“This way, sir,” the butler said. “She’s waiting for you.”
“I’m sure she is,” Sir Griffons said.
My thoughts churned as we followed the butler down a long corridor and stopped outside a locked and warded chamber. I couldn’t believe that Saline had murdered her uncle, certainly not in a manner that made it impossible to hide her guilt. Were we being conned? Or had she been under a compulsion charm? The wards should have spotted that, but I knew through bitter experience that they had their limits. The butler pressed his hand against the doorknob, undoing the locking spells. I felt a gust of warm air flowing around us as he opened the door. The chamber didn’t look like a prison cell. It looked rather more like a small bedroom, bigger than mine back home. I felt an odd flush of envy, mingled with concern. A child who grew up in such luxury could be deeply warped by the time she hit adulthood.
Saline herself sat on the bed, staring down at nothingness. Her long brown hair spilled over her nightgown, hands were clasped in her lap ... I could sense faint flickers of magic surrounding her, as if she was trying to defend herself against constant pressure. The house wards were probably locking her down, I guessed. Her father - or uncle; I wasn’t sure if Lord Califon was her father - had isolated her from the wards. The building no longer welcomed her. I had the odd feeling she probably found it unpleasant.
She looked up at us, her eyes lingering on me. “Adam?”
I winced, inwardly. She sounded years younger, as if she was a little girl again. Her face was blank, yet ... there was a looming horror in her eyes. I wondered, despite myself, if someone had managed to get a compulsion charm through her defences. It might explain the horror. If someone had used her as a weapon ... no one would ever trust her again, not completely. It wasn’t fair, but it was true.
“Yes,” I said, as gently as I could. “I haven’t changed that much, have I?”
“We need to know what happened,” Sir Griffons said, calmly. His voice was very professional. “And we need to use a truth spell.”
“I understand.” Saline looked down. Her voice, when she spoke again, was very low. “I killed him.”
Sir Griffons cast the truth spell. “Tell us what happened,” he said. “Start at the beginning.”
Saline made a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a sob. “Uncle Redford put a spell on me,” she said. The truth spell didn’t twitch. She was telling the truth. “He turned me dumb! I couldn’t think. I just ... lost everything. He did it to me.”
“I see,” Sir Griffon said. He sounded understanding. Very understanding. “And how did you break the spell?”
“Akin broke it.” Saline looked up, an odd expression covering her face. It looked like hero-worship. “He got a spellbreaker from somewhere and used it on me. The spell snapped” - she laughed, harshly - “and I was smart again. I promised myself that I’d kill my uncle for his crimes and I did. He put that spell on me!”
Sir Griffons nodded, slowly. “And how did you get the knife into the hall?”
“I made it myself,” Saline said. “I did all the pieces separately, then put them together and forged the spellform this morning. I knew where all the blind spots were. I put the knife in a box, carried it up to Uncle Redford’s bedroom and stabbed him. He died instantly.”
“And you didn’t think to report him?” Sir Griffons leaned forward. “Your family wouldn’t let him get away with it.”
“I didn’t have any proof,” Saline said. “The spell was completely shattered. I couldn’t prove what had happened to me. And he was so important that he might have gotten away with it. He had so many friends and supporters and clients and ...”
I shuddered. I couldn’t think of any good motive for casting such a spell on anyone. And yet, it seemed pointless. Saline was hardly going to inherit ... I resolved to try to dig into the family affairs, to work out who benefited if Saline grew too dumb to brush her teeth without help. There were hundreds of horror stories about madmen and women in the attics. I couldn’t help wondering how many magic-less Zeros had been banished, instead of being put to work. That would be ironic. The Great Houses had literally thrown away their one chance to establish themselves as unchallengeable rulers.
Sir Griffons asked hundreds of questions, forcing Saline to go over the affair time and time again. I felt pity for her, pity and sympathy and ... I wondered, sourly, what her family would do. They wouldn’t want to keep a murderer on the books, but they wouldn’t want the remainder of the city learning what Lord Redford had done. My imagination provided too many possible motives, each one more horrifying than the last. I’d thought I knew how dark the world could be, growing up in Water Shallot. But I’d been wrong. There were people out there who did the most horrific things.
