‘Stop! Back up a bit. The Guard searched your house? You let them in without sending for me to bounce them? Isn’t that—I speak purely theoretically, you understand—what you pay me for?’
‘Yes, all right, I’m on to it. Anyway, they had a warrant. It was the Murder Squad.’ She told him about the search, and last night’s conversation with Mooby, the leaked report. And Paran’s admission.
‘You’re saying the Fay did kill—No! Do not answer that, just thinking out loud. Shit. I’m really not liking this. What was Murder Squad looking for?’
‘Bolt cutters. And an illegally freed slave, I guess, who’s a murder suspect. The cutters were blatantly propped in the corner, but even the psych didn’t see them. And then they “forgot” to arrest Paran. I’m telling you, Butros, you’re wrong about him.’
‘Then he must be using a military-grade cloaking charm.’ There was another long silence. Butros narrowed his eyes. ‘Right. That does it. Nobody mind-fucks me and gets away with it. Tell that little bog-sucking shite-weasel of yours I want to see him again. I have contacts who’ll strip his filthy brain to shreds and find out what his game is, never fear.’
‘Mercenaries? No. Butros, you can’t!’
‘They prefer the term “ex-military freelance psychic consultants”—and yes I can. Make an appointment with the lackey. Until then, I suggest you forget anything “Paran” has alleged and/or implied as regards the murders.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Hah!’ Furious finger fandango. ‘Well, if he duped me, he’ll dupe the world at large, which is a comfort, I suppose. But just between ourselves, I’m a tiny bit pissed off about this.’
‘You’re a bad loser, that’s why.’
‘I’m a quite staggeringly bad loser,’ he agreed. ‘But I will set those feelings aside.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘Briefly, this is clear cut and unambiguous, Anabara. Slave ownership is a criminal offence. The Guard must be informed, regardless of any repercussions for our beloved University. Who’s involved and how long it’s been going on, we don’t know—though the timings suggest it began with the current Stack-master. Don’t confide in any member of staff, even Yannick. They’ll need to preserve deniability. Finally, there’s the matter of the alleged Breaking Camp. Since we have no idea who’s colluding, either in the University or the Guard, I advise you to speak only to Mooby, then leave it with her, and disappear.’
‘But—’
‘Ssh! Your role ends when you’ve reported this. Apart from any testifying in Court, of course, for which I’ll coach you. The Guard will set the appropriate wheels in motion and wrap this up. The Guard, not Anabara Nolio—got that? No more amateur heroics, please.’
She nodded. Took a deep breath. The weight was beginning to slide from her shoulders. ‘Butros, grandmama doesn’t know about it, does she?’
‘You’re suggesting she knows, yet she’s managed to keep it secret for thirty years? Much though I esteem your grandmother, that’s about as plausible as Enobar biting his tongue for thirty seconds.’ He leant back and laced his fingers behind his head. The amber-green eyes glinted and a rare smile dawned. ‘Well, well, well. There’s going to be one almighty shit-storm when this comes out. As an alumnus of St Pelago’s, obviously I’m devastated. But as a greedy amoral snake, I smell a lot of money in legal fees. Nice work, girl detective. Keep your head below the parapet over Wolf Tide. Got anywhere to hide out?’
‘I could go to the village.’
‘Do that. Which reminds me: Mr Laitolo. I’ve advised him to make a statement to Mooby. He should probably keep a low profile as well for a couple of days.’
‘I’ll take him to the village with me.’
‘Good. Alternatively, he is rather cute, so maybe I’ll invite him to stay in my apartment’—Butros thrust his face into hers—‘and show him my mirrored ceilings.’
‘You have mirrored ceilings?’ She gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. ‘Goodness, I have no recollection of that.’
‘Very droll. I’ll send an updated bill.’ He got to his feet. ‘Endeavour to pay it. You don’t want to stray on to the list of people who’ve pissed me off, I’m sure.’ With another swirl of silk, he was gone.
Well, the sun seemed to shine more brightly now. Her tread was lighter. Anabara took a deep breath. She’d report to Mooby, then get herself down to the Gull village tomorrow till it had all blown over. She caught sight of Chief Dhalafan, coming out of the High Court. He spotted her and beckoned.
