39. Layer of Trust
Layer of Trust
I took the chair across from Baldir, and the hierarchy that governed every breath in House de Blaise fell away between us like a door closing on the rest of the world. Armand claimed the third chair, pulling it close enough that we could speak in lowered voices.
“The inspection at the gate,” Armand began, his usual easy confidence stripped down to something blunt and cold. “Too many guards. Too many questions. The steward’s tone. This isn’t hospitality.”
“It’s containment,” I finished.
Both brothers looked at me with the same evaluating expression. I’d seen that look before, on the faces of veteran captains when a young soldier said something unexpectedly competent.
“Father suspected as much,” Baldir said after a moment. “That’s why he sent the Sword-Kin instead of regular house guards. They’re a deterrent against open attack. But this feels different. More subtle.”
“Poison in the wine,” I said. “Knife in the dark. Accident during the tournament that doesn’t look like an accident.”
The words came from memories of ambushes in taverns, of alliances breaking over perceived slights, of men who smiled while planning murder. The Red Gale had seen enough treachery to recognize its shape even when it wore friendly clothes.
“Exactly.” Baldir’s nod carried respect I hadn’t earned yet in this body. “Which means we need to operate on multiple levels. Public faces and private objectives. ”
He spread his hands flat on the table, fingers splayed like he was measuring the wood’s grain.
“I’m the heir. My place is with Duke Hemmrich and the high lords.
I play their game, attend their dinners, laugh at their jokes.
I’m the shield, the face of the house. My job is to draw attention and hold it so everyone watches me instead of looking elsewhere. ”
He looked at his brother. “Armand. Second son. Less visible, more freedom to move. Your reputation with dual blades gives you reason to be anywhere steel is discussed. You move among the competitors, the lesser nobles, the champions who came here to prove themselves. You’re our eyes among the powerful. ”
Then those storm-gray eyes, so like Henrik’s, settled on me.
“Danarre. The wild card. Bastard, but acknowledged enough to matter. Child, but trained well enough to compete. They’ll watch you in the arena because you’re young and they want to see what House de Blaise is building.
They won’t expect you in the halls because children don’t play politics. ”
“A scout,” I said.
“More than that. A connection.”
Armand leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs beneath the table. “You have something neither of us can claim. Danzing respects you, actually respects you, not just your blood. The Sword-Kin listen when you speak. You move between worlds we can’t touch.”
There was truth in that. The legitimate sons couldn’t share drinks with common guards without it becoming a scandal, couldn’t overhear servant gossip without lowering themselves. Their blood trapped them as much as it elevated them .
A bastard, though, could be anywhere, talk to anyone, notice things that nobles were supposed to be too refined to see.
“My team can help,” I said. “Perrin hears everything. Maise sees patterns others miss. Grit doesn’t talk much, but he notices when things are wrong.”
“Use them.” Baldir’s voice carried command without raising volume. “You chose them. They’re yours. Have them watch the matches. Note who’s nervous. Who has too many guards around them. Who watches us when they think we’re not looking.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” I asked.
Baldir and Armand exchanged a look that carried entire conversations.
“Father received a message before we left,” Baldir said slowly, choosing his words with care. “From an old ally. Someone who asked him not to send us to this tournament. Who suggested that Henrik de Blaise might find it healthier to have pressing business elsewhere for the next few weeks.”
“Father ignored the warning.”
“Father couldn’t ignore it. Not without showing weakness. Duke Hemmrich invited us specifically by name. Declining would have been an insult that followed our house for a generation.”
I thought about Henrik’s letter, the one Baldir had produced at the gate, the one the herald had read and then passed to someone more important.
“What was in that letter?”
“Official greetings. Formal pleasantries. Nothing that matters.” Baldir paused. “And underneath the wax seal, a second message that only someone who knew our house cipher would recognize. A warning to the Duke that Henrik suspects a threat, but doesn’t know its shape yet.”
“You’re using Hemmrich as an ally?”
“I’m giving Hemmrich the chance to be one.
” Baldir gave me a look that almost passed for friendly.
“If he’s the threat, he already knows we’re suspicious and we’ve lost nothing by revealing it.
