The only answer I got was Jack's arm, which covered my arm, as he rolled to spoon. Going to sleep like that was the easiest thing in the world.
32
I woke up at a reasonable hour the next day, instead of my usual pre-dawn hours. I stretched, feeling Jack's absence in bed. Rolling out of bed, I went to the bathroom to wash up and put on some fresh clothes.
By the time I came into the kitchen, Jack had prepared breakfast. I hadn't had time to buy anything the previous day, and he didn't do it either, so it was oatmeal again.
"Good morning," I said, sitting down at the kitchen table. Jack served me a plate of porridge, and I poured myself a cup of tea from the still warm teapot on the table.
"Good morning," he answered. "You came really late yesterday. Must have been intense."
"Tell me about it," I replied. "They went crazy with the questioning. But at least I'll be ready today."
He nodded, taking another sip out of his cup.
"Can you drop by when you finish?" he asked me. "I'd like to know how it went."
"Are you working from your office again?" I asked. "I thought detectives spend more time in the field."
"I usually do," he replied. "But today I've got a lot of paperwork to do. So drop by, we might even go for lunch during my break."
"OK," I promised. "I'll drop by. If you can handle the attention, I don't mind."
"Everybody knows about us, anyway. Might as well make it official," Jack said. "You've almost moved with me, what could be more serious than that? So come by whenever you want, I'll handle my colleagues."
I nodded and extended my left hand towards his, cupping it.
"I'll be very busy in the next few weeks," I told him. "So we'll only be able to see each other like this, in the mornings, and at night."
"I know," Jack said. "That's one of the reasons why I invited you to stay with me. Other than your safety, that is."
I smiled and dug into the porridge.
After I attended the lectures in the morning and negotiated the schedule for catching up with my lab work with the professors, I walked towards the gendarmerie. I could have hailed a cab, as it was far enough that it wouldn't be a total waste of money to go there by cab, but it was still close enough that you could walk there with enough time. I chose to walk, to help clear my mind and steady my nerves.
I saw grandpa going out of a cab when I arrived at the gendarmerie station, ten minutes before the meeting started. Mister Hurston wasn't there yet.
"Shall we wait outside for Mister Hurston?" I suggested to grandpa. "Wouldn't want to spend more time than necessary at a police station."
"Let's do that," grandpa agreed. "It's not that cold anymore now that it's May, anyway."
We didn't have to wait for long, though, as Mister Hurston soon exited from a cab that stopped right in front of the station.
"Ah, there you are, Miss Bedwen, Professor Bedwen," he said, with his hat in his hand.
"Good morning, Mister Hurston," I greeted him.
"Good morning, Ansel," said grandpa. "Shall we go inside then?"
"Yes, let's," said Mister Hurston.
We went in, and saw Captain Briggs with Lieutenant Craen in the entrance hall, waiting for us.
"Miss Bedwen," Captain Briggs said, with a cold smile. He looked at my companions. "I see you've brought company."
"Ah, yes," I replied. "You already know Professor Bedwen, my master. And this is Mister Hurston, my lawyer. They will both be present during questioning."
"Mister Hurston," the Captain greeted him.
"Captain Briggs," Mister Hurston replied. They seemed to know each other, but that wasn't too surprising. Mister Hurston had probably been many times at the police station, helping his clients with the questioning.
"Now, shall we?" the Captain asked, waving his hand towards the corridor.
"Yes, let's go," I answered.
We were escorted to a small room with a desk and four chairs. I sat, and Mister Hurston and grandpa sat, each at my side. Captain Briggs sat in front of me, while Lieutenant Craen stood by him.
"So," the Captain said, taking out a folder with some blank sheets, and dipping the pen in ink. "Miss Bedwen, can you tell us what happened the day Captain Greggs died?"
