The Crown Tower trc-1

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “They might have died anyway, hazards of the profession.”

  Hadrian nodded. “Maybe, but at least their blood wouldn’t have been on my swords.”

  Arcadius smiled. “Strange attitude for a career soldier.”

  “You can thank my father for that. Him and his stupid chicken.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Danbury gave me a newborn chick for my tenth birthday and told me it was my responsibility to keep the bird alive, to keep it safe. I diligently watched after the bird. Named it Gretchen and hand-fed the thing. I even slept with it nestled in my arms. A year later, my father declared his son would have roast chicken for his birthday. We didn’t have any other chickens. I pleaded and swore that if he killed Gretchen, I wouldn’t eat a bite. Only my father had no intention of killing Gretchen. He handed me the axe. ‘Learn the value of a life before you take it,’ he told me.

  “I refused. We went without food that day and the next. I was determined to outlast my father, but the old man was a rock. For all my pride, my sense of compassion, my loyalty, it only took two days. I cried through the meal but ate every bite-nothing went to waste. I refused to speak to my father for a month, and I never forgave him. I hated my old man off and on, for one thing or another, until the day I left. It took five years of combat to realize the value of that meal, the reason I never took pleasure in killing or turned a blind eye to pain.”

  “All that from just one chicken?”

  “No. The chicken was just the start. There were other lessons.” Hadrian glanced at the other boys seated nearby pretending not to listen. “You should be happy to have the professor here as a teacher. There are worse masters.”

  “He was teaching you the value of life,” Arcadius said.

  “While at the same time training me on the most efficient ways to take it? What kind of man teaches his son to fly but instills a fear of heights? I wanted to do something with my life. Use the skills he pounded into me. What good is it being great with a sword if all you are going to do is make plowshares? I saw the others-rich knights who were praised by great lords for their skill-and I knew I could beat all of them. They had everything: horses, fancy women, estates, armor. I had nothing. I thought if I could just show them…” Hadrian drained the last of his cider and looked back at the line for breakfast, which had grown longer.

  “So tell me, Hadrian, what do you plan to do now that you’re back? I assume you aren’t going to be joining the military ranks of any local potentate.”

  “My soldiering days are over.”

  “How will you live, then?”

  “I haven’t thought about it. I have coin to last me a little while. After that, I don’t know … I guess I’m sort of avoiding the issue, really. Drifting sounds good at the moment. I don’t know why … Maybe I’m hoping something will just turn up-that something will find me.”

  “Really?”

  Hadrian shrugged.

  The professor leaned forward, started to say something, then hesitated and sat back again. “Must have been a long trip from Calis to here. I trust your travels were pleasant at least.”

  “Actually no-and it’s good you brought it up. Have you seen anyone around the school recently who isn’t a student? Someone wearing a dark cloak who keeps the hood up?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Six people were murdered on the barge I took up from Vernes to Colnora. Five in one night, throats slit. A guy in a hood slipped away before I could find him. I’m thinking he might have followed me here.”

  Arcadius glanced at the other boys around them. “Why don’t we go back to my office. This fire is getting a bit too hot now.”

  “Did I say-”

  Arcadius held up a hand. “We’ll talk more in my office where I only need to be concerned with Sisarus the Squirrel spreading rumors.”

  Arcadius was slow on the stairs, holding up the hem of his robes and revealing a pair of matching blue slippers.

  Leave the mud on the street!

  They reached the professor’s door, where Arcadius stopped and turned to Hadrian. “Do you remember yesterday when I spoke about your father’s dying wish?”

  Before Hadrian could reply, the professor swung open the door. Inside, across the room, sat the hooded man.

  He sat alone in a corner below the wasp nest and near the reptile cage. Wrapped as always in his black cloak, hood raised so his face was hidden. Still, Hadrian was sure it was him. He looked smaller sitting down, a black puddle or errant shadow, but the garment was unmistakable.

  The professor walked in, oblivious to the intruder.

  “Professor!” Hadrian rushed past him, drawing both swords. Just having them in his hands made him feel better than he had in days. As much as he disliked what they had accomplished together, they were still the best friends he had.

  The hooded man did not move, not even a flinch.

  Hadrian positioned himself between Arcadius and the killer. “Professor, you need to get out.”

  To his surprise, Arcadius was busy closing and locking the door behind them.

  “It’s him,” Hadrian declared in a low tone, pointing with a sword. “The murderer from the barge.”

  “Yes, yes. That’s Royce,” Arcadius said. “And you can put the swords down.”

  “You know him?”

  “Of course, I sent him to escort you here. I told him to look for a man wearing three swords. Not too many of those, and even fewer arriving from Calis. He was supposed to show you the way here.” The professor glared at the hooded man and added in a louder, reproachful tone, “I had expected him to actually greet you and introduce himself like any civilized person would. I was hoping you would get acquainted during the trip here.”

  “I got him here alive-that was hard enough,” Royce said.

  “You killed those people!” Hadrian shouted now. There was no way he was sheathing his swords, not with the hooded man in the room.

  “Yes.” The reply was as casual as if Hadrian had asked about the weather. “Well, that’s overstating-I didn’t kill all of them.”

