“Things have changed. There’s now a platform right beneath my feet, and I’m going to drop onto it. You’ll need to hand me all the stuff we brought. I’m hoping it will be enough.”
“Enough for what? And why would you want to stick a platform down there?”
Dona’s feet finally touched. “Hand me the lantern first.”
Too astonished to argue, Helena held out the lantern.
“Right. Now the stuff from the satchels.”
Helena passed Dona the larger bolts first, and once the satchels were down to a manageable size, she passed her those as well.
“Now the logs.”
One by one, Helena gave them to Dona.
“Is that everything?” Dona asked.
“Yup, that’s it.”
“Oh no,” Dona said. “It’s not enough.”
“Enough for what?”
Before Dona could answer, the door rattled, and a voice filtered in. “How long will you be?”
“At least fifteen minutes maybe longer,” Dona said. “I’m not feeling well. You might want to use the privy instead.”
The voice turned petulant. “But it’s raining.”
“Sorry.”
“Dona, is that you?”
Dona signaled Helena with a finger to her lips.
The door rattled again. “Dona? Dona Merinne? Are you there? Are you all right?”
The first voice was joined by a second. “Hey, I’m trying to sleep.”
“I swear I heard Dona Merinne in here, but now she won’t answer. She said she wasn’t feeling well.”
“Dona hasn’t been here in days. You’re starting to sound like Arietta.”
The door rattled again. “Look, it’s locked from the inside. Someone’s in there.”
The second voice grew louder. “Who’s in there? Hello? This isn’t funny anymore.”
“That does it,” the first voice said. “I’m getting Miss Maxtine.”
Five minutes later, when Miss Maxtine pried open the door, the garderobe was empty.
. . . . .
Lavicius strode into his colleague’s office with open arms and a broad smile. “Ordinal Bittern, so good see you again. How is your guest doing?”
Bittern rose from his desk. Middle-aged and portly, Bittern was prone to comfort his nervous disposition with a ready supply of sweets concealed nearly everywhere he happened to frequent.
“Still out cold. I couldn’t find any injuries, so I expect he was drugged. Must have been a potent one, too. I’m shocked it didn’t wear off before you got here. What took you so long?”
“I came the instant I received your message. Wherever did you find him?”
“Face down on a desk in the Chapel, dressed in nothing but his skivvies. He told me he was heading down there last night. When I heard he was missing, it was the first place I checked.”
“And his Relic?”
“Nowhere to be found.”
“Pity. It might have come in handy. Did you find any evidence to identify his attacker?”
“I presume it was the same demon that attacked the Primal. Where else would it have gotten his vestments?”
Lavicious pulled up a chair. “Ordinal vestments are easily duplicated. But the fact that Laitrech’s were missing supports the notion the same culprit attacked both Laitrech and the Primal. I’m afraid, however, that I just don’t buy the idea it was a demon. There are too many more-probable explanations.”
“Well the Primal certainly seems convinced.”
“Yes, but as you know, the Primal, bless his soul, is not a well man. Who knows what hallucinations might be brewing in that drug-addled brain of his? You’re certain Laitrech’s attacker left no evidence behind?”
“Frankly, when I found him unconscious, that wasn’t the first thing I thought of.”
“Apparently alerting the Primal wasn’t the first thing you thought of either.”
“Actually, it was, but then another possibility occurred to me, so I brought him here instead.”
“Really? And what possibility was that?”
“The possibility that you might prefer to find out first.”
“I’m flattered, of course,” Lavicius said. “But I’m also a bit puzzled. Why would you think I’d want that?”
“I thought you might like to make a deal.”
“What sort of deal did you have in mind?”
“It occurred to me you might be interested in taking credit for his rescue.”
“How curious. Why would you think I’d want to do that?”
“Perhaps the two of you would end up being on better terms, then.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I happen to pride myself on being on good terms with all my esteemed colleagues.”
“Do I really need to spell it out? I’m sick to death of all this duplicity and I want out. Take him, take the credit for saving him, and in the future, you can find out whatever it is he’s up to directly. In return, any debts you think I may still owe will be considered paid in full.”
Lavicius regarded Bittern for a long moment. “Duplicity? That’s the word you choose to describe the essence of our long and profitable friendship?”
“Don’t bother playing the martyr with me. It doesn’t work anymore.”
“All right, let’s assume I agree. Even if I took credit for rescuing him, what makes you think he’d confide in me? I’d merely get credit for dragging him out of the Chapel. Is that really a rescue?”
“Weren’t you listening? His Relic is missing. Without it, he couldn’t get out on his own. If one of us hadn’t happened across him, he’d have starved to death. I’d be pretty grateful to be rescued from that. Wouldn’t you?”
Lavicius nodded. “True, but once he turned up missing, it would only be a matter of time before someone thought to check the Chapel. He does spend considerable time down there after all.”
“You seriously expect me to believe you can’t turn this situation to your advantage? I’ve seen you transform slung mud into spun gold without even breaking a sweat.”