“Remain here,” Sir Griffons ordered, when he was finished. “Do either of you” - he looked at us - “have any further questions?”
I tried to think of one, but nothing came to mind. Sir Griffons had covered the entire case quite comprehensively. We knew she’d done it, we knew why she’d done it ... we found it hard to condemn her. Hell, she’d probably done her family a favour. It would have been a major scandal if Lord Redford had been arrested for his crimes, one even the Great Houses would have found impossible to cover up. I had the feeling House Califon was merely waiting for us to go before they drew a veil over the whole affair.
Sir Griffons led us outside. The butler was still waiting, patiently. I wondered if he’d been spying on the conversation. There was little true privacy in a Great House, if rumours were to be believed. The privacy wards might not stand up to the household charms. I rather suspected Lord Califon would have been listening to us. He had to know what had happened before his family council met. He might find himself stampeded into doing something stupid if he didn’t come up with a plan of his own.
“We’ll be in touch,” Sir Griffons said. His voice was very calm, but I thought I detected an undertone of anger. I wasn’t sure why he was so annoyed. “But I think it’s a fairly open and shut case.”
The butler bowed. “My master will be glad to hear it,” he said. He sounded pleased. I wondered, sourly, just how close he identified with his masters. “Do you require transport back home?”
“I think we’ll walk,” Sir Griffons said. “You may escort us to the door.”
“Yes, sir,” the butler said. He turned away, heading down the corridor. “If you’ll come with me ...”
Chapter Fifteen
“So,” Sir Griffons said, once we were through the gates and walking away from House Califon. “What do you make of the whole affair?”
“That poor girl,” Caroline said. “He could have done anything to her.”
“Quite.” Sir Griffons nodded. “Once a spell like that got bedded in, he’d have no trouble taking advantage of it.”
I stared at my feet. “I don’t believe it,” I said. “How could he hope to escape detection?”
“The spell would have blurred itself into Saline’s natural magic,” Sir Griffons said. “In a sense, she would be cursing herself. I’m quite impressed young Akin spotted the curse and did something about it. I wonder ...”
He frowned. “He must have obtained an Object of Power from his family,” he mused. “A Device of Power might not be strong enough to root out and destroy the curse.”
Caroline poked me. “You knew her, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. I didn’t want to think about Jude’s, not now. “She was an aristo, back when we were lowerclassmen. I thought ... she wasn’t a bad person, but she wasn’t a very good person either. And then she started to decline. I didn’t pay much attention to it.”
“Perhaps you should have,” Sir Griffons said.
“Perhaps.” I didn’t want to think about that either. If I’d stumbled across the truth, a year ago, it was a given that no one would have believed me. Lord Redford would have charged me with slander and crushed me like a bug. It spoke well of Akin, I supposed, that he’d done something. I wondered if
he’d known Saline intended to kill her uncle. He might be in some trouble if he’d known and said nothing. “There was no reason to think it was anything more than her reaching her peak.”
“Perhaps,” Sir Griffon echoed. “But you never know what lurks behind the fine walls and finer words of Polite Society.”
He waved a hand at a mansion. “Behind those walls, all kinds of crimes are committed,” he added. “And most of them will never see justice.”
I nodded. “Aristos!”
“They’re not all bad,” Caroline said, sharply. “Saline would still be dumb if one of her friends hadn’t helped her.”
I said nothing. I knew she was right, but ... she wouldn’t have been dumb - either - if her uncle hadn’t cursed her. I promised myself, silently, that I’d give my father a big hug when I saw him again. I’d complained about him time and time again, when I’d been a little boy, but he’d never cursed me. He’d never even forced me to work in his shop! Compared to Saline’s parents, whoever they were, he was practically perfect.
“Quite,” Sir Griffons said.
I frowned. “So ... what’s going to happen to her?”
