“The rings have quite a few functions that are not common knowledge,” Sir Griffons said, coolly. “For one thing, they record and transmit everything that happens to them - and their wearer. Lord Anton’s little rant was recorded. Magus Court was quite interested to hear we did have proof.”
Anton paled. “Lies,” he said. “I ...”
“Your people will verify it for themselves,” Sir Griffons said. “And then you will face ...”
He cast a spell, slashing through Anton’s wards and freezing him. I blinked in surprise, my dulled mind barely following as Sir Griffons yanked open Anton’s mouth and removed a fake tooth. Caroline let out a sigh of relief as Sir Griffons pocketed the tooth, then checked the rest of Anton’s teeth. He’d tried to wipe his own memory, to preserve his secrets and give the rest of his team a chance to hide. But he’d failed. The Kingsmen - and Magus Court - would get his secrets out of him. I wondered, sourly, how many of them would ever be revealed to the general public.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” Lord Dirac said, as Sir Griffons cast a complex web of spells on Anton. “I thought he was my ally.”
“He had an agenda of his own, clearly,” Sir Griffons said. “Be very careful when you put him in a cell. He’ll have contacts who’ll want to kill him before he can talk.”
“Of course,” Lord Dirac said. “I never thought ...”
“No,” Sir Griffons said. “It’s never easy to think the worst of your friends.”
I looked from one to the other, wondering why they were talking like ... friends. They were rivals, weren’t they? Magus Court and the Kingsmen were permanently at odds. But they had interests in common too. They had to work together. I supposed they lost nothing by being civil. And ... I glanced at Caroline. Not all aristos were bad. Lord Dirac ... I promised myself I’d give him a chance. I wouldn’t assume he was a bad guy simply because he was an aristo.
Lord Dirac summoned a carriage. “I’ll be taking him back to Magus Court,” he said. “Do you want to accompany me?”
“I might have to,” Sir Griffons said. “You never know who can be trusted, these days.”
I caught Lord Dirac’s eye. “Are you going to send the guardsmen into Water Shallot?”
“No.” Lord Dirac studied me for a long moment. “They’ve been ordered to stay on the bridges. Hopefully, things will quiet down in a few days.”
Sir Griffons nodded, curtly. “Adam, Caroline, go back home,” he said. “Get a shower, change your clothes and have a rest. Or start writing your reports. I’ll expect to see detailed reports from the pair of you by tomorrow evening.”
I studied my ring. None of my tutors had so much as hinted that the rings recorded everything we said and did. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. The ring on my finger had recorded Anton’s confession, but it had also recorded my tryst with Louise and everything else I’d done since I’d put it on. I shuddered, realising how easy it would be to abuse such spells. The potential for mischief - or tyranny - was terrifying.
“You saw everything I saw,” I said. “Didn’t you?”
“But we need to know what you were thinking,” Sir Griffons said. “The rings can’t read your minds. We know what you did, but we don’t know why.”
He nodded to us, then scrambled into the carriage. I let out a breath as they rattled away, then turned to look at the bodies. There were hundreds, including a number in black. Anton had sent them to die ... I wondered, wryly, if he’d become the most hated man in Shallot when that little fact leaked out. His agents had been aristos. Their families wouldn’t be amused when they realised he’d intended to kill them. Bored and foolish young men they might have been, but they were still aristos.
A thought struck me. “Malachi knew something,” I muttered, as we started to walk over the nearest bridge. The guardsmen, wisely, didn’t get in our way. “That’s why he sent us to Rebecca.”
Caroline gave me a sharp look. “That could be just a coincidence.”
“Rebecca’s a Bolingbroke client,” I reminded her. “And Anton is a Bolingbroke. If it’s a coincidence ... what are the odds?”
“We’ll figure it out, if we’re still on the case,” Caroline said. She shrugged, dismissively. “Right now, we have other problems.”
