“What the police are going to want to hear from you, Miss Cutler, is precisely how much you were mixed up in it all. It was your livelihood too,” Mr. Tewksbury pointed out. “You had good reason to wish Von Faber dead.”
“Nutall didn’t do it and neither did I.” Thalia took a deep breath and made herself resume her seat. If storming out would help, she would storm out gladly, but she knew it would only make things even harder. No matter what they said about Nutall, she had to control her anger. “If the police are only trying to frame Nutall, I don’t want to talk to them at all.”
“I cannot recommend that course of action,” said both lawyers in unison.
“Very well.” Ryker sounded soothing. “What course of action do you recommend? What should Miss Cutler do, since she knows that neither she nor her friend Mr. Nutall are connected in any way with Mr. Von Faber’s death?”
“Same thing we would do if she were guilty,” said Mr. Tewksbury. “We petition the court for permission to submit all Miss Cutler’s testimony in written form on the grounds it is unsafe for an immature Trader to risk a manticore attack by going out in public.”
“But the Skinner killed the manticore,” Nell protested.
“More than one recent report of a manticore means more than one manticore,” Mr. Tewksbury stated.
“No, it doesn’t,” Nell said. “Manticores do not share territory.”
“The Skinner is hunting the city on the assumption that the manticore he killed was not alone,” said Mrs. Hopkins.
Mr. Tewksbury added, “For all we know, there could be a pack.”
“That’s ridiculous. Manticores don’t run in packs. They hate each other,” Nell pointed out.
“Hearsay,” Mr. Tewksbury said crisply. “Inadmissible.”
“I believe the court will grant our petition for Miss Cutler to submit her testimony in writing. There is precedent. She is not the only person imperiled by a manticore attack. Other immature Traders could be hurt as well. It is a matter of public safety that Miss Cutler not leave these premises.” Mrs. Hopkins added, “Written testimony isn’t subject to emotional outbursts in court.”
Until now, Thalia had been doing her best to control any emotional outbursts, but now she protested. “I can’t stay here. I have to talk to Nutall.”
“You couldn’t speak with Nutall directly, even if you were already in control of your Trades. Nutall is lucky to be out on bail at all,” said Mr. Tewksbury. “He’s not leaving the Sylvestri embassy, and you’re certainly going nowhere.”
“You can write to Nutall,” Nell suggested. “Or is it possible he might write to you first?”
“Be advised that anything you write to Nutall will be read by everyone who touches it, including the entire embassy staff,” said Mr. Tewksbury. “Don’t get fancy.”
“We need to use our time wisely. Rather than taking the time to confer directly with Mr. Nutall, which the police are bound to consider suspicious behavior, instead we will focus on offering the police a better suspect. Take a closer look at the list of witnesses,” Mrs. Hopkins advised. “Everyone on that list was there the night before the incident. Do any of them have the kind of special knowledge of stage-magic props that Mr. Nutall does?”
Thalia looked at the list again. Each name had the person’s occupation after it. She recognized only two of the names, Anton Ostrova, listed as shopkeeper, who had been visiting friends backstage, and Nora Uberti, who, as Von Faber’s assistant, was obliged to be there. Before she said as much, Thalia considered. Both of them would know how the muzzle-loader worked in theory, but would either one know exactly how to rig it to misfire?
Anton Ostrova’s name on the list was a surprise. Madame Ostrova would be livid with him. If Thalia gave the police reason to take a closer look at him as a suspect, Madame Ostrova would be livid with her.
Nutall had told her that Nora Uberti styled herself Mrs. Von Faber. If the photogravure of the Mrs. Von Faber who had offered a reward in the Solitaire newspapers could be trusted, she was even older than Von Faber himself. If not the original Mrs. Von Faber, she was certainly a far earlier edition.
Thalia picked her words with care. “Could you find out more about Nora Uberti? She called herself Mrs. Von Faber, but I think Von Faber must have lied to her. Certainly, he lied to everyone else he ever met.”
“We can do some research on her, Miss Cutler.” Mrs. Hopkins made a note.
“Now we come to the matter of exactly what you are to tell the police when they next come to speak to you.” Mr. Tewksbury gave Thalia a very hard stare over his slice of cake. “You may tell them your name.”
“They know her name, Aurelio,” Mrs. Hopkins reminded him. “They also know she was foolish enough to let Mr. Nutall give their false names to the police at the Imperial that night.”
“Why on earth did you do such a silly thing?” Mr. Tewksbury demanded. “Your rival was dead. Your career was assured.”
“I was wearing my landlady’s sister’s hat,” Thalia explained. “Even if I had been willing to admit that I’d gone to the theater to see a rival stage magician, which I was not and never would be, I couldn’t let anyone recognize me while I was wearing that hat.”
“I quite understand, Miss Cutler.” Mrs. Hopkins made another note. “Now, Aurelio, precisely what should Miss Cutler say? More to the point, what mustn’t she say under any circumstances?”