They met under a plane tree. Vast paw-shaped golden leaves whispered across Palatine Square.
‘Anabara, my dear,’ he kissed her cheek. ‘I hear we entertained you in our VIP suite. Was the accommodation to your liking?’
She smiled. ‘No complaints, Chief. It was a misunderstanding. Detective Mooby has apologised.’
‘Has she, indeed. Well, we’ll file it under “a clash of cultures” then. I daresay our Larridy ways seem quaint to Offcomers. You had a visit from Lieutenant Gannerby and his men this morning?’
She nodded.
‘I’m sure you’re sensible enough to realise I cannot intervene here?’ he said. ‘Good. I know your dear grandmama expects everyone to shield you from this world’s nastiness, but you’re a grown woman, and this is your chosen profession. It will inevitably mean your investigations intersect with those of the Guard occasionally.’
‘Of course.’ God, it was good to talk to someone who didn’t patronize her. Girl detective. Go back to finding pussycats. ‘They have to follow up all the leads they have. I understand that, unc—Chief.’ Her conscience smote her about the slaves and the Breaking Camp. She shouldn’t be holding out on him like this.
‘Good. I have six months till I retire. I really think at this stage I should be allowed to put my feet up on my desk, and drink contraband brandy at eleven in the morning, not chase round on Dame Bharossa’s orders. So another time, please don’t set her on me.’
She put a guilty hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry. She likes to help.’
‘You don’t need her help, Anabara.’ He gave her another peck on the cheek. ‘You’re forgiven. Stay out of trouble. It’s so awkward having the Patriarch’s niece in my cells. Everyone tells me off.’
She felt a secret glow as she headed to the Precincts. You don’t need her help, Anabara. The man worked a magic, that was for sure. He was witty, urbane. But with that force-field of power that made you want to impress him. Even now she had to battle the urge to run after him and boast about her brilliant detective work, put him in the picture, hear his praise. It was the old father-figure thing, sure it was.
Yeah, said her conscience, and the old Larridy thing as well—going behind the Offcomer’s back. She had a sudden vivid image of Mooby in her pink frilly shirt, saying God, I hate this place. And she was right. It stank of corruption. Slaves. In the very heart of the Precincts. Not that Dhalafan would be party to a cover-up, even if the University’s reputation was a stake. Would he? Anyway, it was Mooby’s job to put Dhalafan in the picture, not Anabara’s.
The triple domes rose above it all. They had witnessed worse than this. On impulse she slipped into the chapel dedicated to her parents. The familiar smell of lilies and polished wood greeted her. She made the threefold sign and curled up in her old corner, gazing up at their frescoed faces. Their names glowed in gold. Entwined. Kharis Bharossa in Galen. Danilo Nolio in Gull. It was a funny place. She liked it, even though snobs like Butros called it ‘an evenly-matched brawl between Gull and Galen taste.’ The spare elegant lines of the building were clogged with pink and green Candacian marble. Above the fresco—supported by cute little flying Gull children—was a gilt scroll in High Galen: The Way is still the Way, though all forsake it.
Was that true? Was it? Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she gazed up at her parents. Everything you stood for, all your work for Fairy rights—it’s been made a complete mockery of! Under your very feet new slaves were being broken in all the time. And all your scholarship, all the res
earch you did—you must have used books brought from the Stacks by the slaves you were trying to defend! Anabara thought of her own school history book. A potted guide to how human nature betrayed the Way. All those wars in the name of religion. The twilight of the prince Patriarchs, with its mind-boggling levels of corruption and decadence. Nothing changed, did it? We never get any wiser or better. But this shit-storm would pass, too. The sun would still rise.
And now, at last, she’d played her part. Done something real that her parents might have been proud of. Would they say, Well done? She ached to hear those words, listened, listened for them, like the chapel was a giant shell that still held a whisper of the sea.
But there was something niggling at her. Something she’d forgotten. Had Paran been tinkering with her memory again? No, it was about the slave, she thought suddenly. If his job was to fetch library books, why on earth was he armed? Was he guarding something?
Oh God. She leapt to her feet. The Zaarzuk’s visit had been detected. Terror shrilled through her veins. She’d forbidden the slave to kill the Master of the Stacks. She’d forbidden him to kill the Guard. But if Dal Ramek set foot in the Stacks again, there was nothing to stop the Fairy from cutting his throat.
