a cluster of armed guards that had generic uniforms and no insignia.

I could not tell if they had mana-weapons or not while the runes shackled my sorcery, but I was pretty sure they did. There were no posturing officials here to make the most of this career opportunity, there were no extra mages around for a big display of security. And the incognito guards, and Magister-Inquisitor Pina, all seemed very tense. Nervous even. I was nervous too, as we headed downstairs to what looked like recent construction.

Nobody would tell me what I'm headed towards, and I'm already conjuring the worst scenarios. Mostly unmarked graves. They're probably nervous because previous experience has shown them that I'm a hell of a lot harder to neutralize than this, and that I probably already know how I'm going to slip the leash and escape if I need to. I've got an unbroken record of never being as securely contained as they believe I am. So far, every time they've had me in custody was because I chose to allow that to happen.

We walked down a stair that had a fantastic amount of sorcery-blocking sigils on it, very redundant and overlapping, lots of variations in case one method did not work. We walked into a hallway lined with the same sigils from a side door, and through another door opposite it with even more sigils. All to tamp sorcery and sorcerers, essences, affinities, and the specific spells of sorcery.

It made as many allowances as possible to allow mana warriors to use their weapons and magisters to use their staffs, but other than that it was a pretty thorough lockdown. I looked around at it all.

"Did you guys make all of this for me?" I couldn't help sounding a little impressed, and a little flattered.

"For high-profile magical detainees who are considered a high risk of escape," Pina said simply. I did not believe that this was a coincidence, a large proportion of these sigils are to block teleportation, a trick that only I am known to have. Also, void, implosions, explosions, singularities... this is kinda personalized. Maybe it's for whatever situation requires, but clearly someone in the process said "and don't forget her."

In the center, a table and two chairs, around the edges, not quite enough candles to comfortably light the place. Pina stood back, wordless. I knew the score, I walked over and picked one chair to sit in. Then I relaxed myself, because odds are that I'm not going anywhere soon. They're probably going to keep me waiting for at least an hour just to establish a pecking order and- The door burst open and a man strode in with a fresh host of guards clustered around him. He looked vaguely familiar.

If he's got this many guards moving in formation around him then- Ah, I've got it. I sat up straight, folded my hands together on the table in front of me with the shackles out in the open.

"Your Highness," I said, nodding politely. This was Prince Doald Freckentop, Lachel's big brother.

"So familiar a greeting," he spat, glaring at me.

"You're so disrespectful you won't even stand?" I raised the shackles and jingled the chains.

"I can't curtsy like this, so what's the point? Anyway, your guards stripped me of all honors, which means I'm no longer bound to protocol."

"Wait, they did?" he looked surprised. As he should, that is a step that is basically never done. Until I am restored by the royal authority, I am no longer a princess, an heir, an earl, not even Lady. I think technically I'm not permitted to use a house name. Just... Natalie Francine Daria, esquire. And, yes, having me formally announced as being stripped of honors is a deadly insult, as well as a threat.

The kind of thing you reserve for situations where someone has displayed your child's corpse for a crowd of onlookers.

"Was this arrest on your orders or are you just the one sent to speak?" I asked, lacing my fingers together.

"Their orders, I'm to get answers," he said, sitting across from me. We both already knew who he meant by 'their' orders.

"By all means then," I said.

"Everyone knows I'm an open book." Next to the door, catty-corner from me, Pina made a rude noise. She's still pissed that I refused to confess, for weeks. He was ready to pick up where she left off.

"What exactly is your role in my sister's death?" he demanded. Obviously, that's the question I don't want to answer. It's just the question that I want everyone to think that I've answered. My method for that is to treat it as a settled issue and ignore it to move on to the next question, which is always about my help in finding her.

"No," I said.

"That's the wrong question, Prince Doald. You need to ask yourself what your role in this was," I said.

"When you-""Just answer the question," he snapped. And like that, he's made me tell him twice. My smile went stiff.

"To what end, Doald?" I snapped.

"I'm going to be out of here just as soon as a council can be convened. This arrest is a sham, the charges are paper-thin and you are living a lie. Your sister died and you're feeling guilty because you didn't see it coming. Because this is all about your parents' crimes. Because you're terrified that you will inherit the throne and inherit their crimes, or that you won't inherit and instead your life is entirely pointless.

Did they bother to tell you before you came here that my alibi is rock-solid and that I cannot possibly be involved? Did they bother to tell you that before they sent you in here to waste my time?"

"There is just no way that-" he started, his temper was rising. Mine had a head start.

"Fuck off," I snapped.

"I offered my help. Admit what they had done and help me end the curse. Vouch that my visions are accurate. Admit the association with the Cachexia necromancer and tell me where to find her so I can kill her and end the blight. I offered to help them, but in exchange for her life, a million lives of my people, my parents' subjects. This was the only leverage I had against them. For a million lives or more. They chose her death and a million more, just to keep their pride, their reputation, their authority.