I nodded as we passed Magus Court. The buildings, from the towering office blocks to the giant mansions, were surrounded by heavy wards. North Shallot was eerily quiet, as if the locals expected to be attacked at any moment. Only a handful of shops were open, with nary a customer in sight. I told myself it would do the locals good. They needed to feel the fear that had gripped the rest of the city. It might give them some empathy for their fellow man.
The wards around our building parted as we stepped through the gatehouse and walked around to the back. My skin started to itch, again, as we stepped into the decontamination chamber and stripped down. I was covered with dust and ash. Skin cells flaked off as I stepped into the shower, allowing the water to wash me clean. I still looked odd, I decided. My face was a mess. No wonder Anton hadn’t recognised me at first. I wondered if my skin would ever return to normal. It didn’t seem likely.
“Let the healers take a look at you,” Caroline advised, when I said that out loud. She looked me up and down, then shrugged. “There’s nothing visibly wrong with you. You haven’t grown an extra leg or turned into a woman or dropped dead on the spot. You should be fine.”
“Hah,” I grumbled. I towelled down, grateful my skin had stopped itching. “I’ll be marched to the Desolation before you know it.”
“You weren’t transfigured into a monster,” Caroline pointed out. She slapped me on the back. “You’ll be fine.”
I shook my head. Sir Griffons would be back, soon enough. And when he did ... I felt my stomach churn. If he’d seen everything, he knew how I’d failed. He wasn’t going to be pleased. I was sure of it.
At least I saved thousands of lives, I thought, as I headed up the stairs to bed. Our bedroom looked unchanged. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?
But, in truth, I wasn’t sure.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“This is a preliminary inquest,” Sir Griffons said, the following morning. “We need to go through a few details.”
I stood in front of the table, my hands clasped behind my back to keep them from shaking. I’d expected Sir Griffons, but not Lord Dirac, Carioca Rubén and Joaquin Aguirre. The three aristos studied me, expressions totally unreadable. I supposed I did look a little like Joaquin Aguirre. It must have come from my father. My mother looked completely different.
And he looks a little like Caroline, I thought. It was hard to be sure, but there was a hint of Caroline in his face. Is he her father? Does Alana know she has a half-sister?
I put the thought aside. I wasn’t going to ask, not now. If Caroline wanted me to know, she’d tell me. If not ... it was none of my business. And besides, I might be wrong.
“You correctly identified Anton Bolingbroke,” Sir Griffons said. “How did you do it?”
I took a breath, then outlined the full story. The assassin, who’d wiped his memory; the spy, who’d ratted Louise out to her enemies; my plan, to convince them that the spy hadn’t wiped his memory and force them to attempt to recover him. I wondered, suddenly, what had happened to the poor bastard. I guessed he was still in the socialist safehouse. No one had tried to transport him to prison.
They listened carefully, asking me a handful of questions. I had the feeling that Carioca Rubén and Joaquin Aguirre respected each other, but didn’t like each other. That boded ill for Akin and Caitlyn, I supposed. It was never fun when the in-laws didn’t get along. I told myself, firmly, it wasn’t my problem as I outlined how we’d escaped Anton Bolingbroke and fled to try to stop the riot. We’d failed ... but at least we’d saved thousands of lives. I’d read the report. The device would have killed everyone within a mile if it had detonated as planned.
“Anton attempted to convince you to stand aside,” Lord Dira
c said. “Why didn’t you?”
I swallowed. “His plan was utter madness,” I said. “And it was wrong.”
“It came very close to succeeding,” Joaquin Aguirre commented. “His supporters - not all of whom knew what they were supporting - were poised to take control of Magus Court.”
His expression darkened. I felt a stab of sympathy, despite everything. His daughter would have been kidnapped or simply murdered, if Anton had taken control. Everything he’d worked for would have collapsed. And then ... I wondered if Anton would have stepped into the light, or if he’d continued to run things from the shadows. It would be difficult for people to revolt if they didn’t know who they had to revolt against.
There were a handful of other questions, then the senior lords stood. “We’ll be in touch,” Joaquin Aguirre said. “But thank you for your service.”
