Supplies were another problem. Grain cost the earth in February, but Remin seized the excuse of all those extra mouths to order it in vast quantities, to feed the refugees and his army, should they need to march. Juste had even suggested leaving early for the capital; the hundred or so people Remin brought with him would make a real difference to their storehouse. But Remin would not neglect Tresingale. The Duke of Andelin would be present for every one of the spring rituals, and the Emperor could go hang if he didn’t like it.
This foolishness in Segoile was a distraction for a season. Tresingale would be the work of his life.
“Come and sit with me,” he told Ophele one night after supper, taking his seat at the table in their bedchamber rather than his comfortable chair by the fire. “Juste isn’t the only one with things to teach you.”
“You’re going to give me lessons too?” she asked, sitting on the other side of the table and scooting her chair forward.
Truthfully, he would rather not. At least not on this subject. Remin’s mouth tightened as his quill slashed rapidly over a page, wondering for the hundredth time how to present this to her in a way that wouldn’t frighten her or make her anxious. Miche had bluntly pointed out that keeping her ignorant was the opposite of protecting her.
“A few,” he answered, frowning. “Leonin and Davi want you to come to our practices, so the three of you can get used to moving together. Practice swords only,” he added grimly. He did not like this idea, but it was hard to argue that it was preferableto letting them figure it out while someone was trying to abduct Ophele.
“Oh, will you be trying to snatch me away from them?” she asked interestedly. “That could be fun. Am I allowed to climb?”
“It’s not a game,” he said, trying to sound stern, though the memory of their chase through the hazelnut grove made his lips twitch. He’d forgotten that; she was very quick on her feet. But the thought that she mighthaveto be killed any real pleasure in the exercise. He was silent as he finished writing, and then pushed the paper to her.
“Usually, I’d have you copy this over a few times every night, and burn the copies,” he said. “Let’s see how well you can memorize it now.”
She took it, rapidly skimming the page. It contained two columns of coded phrases and their translations.
I am well: I am writing this message voluntarily.
I am well enough: I am being forced to write this message.
They are looking after me well: Kill the bearer of this message.
Her eyes lifted to his.
“You think…I might need to know this, when we go to the capital?” she asked, and he saw the pulse beating faster in her slender throat.
“I hope you will not,” he said levelly. “We are taking great pains to ensure it. But we always plan for the worst. That’s all this is, wife.”
“I know that,” she said softly, looking again at the page. “You have to think of the worst thing…”
Her lips pressed together and she read it again. There were more than three dozen coded phrases, many of them repetitive and necessarily simple and vague, easy to embed in a longerletter. For ten minutes, she read and reread it in silence, and then handed the paper back to him.
“When you use these, you have to make it look natural,” he told her. “If you think there’s any risk that they might notice something odd, err on the side of caution. If they think there is code in your letter, they won’t let you send it. A little information is better than none.”
She nodded, filing this away in the vault of her memory.
“They are looking after me well,” he prompted.
“Kill the bearer of this message,” she said steadily.
“I have been sleeping well.”
“They are keeping me in a place without windows.”
Unsurprisingly, she had memorized all of them. Remin rose and thrust the paper into the fire. He would quiz her every night, from now until they went to Segoile.
“There are many things I haven’t told you, and that I don’t mean to tell you,” he said, taking his seat. “You’re not a good liar, and I don’t expect you to become one in the space of a few months. But there are some things you have to know now. You remember I mentioned that I have guards of my own?”
She nodded solemnly.
“The old man got them for me when I was twelve,” Remin explained. “I won’t tell you who they are. They’re not meant to be noticed. They are concealed somewhere nearby, and only a few men know who they are. It’s harder to bribe or threaten them, if no one knows they’re there.”
That had happened to a few of his early guards. To their credit, none of them had betrayed him, but some of them had paid dearly for their loyalty.
“There will be many more of them, positioned about the city,” he went on. “Even in Starfall. If they must, they will identify themselves to you by saying,seven ravens roosting.Don’t think too much about it,” he added, as the gears in hermind visibly whirred to life. “Don’t try to figure this puzzle out. It’s better if you don’t know.”
