by William King
I looked up at him, for the stool was lower than his chair. I felt intimidated as if he was much taller than me, or I was a child and he an adult. It was such a simple trick for gaining ascendancy over another but it worked.
Jonas took a seat at the side of the table where he could look at us both easily. As he did so, he reached out and smoothed a piece of parchment, then took a quill and dipped it in ink. There were a few preliminary questions about my name, and family and age and then Franco said, “Do you swear to tell the truth in the sight of the Holy Sun, risking eternal damnation for speaking falsehood.”
I swore.
“Tell me how you met the false frater, Xander. You were the first in your company to see him, weren’t you?”
“I was walking off the road when I saw a party of monks coming along the road towards us.”
“This would have been?”
“About ten days ago if what people has told me about how long I was unconscious was true.”
He pursed his lips and made an odd sucking sound then clicked his teeth with his tongue. Jonas’s pen scratched away and I wondered whether he could really write fast enough to take all of this down.
When I checked the paper I noticed the symbols he marked there bore no resemblance to any of the letters Alysia had taught me. Did the Sidereans use a different alphabet, I wondered?
“You had never seen any of these men before?”
I shook my head.
“Please state your answer for the record.”
“No. I had never seen the monks before.”
“You believed they were monks?”
“They were dressed as such.”
“You’ve seen monks before then.”
“I dwell along the pilgrim route to Tarnheim. I have seen monks before.”
“Did you know which order?”
“I am no expert on religious orders.”
“That would be no then.” He looked at Jonas to make sure he was taking this down. He seemed more concerned with this than with my answers. I wondered if it was another trick to take me off guard.
“Yes, it would. I mean I do not know which order the monks belonged to.”
“And you did not speak to any of them.”
“Not then.”
“But you did speak to them.”
“I would say Frater Xander spoke to me. He approached me when I was on the beach.”
“Please do not refer to him as Frater Xander. He was not a representative of the church.” He spoke with absolute emphasis as if this was the most important point. There was a note of anger in his voice and the way he glared at me put me on guard.
“As you wish. The man I knew as Xander spoke to me on the beach.”
“When would this be?”
“Maybe eight or nine days ago. Shortly before we reached the ruins where we were attacked.”
“Did you believe he was a monk?” Why did he keep niggling away at this?
“I had no reason not to. He talked like one and everyone else seemed to think he was one. They were all convinced that these were monks from Stormstead Abbey.”
“Was there anything unusual about Xander?”
I paused to consider this and Franco noticed my hesitation. “There was, wasn’t there?”
“I did not like him. He made me uneasy. I was glad when my friend Ghoran came and summoned me back to the camp.”
“Uneasy, in what way?”
“I did not like being near him.”
“Do you often feel this way?”
“Never like this. There was something about the man which made me want to get away from him as quickly as possible.”
“And you can’t tell me what that was.”
“He frightened me.”
“Do you consider yourself someone easily frightened?”
“A coward? No.” All the time I was talking, Jonas’s pen scratched away. When I looked over at him, I could see all of his attention was focused on his writing. He did not look my way at all.
“Yet he scared you.”
“Yes.” I had started to sweat and not just because it was muggy and hot in the cell.
“Did he seem friendly with any people in the camp? Your mistress, for instance.”
Was this the trap being sprung? “As far as I know they never spoke.”
“As far as you know?”
“I never saw them do it, and I spent a lot of time near my mistress.”
He nodded as if what I was saying was too obvious or too trivial to be worth his attention. “Was there anyone else?”
“I saw him speaking to Sir Vorster a lot.”
“That would be Sir Vorster of Kinyr.”
“I do not know where he is from, sir. I just know him as Sir Vorster. A young knight, about so tall. Blonde hair.”
“I know of whom you speak. They chatted a lot, did they?”
“I saw them together several times.” It dawned on me then that what I was saying might get Vorster into trouble. The thought should not have caused me much distress and yet something about this conversation troubled me.
“When and where?”
“The first night the monks joined us. Sir Vorster had been sent to escort them when they joined us and I saw him talking to Fra… to Xander as they came in. I heard them chatting by the fire later that night.”
“You heard them? You were eavesdropping?”
“No, sir. I was queuing for food and they were sitting together.” I started to think now, really think. Was he insinuating that Vorster had been in league with the Brotherhood?
Even I could not believe that. Vorster might have been brutal and stupid but he was a nobleman and a knight and he behaved as he thought such a person should.
I could not picture him as an assassin. I could picture him drunkenly beating a peasant to death but I could not imagine him taking money to slay a noblewoman. It would have been beneath him.
“What is it?”
“I don’t think Sir Vorster knew Xander, sir. I think it was an accident that they talked. They were the first to meet on the road. Sir Vorster escorted him into our camp. He would have been the logical person for Xander to chat with.”
“Very well. Let’s talk about your final meeting with Xander.”
It was not something I wanted to think about, the interior of the huge tent reeking of blood and death, a killer stalking Ruth and myself, one far too strong for me to overcome.