For money, Doald."

"Prince Doald," he snapped, rising out of his chair.

"Fuck off Doald," I said.

"Until my name is restored, I owe you nothing." He's probably never been spoken to like that. I don't think anyone has addressed me like that since I reincarnated. He's not used to it, and he lost his cool. His arm went up as he came up out of the chair, and I watched him with a calculated glare, daring him, challenging him. One of the guards stepped forward and stopped the prince's swing with one hand, pulling him back away from me.

But his anger was unabated, even as the stone-faced soldier pushed him back to a safe distance. And this is all it takes for me to stop everyone from asking whether I was responsible for the princess's death. I don't have to lie. I just have to make my anger more important than their questions. But that often invites their anger as well.

"You're going in a cell and never coming back, Harigold!" he snarled over the other man's shoulder.

"That door closes and you're never coming out, that's the room you die in, bitch! Your prison cell is just a slow coffin in a patient grave!"

"That's not your call to make," I said, and I took joy from holding his eyes while I explained his situation.

"You're just here to keep me busy until the court convenes. I already know I'm going to be out in time for church services, nine members of the chamber council were in that crowd cheering for me while I was being dragged out. You can't threaten me, you can't intimidate me. They sent you here so that your presence would be a punishment. Your job is to annoy me. You can rant all you like if it makes you feel like a great big man, but right now you are doing a job that would be better served by a jar of mosquitoes.

Your parents gave you a big mission, right? Soften me up for interrogation, put me in my place? You're a convenient tool for them, and an inconvenient tool to me. I understand why I was arrested. Your family had to respond. They can't let something like this roll by without lashing out. No matter how public it was. No matter how bad the timing is." And... they really did. The revelation of Lachel's body, the placement... it really forced the royals to do something, even if that something was self-destructive.

Even if it overextends them and burns the few bridges they have left. Even if it makes them look desperate and foolish and weak. Lachel's corpse forces them into a position where they have to choose their own backlash. I've been beating them up in public relations, the allegations of necromancy that started ugly rumors. Then the proof of the necromantic involvement, that was a big kick in the ribs. And I've been pressing them on Lachel, and the Cachexia, keeping the scandals fresh in everyone's mind.

I turned them into a campfire ghost story for Halloween, just before their week of mourning. They've been pushing back with rumors and scandals and allegations but none of it has the same impact as necromancy. It got so bad they had to show up in person to try to push me around. And I blew that right up in their faces. Painted them as bullies and thugs, associated them with slave-taking and coercive violence, as well as violating all tenets of guest-law.

Their reputation has never been dragged as low as it is right now. The one thing that they could not afford right now is a hard test of their popularity against mine. The kind that only gets proven in council chambers and the high court. The two sides of corruption in Hearstcliff governance: the king and queen can just make whatever laws that they want. But, if you've got enough of the houses backing you, then you're effectively above the law. And today? That's me.

I glared at the prince, sent by his parents because they could not afford to have their own hands on this interrogation. Sent here because his sister is dead. He came with this idea that he was going to find justice for his dead sister and end all the trouble for his family. But he doesn't understand the degree to which his parents use everyone. That's why his eyes don't look dead and tired like his older brother.

"Now then," I said to him, biting off my words sharply and precisely.

"Why don't you just save yourself a headache, and go see if anyone can rustle up a jar of mosquitoes on short notice, hmm? And then you can get the fuck out of my face." I was set free by mid-morning. My bold red prom dress was rumpled, my color was bad and I was stiff and sore all over. I chafed at my wrists and rolled my shoulders. I walked through the double-doors with a brace of town guardsmen at my sides and a step back.

It was either a respectful concession to rank, or they were making sure they could see my back. Definitely the second one. I was worn and pissed off, the Freckentops had made damn sure that I did not have a moment's peace the whole time I was in custody. Threats, demands, questions, and more. I never did get my mosquitoes. Constantly chipping at me, trying to find some part of my story they could turn against me. Trying to find a lie or a mistake, they tried lots of different tactics.

Their new Inquisitor even tried to sucker me out by claiming that Nathan had confessed that he was the one who set up the invitations. That might have fooled me if I wasn't the only one who knew that Nathan was not in the city at all. Twelve hours of being battered with talk and questions and lies and insults. They gave me an interrogation chamber with an unsecured chair that I could have swung at someone's head, if I felt like getting in some real trouble.

And their Inquisitor talked to me in ways that not one person has spoken to me since I reincarnated. Certainly not to my face. All to provoke me, all to give them something. But I just smiled through it all because I knew better. I was seeing them sweat. The harder they pushed at me, the more confident I got. The more they insulted me, the better I was able to smell the fear behind it. I started their interrogations by breaking a royal prince, and after they dragged him out it only got easier for me.