CHAPTER 16
She set off at a run towards the Novice Quarters. Please don’t let him have gone back to the Stacks already. Don’t let him be dead. She tried to fend off visions of him sprawled with his throat slashed, his heart cut out; but she was half sobbing with fear as she rounded the last corner—and ran straight into her brother’s arms.
‘Oh God, Yanni—Dal Ramek!’
She felt a jolt go through him. ‘What’s he done to you?’
‘No, no. Nothing. Oh God, where is he? I’ve got to find him,’ she gabbled.
‘Stop. Focus.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Now tell me what’s going on.’
Forget Butros and his deniability. She explained in a few quick sentences.
‘I’ll take you to him.’ He set off. ‘Then afterwards you and I need to talk.’
She trotted to keep up. ‘Yanni, I’m sorry about… the bathhouse thing. It was just kissing. Honestly. Please don’t be mad any more.’
‘All forgiven.’
‘When I thought the slave was going to kill me,’ she said, ‘all I could think was, I’m going to die without ever making up with Yanni.’
‘Don’t! Don’t torment yourself.’ He put his arm round her shoulders, rested his head on hers. ‘You really think there is anything you could do that would stop me loving you?’
‘But you were so angry.’
‘You bet I was.’ He stopped by a small penitential shrine. ‘Wait here.’ She watched him duck under the low archway. A moment later he emerged with the Zaarzuk, who gave her a stony stare.
‘My sister has something to tell you,’ said Yanni.
Dal Ramek’s eyes widened. ‘Your sister? She is your sister?’
‘Certainly.’
‘And this is my punishment?’ He gestured to the shrine. ‘To meditate?’ Yanni inclined his head. ‘Then I tell you to your face, Master, you disgrace the name of brother. If some cur dishonours my sister—God forbid!—I take my whip to him, I drag him by his heels behind my horse!’
There was a long silence. The Zaarzuk seemed to hear what he’d just said. Colour mounted in his cheeks.
‘Food for your mediation, brother,’ said Yanni. ‘I’ll wait over there.’
Anabara turned to the Zaarzuk. He was already beating his breast. ‘Ms Nolio, I know it—I am that cur I spoke of! I deserve—’
‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘I want you to do something for me.’
‘Name it, and I will do it. Word of a Zaarzuk.’ He made the threefold sign.
‘I want you to promise me that you’ll stay out of the Stacks.’
Silence. ‘Why you ask this?’
‘Never mind. Just promise me.’ Panic welled up. ‘Please! You gave your word!’
‘True. So: I promise.’ Again the three-fold sign. ‘But why? Some great danger? I see it in your eyes. You’ve been down there? Why you won’t tell me, hey? Then maybe I go to the Vice Chancellor. Maybe I ask him, does he know about the Fays in his library?’
‘Don’t!’ She grabbed his arm. ‘Oh God—have you spoken to anyone about this?’
He shook his head. ‘Only you. So tell me.’ His hand covered hers. ‘I keep it secret. I swear.’
Lord, she’d end up telling half the world! But he was so stubborn there was no alternative.
‘So!’ His eyes flashed when she’d finished her hurried explanation. ‘He lies in wait for me! Very good. I will take his knife from him and slit his treacherous Fay throat!’
She gave him a shake. ‘No! He’d kill you before you’d even seen him! My God, they taught the Galens how to fight—even Yanni couldn’t defend himself against a Fairy. And you promised me!’
‘Hah!’ The Zaarzuk folded his arms and scowled. ‘But you, will you go down there, while I must stand idle?’
‘No. I’ll leave it to the Guard. What’s the matter with you? Don’t you care what’s going on? I want the slaves freed, not killed!’
A glowering silence. Then, ‘Who is this Yanni? Your lover?’
‘Oh for God’s sake.’ She pointed across to where he brother was pacing. ‘That’s Yanni. Go back to your prayers.’ She turned, but he caught her arm.
‘Ms Nolio.’ He glanced across at the Master, dropped his voice. ‘Anabara. I curse myself for this. I think you maybe hear… certain rumours?’
‘A frigid little tease with iron britches—that rumour?’ Damn, I was not going to say that.
