The Traitor and the Chalice

by Jane Fletcher

  “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you much,” Jemeryl said slowly.

  “A handy excuse.”

  “No. Lorimal performed some forbidden research nearly two hundred years ago. Her work was so dangerous that all record of it was destroyed. However, someone in Ekranos has found out and has been trying to repeat her experiments. We were sent to find out who.” That much could be told with safety. If Moragar were the traitor, he already knew about Lorimal, and if not, the information was only what the innocent seniors would be told anyway, when the time came to call on their help.

  “We?”

  “I can’t reveal my colleagues’ identities.” Letting Moragar know she was not alone seemed a good idea, as did implying that her backup was more substantial than it really was.

  “What were you doing in the library?”

  “Checking whether it was really Orrago who borrowed the manuscript. I thought her signature might have been forged. I was wrong. My colleagues are following other trails. Hopefully, they’ll have more luck.” Jemeryl looked straight at Moragar. “Once we’ve identified the culprit, I promise we’ll find out how Druse died. A sorcerer has broken the oath of loyalty to the Coven. We’re after a traitor, and murder is not too unlikely. You must realise how serious this is and that I can’t say much. You’re a suspect yourself. Every sorcerer in Ekranos is.”

  There was a long pause. “Yes, I can see that.”

  “I have to ask you to trust me.”

  “That’s a bit too much to ask.” Moragar smiled grimly. “However, you weren’t in Ekranos when Druse died, so you weren’t his murderer. And what you’ve said about Lorimal fits in with my guesswork.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing, for now. I’ll be watching you, and I’ll make sure that if anything happens to me, Bramell and Neame will find out all about this conversation.”

  “Thank you.” In the circumstances, it was the best Jemeryl could have hoped for.

  “I know I should go to Bramell, but he couldn’t cope with this. He’d refuse to believe you or insist on doing something inappropriate. I don’t want the guilty to escape. I think someone murdered Druse, and I want their head on a platter. I’m not accepting everything you’ve said without question. I’m not that naïve. But I think leaving you with a free hand is the best chance to flush the bastard out.” The ferocity in Moragar’s voice was plain. Jemeryl did not envy the renegade sorcerer if they fell into the librarian’s hands.

  He stood and pushed the chair under the table, clearly intending to escort Jemeryl from the building; however, she remained seated. With the need for secrecy gone, there was no harm in asking a few direct questions.

  “Rather than me digging the information out, perhaps you could help with a few more things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Has anyone else shown an interest in Lorimal over the past eight years or so?”

  Moragar rested his hip on the table. “No. You’re the first.”

  “Or information about Walderim?”

  “Neame did, when she was organising her expedition. Apart from that, a few people have got out books on the flora. If you like, I’ll scan the records tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything else?”

  Jemeryl thought for a moment. “Well...do you know anything about the artificial bird Neame was making? How close it was to completion? Where is it now? Who had access?”

  “Why?”

  “A raven was spotted somewhere a raven couldn’t have been. I wondered if it was this device instead.”

  Moragar shook his head. “Not if it was mistaken for a raven. It was called a bird because it flew, but it looked more like a green octopus with wings. I haven’t a clue where it is now. Probably sludge in the bottom of a bucket. It never worked. They couldn’t sort out the problems with holding shape when airborne.”

  Jemeryl covered her eyes with her hand. The bird’s appearance was an obvious point she had not considered.

  “Anything else you want to know?”

  “No. Thank you.” Despondently, Jemeryl followed the librarian out.

  It was still dark, but dawn was not far away. The air was charged with the possibilities of the coming day.

  Moragar turned for a last word. “In future, if you want something from the library, ask me. Don’t try breaking in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  *

  Jemeryl sat at her desk a long time after returning to her study, trying to order her thoughts. The sky through the window lightened to washed azure. Birdsong filled the deserted paths and courtyards with discordant cascades of crystal-clean notes.

