Queen of Embers

XI. Monster

The runes on the floor were easily destroyed by the letter-opener from Idowu's desk and a little effort on Sorne's part. Vipsania kept her distance in case the ward exploded, but it fizzled out without anything so dangerous.

Then the damaged door opened to reveal an older man with skin so dark it was almost onyx. Apparently the Ezkibel bloodline had enough Eth in it that Sorne was surprised it hadn't been purged. Of course, that might have been the source of conflict between him and Aldana. His eyes were a lighter brown color and while appraising, seemed more amused than hostile. He looked to be in his fifties or sixties, but it hadn't slowed him down as far as Sorne could tell. He still moved like a fighter. "Idowu, I see you're looking well."

Duke Ander Ezkibel was not what Sorne expected from a Genevais noble.

The man in question was slumped against the wall still, staring hatefully at Sorne and Vipsania, his broken hand cradled in his lap. He seemed to take hope at the sight of Ezkibel. "These women have—"

"Arrived as messengers of House Ibarra?" the Duke said pleasantly. "It does seem rather suspicious that you magically bound them to chairs and interrogated them on Mistress Thayer's fashion choice. So really, the only question is why. Now, clearly one of you has some ideas, though I don't know who, so I'll address the question to everyone in the room."

Vipsania looked over at Sorne, as did Idowu. It brought the Duke's attention to her. "Lord Idowu is not working for you, Your Grace. He is an agent of a woman named Nagore Lezeta, who is part of a group called the Mourners. Since his arrival here, he has been gathering every piece of useful information he could find and reporting it back to his mistress, much of which revolves around you and your court here in Astarac," Sorne said. "My friend has spent all night combing through his correspondence. We were also curious to know who he was working for, operating under the assumption that it was not you."

"Fascinating," Ezkibel said pleasantly. "I assume you still possess that correspondence?"

"Yes," Vipsania said, holding out a stack of letters. "The top one is perhaps the most pertinent to you, Your Grace."

He took them with a polite bow. "Excellent, I will read it and peruse the others later." He opened the letter in question, studying the neat handwriting. After a few moments of reading, he let out a sigh and then directed his attention back to Idowu. "So, my dear man, what have you to say for yourself?"

"Those letters are forgeries! Planted by them!" Idowu protested. He was sweating and twitching slightly, but trying to look as sincere as possible.

"I detest a bad liar, though perhaps you are so poor at it because you are off balance. And in pain, I assume. I presume that any information you had they have already gotten out of you."

Idowu froze.

"He told us everything he knew," Vipsania said. "We could provide you many details, Your Grace."

"Splendid," Ezkibel said, flashing Sorne and Vipsania a wide smile. "Then I no longer have need of him. I don't suppose I could impress upon you the urgency with which I would like to be rid of my current...infestation. Obviously you'll do as you see fit, but a show of good faith is never amiss."

"What do you mean?" Sorne asked with a frown.

Ezkibel chuckled. "How refreshing, a noble's servant who does not understand the nuances of diplomacy. It seems my court is rife with the excessively polite when compared to Ibarra's. I mean, of course, that the punishment for espionage is death, and I don't much care who is to administer it him or what form it should take. Oh, and I assure you, Idowu, that I have very creative people."