by Dave Duncan
“May I assist?” Grand Master inquired, joining the meeting. “I have every confidence in Sir Wolf and will be happy to countersign his notes, if you wish. Then, even if His Majesty refuses payment, you can collect from me.” He sat down and added his signet and signature.
That was good enough for the farmers and men-at-arms. They all knew of the great Lord Roland, both by reputation and now personally. With his help Wolf went on to buy earrings, bracelets, jeweled pins, necklaces, gem-studded sandals, labrets, ornate belts, deer, bees, monsters, birds, chains, bells, daggers, headdresses, cloak pins, and odd symmetrical plugs he was told had been extracted from noses. Steadily the pile grew. Gold and silver were easy to value by weight. For jade, crystal, turquoise, feather-work, and so on, he just set a price in consultation with Grand Master, refusing to haggle but trying to be generous without drawing the noose any tighter around his neck than it was already. He was convinced that he was doing his duty, yet he could almost feel the rough hemp against his skin. His authority did not extend to ransoming stolen property, for that was itself a felony, so there was a chance that Athelgar would simply seize the loot as his by right and charge Wolf with embezzlement of crown funds. He would enjoy doing that. It might even amuse him to leave Grand Master to pay the tally, but that was unlikely, because every Blade in the country except the Guard itself would rise against him. Still, Roland was taking a risk in helping Wolf, and they both knew it.
Eventually the flow of loot slackened. Some latecomers admitted that they had already smuggled their booty out of the castle, so Wolf promised them time to recover it and turn it in. Only after they had gone was he left alone with Grand Master and able to thank him.
Roland stood up, chuckling. “I don’t think you’re taking much of a risk, brother.”
“I am guessing at the purity, remember.”
“You have usually proved to be a very sound guesser, Wolf! Let’s talk later.” His smile implied after your assistant has gone to bed.
He strolled back to the hearth to resume his previous conversation with Hogwood. Wolf demanded a stout satchel and manhandled his loot upstairs, wondering what those two were discussing so earnestly.
5
Refusing Grand Master’s offer of the baronial bedchamber, Wolf had selected a room in the attic. It was a poky cubicle, so small that the door opened outward like a cupboard’s, and it held only a cot, a chair, and a clothes hamper, but the chair was much more comfortable than the lumpy bed, a strong hint that this was a Blade’s lair. In the basket he found some items he recognized as Lynx’s.
He poked up the fire and settled down to make an inventory of the booty he had just incurred for the royal treasury. The total cost came to a staggering thirty thousand crowns. The greatest part of that had been spent on actual bullion and he was gambling on his childhood experience in the mines, which made him fairly certain that the foreigners’ gold was very close to pure metal, twenty-four carats. King Athelgar’s coinage was not, for he had been debasing it, as the Guard knew, even if Parliament had not yet caught on. That meant that the beloved monarch could clear a profit of at least a hundred percent just by melting down the entire heap and coining it. Wolf considered that prospect the downside of an otherwise enjoyable evening’s work.
The mystery of Celeste’s abduction now seemed even deeper, for her jewelry had certainly not been the motive. What sort of raiding party came to battle dressed like a king’s court? Even Baelish pirates, who loved to flaunt their ill-gotten finery, never risked it in actual combat.
Before morning he must complete yet another report, but what in the world could it say? And what could he do next? He was certain that the answers were not going to be found there at Quondam. Having seen the awful place, he could even find it in him to pity Celeste, imprisoned there for the crime of conceiving a child no one wanted—likely not even she at first, although Lynx had insisted she had mourned it as any mother would. Rescuing her from this captivity had cost the lives of almost ninety men, women, and boys.
Why?
The question waited for an answer.
Other people came upstairs and closed their doors and the attic grew quiet again. His accounts completed, he stoked up the fire and struggled down the ladder with his precious satchel. He found Grand Master still fully dressed, leaning back against piled cushions on the big bed, but he came alert at once.
“Make yourself at home, brother. Leave your cloak and dagger on the table and poke up the fire.”