  The dawn chorus was fading when Jemeryl stood up, stretching her arms above her head. The joints in her shoulders cracked. On her desk, several sheets of paper were covered in notes and untidy diagrams—an attempt to order everything into a coherent framework. She shook her head with a bewildered frown. It appeared to prove that no one could be guilty.

  The nearest thing to an easy solution was that Moragar was lying about Druse’s death and the golem bird’s appearance, that he had used the confusion due to the plague to send the golem to Storenseg, and that his story was solely to buy time while he escaped, taking both chalice and spell with him.

  However, this only raised more questions. Why would Moragar hide the manuscript in the dispensary? Even as assistant librarian, he could have left the manuscript in place and consulted it whenever he wanted, after hours. It also meant that Aris’s death in Walderim was simply a coincidence. Jemeryl was unhappy with the idea. Neither could she forget Moragar’s face when he had called for the murderer’s head. She would have staked anything that he was telling the truth. Yet it was impossible to come up with any other vaguely plausible scenario.

  If Moragar’s statement was true, it put Bramell in the clear. Why would the principal break into a library area that he was allowed to visit whenever he wanted? And if the golem did not work, he had no way to obtain the chalice. Neither did anyone else in Ekranos.

  Starting logically from the beginning did not help. Orrago had borrowed the manuscript. Since it must have been taken to locate the chalice, it implied she had done that as well, which meant her dementia was a trick. This, in turn, meant that Levannue, as her doctor, was either spectacularly inept or involved in a conspiracy.

  With the golem bird discounted, only Aris could have taken the chalice. She had committed suicide through remorse or been murdered. In the meantime, Orrago had either left her sickbed or persuaded Levannue to break into the library and murder Druse. Neame must have bought the chalice back to Ekranos, although it was useless to her, and merrily handed it over to the other conspirators.

  Somehow, it all seemed less than likely.

  Jemeryl rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. It was too late to return to bed. Soon, she would be off for an early morning rendezvous with Tevi. The library break-in had been timed in the hope of getting definite evidence. Then she could have collected the warrant from Tevi and returned to the school, ready to present Bramell with her findings, or if the principal was the culprit, to muster the other seniors against him. It was another plan down the drain.

  Jemeryl shuffled the papers together and slipped them into the bag that was already packed and waiting by the door. After tightening the drawstring, she propped it against the wall and stepped out onto the veranda. The air was clean and sharp. The dawn breeze felt chill through her thin cotton shirt, but the sky held the promise of another hot day. Dust hazed the horizon.

  The crunch of footsteps on gravel cut through the peace. Leaning on the wooden balustrade, Jemeryl watched two of the kitchen staff stroll across the courtyard below, deep in murmured conversation. Jemeryl’s gaze returned to the building opposite. The sun’s first rays struck the roof, dusting it with gold. Gulls’ raucous cries rose above the fading chorus of songbirds. From the distance, the hollow clanking of a dropped bucket echoed in the stillness.

 
A door opened, and a neighbour emerged, blinking blearily in the daylight. Jemeryl acknowledged the wave of greeting and turned to the open door of her own study. Sounds of movement were coming from Vine’s bedroom. Hastily, Jemeryl hoisted her bag over her shoulder and scuttled along the veranda to the stairs. She had no wish to be questioned by Vine.

  The kitchen doors were open as Jemeryl passed. The warm smell of fresh baking halted her. She had intended to take breakfast with Tevi, but a second waft, seasoned with cinnamon, changed her mind. On a table inside the door, a wicker basket was piled with small cakes. Jemeryl dropped two into her bag to eat on the way and took a mouthful from a third. One of the kitchen staff grinned and indicated a pitcher of milk. With a dusty ride ahead, Jemeryl gratefully poured herself a mug and drank while looking around the kitchen.

  At the far end, the cook was at the ovens, dividing his time between examining the bread and yelling abuse at his underlings. He had not noticed Jemeryl, which was how she preferred it. Swallowing might be difficult if confronted by one of his lightning personality changes.