“Ah, but fool’s gold doesn’t confound an able jeweler, and I’m afraid our friend Laitrech has a practiced eye.”
“I expect it would be worth the risk. After all, the Primal isn’t expected to last much longer, and you want his job so bad you can taste it. Do you really want to let Laitrech grab all those sympathy votes unopposed?”
“Laitrech isn’t even in the running. The Primal is expected to support his brother to replace him. Whether he has the votes to win remains to be seen, but Laitrech doesn’t stand a chance.”
Bittern popped a caramel. “I’m afraid your information is out of date.” He held up a parchment. It bore Isrulian’s seal, now broken.
Lavicius snorted. “You expect me to give Isrulian’s assessment more credence than my own?”
Bittern handed him the document. “Here, decide for yourself.”
After reading a few moments, Lavicius looked up in disbelief. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“Have you ever known Isrulian to display a sense of humor?”
“The idiot actually charged the Primal’s brother—who also happens to be the Inquisitor General—with heresy? This is madness. Isrulian’s days as an Ordinal are numbered. The Primal will have his head—probably literally.”
“Doesn’t that depend a little on the timing? As you just pointed out, our Primal is not a well man. What if he should happen to pass sooner rather than later?”
“You mean before Armand is cleared of these charges?”
“Precisely. Any idea how that might affect the election?”
Lavicius rubbed his chin. “It could elminate Armand as a candidate.”
“And then who would step in as the Primal’s anointed?”
“Oh, I see—Laitrech, of course.”
“Given that possibility,” Bittern said, “let me renew my offer. Why not be the one to rescue Laitrech?”
Lavicius shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know you
’d like me to accept, but I really can’t, especially if all you say is true.”
Bittern scowled. “Why ever not?”
“Because if Laitrech becomes a viable candidate, I will need to know what he is up to more than ever. I’m afraid our current arrangement will have to continue a bit longer.”
“You don’t understand. I’m done. If you don’t want to consider it a deal, view it as a parting gift.”
Lavicius gave his arm an empathetic pat. “I understand the desire for a fresh start now that your dear friend may be a viable contender for the Primacy, really I do.”
“So, you’ll take the deal?”
Lavicius sighed. “I’m afraid not.”
“Let me rephrase. Take it or leave it.”
“Before you make any hasty decisions, you might want to consider the consequences if this morning’s letter were to fall into the wrong hands. Its details are a bit vague, but given the publicity surrounding today’s events, it wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together. I expect Laitrech would be very curious to know why your announcement of his rescue was delayed until after you first consulted with me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Of course, if that were to happen, I would probably find it more difficult to stay up to date on Laitrech’s daily activities. But, then again, if you really do decide to call it quits, I suppose it wouldn’t really change anything at all, at least from my perspective.”
“Damn it, Lavicius, I’ve paid my dues.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t lose sleep. I’m sure Laitrech views you as a trusted friend. He’d never believe you’d allow him to fall into the hands of a bitter rival who could quietly dispose of him—particularly during circumstances where everyone would simply assume the demon got him.”
“You would never.”
“Of course not. Tempting though your offer was, I clearly managed to resist.”
“That wasn’t my intention, and you know it.”
“And I believe you. I’m sure Laitrech will too, once you explain it all to him.”
Bittern pointed to the door. “Get out.”
Lavicius didn’t budge. “Such a lot of bother, though. Who could blame you for choosing a simpler path—one where such explanations wouldn’t be necessary, especially if, as you say, Laitrech may have a shot at the Primacy?”
“I said, get out.”
Lavicius smiled sympathetically. “You’ve had a rough day and still have quite a lot to think about. Don’t worry, though. If you should need any more help deciding what to do, I’ll be in touch…as usual.”
Once Lavicius was gone, Bittern, his features ashen, sank heavily into his chair.
Chapter Sixteen
Some Dissembling Required
The cottage door slipped silently open, revealing a shadowy presence barely visible against the Holy City’s evening twilight. It closed just as silently, followed by a dull thud and a muffled curse.
Bedsheets rustled as the old priest sat up. “It’s all right, I’m still awake.”
“You moved the chair,” Thurman said. A lucifer flared, and he stopped rubbing his shin long enough to light a lantern.
“I didn’t expect you would be here to notice. Your father generally stays in the guest room when he visits the palace. I take it you didn’t receive the same courtesy?”
“I didn’t get to see Darron that long. He’s mobilized half the city trying to find Laitrech and capture this demon. He even called in that moron Theratigan.”
“They haven’t found Laitrech yet?”
Thurman frowned in puzzlement. “Why does that surprise you? I thought he was safely tucked away in the Chapel.”
“Not anymore…someone must have gotten to him.”
“But I thought you took his Relic.”
“I did, which whittles down our list of suspects considerably.”
“Well, if he’s been found, I don’t think Darron knows it yet—or he’s putting on a good show.”
“Did you tell him about Isrulian’s little ploy?”
Thurman shook his head. “I never got a chance. He was holding court in the throne room. Just as I got his attention, that fool Theratigan showed up and demanded I contribute to his drool collection.”
