Chapter Thirty-Two

Eliot led the way to the stables with Renard following, leading Tas. They’d made plans earlier in the week to go riding, together with Lina and Minette, but those plans had changed.

“Aren’t the girls coming with us?” said Renard, looking around.

“Mother decided to take them to Mariosha for the day. They left soon after breakfast.”

Although Renard hadn’t asked about the bruises on the side of Eliot’s face and his cut lip, Eliot knew his friend was waiting for him to explain. Renard also didn’t know that Jack was at Deverell.

Renard secured Tas’ reins to the large ring on the stable wall before joining Eliot. “So, how’s the cat?” His flat tone hinted at his waning patience.

“He’s fine. I had him out in the garden earlier, so he could have a run around. It’s so much better now he has space to move around outside.” Eliot had asked the men to build a large enclosure in the small garden by the garden room. “I’ll take him out again later. He is a good cat, doesn’t make a fuss when he’s in my chambers. Though he does like to take charge of my bed,” he finished with a chuckle.

Eliot had stepped into Fordel’s stable and greeted him softly before nodding his thanks to the boy who’d brought the horse’s tack to him. He then proceeded to give Fordel a quick brush down.

“Well,” said Renard, leaning against the door frame, “as you’re not telling me, I’ll ask. How did you get those?”

His movements slowed. “Jack.”

“He’s back? When?”

“Two days ago.” Eliot looked around. Satisfied none were close enough to overhear their conversation, he then told Renard about Jack stealing the harp, and Climence allowing him to stay.

Frowning, Renard stared at the hay-strewn floor. “How is Jack getting past the guards? Father will be furious.”

Eliot slipped the bridle on Fordel and stood with his hand on the horse’s nose, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Yesterday, Mother caught Jack trying to kiss Lina.”

“What?”

Fordel jerked his head slightly at the sudden exclamation.

Shushing his horse, Eliot got the saddle blanket on him then the saddle. “I overheard Mother telling him off.” He held up his fist. “I was ready to kill him. I swear, Renard, if Mother hadn’t been there.”

Neither spoke as Eliot finished getting Fordel ready.

“Where is he?” said Renard.

“Climence has ordered him confined to the men’s quarters. They’re taking turns guarding him. He’d also been, over-familiar with one of the girls.”

Renard shook his head. “I suppose your grandmother will be sending him back to his master. I wonder why Garlon wanted him here though.”

“If I had my way, I’d have thrown Jack out already.”

“Ah. That’s why Aunt Marcelin has taken the girls to the city.”

Eliot nodded. “Lina was still very quiet this morning. Hopefully, a day out with Mother and Minette will cheer her up.” He took Fordel’s reins and started to walk him out, Renard ahead of him.

They were about to mount their horses when the sound of an approaching carriage intruded. Curious, Eliot asked Renard to wait and hurried to peer around the high hedge that separated the stables from the front of the house. Scowling, he turned to find Renard standing beside him.

“Who is it?” said Renard.

“Garlon. Let’s wait until he’s gone in. I have no wish to exchange glares with him today.” He started to walk back to the horses.

“Who’s that?” Renard had chanced a quick look.

A cloaked figure has stepped out of the covered carriage.

Eliot’s brows shot up. “That might be the person who wants to meet with Climence.”

“Didn’t you say it was a man?” said Renard, frowning. “That looks like a woman.”

The way the figure walked appeared womanly.

Rubbing the scar on his chin, Eliot’s gaze remained fixed on them.

“What are you thinking?” said Renard, his tone implying he already knew the answer.

“I’m going to check. If that is the person Garlon spoke of, I have to know why he wants the cat.”

“Don’t get caught. I’ll take the horses and wait past the gate.”

Instead of heading to the front door, Eliot ran back to the garden room and crept in. Standing by the slightly open door, he peered out into the hallway in time to hear Perrin say, “And Master Eliot has not long left to go riding with Master Renard.”