“I want to add my loot to yours,” Wolf said. He did so and double-locked the chest with a golden key, a conjury only inquisitors were supposed to possess. He declined Grand Master’s offer of refreshment, and the two of them settled before the hearth with the air of men getting down to business.
“I did not wish to gossip in front of the inquisitor,” Roland said, showing anxiety he had concealed formerly, “but tell me truly how Ironhall fares. Rituals is coping, you said, but how about the rest?”
“I think he may have rubbed some fur the wrong way.”
Grand Master smiled. “Very likely. Most of them are terrified by novelty. He is not, and I wanted him to have a free hand to work on the wounded. But I should dearly like to return to my post and smooth that fur, Wolf, as soon as the fog lifts.”
Wolf was horrified to hear the head of his Order pleading with him. “Of course! I will send an escort with you.”
“I’m sure Tam will suffice. Thank you. Now, brother, a question. This is only old man’s nosiness, I fear, but your companion puzzles me. Did you choose her?”
Wolf laughed at the thought of a Blade having carnal designs on an inquisitor. “I thought she was a boy.”
Lord Roland shook his head, frowning. “Then what are Grand Inquisitor thinking of, sending a child on a man’s job? They must have dozens of experienced agents who could have kept up with you on the journey. If she bungles the investigation, His Majesty will be much displeased.”
“It puzzles me, too. She claims to have a doctorate in conjury, but I expect the snoops are up to something underhand, as usual.”
“Now, now!” Grand Master waggled a finger. “They will have their reasons. Inquisitors spy excessively on the innocent, but they serve the same king we do, if in different ways. Once in a while they may satisfy what they see as His Majesty’s needs rather than his expressed wishes, so the royal hands are not soiled.”
“As in the case of Lord Musthorpe?” Musthorpe had been another Thencaster suspect, but had succumbed to a very convenient fever before the warrant for his arrest could be delivered. The Guard was convinced the Dark Chamber had poisoned him.
Grand Master shot Wolf a dark glance. “There are such things as coincidences.” He could have pointed out that the Musthorpe’s death had been so ambiguous that his Blades had eventually recovered from their bereavement, which was more than could be said of those the King’s Killer had taken off the roll. “I want to tell you two things, Wolf. Firstly, I sent an appeal for help to Mother Fire Rose, prioress of the White Sisters at Lomouth. You know the lady?”
“No, Grand Master.”
“Do not be deceived by her homely manner. She has a mind like a rapier. But she is old now and will probably send someone else.”
“The cat-man was obviously conjured. What else do you suspect? His medallion?”
Grand Master took up the tongs and jabbed idly at the fire. “I’d be interested to hear the worthy Sisters’ opinion of that, but not at all surprised if they fail to find any conjuration on it. Which brings me to the second thing. I kept secrets from you and the inquisitor, which was a foolish old man’s whim. I will confess to you and trust your discretion.”
Here came the golden labret. “That won’t be—”
“No, please! I should have told you right away. My motives were very trivial. There is no evil secret behind this. It was just that all my life I have refused to involve my family in affairs of state, and I balked at doing so today, stupidly. The person I was shielding wa
s my son.”
“Oh?” Wolf had never heard him mention his family before.
“Andy was for many years a sailor, eventually master of his own ship, a trader and explorer of some renown. He always brought back mementos from his travels, and after one voyage he presented his mother with a jade figurine of a somewhat sinister-looking cat. He gave me a labret of gold, depicting a fanged serpent—with an explanation of what it was, of course, and the joking suggestion that I start a new fashion around court by having my lip pierced. Being a loving and dutiful son, you see. Can you imagine what old Ambrose would have said? Both trinkets came from wherever your invaders came from, for they show the same artistic style.”