There followed a lengthy conversation between Mrs. Hopkins and Mr. Tewksbury in which they cited legal precedents at each other in both Trader and Solitaire common law. Thalia had some difficulty following it all. She did her best, for she had no intention of letting them place blame on Nutall to help her case. If she were driven to it, she would tell them about Anton’s association with stage magic. Madame Ostrova’s approval wasn’t worth her life or Nutall’s.
Thalia kept her attention focused on the threat to Nutall and to her all the while the legal jargon washed over her. In the end, the lawyers gave Thalia permission to confirm that her name was spelled correctly, but otherwise she was to say as little as possible and admit nothing.
Chapter Eleven
In the end, good legal representation won the day. When Inspector Ottokar returned, this time with Officer Kelly and several others in tow, their interview with Thalia took place in the front parlor with Ryker, Nell, Mr. Tewksbury, and Mrs. Hopkins in attendance. In the exceptional circumstances, Thalia was granted permission to remain in the custody of the Ryker family, given her delicate situation with regard to manticore attack.
In the statement Thalia gave the police, she admitted that she had allowed Nutall to give the police false names at the Imperial Theater the night Von Faber died. She asserted that she did so to protect her professional identity as a stage magician. Under questioning, she admitted that Von Faber’s noncompete clause had caused her to lose work.
“If I were you,” Thalia told Inspector Ottokar, “I’d question Mr. Cadwallader. He owns the syndicate. Von Faber must have had some information that Mr. Cadwallader didn’t want to come out, or why would he consent to that stupid noncompete clause?”
“Strike that from the statement,” Mrs. Hopkins told the police stenographer. “Miss Cutler, that is hearsay. You must limit your statement to facts, such as your name and birth date.”
“It’s a fact that Nutall is innocent and so am I,” Thalia stated. “He couldn’t kill anyone, not even Von Faber.”
“This interview is at an end,” Mr. Tewksbury announced. “Inspector, you have all you need to proceed with the investigation.”
The police stenographer finished his notes and closed his notebook. The policemen made ready to leave.
“Miss Cutler,” said Inspector Ottokar. “I have two pieces of advice for you. One. Remain here in the Ryker household, safe from theoretical manticores. If you do that, I won’t need to arrest you. Two. Stay away from Mr. Nutall. Even if you’re right about him, even if he’s innocent, he’s still Sylvestri. No one, Solitaire or Trader, can ever
really know what a Sylvestri thinks.”
Thalia scowled at Ottokar but held her tongue. She stayed in her chair while the policemen and the lawyers took their leave. The front parlor was far from her favorite room in the Ryker house, but she wanted a moment of peace to gather herself after the interrogation.
Before Thalia had a chance to do so, Ryker joined her. “I’ve seen our police visitors off the premises.” He took the chair nearest hers. Thalia waited for him to speak, as she felt certain he was about to come out with an order or a lecture or a piece of advice. To her surprise, Ryker sat quietly and said nothing. The silence between them was easy, almost companionable. Thalia didn’t want to break it. Fifteen minutes passed, and Thalia grew calm. She remembered something she’d meant to tell Ryker.
“You took care of my doves.” Thalia added, “My snake, too. Thank you.”
Ryker regarded Thalia with surprise. “You’re welcome?”
“I thought you Traders don’t like animals.”
“We Traders do like animals. It’s true we aren’t as likely to keep a pet as Solitaires are. We have a different relationship to animals, that’s all, since we know we are animals ourselves.”
Thalia knew she must sound stiffly formal, but she spoke anyway. Owing Ryker even this additional small favor made her uncomfortable. “You didn’t have to feed them and clean up after them yourself.”
“Didn’t I?” Ryker was smiling faintly. “I don’t order my servants to do something just because I dislike doing it myself.”
“No?” Thalia found herself smiling back. “Then you’re the only one in the world who doesn’t.”
“You have a distorted idea of Trader behavior.”
“Not just Traders, anybody.” Thalia repeated herself, this time with genuine gratitude: “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Ryker’s smile was wider and warmer. “I won’t say ‘any time,’ since doves are messy and your snake is indifferent to me. But you are welcome, all the same.”
“It was nice of you.”
“I wish you weren’t quite so surprised by that,” Ryker said. “When have I not been nice to you?”
Thalia widened her eyes at him reproachfully. “When you as much as told me I was a fallen woman because I work in show business. Oh, how about when you criticized my piano playing?”
“Clearly, I was wrong about your character.” Somehow Ryker’s face went a darker shade of pink than usual. “I thought we’d put that misunderstanding behind us.”
Thalia pressed on. “And my piano playing?”
Even the tips of Ryker’s ears were blushing red now. “Do you think I waste my breath advising people who have no musical ability whatsoever? Your playing, surprisingly, isn’t hopeless. I offer constructive criticism.”
For the first time, Thalia noticed that when Ryker said things like that as he refused to meet her gaze, he was actually smiling. Was it possible he thought he was joking with her? Thalia considered the implications. Ryker liked her. Given the fact that she had been smiling at him while they discussed his abominable behavior, it was possible she might like Ryker.
This idea startled Thalia into silence. Dealing with Ryker as an adversary was a challenge. Liking Ryker had the potential to be a significant distraction. She was still trying to take in the possibilities when Rogers the butler entered to ask his employer a question.