I nodded, feeling unaccountably vulnerable. Caroline was ... somewhere else. Sir Griffons had called her down first, then sent her away. I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign. Maybe he was just trying to make sure we told him the same story, when he asked us. But ... the rings would have told him everything we’d done, if he checked. I had the feeling he had other reasons for talking to us separately. I just wished I knew what they were.
“Stand at ease,” Sir Griffons said. “You may pour yourself a drink, if you like.”
I didn’t relax. Much. “Thank you, sir.”
Sir Griffons studied me for a long moment. “You were on your own for three days,” he said. “You were operating without supervision. How do you think you did?”
“Poorly.” I didn’t think there was any point in lying. “I made a whole string of mistakes.”
“Indeed?” Sir Griffons cocked his head. “Explain.”
“I let my feelings blind me,” I said. I assumed he’d watched everything. “I let myself get too close to the socialists.”
Sir Griffons chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
I silently thanked my ancestors that my reddening cheeks weren’t visible. “I let my feelings get in the way, again, when we visited Rebecca Travis. I ... I treated her poorly. And then I risked my life - and Caroline’s life - in confronting Zadornov. I could have gotten us both killed. And then I risked everything - again - to let them kidnap me. If they’d been a little smarter, or a little more secure in their potion, the scheme would have failed. I could have been killed, or worse.”
“You seem to have a good grip on your mistakes,” Sir Griffons said, tonelessly. “What do you think I should do to you?”
“They were my mistakes,” I said. “Caroline ... went along for the ride.”
“I think you do her an injustice,” Sir Griffons said. “But that’s not the first time you did her an injustice, is it?”
“No, sir.” I hung my head in shame. “I was a little prat.”
“You were ... unfinished,” Sir Griffons said. “That’s not uncommon amongst people your age. Very few of them know what they want to be ... and even if they do, they rarely are.”
He smiled, his eyes never leaving mine. “But you never answered my question. What do you think I should do to you?”
I swallowed, hard. “I think you should dismiss me.”
“Indeed?” Sir Griffons didn’t look away. “Do you feel you failed so badly?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
Sir Griffons said nothing for a long moment. “First, berating you is my job, not yours,” he said. “It is customary to wait a few years before you start scheming to take your superior’s position.”
I blinked. “Sir?”
“Second, you made mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. You also managed to recover from them. You executed a plan to reveal the conspirators and carried it out. Yes, you failed to stop the riot. But that wasn’t through lack of effort on your part. You did everything you could.”
He paused. “You did push the limits of what we’re allowed to do, when it comes to demanding information from people. Trusting anything from suspects like Zadornov or Malachi Rubén was dangerous. Bullying Rebecca Travis was a more serious mistake, even if you thought you had good reason. I trust you’ve learnt something useful from that little ... wrong turn?”
“Yes, sir.” I frowned. “But she is a Bolingbroke client, sir, and Anton is a Bolingbroke himself.”
“Magus Court will determine if there’s a link between them,” Sir Griffons said. “We’ve had our eye on Malachi Rubén for the past few months. There are rumours” - he shrugged - “suffice it to say that anything he says should be taken with extreme care. We may never know what happened between him and the rest of his family, but it had to be serious. They exiled him to Water Shallot.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Do you think he was just trying to cause trouble?”
“I’d say he succeeded,” Sir Griffons said, dryly. “And your ... friend ... Louise should be careful what she takes from him.”
“I’m sure she understands, sir,” I said. “What’s going to happen to her?”
“Nothing.” Sir Griffons studied his hands for a long moment. “We know she didn’t build the infernal devices. We know she didn’t intend the march to turn into a riot. The state of emergency has been lifted, her family has been released, compensation will be paid ... officially, she’s in the clear. I dare say she’ll either continue her career or step back into the shadows. It isn’t our concern.”