“Our investigation, such as it was, will provide some degree of political cover for Lord Califon,” Sir Griffons said. “Our independent confirmation that Lord Redford cast illicit spells on Saline will serve as proof he deserved to die. Given that he’s no longer around to cause trouble, or rally his supporters to his cause, the family can breathe a sigh of relief and condemn him without having to worry about his response. Saline ... will probably get a smack on the behind and then let go.”
“Good,” I said, savagely. I’d never liked Saline - she was an aristo - but she didn’t deserve to have her mind twisted and warped by her uncle. “How many people will know the truth?”
“I suspect the full truth will be covered up, before too long,” Sir Griffons said. “If some of it leaks out” - he smiled, thinly - “Saline may find herself unwelcome. The family may cut a deal with her so she stays out of the public eye.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “She was cursed.”
“And they can’t tell the world she was cursed without admitting what sort of serpent they were clutching to their bosom,” Sir Griffons pointed out. “They don’t want the rest of the Great Houses turning on them, not now. Things are fragile enough as it is without poisonous suggestions slipping into the open. The city came alarmingly close to another House War last year.”
I scowled. “And so there’s no closure?”
Sir Griffons smiled. “Lord Redford is dead. His death was thoroughly deserved. Saline will probably get away with it. People will be giving her suspicious looks, depending on how much of the story actually gets out, but she won’t face any formal punishment. I dare say there’ll be enough closure for everyone involved.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, sullenly.
I resisted the urge to kick a stone into the gutter as we kept walking. It didn’t feel like enough. I wanted the truth to be shouted right across the city. Let everyone know what sort of monster had infected House Califon. But Sir Griffons would never let me tell the world. The case was closed - it had barely even been open - but it left a sour taste in my mouth. I remembered what I’d been told, when I’d been recruited, and shuddered. Some cases were never truly closed. And sometimes the truth was buried under a mountain of bullshit.
The streets started to fill with people as we turned the corner and walked past a row of expensive shops. I spotted hundreds of aristocratic women, some wearing the latest fashion in fancy hats. They’d woven their hair into their hats, crafting them in a style that resembled giant clipper ships. I thought they were absurd. Their bodyguards gave us sharp looks - I guessed they recognised potential threats when they saw them - and steered their charges away from us. I tried not to snort in disbelief at just how much their mistresses were buying. The shops were so expensive that price tags were nowhere in evidence. If you had to ask the price, you couldn’t afford it.
“Notice the women over there,” Sir Griffons said, nodding towards a trio of middle-aged ladies striding down the road as if they owned it. “See the clothes they’re wearing?”
I shrugged. The ladies were wearing robes, but ... they weren’t real robes. They looked more like towels wrapped around their bodies than anything else. They were close enough to trousers that I was sure the older women would be looking down their long noses at them. I snorted at the thought. It was fine to show most of their breasts, but to show the shape of their legs was a faux pas beyond hope of redemption. It wasn’t as if they were showing off their bare legs. But then, I’d never understood fashion.
Caroline had a more intelligent thought. “They’re wearing North Cairnbulg fashions, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Sir Griffons didn’t sound pleased. “They’re showcasing their support for Prince Jacob and his cause.”
I leaned forward as the three women vanished into the distance. “Sir ... is it legal for Prince Jacob to be here?”
Sir Griffons looked pained. “As I understand it, he didn’t bother to ask permission. He just moved into the city.”
“So he’s an unwelcome guest?” I stroked my chin. “Why don’t they just throw him out?”
“Politics.” Sir Griffons let out a long breath. “It’s something you cannot afford to forget in this job.”
He led us past Magus Court and stopped outside our building. I watched as he parted the wards, allowing us entry. A single scroll was resting in the letterbox, waiting for us. Sir Griffons picked it up, broke the seal and scanned it quickly. I shared a glance with Caroline. I was morbidly sure that, whatever was in the letter, it was bad news.
“We have been invited to a party in honour of Prince Jacob.” Sir Griffons snorted, rudely. “I trust you two know how to behave yourselves?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. Sir Muldoon had drilled us in the basics. “I ... should we be going? It might embarrass the king.”