“So the next question is—”
“Where did he acquire it? Somewhere in that newfound world they call the Hence Lands. Exactly where I cannot recall, for he had many tales and it was long ago. Andy’s only a farmer now. He lives in my old house, Ivywalls, just west of Grandon. If you wish to consult him, then I am certain he will eagerly provide what help he can.” Grand Master glanced at his guest, and some trick of the light on his gaunt features cruelly emphasized the age he so rarely showed. “I did not mention him earlier because the Dark Chamber will—”
“Hassle him mercilessly, of course.”
“Exactly. And, knowing Andy, I am sure he will react badly if he is not forewarned. At times he displays a streak of orneriness he claims to have inherited from one of his parents.”
Suddenly Wolf had a lead, a light to follow, and his way ahead was clear. “I must return to Grandon very soon—to see tonight’s haul of loot delivered safely, if nothing else. Also, I am sure there are no more answers here in Quondam. I do not think your son can be kept out of the matter entirely, but I promise I will not mention him to Hogwood until I have had a chance to speak to him myself.”
“Then I am much in your debt, Wolf. Truly I am! I will give you a note of introduction. Once the situation has been explained to him, Andy will gladly help you track down these vicious killers.”
“I do not see he need appear in the affair at all,” Wolf said.
“Ah, but there is more.” Grand Master sighed. “My wife was much attracted to the figurine, but she took a virulent dislike to the labret. She was a White Sister and not given to strange fancies. Although she could detect no trace of spirituality on my little snake head, she would not have it in the house. I took it to my chambers in Greymere, locked it away, and forgot all about it until after I left office. It is presently in Ironhall. I will be happy to let you have it, if you see the need. I am sorry I kept this tale from you.”
Wolf squared mental shoulders and said, “I am sorry for not being quite open with you either. Ironhall is so crowded that Sir Intrepid insisted on billeting me in your chamber last night. I saw your serpent.”
Grand Master laughed with no trace of resentment. “As I tell the juniors, honesty is always the best policy! I thank you for not unmasking me before the inquisitor.”
“It never occurred to me to.”
Knowing that the abduction of Amy Sprat had been effected by men from the far side of the western ocean made the matter more mysterious, not less. Wolf said, “Make one more confession, Grand Master. Have you any notion, any wild wisp of a theory, to explain why these men should sail halfway around the world to this castle merely to abduct Baroness Celeste? At this time of year?”
Roland shook his head and went back to staring into the fire. “Not an inkling. It is incomprehensible. They must have traveled for months. Andy spoke once of seeing naturales in large canoes on rivers, but they have no seagoing craft, so far as I know. His Majesty has chosen you to solve one of the greatest mysteries of the age. He chose wisely, I believe.”
“You never used to flatter.”
Grand Master sighed. “You never needed it before. Now you need all the support you can get.”
They sat and talked of lesser things until a sudden collapse of the fire warned Wolf that he had lingered too long, because his host needed sleep, even if he did not. He thanked Grand Master again for all his help and set off up the ladder to his garret. He had not bothered to bring a lantern down with him, but he had left the door ajar to let firelight guide him home.
Someone had closed it, and not the wind, because he had propped it with the chair.
Royal guardsmen went armed with a sword only. Standard livery did not include a parrying dagger, any more than it included plate mail, and the average Blade never bothered to wear one unless he was expecting trouble. Nobody picked fights with Blades! Wolf was an exception. He always carried a poniard at his belt and Sir Vicious had never told him to get rid of it, although he had blasted a couple of juniors who had tried to copy his example. Wolf also kept a stiletto in his sleeve, but no one knew about that.
Now he drew both dagger and Diligence. He took a very long time to raise the latch, and even longer to ease the door back far enough to peer in with even one eye. At that point he sheathed his blades and opened the door the rest of the way, faster but still silently.
The chair stood by the dying fire, and the person sprawled in it was Dolores Hogwood, apparently fast asleep. She was slender, but no one would mistake her for a boy now, and a man would have to be very greedy to complain about her figure. Her flowered robe had fallen open to reveal a shapely leg in its entirety, which hardly mattered because the silk was sheer enough to give him an excellent view of the rest of her as well. Very rich ladies might possess such gauzy, provocative garments, but normally they were only seen in brothels. Why would an inquisitor bring such a thing along on a mission to a wilderness like Whinmoor?