And so the questioning started. It was quite similar to what we'd practiced, except the Captain kept trying to insist on asking me questions regarding the use of magic. Every time he tried that, Mister Hurston gently reminded him that the use of magic was outside his jurisdiction and not relevant. We had agreed previously that it would be better not to mention the nitroglycerin since there was no proof of it. He also hammered me on my trip home. I explained that I did it for my health, after which Mister Hurston cut off that line of questioning by showing him the healer's note and pointing out that I was within my rights to travel, as I hadn't been banned from traveling.
The three hours the questioning lasted were hell, and I was feeling quite miserable by the end of it. It would have gone on, but when the questions became too repetitive, Mister Hurston cut it off.
"Unless you've got new questions for my client," he said, "we are done here."
The Captain nodded, unhappily, while the Lieutenant gave me a strange look. It seemed to be telling me this wasn't over.
We went out without uttering a word until we were a few hundred yards away from the station.
"That went well," said grandpa, who hadn't uttered a single word during the whole time.
"It did," Mister Hurston agreed. "This should end the investigation of Miss Bedwen, unless new evidence arises. In which case, Miss Bedwen, call me," he said, giving me his card.
"Thank you, Mister Hurston," I said. "I do have a question for you if you don't mind."
"Go ahead, Miss Bedwen, ask away."
"Could the gendarmes have searched a room in secret while I was gone? Or would it have required a warrant?"
"While no-knock warrants do exist," Mister Hurston replied, "secret searches are definitely illegal. Any evidence found in such a search is inadmissible in court. You'd have known if your dorm room was searched; they would leave their warrant on the table if you weren't there. Do you suspect your room was searched?"
"It was just a question that popped into my mind," I replied. "It's nothing. Thank you, again."
"Don't thank me," Mister Hurston said, pointing at grandpa. "Thank your master. He's the one paying for my time."
And with that, he hailed a cab, leaving us there.
"What was that about?" asked grandpa. "About the secret search."
"Well," I admitted. "I thought my room was searched. But I'm not sure about it."
Grandpa took my suspicions seriously.
"Don't say in your dorm," he instructed me. "Always stay with your beau or at my house. I'm going to find a properly defended residence soon, and you should move in as soon as I do."
"Will do," I replied. It was nice to have somebody who believed in my paranoid suspicions. "Thank you, Gramps," I said.
"That's nothing," grandpa replied. "What are you doing now?"
"Jack wanted to see me when this was over," I said. "So I'll drop by the station to see him."
"If that is so," grandpa said, "go see your beau. I'm sure he's worried about you."
I was going to raise my hand to hail a cab when I thought about the look Lieutenant Craen gave me.
"Gramps," I said. "I think this is not over yet. The gendarmes' investigation, I mean."
"Of course it's not," grandpa agreed. "It's not over until they catch the real culprit. But what makes you think that?"
"Well," I replied. "The Lieutenant gave me this strange look. Like he knew something I didn't. Like he had me."
"They do that all the time," grandpa said. "I wouldn't worry too much. We'll take things as they come."
He raised his hand, hailing a cab.
"Shall we go back to the city together?" he offered. "I could drop you closer to the police station."
"Thanks, Gra
mps," I said, hopping in, as he gave instructions to the cabby.
As soon as Miss Bedwen and her defenders left, Captain Briggs looked apologetically at the man known as Lieutenant Craen.
"It seems like it won't be possible to convict her for the murder of Captain Greggs," he said. "Before she had such a powerful master, it would have been possible, but now... I know Ansel Hurston; he's one of the top criminal lawyers in Kalmar and the best one in Ashford. If you don't count Professor Bedwen, that is."
"That's OK," Lieutenant Craen said. "Since she didn't do it anyway. She's hiding something, but she didn't kill Edward. Her story matches the evidence, and we know he died after her phone call. Somebody else did it."
"Then why are you going after her?" Captain Briggs asked. He usually preferred to stay out of the Intelligence Corps' business, but this time, they forced him to work for them by giving him this partner. He'd followed his commands, but never really understood the reason.