If he’s not the threat, he now knows someone is moving against one of his guests under his roof. His honor requires him to respond.”
That was cleverer than I’d expected from an heir who was supposed to be all muscle and no mind.
“You’ve been planning this for a while,” I said.
“Father’s been planning this. I’m just executing his strategy.”
Baldir stood and crossed to the window, looking out at the tournament grounds below.
“Something is going to happen at this tournament. Father doesn’t know what, but he felt it strongly enough to send the Sword-Kin and to write that coded warning.
Our job is to survive it. And if we can, figure out what it is before it happens. ”
“Communication,” Armand said, bringing us back to practical matters. “We can’t speak this freely again. Not here. Walls have ears, even when we check for them.”
“Training grounds,” I suggested. “Every morning, before official drills. Natural for family members to practice together. We can exchange information between blows.”
“Good.” Baldir turned from the window. “What else?”
“Mealtimes. The common hall will be crowded, easy to speak without being overheard. I can pass notes through Maise if needed. She’ll be in the barracks with Danzing and the teams. ”
“The tournament itself,” Armand added. “Between matches, while the crowd is focused elsewhere. We can meet in the competitors’ area without drawing attention.”
Baldir nodded, filing each suggestion away. “And if something urgent happens? If one of us learns something that can’t wait for morning training?”
I thought about it, running through the options. We couldn’t visit each other’s rooms without it being noted, couldn’t meet in public without witnesses, couldn’t trust servants to carry messages.
“The bathing chambers,” I said finally. “The steward mentioned hot water for bathing. Natural for all of us to use them at different times. If we need to meet urgently, we leave a signal. Something small that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else.”
“Like what?”
I looked around the room, searching for anything that could be moved without being obvious. My eyes landed on the small decorative sword mounted above the fireplace, purely ceremonial, blade dull and handle too ornate for actual use.
“That sword. If it needs to be said tonight, whoever finds out moves it. Blade pointing left means gather at midnight in the baths. Blade pointing right means danger, get out of the keep immediately.”
Armand actually smiled. “You’ve done this before.”
I had, in another life, with signals that meant different things and stakes just as high.
“Danzing taught me,” I said instead. “Signals that saved his life more than once. ”
Baldir studied the sword, then nodded slowly. “It works. Simple enough to remember, obscure enough to miss if you’re not looking for it.”
He moved to the sword and adjusted it slightly, testing how easily it could be repositioned. Satisfied, he let it hang where it was, blade pointed straight down.
“Neutral position,” he announced. “Anything else means something.”
“There’s still the tournament itself,” Baldir said, sitting back down. “We can’t forget why we’re officially here. The matches matter, both for house honor and for appearances.”
“We win,” Armand said simply. “All of us. In our respective brackets.”
“But winning isn’t enough.” Baldir leaned forward, intensity returning to his voice. “Watch the crowd during matches. See who cheers, who looks disappointed when favorites fall. Every match tells us something about the alliances in the room.”
I thought about that, about the layers of information hidden in simple reactions. Who wanted House de Blaise to succeed? Who wanted us to fail? And why?
“The tournament is real,” Baldir continued. “Remember that. Duke Hemmrich’s reputation depends on it. He’s brought young nobles from two dozen houses across the region. He’s offering prizes worth winning and staked his honor on hosting fair competition.”
He gestured toward the window. “But underneath that, someone is using this gathering as cover for something else. Father felt it strongly enough to send warnings he couldn’t explain. ”
“What do we know about Hemmrich himself?” I asked. “Is he the threat, or is he being used?”
Armand answered. “Duke Hemmrich is careful. He’s held his position for twenty-two years by being careful. He plays all sides against each other, maintains neutrality in disputes between greater powers, and profits from being the neutral ground where everyone meets.”
“A man like that wouldn’t risk his position by attacking guests under his own roof,” Baldir added. “Too much to lose, not enough to gain. If something happens here, it’s someone using his tournament as cover while he’s distracted playing host.”
“Unless that’s what he wants us to think.”
Both brothers looked at me sharply.
“What do you mean?” Baldir asked.