  “Meaning I’m still alive?” Hadrian said. “Is that why you’ve come here? To finish the job? I think you’ll find that’s a mistake.” Hadrian raised his blades and advanced.

  “Hadrian! Stop!”

  The hooded man did move then, faster than any man Hadrian had ever seen. He scaled the shelving and hoisted himself to the second-story balcony, out of reach. Overhead the owl screeched, and a flustered pigeon batted its wings inside a cage. Hadrian halted more out of surprise at the man’s athleticism than from the professor’s words. He wasn’t sure what he had seen. The man had become a blur of motion.

  “Royce isn’t trying to kill you,” Arcadius said.

  “He just said so!”

  “No, he didn’t. He-”

  “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be annoying me with your stupidity right now.” Royce’s voice came from above.

  “Royce, please!” The professor had his hands up, waving, his voice exasperated.

  “Why did you do it?” Hadrian asked. “Why did you kill everyone?”

  “To save your life.”

  Hadrian wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What?”

  “I had hoped this meeting would begin on a better footing,” the professor said, moving to position himself in front of Hadrian. “But I suppose that was wishful thinking, wasn’t it?”

  “Telling me in advance might have helped. Maybe a polite ‘Oh, by the way, we’ll be having morning tea with a murderer’! This man killed three merchants, a woman, a postilion named Andrew, and Farlan the boatman. All of whom-”

  “Not the boatman.” The voice-as that was all it really was to Hadrian, a disembodied sound emanating from the darkened depths of the cloak-had a distinct edge. “The woman killed the boatman.”

  “The woman? Vivian? Are you insane?”

  The very idea made him take a step toward the wrought-iron stairs.

  “And why would she
do that?” Hadrian shouted to the upper story.

  “She told you herself. Farlan was going to have the sheriff investigate.”

  “Yeah, investigate you!”

  “But I didn’t kill anyone. Well, not anyone in Vernes … well, not recently.”

  “And Vivian did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “Believe what you want. They knew an investigation would match all the loot in their crates to missing items from the homes of those murdered in Vernes.”

  “Wait … their crates? What are you talking about? Are you also accusing the gem merchants of being involved?”

  “By Mar, you are slow.” Royce made a noise that might have been laughter. “First Farlan opened his trap about reporting to Malet, and then after they killed him for it, you went and declared your intentions to do the same stupid thing. You painted a target on your back and left it for me to erase.”

  “And you couldn’t come up with any better solution than killing everyone?” Arcadius asked, disgusted. “You know how I feel about that.”

  “And you know how little I care about how you feel,” Royce replied. “You wanted him here alive-he’s here. Be happy. And if it makes you feel better, I didn’t start it. They came after me. The fat one and the younger one tried to jump me as I was coming out of the forward hold. I guess they didn’t like the idea of me discovering their secret.”

  “Or maybe Sebastian and Eugene just thought you were the killer,” Hadrian said. “And attacked you out of fear. You don’t know. You don’t have any evidence to accuse them any more than they had to accuse you.”

  “I watched the woman kill the boatman,” Royce said. “She thought everyone was below. She sat next to him, all warm and friendly. Said she was cold-lonely. The boatman was happy for the company. She reached around his head with a knife, and he was still smiling when she slit his throat. She couldn’t get his body in the water-too heavy-so she fetched Samuel and Sebastian for that.

  “The way I figure it, she’d done the same to the men in Vernes-got all friendly with them, then cut their throats. The other three did the heavy lifting. Not a bad system.”

  There was a pause as Hadrian tried to process this.

  You want to tell me what’s really going on?

  I don’t understand, Vivian said.

  Neither do I-that’s the problem. Your husband wasn’t killed, was he?

  He’d known something wasn’t right. A woman who’d just lost her husband wouldn’t be inviting him to her room. And how odd had it been that everyone was so insistent that the hooded man was responsible for everything, despite any real evidence.

  After a moment, he sheathed his swords.

  “Does that mean he plans to play nice? Can I come down?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure it’s quite safe now,” Arcadius replied. “Isn’t it, Hadrian?”

  He nodded.

  Royce descended effortlessly. He still kept his distance and his hood raised, but it was farther back and now Hadrian could see more of his face. His skin was as pale as his nose had suggested, his features were sharp, with distinct planes, eyes cold, calculating.

  Hadrian was running the sequence of events through his head. “The barge-how did you make a whole barge disappear?”

  “I didn’t. I sent it, and everything else, downriver with the current. All of five minutes’ work. Then I had a talk with the owner of the barge at his office. Convinced him to tell Malet he didn’t have a barge coming in that day. I’m certain the boat’s been found by now. Word might have even gotten back to Malet, who’s likely kicking himself for not having listened to you.”

  “Wait a minute, you killed Andrew. Are you going to say he was in on this too?”

  Royce shook his hood. “No, but you don’t kill four people and leave a witness behind. That’s just unprofessional.”

  “You left me alive.”

  “I was protecting you.”

  “You really shouldn’t kill innocent people, Royce.” The professor scowled at him.

  “And you really shouldn’t expect me to listen to you.”

