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Michalo dropped into a chair by the table where the guards often sat to have dinner. Everyone else had dispersed, so Brandon was the only other person in the atrium when Michalo glanced around as if he was bored. The secretary motioned Brandon over.
“You’re the new guard, aren’t you?” Michalo asked.
“Yes, patri.”
“You’ve got the look of a Zessin man. Are you from the islands?”
“I am.”
“How long have you been employed by the temple?”
“Almost two years.”
“Like the work?”
“The best job I’ve ever had.”
Michalo nodded. “And how long have you been on this assignment?”
“About five weeks now.”
“What do you think of your charge?”
Brandon let his voice hold the faintest note of surprise. “I—don’t think of her, patri. I just watch the house.”
Michalo gave a little grunt that Brandon couldn’t read as either satisfaction or displeasure. “She is widely considered a beautiful woman.”
Brandon kept his eyes respectfully on the secretary’s face, but the phrasing made him wildly curious about the composition of Michalo’s right-hand bracelet. Probably gold through and through. A man with no interest in women. “That’s not for me to notice. I just watch the house,” he repeated.
Michalo regarded him steadily. “She has a reputation as someone who tries to make friends with all her guards. Develop personal relationships. Has she made any overtures to you?”
Brandon met Michalo’s intent blue eyes with an unwavering gaze of his own. Strange, that midnight kiss with Villette did not render him stupid and stuttering, as he would have expected; it made him steadier, more confident, more resolved. “I think we’ve exchanged twenty words. One night she asked if I was cold. One day I helped her move a piece of furniture, and she said thank you. Another time she asked if I had any bread she could throw to the fish. I don’t think we’ve had any other conversation.”
The degree of specificity seemed to reassure Michalo, because he relaxed into his chair. “She can be a rude one, that’s certain,” the secretary said. “But she can also be charming. Even the high divine will admit that, when she exerts herself, she can be delightful.”
“I’m sure the high divine talks to her more often than I do,” Brandon said.
“Well, if she ever does start to favor you,” said Michalo. “If she starts telling you stories about her life, you should know that everything she says is a lie. Everything. She has spun a fantastical tale for some of the other guards and they were foolish enough to believe it. Don’t you make the same mistake.”
Brandon hesitated a moment. “If I knew why she had been placed here. What her offense was. It would make it easier to know when she was lying.”
Michalo nodded. “I understand that. Unfortunately, these are matters that are too dangerous to be discussed except with a few priests and Council members. Just know that she has contemplated actions that would bring the whole city of Corcannon to its knees. And if she leaves this place, she will attempt those actions again.”
“I understand,” Brandon said. “Thank you for warning me.”
Just then, the two temple guards came clattering down the stairs, and Michalo stood up. “It was important that you know.”
The female guard approached the secretary. “Nothing suspicious in her room, patri.”
“Good,” said Michalo. “Then let’s go.” He strode toward the door, the temple guards following in his wake. Brandon followed them outside so he could lock the gate behind them, then he trudged back to the house.
He wondered what fantastical tale Villette had told the other guards when she was trying to convince them to help her escape. He knew exactly why Michalo had mentioned that story to him—to sow a seed of doubt in Brandon’s mind in case Villette ever tried to win him over.The things she is saying are so ridiculous they can’t possibly be true. Don’t be stupid enough to believe her!
One of them was clearly lying—and in the biggest, boldest terms, not just with subtle gradations of the truth. Michalo claimed Villette had evil intentions toward the entire city. Villette maintained that the temple wanted to use her in some unspecified but degrading fashion. It seemed impossible that they were talking about the same thing, even from opposite perspectives.
A holy man would seem to have less incentive to prevaricate. The high divine was supposed to be Cordelan’s representative in the city, a man of wisdom and honor and good intent. Cordelan had united the scattered lands to create a wealthy and fertile continent that would nourish and sustain all his people, and the cleric who served Cordelan similarly had the welfare of every living creature as his primary goal.
And yet . . .