‘Ach!’ He winced. ‘This is bad! What can I say? Last night I am very very angry. Your Fay—Fairy—he taunts me. So in my rage I say things I do not mean. I drink, I go with harlots. But my heart is yours. Believe it.’
‘Sorry—not interested.’
‘You are angry. I deserve this. But…’ He glanced across at Yanni again. ‘You like me, I think?’
‘Yes, I like you,’ she replied. ‘But I don’t respect you.’
Again the colour mounted in his cheeks. He let go of her arm. Lifted his chin. ‘Then Tadzar Dal Ramek will earn your respect.’ He turned and ducked back into the shrine, clouting his head on the arch. He cursed in Zaarzuk, then vanished from her sight.
‘Well,’ said Yanni as they walked back towards the Novice Quarters, ‘do I need to lock him up, or will he stay out of the Stacks?’
‘I think he will. He gave his word,’ said Anabara. ‘Is it true he’s trying to get himself expelled?’
He gave her a sorrowing glance. Ah, he looked like Uncle Téador. She blushed. No gossip. They walked on in silence. Then Yanni asked, ‘Have you eaten today?’
She cast her mind back through the blur of hours. ‘No. I’m not hungry.’
But he made her eat a bowl of broth in the student buttery. Afterwards he lead her back out to the big plaza in front of the temple. In the open, she realised, where nobody could eavesdrop. They sat cross legged on a stone bench. If only she could be as serene as Yanni. But probably the very architecture of his brain was different from hers. Contoured by years of meditation.
‘I don’t understand,’ he began. ‘If an armed slave was guarding the Stacks, why didn’t he kill you?’
She pointed to the amulet. ‘This.’ And she told him about it, and about the two Fairies who had brought the paran to the Patriarch after their parents’ murder.
‘Our mother wore this? I don’t recognise it,’ he said.
‘It’s got a perception charm on it. Feel.’
He reached out and took it in his hand. ‘A creature, carved in green stone?’ She nodded. ‘Yes, I wondered what happened to that. But why is it charmed? Why did uncle give it to you?’
She told him everything. By the end she could feel his anger blazing red like a forge. ‘It’s not my fault! I told Uncle Téador I was going to the auction,’ she cried. ‘He said he sensed I had to do this. He let me
go, Yanni!’
He raised a hand to halt her defensive blurting. She watched his face. He was tapping his reserves of calm. She knew she had to wait. Don’t be mad at me, don’t be mad at me. I can’t bear it. The wind sang in the flutes, infinitely sad.
‘Ana,’ he said, ‘if it would keep you safe, I’d cut open my heart and hide you in here, where nothing could ever harm you.’
‘I know, I know. I’m sorry Yanni. I’ve just got to report to Mooby, then I’m out of this. I promise.’
‘Thank you.’ He seemed to be watching the flight of a gull, as it hung and wheeled on the wind.
He knows what it is to lose the ones he loves, she thought. I was too young when they died.
‘I wonder,’ he said at last, ‘if there’s something deeper at work. If the Patriarch has discerned an echo of it. Some ripple from our parents’ death finally reaching us. Who is this “Paran” and why is he here?’
Her heart pounded. Was Yanni right? ‘Maybe it’s the blood debt? “If it takes a thousand generations they will carry on trying to honour it,”’ she quoted. ‘That’s what Uncle Téador said. Yanni, do you think he’s here to protect us?’
‘That depends whose side he’s on, I’m afraid.’
‘I could ask him,’ she said. ‘He has to tell me the truth.’ Except he’d probably just point to his right ear, and tell her squat. ‘I’ve never really got a handle on Fairy politics, to be honest.’
Those warring dynasties with their unpronounceable names, the shifting alliances, the endless stupid blood feuds. All her life people had been lecturing Anabara on the ins and outs of her parents’ diplomatic missions, their selfless efforts on behalf of lowbred refugees. It was a great wall of blah-blah-blah, the backdrop to her childhood. She wondered, suddenly, if she’d refused to understand out of pure resentment. Why had Mum and Dad cared more about a bunch of Fairies than their baby daughter, than me?
She was still wondering this when she saw the beadle coming. He approached, bowed to the Master, then to her. It was the same part-Gull who had escorted her out of the library.
Wolf Tide Page 14
