by Ross Dupree
invited me to visit this evening? Were you hoping I would need a large order of candles?"
"No. No, I was not." The man met his eyes directly. "Rickard, I want to know what was in that box."
Rickard was not shocked, not in his current heightened state. Of course the man knew, how else to explain the timing of the summons?
But he didn't know what was in the box. Why did he want to know? Did he suspect? Who was he asking for? Rickard had no way to know. But he was here now, and he decided to do what he always did when he couldn't decide which choice was best. He'd go straight ahead.
"A few gems. Platinum ducats from Rhym."
"From Rhym? You are certain?"
"Yes, they bear the royal crest of Rhym and are finely made. I have no doubts about their origin." Rickard hadn't realized he thought that until just now. The tea continued to do its work.
"And what else was in the box? "
Rickard did hesitate here. He was dancing on the edge of a possibly treasonous affair, and he was uncertain about becoming more involved than he already was.
He sighed. "A record of payments between Arundel and Captain Fleur. And a note. An encoded note."
"What did it say?"
"I have not decoded it yet. I am not familiar with the code."
"Draw it for me." The man pushed a sheet of paper and a quill to Rickard.
Rickard found to his surprise that he was able to reproduce the code quickly and completely. As fast as he could draw he had the entire message laid out in front of them both.
The man nodded. "An old code, in disuse at present, but one that was quite common in the last war." He began writing out a transcription, letter by letter.
He stopped halfway through.
"You know what this says."
"Fleur, The Captain Of Viron's Own, is reporting to a foreign agent." Rickard had known that was the inevitable conclusion from the contents of the box. "Using Arundel and his wife as a go-between."
"Yes. Fleur is asking for more money, he says the risk has increased. He also mentions that the fox will be in Arbrunn in three weeks. I do not believe he means a vulpine creature."
The both sat silently for a moment, contemplating the implications of a coded note that detailed the movements of someone to the Winter Palace.
"What will you do about it?"
"Me?" Rickard had no intention of doing anything about it. There was far too much risk here and very little potential profit. "I am already in too deep, sir. I plan to act as if I have never seen this note."
The man paused before responding. "I believe that it is in everyone's interest that Fleur is exposed. Do you not agree? If his treachery is brought to light, then your hunter is removed from the board."
Rickard noted that the man did not say how his own situation would be improved, but Rickard did not doubt the man had an angle of his own. Still. What he said made sense. If Fleur was arrested, Rickard would have no one looking for him, or at least not looking very hard. Arundel was a very pragmatic man and would consider himself lucky if he avoided being taken in himself and would want the matter to end as quickly and quietly as possible.
"I see the wisdom of that plan, but what would expose Fleur in a definite way? How could be we be certain he could not avoid the charges? If I wound him further he will just make my demise all the more painful. I must make sure he does not rise from the next blow."
"Deliver the payment record, the coded note, and a Rhymish ducat to the seneschal. Together they will carry a convincing weight, at the very least enough for an investigation to be launched. And the seneschal is not a man who forgives disloyalty."
"How am I supposed to deliver anything to Kellar? He doesn't invite the likes of me to tea."
The man laughed. "Rickard. You stole the box. Of course you can arrange a delivery to the seneschal."
And with that he blew out the candle on the table. All the other candles in the room went out at the same time, plunging the room into darkness.
Rickard fumbled in his pocket and found his flint to relight the candle he'd brought in with him. When he got it lit, the Spider King was gone.
All that remained on the table was his nose, chin, and bald pate, all made of wax.
The palace guards were harassing the old man. He claimed he had an audience with the Exchequer, that he was bringing her documentation she had required so that he could be paid what the Kingdom owed him. Rickard thought this unlikely, and the guards seemed to agree. Madame Exchequer was certainly a stickler for proper documentation of all expenditures and contracts, but she also was not someone who spent a lot of time meeting with people trying to collect money.