You mean Thoren Theratigan, the Demon Hunter?”
“The same twit Grandfather had tagging along during that scare they had with that demon in Histlewick Downs.”
The old priest regarded him intently. “Does he still wear a monocle?”
“That’s him, and he’s grown a ridiculous mustache to go with it.”
The old priest paused, lost in thought. “So, he never returned it then. That may complicate matters.”
“Returned what?”
“The monocle—and probably several other Profanities as well.”
“The monocle’s a Profanity? How can he be carrying around a known Profanity?”
“By dispensation. The matter of Histlewick Downs was a bit of a desperate case. By the time Theratigan got involved, they were willing to resort to almost anything.”
“Including passing out Profanities to charlatans? It couldn’t possibly have been that desperate.”
The old priest raised an eyebrow. “Theratigan may be peculiar, but he’s no charlatan. Born of a family of Phrendonic Heretics, he was not yet of age when they were brought to justice by your grandfather. It was about the time Armand was first beginning his work with the Inquisition. He took pity on the young man and interceded with your grandfather for mercy on Theratigan’s behalf, arguing that repentance should surely suffice in one so young. By all accounts it was Theratigan’s expertise that turned the tide at Histlewick Downs.”
“But that was ages ago. Surely the dispensation no longer applies.”
“Well, other than Theratigan himself, the only person I can think of who might recall the specific terms is well on his way to Trifienne, and I doubt your uncle would take him to task for it in any event. Still, it’s a good thing you told me. With Theratigan snooping about, I’d best keep my forays into the palace to a minimum. I can’t afford to risk him seeing through one of my little disguises. Fortunately, you still have the run of the place.”
Thurman snorted. “For what it’s worth. It’s not like I can keep an eye on him from here.”
“We’ll just have to hope Laitrech doesn’t turn up until tomorrow at the earliest, or better yet, that he never does. In the meantime, there’s something else you can do that might help your uncle.” The old priest handed him a key ring from the nightstand. “I need you to get something from the Hall of Profanities. Do you remember the Harcourt wands?”
“Vaguely. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in that place.”
“You can’t miss them. Albert has them on a pedestal in a little rack. I think he even has them labeled.”
“What do you want with those?”
“We can only afford to take one. Taking all of them would be too obvious.”
Thurman yawned. “I’ll get one first thing in the morning.”
“That may be too late. Even if Laitrech hasn’t reappeared yet, it won’t be long before they notice Albert is missing. Once they do, your chances of getting anything out of the Hall plummet.”
“I’ll go tonight, then. But what are we going to use it for?”
The old priest smiled. “I think it’s time we gave our friend Theratigan a little test. If his powers of observation are any match for his self-proclaimed powers of deduction, this could get interesting.”
“I take it you’re not going to tell me.”
“I’m still working on the details. Now hurry up, before Laitrech shows up and makes things that much harder. And Thurman?”
“Yes?”
“Whatever you do, don’t touch the tip.”
. . . . .
With Helena’s added weight, the platform sank at a steady pace. As the garderobe ovals receded, they found themselves suspended in a featureless abyss, their progress impossible to gauge by
anything other than the sound of rushing water. Helena sat hugging her knees. The thought of looking over the edge made her dizzy. Dona inched as close as she dared and peeked. Far below, a point of light wandered slowly about the cavern.
“It’s Alphonse. He must have crossed the rope to look for me.”
Helena brightened. “He’s here?” Forgetting her fear, she leaned toward the edge.
“I can’t tell for sure, but we should be there in no time.”
The platform ground to a halt.
Helena’s brow furrowed. “Are we there?”
Dona caught a glimpse of the counterweight nearby in the lantern light. “Not yet.”
“I don’t understand. Why have we stopped?”
“I think we’re stuck.”
“Stuck?”
“Shh,” Dona said. “They’ll hear you all the way up to the garderobe.”
“Isn’t that exactly what we want?”
Alphonse’s point of light was now moving away. In seconds, he would be out of sight entirely. Dona grabbed a spool of thread and threw it.
Helena gaped in horror. “Hey, what are you doing?”
The light stopped moving.
Dona lobbed another spool. “I’m getting Alphonse’s attention.”
After several more spools, the light finally moved closer.
“I think he’s seen us,” Dona said.
Alphonse held the locket aloft and peered up through the gloom.
“What are you doing up there?”
“Catching up on our needlepoint. What does it look like?”
Helena crawled to the edge. “We’re stuck up here. Can you get us down?”
“Binky?” Alphonse said. “Is that you?”
Dona gaped openmouthed at Helena. “Binky?”
“He calls me that sometimes. Isn’t it sweet?”
“How did you get down here?” Alphonse asked.
“It’s a long story,” Dona said. “Right now, we need you to see if you can get this contraption unstuck.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“There’s a big flywheel on one side. See if you can get it to turn.”
“Found it.”
The platform lurched. Helena screeched, and Dona flattened herself against the cold metal.
A House of Cards Page 21
