Marauder Read Online Free Page B

entourage were already waiting.
    Smalling turned as she entered, as did Lampard, Abramovic and Thijs himself, each of them dressed in his own distinctive robe of office. They stood in an untidy group by a long table that had
already been prepared for the morning meal.
    These men present were the true rulers of the Demarchy of Uchida, as Karl had once explained to her; she, by contrast, was little more than a means to an end, regardless of endless public
pronouncements to the contrary. Accompanying these high officials of the Demarchy were a number of yellow-and-black-capped attendants, most of them acting as security personnel under Karl’s
direct command.
    Gabrielle forced herself to unclench her shoulders, taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly until the rapid thundering of her heart had slowed to a gentler rhythm. She avoided gazing
directly at Thijs, whose eyes roved with obvious interest over the few curves of her body actually visible beneath her voluminous robes.
    From the direction of the riverside docks came the sound of music – a recording of a choir singing a hymnal. The melody came and went with the wind blowing in from the river and the sea
beyond.
    ‘Mer Gabrielle,’ said Thijs, his eyes finally finding their way back to her face. ‘I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you looking so well, and on the eve of
such a special occasion.’
    The Demarchy’s chief of security, Thijs kept his hands locked in front of him like two sea anemones grappling over a fragment of food. Lampard regarded her with a cold and distant gaze, as
if already engaged in the act of dissecting her alive. Abramovic remained as aloof and unreadable as ever; Gabrielle could recall no more than a very few occasions throughout her life when the
master of sciences had actually spoken to her directly.
    ‘Is everything all right?’ asked Thijs, a flicker of concern crossing his face. ‘You look a little pale, Mer Gabrielle.’ He glanced to one side of her. ‘Mater
Cassanas . . . ?’
    Gabrielle saw the old woman turn towards her, her gaze dipping briefly once more towards her mistress’s belly before rising to meet her eyes.
    I dare you
, thought Gabrielle, staring back. Not for the first time in recent months, she had the sensation of her whole life hanging in the balance by the most delicate of threads.
Tell them how Karl’s
been blackmailing you. Bring the whole damn Pilgrimage crashing
down around their ears, and see just how grateful to you they are.
    But when Cassanas turned to address Thijs a moment later, she was transformed into the very picture of smiling obsequiousness. ‘Mer Gabrielle is just very tired,’ replied the old
woman. ‘I think that’s understandable, given the circumstances, as there’s so much to do before we sail for Dios.’
    Gabrielle forced another smile. ‘Mater Cassanas – Edith here – she’s been fussing over me all morning, haven’t you?’ She glanced at her, then turned back to
Thijs. ‘She’s so
worried
about me.’
    Cassanas nodded robotically, then flashed a sideways glance at Gabrielle that was just a few degrees north of absolute zero.
    ‘Enough of this,’ said Lampard, his eyes studying them both from out of that broad face. His voice had a permanently weary edge, yet carried a lifetime’s experience of exerting
authority. It was to Lampard here that Karl was expected – he had once told her – to report on a daily basis concerning her every movement and word. ‘Mer Gabrielle,’ he
continued, ‘if you have any concerns or queries about the Grand Pilgrimage before it begins, it would be best if you voiced them now rather than later. Let us know if there’s anything
you need, or anything you think might ensure things run as smoothly as they should. This is
your
moment, after all.’
    You miserable, lying piece of scum
, thought Gabrielle.
    ‘Of course,’ she replied instead, once again summoning up her every element of deceit within her as