“It was in Lady Alysia’s tent, sir. He tried to talk me into putting down my knife. I think it was merely a ploy to make me easier to kill.”
“And he attacked you, not the Lady Alysia.”
“I was the one holding the knife.”
“You did not stab him with it though, or did you?”
I remembered standing over Xander with a dagger in my hand and wanting to. It had been Alysia that had stabbed him after I had blinded him with my spell. It had saved both our lives, but I was not sure whether I really wanted to tell that story. This was the Inquisition after all. My use of magic might get me into trouble. “I did not.”
I waited in dread for the question I knew was coming. Franco did not ask it. Instead he rose from the chair and began pacing around the room. “That is good.”
I could not help myself. I had to ask. “Why, sir?”
“Because if you had killed him, we would not now have him in our custody.”
“Frat.. Xander is not dead?”
Franco gave a cold smile. “Oh no. He is very much alive and unwell and spending time in these dungeons.”
I felt the clammy hand of fear on my back. Xander was alive. I remembered his strength and his confidence and his utter willingness to kill. I remembered the pile of bodies in the great tent and the smell of blood and the certainty that my own death was approaching. I was glad I was sitting down. The sweat felt suddenly cold on my back.
“Did Mistress Iliana say anything about setting a trap to you?” Frater Franco asked.
What was the correct answe
r? Would what I said get my mistress into trouble with the Inquisition, was this the reason they had kept her from talking to me for the past few days?
The safest thing to do was to be honest. I suspected that disguising Lady Alysia as her servant and using an illusion to turn her wounded lady in waiting into her double had been part of a plan to trap the assassins but that was all it was, a suspicion. “She never said anything to me, sir.”
Caution prevented me from amplifying my answer. I was determined not to say more than I absolutely had to.
“And yet she captured Xander with your help.”
“My help was an accident. The camp was in chaos and I was escorting Ruth– I mean Lady Alysia back to her tent.”
“Ruth?”
“Lady Alysia was disguised as a servant, sir. I knew her by that name.”
“You too were disguised as a servant.”
“I was…I am a servant, sir. I signed a contract of indenture with Mistress Iliana.” Somehow despite my determination the words slipped out. Frater Franco had an air about him, of hard listening, of suspicion, that made me want to speak, to justify myself. My mother did the same thing sometimes.
He tilted his head to one side. I had clearly caught his attention. I cursed my loose tongue. “You signed a contract of indenture.”
“I did, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because the price would cover my apprentice fee and my family got some gold.”
“That seems rather a convoluted arrangement.”
“I would not know, sir. It’s the only contract of indenture I have ever dealt with.”
Franco made a harrumphing sound. “You are young.”
I was not quite sure what he meant by that but I wasn’t going to be drawn out again.
“We are drifting from the point,” Franco said when he realised I wasn’t going to say anything more. “Did this Xander ever do anything else that made you suspicious.”
I felt as if everything about him had made me suspicious but that might only have been hindsight. I had not liked him, but that might have been because of his association with Vorster.
No, it was more than that. I had not liked him when he approached me on the beach. Of course, my dislike did not equate to suspicion. Then I remembered something else. “Ruth said that he never mentioned the Holy Sun when he blessed us.”
“He blessed you?” Something in Franco’s tone led me to believe he considered this a particularly heinous crime. I supposed for him it was. Xander had usurped the prerogatives of the Church.
“Yes, sir.” He told us we would be in his thoughts and those of all his brethren. It occurred to me then that Xander had not lied, he had just turned the truth into a cruel joke, which seemed in keeping with his personality.
I thought about what Franco had said about Xander’s capture. He might even be close by. That thought made me more frightened than I cared to admit. The idea that a man who had almost killed me had been so near all this time and I had not known was a disturbing one.
Franco glanced at Jonas as if to make sure he was getting all of this down. The scribe nodded almost imperceptibly and his quill kept scratching away.
“That is blasphemy,” Franco said. There was no missing the outrage in his voice now. I wondered what made the idea of Xander blessing us so much more infuriating to him than the fact that the false frater had murdered people.
“It is, sir?” I kept my tone half way between agreement and a question. I did not want to seem to be doubting him.
“It is, young man. It most certainly is, and all the more reason for taking this matter into the hands of the Church.”
Maybe that explained it. Perhaps he was looking for a reason to annex this matter to his jurisdiction. He glared at me as if I was somehow responsible for Frater Xander’s action instead of being the one reporting it.
“I am sorry, sir. About the blasphemy, I mean.” Once again my tongue tripped me. It seemed to always race ahead of my thoughts. I wondered if other people had this trouble.
Red sensed my discomfort, shrieked and slowly opened his wings. His small claws dug into my shoulder. I would not have been surprised if they had drawn blood.
Franco recollected himself. “It is not your fault, young man. You are simply reporting this vile personage’s words.”