“It might,” Sir Griffons said. “But merely attending a party doesn’t imply support for the bastard.”
“And no one cares about our opinions anyway,” Caroline put in. “We’re just ... squires.”
“And you can be disowned at any time,” Sir Griffons cautioned. He passed me the scroll. “If nothing else, it will be a good chance to take the city’s pulse. There’s more wheeling and dealing at such parties than there is in Magus Court or the stock exchange. We might find out who’s in, who’s out and who’s planning what for the end of the summer.”
Caroline frowned. “The end of the summer, sir?”
“That’s when young Akin Rubén and Caitlyn Aguirre either have to announce their engagement or end their betrothal,” Sir Griffons said. “Whatever happens, things will change.”
I nodded, slowly. Even I knew the alliance between House Rubén and House Aguirre depended on Akin and Caitlyn turning their betrothal into a real marriage. I wondered, grimly, what they thought about it, now their time was almost up. They couldn’t delay much longer. Caitlyn’s family couldn’t deny her claim to adulthood unless they wanted to claim she was mentally unsound, unable or unwilling to live as an adult. I doubted they’d get very far if they tried. Caitlyn might not have magic, but she was hardly a cripple. She’d have no shortage of supporters if she wanted to flee her family and find safety elsewhere.
“But that isn’t our concern for the moment,” Sir Griffons said. “You two can grab some breakfast, then spend the day exploring the city. We’ll go to House Lamplighter this evening.”
Caroline took the scroll and read it. “What do we wear?”
“Your formal uniform,” Sir Griffon said, curtly. “You don’t need to dress up fancy to attend a party.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I’d always hated dressing up for formal balls, if only because I hadn’t had the money to do it properly. The aristos had always known I’d borrowed my suits and ties. It was worse for the girls. They were mocked if they wore the same dress twice in a row
. “Do we have to write a report about Saline?”
“No.” Sir Griffon smiled. “That’s my responsibility. You can do it yourself when you’re knighted.”
I headed into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Caroline walked past me and dug into the food preserver, producing bacon, eggs, onions and a hunk of strong-smelling cheese. Sir Griffons watched, expressionlessly, as she cooked omelettes and handed them 'round. I took mine and quickly ate it, enjoying the combination of tastes. Caroline was a much better cook than me. I wasn’t too surprised. It was uncommon for boys to be taught how to cook. I’d gotten in trouble, once, for implying that potions brewing was very like cooking.
“Have fun,” Sir Griffon said, when we’d finished eating. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
The streets were crammed with people as we walked down the road and crossed the bridge into South Shallot. This time, without the guardsmen surrounding us, people didn’t pay any attention to us. I stopped by a stall and bought a pair of sausages in buns, passing one of them to Caroline as we kept walking. The meat tasted very suspicious, the flavour hidden behind mustard and tomato ketchup. I smiled, remembering eating street food when I’d been very young and the family short of cash. The food was cheap, but not always healthy. The buyer ate at his own risk.
“I’ve never liked big cities,” Caroline confessed, as we made our way over the bridge to Water Shallot. “They’re too unfriendly.”
I frowned. “I’ve never lived anywhere else,” I said, softly. The streets were quieter now. The men were at their jobs, if they were employed; the women were cleaning their houses while their children were at school. The women who lived on the edge of the gentrified region were poor, but proud. They were all too aware of the gap between themselves and the even poorer families further south. They’d be terrified if their children brought home suitors from the docks. “The cities have their advantages and disadvantages.”
The streets grew darker as we made our way further south. A handful of prostitutes sat on the street corners, whistling at anyone who showed even the slightest hint of interest. There was no sign of their pimps, but I knew they were probably watching from a distance. I rather suspected they were wasting their time. The women on the streets were reaching the end of their careers, their short lives coming to a harrowing end. I shuddered as one of them waved at me, her toothless mouth forming something that might have been intended as a smile. Her john had probably knocked her teeth out for answering back or something. I felt a stab of pity, mingled with horror. If I’d grown up in such an environment, who knew what I would have become?
The King's Man Page 14