While the man pleaded his case to the guards, Rickard distracted himself by reviewing his plan. Get into the outer courtyards, get over the inner walls, and find Kellar's office. His odds for success were only slightly better than the old man's were. His only advantage was his planned misdirection. Posing as a stonemason come for repairs should get him in the gate. Aiming directly at seeing a member of the Inner Court was a plan that seemed doomed from the start.
The seneschal's schedule was unpredictable, at least to Rickard, who lacked any contacts who would have any knowledge. Bigbelly might be able to find out, but asking him would only lead to more questions that Rickard wanted to answer. Kellar did leave the palace in the course of his duties, but it would be blind luck for Rickard to come across the man wandering the streets of Correndrum. So Rickard had to go to him.
The craftsman disguise was an old favorite for Rickard; he had been to the outer palace grounds a number of times with the same ruse. But the offices of the Inner Court were another matter entirely. Rickard was not even completely certain of their exact locations. Well, he'd worry about that when he got there.
When it was his turn to convince the sergeant at the gate to allow him entry, the big man questioned the spikes Rickard was carrying in his tool bag. Rickard explained the horses had jammed the stones on the pathway to the stable out of joint again, and the he needed the spikes to work them loose. "Who puts a stone path next to a stable?" he said, shaking his head. The sergeant had to agree, those builders couldn't do anything right.
The spikes were actually climbing spikes, of course, which was how Rickard planned to cross over the wall into the Inner Courtyard. But the sergeant at the front gate accepted his explanation and he was allowed into the palace grounds.
Rickard casually strolled across the outer courtyards, doffing his hat to every lady he passed. He enjoyed playing at courtly courtesy. He also made a point to stop and wiggle any loose stones in various walls as he wandered around, shaking his head as if it were a wonder the whole place didn't come tumbling down at any moment.
In this way, he made a path to the walls of the Inner Courtyard. He found an isolated spot where the wall folded in on itself in a small u-shape. Taking a spike in each hand, he went up the wall, jamming the spikes between the stones to make handholds where none existed. His injured arm made the climb more difficult than it should be, but he still reached the top quickly.
He dropped to the ground on the other side, into a space between the wall and a small, low building. Perfect, he thought, and he stashed his tools and mason's hat behind a prickly bush. He took out a letter addressed to the seneschal, and strode out into the courtyard. Time to find out where he was, and more importantly where he needed to go.
He found a guard, this one richly dressed in a burgundy cape, and asked where he might find the seneschal's office. He showed the letter, and adopted the nervous air of a man on an important task that he did not know how to complete. Little acting was required.
The guard made sport of him, relieving a bit of his own boredom. "I should give you directions to the gaol," he said, "Then you can ask for help from the men there. I'm sure they will point you in many directions, all at once." The guard laughed to himself. "Or perhaps through the garde
n maze. Perhaps someone would find you there and direct you out. Tomorrow. Or more likely one of the King's daughters and her suitor. That would be fun for you." Just Rickard's luck that he'd managed to ask a dull sadist for directions.
Eventually the man relented and gave Rickard the way to the offices of the Inner Court. Rickard shook his hand and thanked him profusely. As he walked away he slipped the man's ring of keys into his pocket. He would drop them in a garden pond as he passed. He wished he could see the guard explaining to his sergeant where his keys had gone.
Officers of the Inner Court were housed in a wing of the palace itself, and so once again Rickard found himself under scrutiny of guards. These were wearing the royal blue of the King himself, but they were oddly lax about stopping anyone from entering the palace. Rickard realized that from here it was a matter of seeming like he belonged.
He strode with confidence down the hallways, hoping the guard outside had given him proper directions. He had been such a bully it wouldn't be surprising if the directions led to the Queen's bath.
Rickard soon came, however, to the hallways of the Court. They were quite tastefully appointed in Rickard's opinion, understated rather than opulent. Confident in their power and authority.
He passed a woman dressed as a minor functionary. To his surprise, he realized it was the housekeeper who had betrayed him so easily. He had more than a few questions for her, but dared not stop to ask them in the busy hallway,
