Page 73 of The Exquisite Torment of Loving Your Enemy
Felicette’s brows rose behind her round spectacles. “I suppose you’re right. There is the risk that some arsehole might weaponise it. We’ll have to guard the formula closely. Should we, perhaps, not be publicizing this?”
“Let’s be careful about it. As long as it remains in Swanstone, it can’t be used for harm.”
Felicette made a note. “Right. May I float another idea by you, while I’m in the presence of the seith specialist? I’ve heard that two of your Haelan are working to master seith transfers. Have you ever considered some sort of seith battery, or capacitor, but for use by humans rather than engines? Seith storage issotricky, though—I’ve a few ideas…”
Having wrapped up with Felicette, Aurienne went to Xanthe. She needed to discuss a notion that had made its way into her brain, thanks to Mordaunt. He had rightly pointed out that Tristane could give Aurienne the information she sought, about who the driving force behind the Pox was and the link to the Dreor Order.
He had given her an idea. That was what he did now, apparently: give her ideas. And books. And orgasms.
All varying degrees of helpful. She had told herself she would keep him at arm’s length. She hadn’t even managed to keep him at finger’slength. (They had been very skilled fingers, however. If one was going to fail, one might as well fail with a lovely, drawn-out orgasm, pleasantly spiced by guilt and self-loathing.)
Aurienne wanted to laugh hysterically.Thathad happened. She wanted to take herself by the shoulders and shake herself until her teeth clattered. She had slept with a Fyren. What was the matter with her? There was almost a taint of insanity to all of this. Was she actually going mad?
The notion was supported by Xanthe, who, when apprised of Aurienne’s idea, looked at her as though she had lost several plots.
“You want to interrogate Tristane?” asked Xanthe.
“Yes,” said Aurienne. She resisted the urge to wring her hands together, as she used to do as a young apprentice when questioned by Xanthe. “I’ve got an excellent reason to visit her again: the seith occlusions. If we knew who hired her, we’d be one step closer to knowing who’s behind all of this—the Pox outbreak, the destruction of the Druids and the Færwundor, the deaths of so many.”
“Tristane has already been questioned,” said Xanthe. “It was futile. She’s a Fyren. She won’t give away her clients. It would rather ruin her Order’s business model.”
“She was questioned by Wardens who had no idea of her real purpose, and all within the confines of the conduct permitted by the Peace Accords,” said Aurienne.
Xanthe’s eyebrows rose until her forehead was all wrinkle. “You’d like to step out of those confines?”
“I’d like to use whatever means necessary to find out who is responsible for the Pox.”
“Whatever means necessary?” repeated Xanthe. “On the captive leader of another Order? Do you wish to end up in front of the Stánrocc, too?”
“Tristane is going to be put to death. And when she dies, our last opportunity to discover who was behind this plague dies with her. Besides,” added Aurienne, “I don’t plan on being caught.”
Xanthe propped her bent hands under her chin. “Where have you mislaid your black-and-white, right-and-wrong, absolutist ethics?”
“It would compromise my ethics more to let her die without finding out who’s behind this. They deserve consequences.”
Xanthe studied Aurienne in silence. Her black eyes were piercing, assessing. Aurienne was surprised to find the assessment end in delight. “You’ve grown.”
“It’s about achieving a greater goal.”
“Welcome to leadership.”
Xanthe, still bubbling in that delight, made her way to her desk and drew a calendar towards herself. “We haven’t any time to waste. Tristane is being executed at Lammas. That’s August first.”
“Did you mark the date of her execution with a heart?”
“She came to my Order’s threshold planning one or several murders; why wouldn’t I mark it with a heart?” asked Xanthe. “If you’re going to interrogate Tristane, I also suspect that she’s behind Lambert’s disappearance. And perhaps even our missing nurses. See what you can find out about that.”
“I will.”
“I shall make the arrangements with Dinadan, for us to visit Tintagel Castle. You’re just about due to refresh Tristane’s seith occlusions, anyway.”
“Us?”
“Someone’s going to have to distract the Wardens while you take Any Means Necessary with Tristane,” said Xanthe.
“Right.”
“And how is Onion Boy’s treatment progressing?” asked Xanthe.