He cleared his throat. “You made mistakes. So did Caroline. However ... I feel - and my superiors agree - that you do not deserve to be discharged. You admitted your mistakes and did your level best to recover from them. You’re not ready to be knighted, yet, but you’re on the way.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir.”
Sir Griffons shrugged. “We’re going to be heading to Caithness in a few days, once we’ve filed our reports. There are ... issues up north that require investigation. I suggest you spend the next two days with your family. There’s no way to know when you’ll see them again.”
Or at all, I thought, grimly.
“You did well, given the limitations you faced,” Sir Griffons added. “Not perfectly, but well enough.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I ... what’s going to happen to Anton Bolingbroke?”
“Good question,” Sir Griffons said. “They’re interrogating him now, steadily peeling back his defences until they get the truth. They’ll uncover the remainder of his supporters and deal with them. I dare say they’ll be quietly disowned, at the very least. A handful will probably be transported to Skullbreaker Island. No one will try to defend them.”
“Good,” I said. “And will the public ever know the truth?”
Sir Griffons gave me a sharp look. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll have to wait and see.”
I shook my head. “It feels so ... so inconclusive.”
“Our cases often are,” Sir Griffons said. “We find out who’s guilty and then ... our superiors tackle the matter quietly, rather than enforcing public punishment. People are disowned and sent into exile, while the system lives on. It’s never easy punishing people for political cases. Push too hard and the entire edifice might crumble.”
I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Is that a bad thing?”
“How many people work, directly or indirectly, for House Bolingbroke?” Sir Griffons didn’t wait for me to answer. “How many clients do they have? How many people depend upon them? And what would happen to them if House Bolingbroke collapsed? Thousands - tens of thousands - of people would be thrown out of work. The economic shockwaves would threaten the remainder of the Great Houses. They might not be able to pick up the slack, let alone hire the newly-unemployed. They might remain unemployed for years ...”
His voice hardened. “What would you prefer? Quiet punishment for the guilty? Or a public punishment that shatters House Bolingbroke and puts tens of thousands of people out of work?”
“Quiet punishment,” I said. “But it doesn’t seem fair.�
��
“The world isn’t fair.” Sir Griffons shrugged. “The guilty will be identified. Hopefully, they’ll be a rogue cross-house faction. The Bolingbroke - and all the others - will profess surprise that it happened and purge the faction from their house. And the employed will remain employed.”
“I hope you’re right, sir,” I said.
“It isn’t wrong to be idealistic,” Sir Griffons said. “But you should be aware of the practicalities too. Idealism without practicality always ends in tears.”
He stood and poured himself a cup of tea. “I’ve already spoken to Caroline,” he said. “She’ll be accompanying us to Caithness. I hope that’ll please you.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “We work well together.”
“Dismissed,” Sir Griffons said. “Make sure you’re back here by Thursday evening. We’ll be leaving on Friday.”
I saluted. “Yes, sir.”
It was hard not to run as I turned and left, heading upstairs. My thoughts were confused. I wasn’t sure what would be better. Public or private punishment? But the latter ... I scowled as I stumbled into the living room. If punishment wasn’t public, outsiders would think the guilty man had gotten away with it. But if punishment was public ... I didn’t know. Sir Griffons and his superiors had made the call. I just hoped Shallot would be able to live with it.
Caroline looked up as I entered. “How was it?”
“It could have been worse,” I said. I wondered what Sir Griffons had said to her. “Did you finish your report?”
“Yeah.” Caroline held out a sheaf of papers. “And we just got the preliminary report on the riot. It’s not pleasant reading.”
“No.” I took the papers and started to skim through them. “It wouldn’t be.”
My stomach churned as I read. It was very precise in places and strikingly vague in others. There was no mention of Anton Bolingbroke or his cronies. There was only a faint reference to the infernal device. The entire riot was blamed on agitators who’d slipped into the crowd and wreaked havoc. I wondered, bitterly, just who the writer thought he was fooling. Too many people had seen Anton’s cronies at work for them to be casually erased from history.
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