But it was still a long, sleepless night, and I was feeling miserable. Trazom was waiting for me when the town guards marched me out. No way that's a thoughtless accident, someone was watching the optics on this. When they arrest me, it's the king's most recognizable soldiers. When I'm discharged, it's just a couple of town guards. Someone decided to distance themselves after it became obvious that this was not a winning strategy.

He stood up, his jacket was on his shoulders but the sleeves hung loose, he wore it like a cape. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and cuffs, and he looked tired as hell. But when he jumped to his feet, his face lit up. Excitement. I've never seen him make that face with his eyes open, looking at someone. I've seen that expression on him, but only with his eyes closed. He plays with his eyes closed. He took two steps towards me, smiling but tired, looking for the right words to say.

He swelled large in my vision because I was coming at him at high speed, and my arms gathered tightly around him as I knocked him backwards several feet.

"Sorry," I said, my voice muffled by his coat, and I formed the air into a soft grip around us so that we didn't hit the ground. His brass buttons pressed into my cheek but I just squeezed him, like human contact and comfort were a body heat I could absorb. I hovered there, holding him tightly, while he tried to get his breath back. I shifted my grip, and relaxed some, and carefully curved the air to set us both back on our feet. He was breathing kind of heavily but nothing was bruised or broken.

"Thank you for waiting," I said to him. I had not realized how much it was going to mean to me to have someone waiting at the courthouse. Or if there was someone, maybe one of my cousins. More likely a footman sent to collect me back. But Trazom, who knew I could teleport back, waited here in the vestibule just in case I came through here.

"You're welcome," he said, and got his hands at the small of my back. He patted twice. Some people don't know how to give hugs. And in that moment I found myself feeling like I should really teach him. He cleared his throat.

"I talked to people on your behalf, to see if they could help. I'm glad to see you out so soon."

"You did great," I said, smiling at him. I helped hold him up and we both recovered ourselves. A hell of a pair- him in his finery that he had smudged and rumpled by sitting in a waiting room all night. Me, with my hair tangled and my silly floofy prom dress crumpled to a shadow of its former self. The ribbon had fallen out of my hair ages ago, and I had not been able to replace it with my hands shackled. My eyeliner, once sharp as a blade, was now a smudged mess.

Right now, I don't feel, or look, like someone who has won their battle. But I really have, and I know it. I'm walking free right now. I've got Enefiat Trazom's arms around me now. I've got a tight roll of paperwork in my hand to make my discharge from custody official. Not weeks. Not years. Not even a full day. Today was Sevenday. The high council does not convene on Sevenday or Sixthday. And the high council is the institution that gives marching orders to the high court of the council.

That high court is the same one that can exonerate me of charges brought forward by decree of the crown and throne. So for them to have cleared me, someone convened an official session of the council in chambers with a quorum and put down a vote conclusive enough to get the high court convened in the middle of the night and issuing a ruling effective immediately because my birthday party got ruined.

So that means that I had enough supporters and enough influence working in my favor that some of the most powerful officers of the kingdom were pulled out of their beds and put to work, with a substantial majority in my favor, enough to overrule and overthrow all the usual stalling methods and procedural objections. The government here is so corrupt it makes my teeth hurt.

Despite the compromises that were supposed to create a fair and even-handed governance, the laws are really just royal edicts that have binding power of law until they eventually get struck down by appeals several years later, only to be replaced by an identical edict. The legislation is just the written fiat of the royal house. And justice of the courts is handled entirely as a popularity contest. A contest I just won, decisively, with my hands shackled and my titles stripped.

While I was in those cells, I was Natalie Francine Daria, stripped of my family name and all honors. They were restored when I was released. I had been slightly amused, because it seemed like that should have felt different, somehow. It did not. Maybe if it had been official more than a few hours it would feel like something.

"Thanks for waiting," I said again. It's one thing to know that the people of the society circuit support me against the Freckentops. It means something different to see a tired man happy to see me. [Quest Begun: Human Contact. Advancement: The Famous.] That one feels kind of judgmental. I'm not that cold, not like I need a quest just for human contact. Ugh.

Oh, wait, maybe this is not about me, but about the musician who has been insulated from the basics of humanity by his own fame and rigorous performance schedule.

"Hey," he said.

"It's just past fifth candle. It's late as hell. Could I trouble you for a doorway back to campus so I can sleep entirely through Sevenday?" I sighed, and let go of him.

"Yes, that's for the best. I need to get ready for church, and then bring my brother back to the Academy."

"You're not going to get any sleep?" I chuckled.

"Sleep. Hah. I thought I mentioned this to you before, I'm surprised you don't know." I scrubbed at my eyes, and gave him a slightly-manic grin. I always get a little extra amused when a popular idiom is just a little extra literal.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."