Page 62 of The Rebel and the Rose
‘Sainthood, I suppose,’ said Ransom.
He glanced at Seraphine. She was chewing on her thumbnail, staring up at the broken clock tower like she was looking at a ghost.
‘What exactly happened here?’ asked Versini.
The provost took a moment to answer. ‘A sort of madness came over Andreas. He climbed the clock tower in the middle of the storm. The lightning struck him in the mouth. It went through him like a current.’
‘Didn’t anyone try and stop him?’
Brow furrowing, the provost said, ‘Andreas was single-minded in this, as he was in all his endeavours.’
‘When did he leave?’ asked Ransom.
‘Within the fortnight. Once the worst of his injuries had healed. He slipped out of his bedchamber some time in the middle of the night, grabbed his personal effects and waved goodbye to the gatekeepers. Never summoned a carriage. He must have walked for hours.’
‘To where?’ Nadia pressed.
The provost shifted from one foot to the other. ‘I couldn’t say.’
‘Take a guess,’ urged Ransom.
‘What is it that you want with Andreas?’ asked the provost baldly.
‘Tea and scones,’ said Caruso, dryly. ‘What the fuck do you think, old-timer?’
Versini cut in, his voice laced with concern. ‘Rebellion is stirring across Valterre. Fantome has fallen into lawlessness. Innocents are fighting in the streets. They are dying for a cause that has sprung up as if from nowhere…’ If the provost was surprised by any of this, he didn’t show it. The Appoline might be tucked away in its own leafy pocket of the kingdom, but they had hundreds of seasoned scribes at their disposal, scholars whose sole vocation was to catalogue every single thing that happened in Valterre, from the disputes reported in the daily penny papers to the changeable weather.
‘There are rumours that Prince Andreas is behind this uprising. We’d like to see for ourselves.’
The provost’s frown deepened. ‘I am no rebel,’ he said,taking another step back, as if to distance himself from the implication. ‘The prince was discharged from the Appoline the moment he left through those black gates. His movements are his own.’
‘What about his thoughts?’ Ransom watched the old man squirm. ‘Weren’t you the prince’s personal mentor while he was here?’
‘We shared an interest in the saints,’ said the provost, in a clipped tone. ‘Like most of the scholars here.’
‘What about overthrowing the king?’ said Caruso, a cat toying with a skittish mouse.
The provost spluttered in horror. ‘Certainly not!’
‘Stop it,’ chided Seraphine, nudging Caruso to one side. ‘We haven’t come here to interrogate you, Provost Ambrose. We understand you have a university to preside over and have no interest in stoking a rebellion far beyond these walls. And though none of us have had the pleasure of your tutelage, you can rest assured thatmostof us are intelligent enough to know’ – she spared a pointed glance at Caruso – ‘that you’re not hiding Prince Andreas in the pocket of your robe.’
Taking the provost by the arm, she smiled sweetly at him. Even though Ransom knew it was as fake as all hell, he liked how it softened her eyes.
The provost seemed to like it too. He rolled his shoulders back, seeming to relax a little.
‘To save time, and more droning questions, could you please show us to his old study quarters?’ she asked, gently tugging him away from the others. ‘There might be something therethat will help us make sense of all of this. What Andreas was planning, or where he might have gone. We’ll be out of your hair before you know it.’
‘It is not customary to let visitors roam these halls…’
Ransom flicked his fingers.
The provost’s gaze dropped to the shadows now inching towards his shiny black shoes.
Seraphine twisted, putting her body between him and that menacing puddle of darkness. ‘We’ll be in and out in an hour. Once we’ve had a look at his chambers, you can return to the important work you do here, and rest easy knowing you’ll never hear from us ever again…’
Swallowing hard, the provost said, ‘I could show you to his desk. Andreas hardly ever left it. But his more recent work, his writings… they’re more like ramblings.’
Seraphine summoned that saccharine smile. ‘Lead on, Provost. We’ll be right behind you.’ She released his arm with a wink. ‘Keeping a safe distance, of course.’
