Ch. 12

Princess Septieme could not sleep. Irate over the situation that plagued her honored guests, she spent the entire evening in her throne room, grilling her staff, from her personal guards all the way down to the lowliest scullery maid. Alice, Martis, and Oreldo joined her, watching for any signs of deception. While Alice was well-versed in political corruption, Oreldo studied the people of lower stations, the sort he'd grown up with. Martis kept track of everything, searching for correlations, no matter how unlikely. He noted with mild interest that no matter what station one may hold in life, everyone lies. For some, it's mere survival, while for others it was almost an art form.

Of course, just about everyone had at least a little something to hide. For many, it was petty thievery. An extra loaf of bread here, a small nap there, or a tiny bribe so a stableman could spend 15 minutes with his betrothed, and so on; nothing was hidden for long. Martis soon was able to figure out a possible route the attacker might have taken, and he quickly realized, that whoever it was, had to be either very fast, or beyond reproach.

"Or both, I'd say," he told the princess and his team. He turned to Septieme and swallowed hard. He knew his next questions weren't going to go over well. Septieme looked at him with fierce eyes, but he could see the fear and shame underneath.

What a heavy task to be given to one so young, he thought. Jacques stood beside her on her right, while Alan was on her left. Both of their faces were like masks of stone.

"Your Highness," Martis asked, "you said you were passing through the hall where the laundry was delivered at 2 p.m., correct? That was about an hour before we arrived. Can you tell us why you happened to pass through there?"

Princess Septieme looked angry, but it was Jacques who erupted. "Have a care what you say, noble sir!" he sputtered. "You dare to accuse Her Royal Highness?"

"I'm not accusing her of anything," Martis countered, "Not yet. We need to establish a timeline."

"You-you insolent twit!" Jacques said, and balled his fists, but the princess held up a hand.

"That's enough," she said. Alice raised an eyebrow. She and Oreldo looked at each other.

"But, Princess," Jacques said, "this is slander!" He glared at Martis. "He has openly spoken a challenge to you, which means he has spoken against the Royal House of Rodelia! Our tradition clearly states-"

"I said that's enough!" the princess said, cutting him off. He silenced himself and quickly stood at attention. She looked at him hard. "Jacques," she said, surprising him by using his name, her tone gentle but firm. "You know very well he is right to ask me, if only to rule me out as a suspect. I hold no one to be beyond questioning, and neither should Section Three. It is common sense to ask, since I have access to this entire tower."

She turned to Martis, who smiled at her, and her heart fluttered with hope.

"You may continue your interrogation, Mr. Martis," she said, inclining her head.

Martis bowed. "Thank you, your Highness," he said, "You are exactly right, and I really appreciate your cooperation. Please tell us why you were there at the time you claim?"

Septieme nodded. "As I said, I was at that location because I had just returned from lunch, which had run late."

"You met with your family, right?" Martis asked.

"Correct," she replied. "Our father was asking us to report on our various projects and activities. As I am always last, I had to hear and respond to everyone else. Unuma was discussing the latest scandal involving a former suitor, while Deaux regaled all with his newest excursion. All very tedious, you know."

Martis coughed a laugh, but nodded. Alice cleared her throat as a warning.

"I'm sure it is, Princess," Martis said, "but please stick to the facts around the event."

Septieme blushed. "Oh yes, of course," she said. "Well, I had asked to be excused early after Quintus said something particularly nasty to me in front of all of us, but then he's always been rather ostentatious."

"Prince Quintus, your brother?" Martis prompted. Septieme nodded.

"And what did he say that was so terrible?" he asked. Septieme closed her eyes and turned even redder with shame.

"I have to apologize on the behalf of my family," she said, her expression grim. "He belittled our alliance, you see. He insinuated that to call you comrades, to bring you into my home was the same as-as dining with pigs."

Alice gasped. She had heard rumors of Prince Quintus having an elitist attitude, but this was above and beyond arrogant.

"After that," Septieme continued, "I excused myself and left the room, rather quickly as you can imagine."

"Excused yourself, or asked to be excused?" Oreldo interjected. Septieme looked at him in surprise.

"Oh, I see," she said, "you're right. My apologies. Uh…both, I guess. You see, I asked my father…rather forcefully…to be excused, and when he wouldn't grant it, I am ashamed to say I conceded defeat by excusing myself, lest my temper get the best of me."

"Why wouldn't he grant it?" Alice asked, confused.

"Insults, no matter how base they may be, are still part of a political interplay," Septieme replied. "I was supposed to best him even in speech, or at least answer in kind." She shrugged. "I felt like cutting out his tongue, so I left."

She looked at Martis and looked down, realized how her words must have sounded to him. Martis took a breath.

"And what happened next?" he asked gently.

She looked up at him. "I saw my handmaidens go about their work preparing your rooms. There were 10 of them, the same group you interrogated earlier, unless there was one or two that we didn't see. Jean was training Lucia on speed and efficiency. It was her 2nd day, you see."

Martis frowned and looked at his notes. He went back several pages until he reached Lucia's name. He and Oreldo had a few questions concerning her. Most notably, Lucia was not Rodelian, but Imperial. Something about her struck Oreldo as familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Not a former girlfriend of yours, is she?" Martis had whispered to him earlier.

"Hmm…nope," Oreldo said, after thinking it over. "But I know I've seen her somewhere before."

"Cavern City?"

"Nah, I don't think so. She's too cute!"

Martis smacked him on the shoulder and groaned.

"Mr. Martis?" Septieme suddenly called, and he was startled out of his reverie. "What is it? Did you figure out a link?"

Martis looked at his notes again. "I'm sorry. Please continue. Why bring up those two?"

Septieme nodded. "I was…upset, and was walking very rapidly. Everyone raced to get out of the way, but Lucia didn't see me and I knocked her down quite hard. She had a load of fresh bedclothes in her arms and everything went flying. I might have been rather harsh in my rebuke to her, and foolishly, I tread right through the pile."

She looked up at Martis, still blushing, her hands restless in her lap. "I must beg your forgiveness, Mr. Martis."

"And why is that?" he asked.

"In my anger, I am quite still a little girl. Of course, that meant everything had to be rewashed. Jacques helped her up and told everyone to stop staring and to get back to work. He might have said something but I didn't hear him, because I was out of the hall by then."

Martis nodded. "Thank you, Your Highness," he said, "that's all I needed."