  One of the smaller boys was the current target of the cook’s rage. “Stop flapping the thing in my face. Put it down over there, and I’ll pick it up later.”

  The woman who had pointed out the milk exchanged a smile with Jemeryl. No one was afraid of the cook’s blustering temper. Then the expression on Jemeryl’s face froze as the cook’s words registered. Put it down over there, and I’ll pick it up later. The sentence was not a clue in itself, but it was the missing bit from her calculations. The kitchen faded around her as Jemeryl stood, transfixed. Everything tied together. It was almost too easy.

  She knew who had Lorimal’s chalice.

  *

  A scattering of customers was at the tables outside the Inn of Singing Birds. Some were guests taking their morning meal; others were locals stopping off on their way to work. Tevi was among them. Her head rested on her folded arms as she dozed in the early morning sun, having come straight from a night shift at the docks. The remains of her breakfast littered the table.

  Jemeryl’s shadow fell across her. “Good morning. How are you?”

  Tevi jerked awake and sat up, stifling a yawn. “Er...morning. I’m fine.”

  “Been waiting long?” Jemeryl ducked her head to plant a soft kiss on Tevi’s lips.

  “I don’t think so.” Tevi looked at the crumbs apologetically. “I’ve eaten most of the food. I’m sure the waiter will get more for you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I ate on the way down.”

  Something in the tone alerted Tevi. She shaded her eyes from the sun and examined Jemeryl’s face. “What’s up?”

  “I know who did it.”

  “The spell worked?”

  “No.”

  “It didn’t...but you’ve found out...” Tevi shook her head, hoping to clear it. “Who was it?”

  Jemeryl held up a hand. “In good time. First, I want to tell you about last night.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  Tevi’s protest was ignored. Jemeryl slid onto the opposite bench and launched into an account of the events at the library. Her obvious excitement drew curious but discreet looks from surrounding tables. A waiter came to take the breakfast order but was waved away. Pages of notes were dragged from Jemeryl’s bag and supplemented by invisible diagrams in the air. None of it was the least bit enlightening for Tevi. In the end, she cut off Jemeryl’s stream of words.

  “Look, I don’t see where this is going. You’re saying no one could have done it.”

  “I want you to understand the bewilderment I felt.”

  “All right. I’m bewildered. Now will you tell me who did it?”

  “Well, as you can see, it was impossible. Then I overheard a chance remark, and everything fell into place.”

  “And?”

  “Don’t you want to know what the remark was?”

  “No.”

  “But it—”

  Tevi caught hold of Jemeryl’s hand. “Please, just tell me who.”

  Their eyes met. Jemeryl took a deep breath. “Levannue.”

  “But she was in Lyremouth when the chalice was taken.” Tevi released Jemeryl’s hand. “How?”

  “I’ve been guilty of one big oversight. I was right when I said Levannue couldn’t control another sorcerer without their consent, but I missed Vine’s point about dropping defences when you receive psychiatric treatment.”

  “Didn’t you say others would spot the effect of entrapment?”

  “Yes, they would. There would be a noticeable personality shift. However, when someone receives treatment, a change in behaviour is exactly what people hope for. In addition, Orrago is so erratic that no one questions her moods. Even so, Levannue can’t have her in complete thrall, or she’d be acting like a listless dummy.”

  “You think she has just enough control to make Orrago take the manuscript and hide it?”

  Jemeryl nodded. “Something like that.”

  “It doesn’t explain how she got the chalice.”

  “I’m guessing, but remember, Aris had problems. It’s very likely that she’d have gone to Levannue for help. And there’s evidence for a personality shift just before she left for Walderim. Erlam told me Aris was improving, but it could have been the effect of Levannue clamping down on her mind. Levannue couldn’t have controlled Aris directly when she was so far away, but she could have imprinted a set of instructions to be followed when the chance arose.”

  “And you think Levannue also made Neame bring the chalice back?”

