Hallie paused just inside the threshold and blinked, wondering if she’d somehow been transported somewhere else. But, no, the cross woman who’d met them at the door was still there and through the window Hallie could see their guide stomping off up the path. So they were still in New Hope, even though the formal room would not have been out of place in midtown.
“Make yourselves at home. I’ll go get that tea for you,” the woman said, and bustled out of the room.
Leaving Hallie and Girard exchanging glances that were both amused and puzzled.
Mindful of being in someone else’s home, Hallie didn’t want to make any open comment about the luxury around them, and suspected Girard didn’t either. She also didn’t want to sit on thesoft velvet with her dirty clothes, so she stayed standing, moving a little so she could better see out the window.
They didn’t have long to wait, for the tea or for Master Nicholas. As the harassed-looking woman came back into the room, carrying a large wooden tray that looked far too heavy for her to bear, a man approached the gate. Hallie didn’t have time to notice more than a brief impression of dark hair and a purposeful stride before she turned her attention back to the room. The woman set the tray down on the low, polished table without a single clink or rattle from the contents of the tray. Hallie saw that there was a fragile china tea service there, complete with sugar bowl and a milk jug.
“There, now. Help yourself. Master will be here soon,” the woman said, and stepped back. She’d put a clean apron on, Hallie saw, and brushed the flour from her face and clothes. Taking pride in her appearance and her work. It was not what Hallie would have expected from the curt way she’d originally answered the door, and made Hallie wonder what she might have missed.
No sooner had the tea tray been set down than the door of the house opened and closed. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway before the doorway filled with the newcomer. Out of the corner of her eye, Hallie saw the unnamed woman make a hasty bobbing curtsey which struck her as a very old-fashioned and out-of-place gesture in a human household, but then her attention was caught by the man who had arrived, and who Hallie assumed was Nicholas Rigg, self-styled principal of New Hope.
Nicholas Rigg carried himself upright, confidence in his stance making him appear taller than he was. Hallie thought that both she and Girard had a height advantage over the human man. He had broad shoulders and short, curling, dark hair above a square face with small, close-set dark eyes, pale skinand a neatly-trimmed beard along the edge of his jawline, leaving his surprisingly full mouth uncovered. He was dressed in dark clothing consisting of trousers of the same hard-wearing material that Girard wore with a hip-length leather jacket over a dark-coloured shirt, its collar open. Despite the dirt roads and the recent storms, his outfit and the heavy boots he wore were free of dirt or dust.
His face didn’t show much expression as his eyes travelled first over Girard, then Hallie, then back to Girard. After he’d taken a moment to study them, he seemed to notice the tea tray for the first time. Not pleased, Hallie saw at once, from the tightening of his jaw and thinning of his lips. He shot a glance at the woman and jerked his chin towards the door. Sending her away without a word spoken. She bobbed another curtsey and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Nicholas Rigg hooked his thumbs into his belt and stared at Girard. “You’re not welcome here.”
His voice was flat, hard, in a tone that said there could be no argument. Hallie’s brows lifted a fraction at the open hostility. She wondered if he had spoken tohochlenthe same way before he’d come to the island.
“Special Investigator Abbott,” Girard said, holding up his badge so that it caught the light. His tone was brisk, a contrast from his normal calm, easy going manner. “The Conclave lost contact with their liaison here, Waller Howther. They have asked me to find out why and report back. I assume that you are Nicholas Rigg?”
“I am. I am principal here, and what’s going on is none of the Conclave’s concern,” Nicholas said, still with that absolute certainty and confidence in his voice and manner. “Hochlenaren’t welcome here.” He pronouncedhochlenthe same way that the elite saidkarlen, or vermin. Hallie couldn’t help wonder how Girard felt about the reversal.
“Master Howther contacted the Conclave on behalf of the community here,” Girard said, still in that cool, brisk tone. “The island has been seeking a seat on the Conclave.”
“I’m aware,” Nicholas said, his shoulders square as he stared at Girard with flat eyes and a displeased expression. Used to being able to intimate people, Hallie thought. He managed to take up a lot of room in the small space and hadn’t done more than speak a few words. There was an edge to him that suggested violence was only an impulse away, and she couldn’t forget that he had armed men at his disposal, even if he didn’t seem to carry a gun himself. He was intimidating, she had to admit, even in the quiet of her own mind. But both she and Girard had faced down powerful people before. “We never agreed to have your kind on this island.”
“But the community here does want a seat on the Conclave, yes?” Girard asked, the slightest of frowns between his brows.
Nicholas’ jaw tightened and a hint of colour rose in his face. Angry. But whether at being confronted byhochlenin his own house or for some other reason, Hallie couldn’t tell.
When Nicholas didn’t answer, Girard went on: “If you don’t want a Conclave seat, I’ll be happy to relay that back to the Conclave.”
“This isn’t your property,hochlen. You don’t get to tell us how we live.” There was bitter anger in Nicholas’ voice and Hallie wondered just what had happened to the man that he’d decided to come here, where he thought he could set his own rules and wherehochlenwere not welcome. Or, perhaps more accurately, just what Nicholas had done that he had felt the need to come to this island, where there were nohochlen. She imagined that there had been quite a bit of violence in Nicholas’ past, most of it started by him.
“Do you speak for everyone on the island?” Hallie asked, partly through curiosity and partly to see what kind of reaction shewould get. She kept her voice as pleasant and neutral as she could manage. She imagined Nicholas Rigg was someone who would easily take offence.
Nicholas’ gaze fixed on her face, and the flat, displeased look lifted into anger for a brief moment. “I don’t answer to you, either,” he said.
“By no means,” Hallie said easily, “but if you’re not in charge, we need to speak to whoever is actually in charge.”
“You can speak to me. And me only,” Nicholas said, anger threading into his voice.
“Is that so? We’d heard about another leader here. The governor, first name Jonah. Did he ask Master Howther to speak to the Conclave?” Hallie managed to keep her tone neutral even as Nicholas stared at her, eyes hard. He’d shifted his weight, just a little, and from the tension in his shoulders she thought that if it had just been the two of them in the room, he’d have answered her with violence.
“Him? No.” Nicholas gave a sharp, sarcastic laugh. Trying to imply that the governor was beneath him, perhaps. “This is my territory,” he added, jutting his chin out, his chest puffing up. “The so-called governor has nothing to do with New Hope or Reunion. Those are mine.”
Hallie couldn’t control the surprise on her face, even if she’d wanted to. She was quite sure that Rhodda would have something to say about the idea that Reunion belonged to Nicholas Rigg. The other woman and her fellow settlers had moved out to escape Nicholas’ control.
“Really? Well, then, does the island still want a Conclave seat?” Hallie asked.
“I don’t answer to you,” Nicholas repeated.
“Well, if you claim control over only part of the island, and you won’t give us clear answers, what are we to think?” Hallie asked, trying to keep her tone reasonable.
“Watch your tongue, woman,” Nicholas said. She’d hit a raw spot with her question.