That should have left me feeling relieved but it did not. Franco seemed a lot more volatile than his assistant, which was the last thing I had expected. Did he have some sort of personal involvement in this matter or was he simply under pressure to solve it?
Frater Jonas coughed as if reminding his master of something and Franco glared at him then focused his attention back on me. “Thank you for your cooperation, young man. You are free to go.”
“That’s it?” I could not keep the incredulity from my voice. I had built this thing up so much in my mind that it seemed impossible that it could be over so quickly and easily. I remembered to add, “sir?”
“For the moment. If we have any further questions, you will be summoned.”
That was more like it. I was sorry I had spoken now. Red leapt from my shoulder and began to caper over the table, knocking over the papers. Jonas lifted the ink bottle so that it did not spill, but he did not seem upset. He seemed amused. Franco on the other hand simply glared.
I gathered up my dragonling in my arms and made my departure as swiftly as I could.
As I closed the door behind me I heard Franco speak in his loud, angry manner to Jonas. I was tempted to press my ear to the door but did not want to risk getting caught. Instead I made my way back up to the circular steps and out into the courtyard. And who should I find loitering there but Ghoran and Jay.
“Ho. Small dragon and his boy. I glad you both alive.” Ghoran grinned then slapped me on the back with enough force to have knocked me flat if I had not braced for it.
Jay extended a hand, clasped my own and pumped it. “I am glad to see you too.”
I said, “I am glad you are well. Last time I saw you, you did not look so.”
“Bastards poisoned us; can you believe it? Made us sick. Killed a few of the lads.”
“I warn you about southern beer,” Ghoran said. “You no listen.”
“It was the poison not the beer that made me sick, you stupid northern bastard.”
“You sure?” Ghoran was very good at sounding innocent and as if he had not a care in the world but I remembered the vision I had of him striding through the camp alongside Mistress Iliana, a bloody axe in his hand.
“I am sure. Although it will be a long time before I drink any brew from Stormstead Abbey again.”
“Sensible,” said Ghoran. “No something I expect from Jay. I hear you save Lady Alysia, dragon boy. How that happen?”
His blue eyes focused on me. His white teeth gleamed brilliantly and I wondered how much to tell him. Jay and Ghoran were my friends but something about the whole episode with the assassins inclined me to be closed mouthed.
“I walked Ruth back to her tent. I was there and I saw that Lady…” I was going to say Lady Alysia but that would have meant I needed to explain that Ruth was really Lady Alysia. “Rebeka had been stabbed and the guards and the servants too.”
“It was that bastard Xander, wasn’t it,” said Jay.
I nodded. We wandered back the way I had come until we were in the courtyard with the orange trees. The gardener was gone. Red flitted off to investigate the fruit. We sat down on the benches in the shade.
“How are you two allowed in here?” I asked.
“We are in the barracks in the South Tower. We’re mostly on garrison duty these days.”
“Easier than marching. Not as much fun as fighting,” agreed Ghoran.
“We’re on sentry duty in the evenings,” added Jay. “We heard you were being taken to the Inquisition this morning so we decided to loiter around and see if we could catch sight of you.”
“Maybe break you out. If need to,” said Ghoran. As ever it was hard to tell w
hether he was joking or not.
“I am glad that was not needed,” I said.
“Me too,” said Jay. It occurred to me that they were not joking. They had seriously considered the possibility.
“Jay brought lockpicks in case,” said Ghoran.
“Lockpicks?” I asked. I remembered Mistress Iliana’s ironic references to Jay being a locksmith. I had never really understood what she meant by that.
“Hush, the pair of you,” said Jay, his face turning red.
“They got bastard Xander down in dungeon or so say Big Samael,” said Ghoran.
“It’s a shame Grinner did not let him die,” said Jay with considerable feeling. “After what he did to Ruth.”
“Sorry about that,” said Ghoran. “We know you like girl.”
Was there a warning note in his voice? If he had been with my mistress, he would know the truth.
“You saw her dead?” I said, looking at Jay. It was not difficult to put a note of incredulity into my voice given what I already knew.
“No but I heard from Big Samael. He saw her body carried out on a sheet and burned with the others. Said she was too badly mutilated to decently be left uncovered.”
“Jay too sick to see anything for days,” said Ghoran. I began to understand how my mistress had managed it. She must have switched Ruth back to Lady Alysia after the assassination attempt was thwarted. The company had reached town next day. Not many people knew what Lady Alysia looked like unveiled and most of those had been killed by Xander.
It was very clever. No one need ever know that she had really been disguised as the now deceased servant girl Ruth. Lady Alysia had been confined in the tent for the whole journey, and now she had recovered.
Not too many people left knew the truth. I wondered if I too would have been dead now if I had not been Mistress Iliana’s apprentice. I thought about how the inquisitors had mentioned the dead girl Ruth. I had been a fool.
Maybe that was a secret they would like to ferret out. Even someone as naïve as me could see it would give them considerable power. They could spread rumours about the Duke’s heir having been given the run of the camp, associating with wizards and servants.