  “No. In fact, I’m quite certain she didn’t,” Jemeryl said emphatically. “Neame would never let Levannue tinker around with her head. And all the sorcerers in the Coven combined couldn’t trap Neame’s aura without her consent.”

  “But I suppose you’ve worked out how she got the chalice back.”

  “Of course. That was the chance remark I mentioned. And once I’d tied it in, everything else was easy. I’ll start at the beginning. I think things went something like this.” Jemeryl leaned forward. “Levannue was treating Orrago for dementia. In the course of probing, Levannue found out about Lorimal, or maybe Bramell had already given a clue and she dug out more information. However it was, Levannue started to investigate Lorimal. She realised that the stains on the manuscript could be used to find the chalice and so made Orrago hide it within easy reach. Levannue is always popping in to see Orrago. Once she’d traced the chalice to your island, she had the problem of recovering it. I’ll bet she talked Bramell into confiscating the golem bird. She’d have had precious little joy asking Neame if she could borrow it. It must have been a blow when she found out the golem wouldn’t stay in one piece. Then Neame started planning her trip to Walderim. Erlam said that someone suggested the expedition would be good for Aris. To me, it sounds like Levannue used her position as doctor to get Aris within range of the chalice.”

  Jemeryl found a blank sheet of paper and hastily sketched a rough map of Walderim and the Western Isles, marking a spot above Scathberg. “This was were Aris was. In two days, she could have ridden a raven to your islands and back. She then needed a break to catch up on food and rest and things like that.”

  After a long night with no sleep, Tevi was struggling. “We’ve already worked that out.”

  Jemeryl expanded her map, drawing in the Middle Sea. “Aris then sent the raven off again, but going east this time—to around here.” Jemeryl pointed to the map. “I told you Levannue has a Serac accent. The chalice was hidden in a suitable spot. I’m sure Levannue could think of somewhere. She let the chalice lie there for a year, waiting to see if there was any reaction. Once she was happy the alarm hadn’t been raised, she went on a short visit to her parents, picked it up, and brought it back with her.”

  “Levannue made Aris commit suicide to hide her tracks?”

  Jemeryl’s smile faded. “I don’t think so. At least, I’d like not to think so. Mind-riding a raven for that length of time would be unsettling for anyone
. It must have been the last straw for Aris. I don’t think it was deliberate on Levannue’s part. There was no need. She could have scrubbed Aris’s memory once she returned. And I don’t believe she’d callously murder one of her patients—someone who trusted her. Erlam said Aris jumped off the top of a tower. Perhaps it wasn’t intentional suicide; maybe she still thought she was a raven.”

  “The suicide was still quite convenient for Levannue.” Tevi did not share Jemeryl’s faith. “And how about Druse? Remember, he died only after Levannue was back on her feet.”

  “I suppose so,” Jemeryl conceded after a pause.

  “One death might be bad luck; two look deliberate. My hypothesis, to add to yours, is that once Levannue recovered from the plague, with Bramell ill and Moragar busy, she decided to investigate to see if she could find out anything that might make her work with the chalice easier. When Druse discovered it was Levannue who had broken into the section, he probably assumed that she was merely running errands for Bramell. Rather than raise the alarm, he had a private word with her first. But Levannue didn’t want Bramell to find out, so she killed Druse and passed it off as the plague.”

  “Maybe. It would tie in. The problem is we don’t have a scrap of evidence.”

  “Since Bramell and Levannue have been partners for years, it’s going to take more than guesswork to convince him.”

  “True. And it all rests on the presumption that Levannue has been entrapping other sorcerers.”

  “Don’t you have any evidence?”

  “It’s not conclusive, but there is one incident. It happened when Levannue came to collect Orrago from her private study. Vine and I were there, due to circumstances Levannue couldn’t have expected. Without warning, Orrago jumped up and trotted over to open the door. At that second, Levannue arrived. There was no way Orrago should have known Levannue was outside.”

  “It might have been coincidence.”