Slair laughed again, a sharp bark. “Bergelin, for one who can see the thoughts in a head, you are the ignorantest man I have seen—or one of the cleverest.” He shot a quick glance of suspicion at Rodvard. “You truly did not know that Mathurin was the head of the High Center, the major leader of the Sons? As for Remigorius, the less you mention him, the better. Some connections are not quite healthy.”
“I did not know,” said Rodvard slowly (trying in his mind to re-assort the tumbled building-blocks of his world). “But I? The Blue Star’s a treasure, but why send a ship for such a mouse as I am?”
“Answer your own question, friend Bergelin. Look, here’s Pavinius; the court; our party with its control of the great assembly; maybe some of Tritulaccan tendency, and a few Amorosians—all opposed to each other. You are the only man we know can untangle where the true loyalties lie and discover whom we can trust.”
“But surely, this is not the only Blue Star.”
“The only one we can be sure of. We know the court butler Tuolén had one; perhaps there is one or more in Pavinius’ party.”
“You say ‘had.’ Does Tuolén have it no longer?”
Slair looked sidewise (with something a little savage in his glance). “An accident befell him. You know Mathurin.”
Said Lalette; “If I understand what you mean, you had him killed. But this would not affect the Blue Star itself.”
“Not if we could find the heiress. And there’s another question also; suppose we have found her, does she know enough of the Art to make the Star active? True witches are very hard to find, with the episcopals so bitter against the Art on the one hand, and the Amorosians draining so many off to Mancherei on the other.”
“My mother—” began Lalette.