When the butler stepped away from the morning room, Eliot allowed himself a quick smile. Retracing his steps, he half-ran around the back of the house and the kitchens. Hugging the side of the house, he carefully made his way along to place himself between the window of the study and the slightly open one of the morning room.

“No, Garlon,” said Climence, clearly annoyed. “You must take him with you, he’s too troublesome. I don’t want him anywhere near my granddaughter.”

“I’ll send someone for him,” said Garlon.

“But I want him gone now.”

“Not now, he cannot be in the same carriage as us. I said I’ll send a man.”

“When?”

“Later.”

The silence that followed had Eliot fighting the urge to chance a glance.

“None of this concerns me,” said a softer voice, distinctly male, one Eliot didn’t recognise in an accent unfamiliar to him. “Argue in your own time.”

“How rude.” Climence’s voice sounded closer to the window, and Eliot instinctively leaned away. “I do not care to be spoken to in such a manner in my own home. State your business, so you may leave.”

“You knew my master, my teacher, Kashar.”

“What of it? Others knew him too; he spent many hours at court.”

“But yours is the only name he cared to include in his journals.”

She didn’t respond straightaway. “I found him, how shall I say, intriguing. He had the most outlandish ideas, which he seemed convinced would work. I suppose he wrote about me because I was the only one who indulged his fancies.”

“They were not fancies.” The man, Tulash, sounded angry.

“Being able to change–”

“Do not speak of it.”

“Well.” Climence’s tone made clear her dislike of Tulash. “You have nothing of your master’s charm.”

“I have no need for such indulgences. In his last entries, he wrote of your agreeing to fund his experiment. That he’d found a way to test it, and he was certain it would finally work.”

“I don’t deny I gave him money, but I know nothing of the actual work he was doing. I had no interest in it as I didn’t believe in it. He amused me, and I saw no harm in encouraging his fantastical notions.” She laughed softly. “He was so like a child when–”

“Do not speak so of him. My master was a brilliant man. And you, like so many others, are little more than a fool for not seeing his genius.”

The familiar sound of Climence snapping her fan shut preceded her sharp words. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner? Garlon, I will not stand for this.”

“Tulash,” said Garlon, “I do not know how you treat well-bred women in your country, but we do not tolerate that sort of language around noble women.”

“I struggle with your way of speaking, it does not come naturally to me. But if it makes you happy, then I apologise.”

Eliot shook his head, a small smile on his lips at Tulash’s weak apology.

“My master’s last entry, he wrote of spending time with you, that you had talked of finally taking action on a months-old plan, which he’d helped you devise. He wrote that it might somehow help him too.”

“What plan was this?” said Garlon.

“Nothing. Nothing of note, some trivial matter that had been irking me.”

Eliot frowned at Climence’s tone; she sounded defensive, almost scared.

“He helped me with the plan, yes, but he had nothing to do with its execution. And he made no mention to me that it might be of use to him.”

“Not long afterwards, he met his death,” said Tulash.

“Oh. He’s dead? Are you sure?” said Climence. “He’d disappeared from court days before with no word. We all thought he’d returned to his homeland. How do you know he’s dead?”

“I have heard nothing from him or about him, that is not his behaviour. His letters to me simply ceased, and all his journals and papers were sent to me with no explanation other than his abode had stood empty for months.”

“That is no proof of his death,” said Climence.

“It would appear your master’s demise, or disappearance, must remain a mystery,” said Garlon.

“I wish to see the cat,” said Tulash, sounding ill-tempered.

“Impossible. My daughter’s son cares for the creature, keeps it in his chambers. He’s the only one able to approach the beast without being torn to pieces.”

“Tell him to bring it here.”

“He’s not here. And I don’t want anyone, especially him, to be involved in any of this.”

“The cat is as I described, Tulash,” said Garlon.

“The eyes. What do they look like to you?”

“Unnerving,” said Climence. “Why giants bred cats to have eyes like a human is beyond me.”

