HER PARTICULAR SKILLS
Estora was surprised to learn that only a couple of
days after her meeting with Connly, Beryl Spencer had arrived on
castle grounds. A secret meeting was promptly scheduled for the
solarium. When Estora arrived, she was annoyed to discover a
servant jabbing at cobwebs in the corners of the room with a broom.
The woman hummed to herself, oblivious to Estora’s
presence.
The queen cleared
her throat and the startled creature dropped her broom and
shrieked. When she turned and saw who it was, she gave a trembling
curtsy.
“Sorry, ma’am,
sorry. Cleaning the cobwebs is all. Cleaning the corners.” She
curtsied again, a bent thing in home-spun drab.
“You may be
excused,” Estora said calmly enough, though she wished to scream
it. Beryl Spencer would not come if there were witnesses,
especially gossipy castle servants, and she was due any
moment.
“Aye, ma’am. Must
get me broom.” The woman fumbled after the broom.
“Leave it,” Estora
commanded. “I wish you to go now.”
The servant unfolded
and stood tall. A pair of sharp green eyes peered at Estora from
beneath strands of hair hanging over her smudged face. Estora
blinked rapidly at the woman’s transformation from a simple servant
to a personage with a commanding presence. Someone of intelligence
and cunning, someone dangerous.
“Beryl Spencer,” she
said on an exhalation.
“At your service,
Your Highness.” She bowed, and there was a mocking edge to
it.
“I’ve heard about
your ability,” Estora said, “but I did not expect so direct a
demonstration.”
“Connly emphasized
discretion,” Beryl replied. “If anyone saw me, they saw only a
simple servant with a broom. But then most people don’t really see
servants. They are beneath notice.”
It was true. One
might be aware of servants moving about the castle as they attended
to their duties, but to most who carried on their more important
work as ambassadors, officers, or courtiers, servants might as well
be invisible. They were undistinguished, and
indistinguishable.
The role Beryl
Spencer had chosen to play was clever, but in a way, disturbing.
Who else could disguise themselves as a servant and gain access to
the entire castle? Estora shuddered. She was being paranoid again.
It was Beryl’s special ability to portray a role that made her so
convincing, and yet . . . Estora decided she would take this as a
lesson in the security, or lack thereof, in the
castle.
“It appears much has
happened since last I was here,” Beryl said.
“Yes,” Estora
replied simply. She did not doubt the Green Rider had already
gleaned all the fine details of the assassination attempt and the
subsequent wedding and who all the players were. She had, after
all, skills beyond playing roles like that of a servant attending
to her cleaning. Zachary had used those skills exhaustively, and
Beryl had spent years as a spy in the court of Tomas Mirwell. It
was these skills Estora now intended to make use of. However, she
wondered what Beryl thought of her sudden marriage to Zachary and
the confinement of Captain Mapstone. Would Beryl be willing to help
her?
Beryl cocked her
head, but gave away nothing. Estora felt uneasy under her scrutiny.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she said.
Beryl inclined her
head. “You are the queen. I serve.”
For some reason,
Estora did not feel reassured by the words. She imagined they were
like the words Beryl had used with Tomas Mirwell before she
betrayed him. She’d played her role in Mirwell fully, and Estora
heard that many in Mirwell’s court feared Beryl more than Mirwell
himself. She’d served as his aide, his enforcer, his interrogator.
People disappeared, never to be seen or heard from
again.
What were her true
loyalties? Estora wondered. But Zachary trusted her, and she was,
after all, a Green Rider. Would she have been called to the
messenger service if she were disloyal to Sacoridia and its
king?
“What do you wish of
me, my lady?” Beryl asked. “General Harborough is pressing Connly
to send me north.”
“Yes, I am aware of
this, and you will not be sent without my say-so. General
Harborough must answer to me.”
There was an almost
imperceptible flicker of approval on Beryl’s face.
“I require your
particular skills here for the time being,” Estora
said.
Now Beryl looked
intrigued. “How may I serve?”
“Have you ever
chanced to meet my cousin, Lord Richmont Spane?”
“We have not met
formally, but I am aware of him, of course.”
The way Beryl said
“of course” indicated to Estora that the Rider knew something of
his intrigues. Estora smiled. Beryl was in her way more frightening
than Richmont ever would be, but Estora needed to trust her. She
prayed that trust was well placed.
“I believe we’ve
much to discuss then,” Estora said.
“It would be my
honor,” Beryl replied.