"Because she knows something. And there's a reason why she used magic; there was definitely something worth killing for, the project Edward was working on. But she's keeping quiet, and I wanted to use this to force her to tell us the truth. It won't be possible to do it this way, but there's the Magical Tribunal."
"It won't help," Captain Briggs informed him. "Most of the light mages in Ashford still belong to the old guard, and they all have a history with the Inquisition. If it was any other master, we would be able to convince them to give her whatever punishment we wanted to, since they don't like dark mages. But not with Professor Bedwen. His father was a full Inquisitor; their family archive probably contains a lot of dirt on everybody, while he's managed to stay clean. No magical jury in Ashford will convict her. Not when there were no victims."
"We'll see about that," the dark mage said. "Old Inquisitors are not the only ones who have dirt on people."
Captain Briggs shrugged. Whatever this supposed Lieutenant did with the Magical Tribunal was outside his jurisdiction and thus not his business. He was just happy that he could get this man out of his hair.
"That's great," he said. "But we still have a murder to solve. It's been more than two months, and we haven't found any clues beyond what Miss Bedwen shared with us."
"As for that," Craen said. "I've got a few ideas. Now that Miss Bedwen is back, whoever killed Edward may reappear. We should keep her under observation."
"You want to use a civilian as bait?" the Captain asked. This kind of shenanigans were the bread and butter of the Intelligence Corps, but the last thing he needed was a dead civilian on his hands. Even a dark one. The headaches caused by the unsolved death of an officer were enough, a dead woman on his watch would obliterate his career.
"I won't do anything to provoke them," Craen said. "But they'll want to get rid of her. She knows too much."
Grandpa dropped me off close to the police station. I only had to walk a few minutes to get there. I came in and saw the same receptionist I'd seen on previous occasions. I guess he's a fixture. I'll need to get used to him.
"Detective Taylor is expecting me," I told him.
"He's told me about your visit, Miss Bedwen," he said, getting behind his counter. "Let me escort you to his office."
I knew the way since it wasn't that far, but I guess he didn't want a civilian wandering alone in a police station. So I politely smiled and followed him to Jack's office.
Jack was working on a pile of documents when I came in, but looked up and smiled when I came in after a brief knock.
"Dana! How did it all go?"
I closed the office door tightly before I hugged him.
"It went well, according to grandpa and Mister Hurston," I said. "But it was just so exhausting. I'm hungry now. Have you had lunch yet? Is your lunch break over?"
"Well, usually, I take my lunch break at 12," Jack said. "But it's not set in stone, and I was waiting for you today. Shall we go?"
"Great," I said. "I don't know any restaurants near the police station, but you must know them all."
"I do," he said. "Any preference?"
"I'd like to go to the one with the fewest number of cops," I admitted. "I'm exhausted today, and the last thing I want is for everybody to observe us as we eat."
"I know such a place," Jack said. "It's further than the rest, but the food's decent. Let's go then," he opened the door, holding it for me. I guess all the men I interact with are old-fashioned.
33
The restaurant Jack chose offered some decent food. Not as good as the steakhouse near campus, but plenty of good cuts of meat and few veggies. Every plate had a symbolic leaf of boiled cabbage or something, but it was small enough that I could ignore it without feeling like I was throwing food. Not something a poor student can do.
My diet had become richer now that it wasn't limited by my budget anymore. With the meals at my parents' home, at grandpa's house, and the restaurants Jack took me to, the amount of red meat in my diet had increased and the amount of bread and oatmeal had decreased. Which was nice, but it made me wonder how I would live if I had to go back to my previous student lifestyle.
No need to worry about it, though. Jack and I seemed to be going steady and grandpa wasn't leaving anywhere (and as his apprentice, I had to spend my next three years with him). After the next course year, I would be an alchemist, even if I had to stay an extra year to learn the stupid magic. An alchemists' salary can definitely pay for daily meat. Maybe not a servant at first, but cooking is not that hard.