Oh, spirits, he was tempted! It had been a very long time since he had been alone with a pretty girl. Whenever he did find a woman who could tolerate his nightmare face, inevitably someone would soon mention his tally of dead friends—to her or her mother—and that always ended any hint of romance. Hogwood was not merely pretty, she was young, nubile, and gorgeous. She was clearly very much available. He was extremely tempted to provide what she had obviously come looking for.
He was even more tempted to pick her up bodily and hurl her out into the corridor.
He took several deep breaths to bring his mangled emotions under control. Then he quietly collected his baggage and tiptoed across the corridor to Hogwood’s room. He gathered up her things—she was a lot less tidy than he was—and took them back to where she slept. When he left, he used his golden key to bolt the door behind him. It felt like a very stupid decision, but he was already a mass murderer. He had no wish to be a convicted rapist also. If the Dark Chamber wanted revenge for the death of Inquisitor Schlutter, it would have to be more subtle than that.
6
Wolf ran into his seductive assistant in the hall at dawn. She favored him with a full inquisitorial dead-fish stare, which was not just a way to intimidate witnesses; it could also be used to mask emotion. She should have been blushing a screaming scarlet. He suspected that he was, and tried to look angry.
“Grand Master is almost ready to leave. Have you anything to send with him?”
“No, Sir Wolf.”
That was a relief. If she planned to accuse Lord Roland of withholding information, she was not yet ready to commit her beliefs to paper. Or she did not trust him to deliver the report, perhaps.
Out in the bailey a full spring day was getting itself organized, complete with sunshine and birdsong—just strident gulls and terns, admittedly, but better than nothing. Water was dripping everywhere and the mud was ankle deep already. Grand Master and Tam duly departed, taking with them three cat’s-eye swords.
Wolf located Sir Alden in the stable, grooming his horse. “We must dispose of the bodies.” We meaning you.
The old warrior rested an arm on the horse’s croup and regarded him without enthusiasm. “Throw ’em in the sea?”
“The King won’t want corpses washing up all along his coasts.”
“We’re short of firewood. If weather turns bad again, we�
�re like to freeze.”
“I understand the floors in the Great Tower are unsafe?”
Alden waited a beat before nodding. “Baron won’t like it.”
“The Baron is past caring and we cannot tolerate fifty rotting carcasses. Use whatever fuel you have on hand to burn them and treat the floors as your emergency store. So ordered in the King’s name, if that’s how you want it.”
For the first time Alden ventured a smile. “Aye, Your Majesty.”
Wolf ordered the two sample bodies moved to the icehouse as Grand Master had suggested, and then began making a gruesome inventory of the others as each in turn was carried out—guessing at ages, noting war paint, clothes, body piercings, and so on. They might have dressed like fops, they might be uglies by Chivian standards, but they were an impressive collection of brawn. All were men in their prime with the right callouses for warriors, but curiously few scars. His study had no real purpose. Mostly he just did not know what to do next. He was a swordsman, not an inquisitor.
He had assumed that Hogwood was working her way through the castle, questioning every witness in turn to make sure they were hiding nothing—a procedure likely to be as futile as what he was doing. Not so! When about half the bodies had been loaded on to the wagon that served as hearse, he was startled to see his black-robed assistant disappearing out the postern gate. He caught up with her as she neared the top of the cliff. She was walking blind, her attention entirely on something she held cupped in both hands.
“Fine morning for a stroll,” he remarked. “Mind telling me what you’re doing?”
She did not look up. “An extreme longshot, Sir Wolf. I have a tracker and I am following the Baroness’s trail. It is faint, but I seem to be obtaining consistent results.”
She was walking in the muddy track the raiders had left on what Grand Master had called the main shore road. Wolf had watched conjured tracking before, once even trailing a fugitive who had fled by boat, but this particular scent was more than five days old.