  “And the barge owner?” Hadrian asked. “Did you kill him later to cover your tracks?”

  “I didn’t leave any tracks.”

  Arcadius spoke up. “I guess I’m at least partially to blame. I should have known better. Royce isn’t terribly…” He sighed. “Well, social, I guess you could say. But now that we have that matter cleared up, can we discuss the original topic of this morning’s meeting?”

  “Which is?” Hadrian asked.

  The old man took his glasses off and wiped them once more with the same sock that he appeared to leave on his desk for that very reason. Either the tension had steamed the lenses or cleaning them served the same purpose as biting nails, or in Hadrian’s case, heavy drinking. “Your father asked me to look out for you upon your return. He anticipated your present state and knew you might need some guidance.”

  “Do I really need to be here for this?” Royce asked.

  “Actually you do, because this involves you as well.” The professor turned back to Hadrian. “As I was saying, I promised I would help you find a purpose.”

  “And what does your great wisdom suggest?”

  “There’s no need to take that tone.” The old man tilted his head, peering at Hadrian as if he were still looking over his glasses.

  “Sorry, but he makes me nervous.” Hadrian jerked his head at Royce.

  “He makes everyone nervous. You’ll get used to it.”

  “I don’t plan on needing to.”

  “Well that’s just the thing. I brought you both here because I want you to become partners.”

  Both heads turned.

  “You’re not serious?” Royce said.

  Hadrian started to laugh. “Forget it.”

  “I’m afraid I am, and I won’t. Both of you are at an impasse, both have unique skills and yet suffer from the question of What now? As a teacher of young minds, I can tell that neither of you are ready for the world by yourself. Together, however, there might be hope for you both. To put it in simple terms, I think you will be a good influence on each other. Besides, I have a task that needs doing, and the only chance of success is to have you two work together. My hope is that once you see the benefits of each other’s skills, you’ll see the value in forming a longer-term business venture.”

  Royce moved forward out of the recesses, and Hadrian marveled at how easily he traversed the treacherous landscape. He glared menacingly at Arcadius and accentuated his words with a point of his finger. “Look, old man … I don’t need him for the job. I don’t want a partner, and if I were looking for one, what I’d require is someone with stealth, finesse, and some level of intelligence.”

  “I’m sure Hadrian possesses all of those qualities and others that you haven’t listed. As far as skills he doesn’t have, you’ll just have to teach him.”

  “I don’t need him.”

  “I say you do.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “It’s my payment, Royce.”

  Royce drew back his hood, revealing black hair. He was younger than Hadrian had thought, maybe five or ten years older than himself. “You promised it would be just one job. I won’t be saddled with him for life.”

  “And I’ll keep that promise.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s it? Afterward I’m through with both of you?”

  “If that’s what you wish.” Arcadius had his glasses back on and sat with his hands folded at his desk like a man who’d just laid out his cards and was happy with his bet. “Although I would hope you’d still visit from time to time.”

  “What if he dies? I can’t be responsible for his stupidity.”

  “I don’t expect you to. But I will hold you to an honest attempt-a fair treatment. You can’t set him up to fail.”

  Royce looked over at Hadrian and smiled. �
��Agreed.”

  “I don’t know what you two think you’re talking about,” Hadrian said. “I just came up here to get whatever my father had left. That business is done, so I’ll be leaving.”

  “And go where?” the professor asked. “Do you have a plan? An idea? Even a hint of what to do with the rest of your life? You wanted to know the other thing your father asked of me-your father’s dying wish.”

  “Not if you’re going to say it’s partnering up with…” Hadrian hooked his thumb at Royce.

  “Actually, yes.”

  “And you expect me to believe you?”

  “Why not? You believed everything Vivian and her boys said.” Royce resumed his earlier seat beneath the wasp nest, this time putting his feet up on a crate marked DANGEROUS: DO NOT OPEN UNTIL SPRING.

  “You’re not helping, Royce.” Arcadius leaned forward and this time peered at Hadrian over his glasses. Why he wore the things when he never looked through them was baffling. “It’s the truth. You don’t honestly think your father trained you the way he did so that you could be a Hintindar blacksmith, do you?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “That’s what he told a young boy with dreams of grandeur. The rest of the tale he was saving for later, only that boy ran away never knowing the truth.”

  “And what is the truth?”

  “You can only discover that by teaming with Royce.”

  “Or you could just tell me.”

  “If it was that easy, your father would have told you himself. This-like any real truth-must be discovered on your own. Honestly, I have no idea what your father might have told you. I do know he felt you were too optimistic, too naïve, and Royce is … well … not. At our last meeting, I spoke to him of Royce. It was Danbury’s idea-his last wish-that if I ever found his wayward son, I should introduce the two of you. I think he felt Royce could provide you with that last piece of the puzzle, the one thing he failed to give you. Consider it one last chicken test if you will, one whose lesson you might not see the virtue of just yet.” The professor stroked his beard around the edges of his mouth. “I suspect you have regrets at how you left home. Guilt perhaps. This is your chance to ease that feeling. This is the door your father left open for you. Besides, you don’t need to marry Royce-just accept this single assignment.”