Chapter Twenty-Six

Having been with the cat in the garden, Eliot then spent more time with it in his chambers. He took the care of the cat seriously, not leaving it on its own for too long, which meant he now saw more of his chambers than anywhere else.

After a while, Eliot contemplated going for a short ride as he didn’t want to neglect Fordel either. Marcelin and Lina were out in Mariosha with Minette and her mother.

As he pulled on his riding boots, he, yet again, marvelled at the cat’s good behaviour despite being confined indoors. Thinking of the cat inevitably made him think of the tall-folk, and that led to the happy thought of knowing he had tall-folk ancestry.

It had been four days since Eliot had found out the truth of his father’s family, and he wanted to know more. He wanted Marcelin to tell him every single detail about his father, how they’d met, how she’d felt when he’d told her about his mixed blood; when they went to Salmarin to meet Ruvane’s parents. He wanted to know about Arditha, about Aiqos, the family he had in Aiqos, Master Aridai. He wanted to know everything.

Eliot shook his head, remembering the anger that had threatened to consume him when Marcelin had first told him, anger that she hadn’t told him sooner, anger that others knew but not him, anger at Climence. Lingering fragments of frustration and anger tended to surface when he least expected it. But they were soon overshadowed by waves of excitement.

The exhilaration that made him want to shout his tall-folk ancestry from the rooftop also presented him with a dilemma. As much as he wanted to go to Salmarin, he also wanted to go to Aiqos. If his grandmother, Arditha, was still alive, she’d be there.

Grinning, he grabbed his tricorn, looked in on the cat, amusing itself chasing pebbles from the garden under Eliot’s bed, and left, making sure to shut the outer door to his chambers.

Only one thing marred his delight, not being able to share his happiness with Lina. But he understood Marcelin not wanting her to know just yet, so she wouldn’t be under stifling pressure to keep such a big secret, especially as she’d probably, accidentally tell Minette.

About to descend the stairs, he stopped on hearing voices in the downstairs hallway.

“It’s still in here?”

Eliot recognised Garlon’s voice and groaned softly.

“What is?” said Climence. “Oh. You mean the cat.”

“Where is it? I thought you were going to keep it in this room.”

“I realised that wouldn’t be appropriate, so I–”

“Where is it?” said Garlon, his tone impatient.

“He has it, that boy.”

“What?”

Eliot raised his brows; Garlon sounded angry.

“He-he’s the only one who can get near the beast. He has it in his chambers. Why? What does it matter? You still haven’t explained why you told Jack to take the cat and not the harp.”

The prolonged silence that followed had Eliot gripping the banister with both hands to stop himself creeping down.

“It’s not for me. That’s why I’ve come, to speak with you. In private.”

“Marcelin and Lina are out,” said Climence. “Perrin. Perrin.”

A pause then Perrin answered, his voice clear, signalling his presence in the hallway. “Yes, madam?”

“Where’s that boy?”

“Master Eliot is in his chambers, madam, with the cat.”

“Good,” she said. “That means he’ll be there for some time with the wretched thing. That will be all, Perrin. Come, Garlon, we’ll speak in here.”

Eliot crept down the stairs, peering around where the stair curved in time to see Garlon enter the drawing room.

Perrin, about to step forward to shut the door, glanced up and saw Eliot. His face expressionless, he pulled the door to, then turned and walked off in the direction of the kitchen.

Silently thanking Perrin, Eliot made his way down. He ducked past the stairs to open the door to the garden room, then stole to the drawing room door, which had been left slightly ajar. He allowed himself a half-smile.

“Who is he?” said Climence. “Why did he seek you out?” She must have been walking past the door as her voice sounded clear then soft.

“He didn’t,” said Garlon, his voice not as loud. “He’d been asking around for information, and one of my spies reported your name had been mentioned.”

“Me?” Climence sounded clearly surprised.

“We arranged to meet. He’s wary, though, very wary. Only when he discovered I know you did he become willing to tell me more and allow me to assist him.”

“If he knows me, why didn’t he come here himself? Surely someone would have told him how to find me.”

“He doesn’t know you personally; he knows of you.”

Climence didn’t respond.

Garlon spoke again. “One name he’s mentioned more than once, his mentor, I believe, Kashar. You know him.”

Eliot started, managing to catch himself in time before he pushed the door open; how had Climence reacted to make Garlon almost shout that accusation at her?

“No, no. I-it was.” She sounded faint.

Garlon said something which Eliot could not make out. Then he heard the clink of what sounded like glass before Garlon spoke again.

“Here, drink. It’s brandy.” After a pause, he said, “So, who is this Kashar?”

Climence stuttered before answering. “That, that is a name from long ago, from a time I wish to forget.”

Eliot rubbed the scar on his chin; what could she be referring to?

“Tell me.”

“No,” said Climence, sounding more herself. “There’s nothing to say, it’s of no concern. What is this man’s name again?”

“Tulash.”

Eliot wondered at the strange names. None of the people from different lands he’d met or heard the names of at the Trade Building sounded similar.

“And why does he wish to see me?”

“That, I don’t know. But he is the one who wants the cat.”

His eyes bulging, Eliot swivelled away to stand with his back against the wall.

“The cat? Why? What’s so special about it?”

“Ask him yourself,” said Garlon.

“Very well, I’ll meet with him. Where? At your house in the city?”

“No. I’ve been told my house is, most likely, being watched; undue interest shown in who comes, who leaves.”

Climence exclaimed, her surprise evident in her tone. “You believe you’re being spied on? But who–oh, I know. That boy, it has to be.”

“What?” said Garlon.

“He must have said something to that friend of his, Bertran’s son. I wager Bertran has alerted the authorities.”

Eliot glanced sidelong towards the door.

“You may well be right,” said Garlon, anger evident in his harsh reply. “It’s too much of a coincidence, this unwarranted interest only after Jack has begun his mission. If I find out that bastard boy has said anything, he will pay.”

Silence followed his words.

When Climence spoke, her voice was low, uncertain. “If the authorities suspect you in any way, I don’t think I wish to come to your house. I don’t want any suspicion to fall on me.”

Garlon barked a harsh laugh. “If your grandson has said anything about me, he’s probably mentioned you also. There’s no love lost between you.”

“Don’t call him that. And I don’t believe he would say anything against me. For Marcelin’s sake. So, where shall I meet you to speak with this man?”

“I will have to bring him here. I’ll send word first. And do not mention this visit to anyone.”

“Who would I tell?”

“Not even Marcelin.”

“Don’t fret, Garlon.” Climence sounded impatient. “No one will know. Send word when you plan on bringing him, and I’ll make sure there is no one else present.”

Believing they were about to open the door, Eliot quickly made his way to the garden room. A shiver escaped him, wondering why a stranger who knew of Climence wanted the cat.