After some moments, Garlon spoke. “If you don’t plan on telling that boy about this, how will you get him to cage the cat and leave it here, where we can take it?”

“I’ll simply tell him I wish to be rid of it.”

“He won’t argue?” said Garlon. “He always does.”

“It won’t matter. My word is final, he has no rights in my house.”

Eliot tensed, pressing his lips together.

“Kashar’s journals,” said Climence. “You have them? I wish to see them.”

Tulash barked a laugh. “It is written in my language, you will not understand any of it.”

“Ah, but I do. Kashar taught me. Granted, it’s been many years and I may not remember all of it, but I’m sure I remember enough.”

Frowning, Eliot wondered as to the kind of relationship Climence had had with Kashar for him to have taught her his language.

Tulash finally spoke, his voice low. “If I do not agree–”

“You will not have the cat.”

Silence followed Climence’s words.

Finally, Tulash said, “If you do not let me have the cat, I will speak of this plan my master helped you with, the one that spoke of–”

“No!”

Eliot started, his eyes wide at Climence’s angry tone, mixed with a hint of panic.

“You dare mention my private dealings to anyone, I’ll see that cat dead before I let you have it.”

Eliot froze, his breath caught in his throat.

“I advise you not to provoke Madam Climence,” said Garlon, his tone hinting at amusement. “She has a vindictive streak, and I know she’ll make good on her threat.”

“Then I will bring them. But I will not leave them with you. I will remain with you while you look through them.”

Climence said nothing for long moments. “Why do you want the cat so badly? Is it, has it anything to with Kashar’s experiment?” Her voice, rising in pitch, had grown louder with each word.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Tell me. If you want the cat, you will tell me.”

Eliot’s scalp prickled; why was Climence being so insistent?

When Tulash didn’t respond, Climence continued. “Did Kashar change–?”

“No!”

Tulash’s barked command startled Eliot.

“I said not to speak of his work. I want the cat because. My master’s work, his notes suggested it might have something to do with giants, their race, something about them may prove important to his work’s success.”

“How can a cat be of any use?” said Garlon.

“This is why I do not speak of it.” Tulash practically spat the words out. “Work such as this requires one to venture down different paths that will eventually lead to the correct path to success. The giant’s cat may hold clues as to which path may be the most likely one. I will not know until I study it.”

His words filled Eliot with unease. He didn’t like the use of the word ‘study’, sure it would mean some harm befalling the cat. Leaning closer to the window, wanting so much to see why they were being quiet, he stopped when he heard a dismissive snort from Garlon.

“I haven’t heard such nonsense in all my life,” said Garlon. “Don’t speak of it to me again.”

“That is why I haven’t.” Tulash’s words dripped icy scorn. “You, so many of you, do not have the intelligence, the courage to go beyond what is accepted. But I am accustomed to such disrespect, my master and I faced the same from our own people.”

“Oh, enough,” said Climence. “Send word when you plan on bringing the journals.”

“Tomorrow,” said Tulash. “I do not wish to prolong this.”

“It is a shame Marcelin has taken the girls out today,” said Climence. “I will have to devise some. Oh. No, you cannot come tomorrow. I’ve already arranged to have luncheon with Deandra. If I try and excuse myself, she’ll want to know the reason why. You know what she’s like, Garlon. The day after tomorrow, come then. And it should be easier to persuade Marcelin to be out with the girls, especially if the good weather holds. Now, Garlon, I want more than some vague reassurance that Jack will be gone from here soon.”

“Yes, yes. Where is he? In the house?”

“Heavens, no.”

Not interested in their discussion about Jack, Eliot crept away from the window, nodded firmly to the gawping young servant in the vegetable garden, and hurried towards the gate.

“A valuable session?” said Renard, his relief obvious.

“Very.” Eliot slipped his foot into the stirrup and mounted. “Let’s go. Perrin told Climence we’d already gone riding. Once we’re far enough away, I’ll tell you everything.”