Jack, whom I told the basics of what happened at the interview during the walk towards the restaurant, was letting me enjoy the meal in silence. He can be so thoughtful sometimes. I knew they had trained him in handling people like me, and I'd learned to make peace with it (it's hard to find a normal person who can stand me and handle my moods), but sometimes, it was uncomfortable. Not this time, though.
I dug into dessert, and, as I felt the flavor of perfectly baked cheesecake with a raspberry jam topping melting in my mouth, finally felt like talking.
"It was delicious, thank you for bringing me here," I told Jack.
Jack, who had skipped dessert and was now nursing a cup of coffee in his hands, smiled.
"I'm glad. I know such things can be draining," he replied. "They are exhausting even for the interrogator."
"Have you ever been questioned?" I asked him, curious. Jack had always been so proper; what could he have possibly done that would warrant an investigation?
"Police get interrogated whenever there are deaths in cases we're investigating. And when facing a promotion, our work gets checked with a toothcomb. You had to face two hours of questioning; I sometimes have to face weeks of observation and control."
"Oh, don't think I won't have to face the same," I observed. "I'm pretty sure I'm under observation. You know, my dorm room was searched thoroughly while I was away. I first thought it was the gendarmes, but they'd have to get a warrant for that and leave a note. And that didn't happen."
"Is that so? Why didn't you tell me before?" Jack asked me.
"Because I didn't want you to worry," I replied. "Now that I know it couldn't be the gendarmes, my guess is that it was the people who killed Captain Greggs. They probably want to know how much I know. And, with that search, they'd have found nothing."
"Still," Jack said. "It's not very good if they just come and search your house. What if they come while you're inside?"
"That's one of the reasons I temporarily moved in with you," I said.
"One of them?" Jack asked me. "And what are the others?"
"Well," I replied, smiling suggestively. "I can tell you all about those reasons tonight."
"I'll take your word for it," he replied, raising his arm to ask the waiter for the bill.
"What are you planning to do for the rest of the day?" he then asked me, after the waiter left. "You must be exhausted. You should be resting more in your state of health."
"No rest for the wicked, I'm afraid," I replied. "I'm going to the l
ibrary to copy the notes my classmates gave me. I have a lot of material to catch up to."
"Just don't overexert yourself," Jack said. "Go home when you are tired, take a nap. I gave you the keys so you could go there any moment."
"I'm used to it, don't worry. Focusing on studying will be a nice change compared to everything I've been doing lately." I replied to him, as he paid, leaving a generous tip, and we headed towards the exit.
Spending the evening in the library, drilling down on the complexities of steel alloy production was nice, for a change. Alchemy was the reason I'd come to Ashford, leaving my family behind. It was what allowed me to live through some fairly lonely years, with Joe as my only friend/acquaintance. I'm not good at making friends or creating deep connections. And during all that time, alchemy had been the cure to my solitude, the delight of my soul, and the outlet of my ambitions. Unlike magic, which required complex unscientific skills, alchemy was more logical and could be mastered with effort and brains.
So I copied my classmates' notes (despite not having many friends, quite a few people owed me some favors), delighting in the simplicity and tangible nature of the subject. But, once I started nodding off over the comparison of the bearing capabilities of catenary vs circular arches for a structural engineering course, I realized that it was probably enough for the day. I picked up my things, putting everything in my bag, and headed towards the exit.
That's when Joe bumped into me.
"Dana!" he said, following me, although he was headed towards the library before that. "How are you? Haven't seen you for ages! Gosh, you are so thin!"
Joe didn't attend most classes, so I didn't see him there, and I had been too busy and exhausted to look for him. He was usually hard to find.
"Hi, Joe," I replied, in a much lower volume than him. "I had some health issues related to my Initiation, so I went home to recover."
"Your Initiation? So you finally became a mage? I thought you wanted to be an alchemist."
The Apprentice's Path: The Alchemist #1 Page 24