Thalia excused herself and returned to the nursery. Before she could give this development her full consideration, she had more urgent work to do.
* * *
Thalia sat at the nursery writing desk, paper and pen before her. She couldn’t leave the Ryker mansion, and Nutall couldn’t leave the Sylvestri embassy. The embassy had no telephone, Nell had informed Thalia after some research. To send Nutall a telegram would be possible, but to put her thoughts into words that would fit on a telegraph form impossible. She had no real alternative. Thalia would have to write Nutall a letter.
David Nutall had been Thalia’s mentor long before Thalia’s father had died. Her father had shared a deep friendship with Nutall. On her father’s death, Thalia might well have been left on the streets. Her best fate, as an underaged orphan with no family, would have been an orphanage. Nutall had never even mentioned such a choice.
As far as Nutall was concerned, Thalia had inherited her father’s talent, her father’s props, and Nutall as her stage manager. They had worked hard to create the Lady of the Lake act. Thalia had invented the trick in which she appeared to transform a large stick into a snake, but it was Nutall who had purchased the doves and painstakingly trained them, even as he trained Thalia in how to use them.
By rights, Thalia told herself, she should be onstage this very evening. Nutall should be there with her. It was all Von Faber’s fault that Nutall was in trouble. It was all Von Faber’s fault she was out of work. It was all Von Faber’s fault that he had been so beastly to so many people that the police couldn’t pick the person who had really killed him out of his crowd of enemies. Her anger and her loneliness pushed Thalia close to tears.
It took a little while for Thalia to recover her equilibrium. No telling how many people would read this letter before Nutall did. When she was calm, Thalia dipped the pen in the inkwell and wrote.
Dear Nutall,
I know you are innocent. You would never kill anybody, not even Von Faber.
It turns out that I am a Trader. This disagrees with what Professor Evans said, but as he is only a professor of literature, I suppose I should have known to question his opinion.
It turns out that you are Sylvestri, and you didn’t tell me. I would have liked to know that. But I guess you couldn’t trust me. Did my father know? I’ll bet he did.
I can’t come visit you yet, because I can’t control my Trades. I will learn how to do that as soon as I can. When I see you, you had better be ready to tell me the truth. I want to know why you think I can’t be trusted to know things. Are there any other questions I should ask you? I will make a list.
I wrote to you when I first came to stay with the Rykers but that letter got returned to me. There was a manticore. That’s why I had to move in with the Rykers. The doves are fine. I think the snake is fine too. It is hard to tell.
Sincerely,
Your friend,
Thalia Cutler
When the ink was dry, Thalia folded the sheet of writing paper and put it in an envelope. There was wax to seal it with. Thalia was mildly surprised there was a candle and matches to melt the wax with. She had the impression that people who lived in a nursery were not ordinarily given an easy way to make a fire. Apparently the Rykers trusted her with a box of their matches. Thalia thought it over and decided that when it came to such household items, she must be at least as reliable as Nell.
Thalia simply addressed the envelope to Mr. David Nutall in care of the Dakota, which was the Sylvestri embassy in New York City.
The Dakota were only one of the many tribes in the Federation of First Nations, but they owned the stately building on the west side of Central Park. The Sylvestri among the First Nations had worked together with the Sylvestri of every other ancestry to implement the treaties signed with Solitaires and Traders. The Federation of First Nations controlled much of the western half of the continent, and no one traveled overland without letters of transit issued by the Sylvestri of the First Nations.
Thalia thought about ringing for a servant and trusting that the letter would be sent on her order. Better to find Nell, Thalia decided, and ask her to make sure the letter was sent.
Thalia stepped into the hall and found herself face-to-face with Rogers the butler, who not only held a shotgun but was aiming it at her. As she took in the betrayal, Thalia’s hands went ice cold with pins and needles.
“Just following orders, Miss Cutler. Nothing personal,” said Rogers.
In the fraction of a second that followed, Thalia Traded. As a swan, she threw herself hissing into Rogers’ face, wings beating, doing all she could to kill him where
he stood.
The shotgun went off, but Thalia’s attack had spoiled Rogers’ aim. The noise seemed thunderous to her, but Thalia felt no pain, no scatter of buckshot.
Rogers had fired a blank shotgun cartridge, a distant part of Thalia’s mind realized. That bit of good news did nothing to abate her swan fury. Thalia let the instinct to attack run free. She was hissing and striking with her beak even as her wings punished Rogers. He dropped the shotgun and scrambled away from her, fleeing down the back hallway to vanish behind the door to the servants’ quarters.
Thalia remained poised in the center of the hallway. There was no room to fly properly, but although her fear was ebbing, plenty of fight remained. Ready to meet another attack, she held her ground.
From a spot halfway up the staircase, Nell called down. “It’s all right, Thalia. Don’t blame him. It was all my idea. Rogers would never hurt you.”
Thalia hissed to show what she thought of that and waddled back to stand over the abandoned shotgun.
Ryker and half the rest of the household came running. Rogers emerged cautiously and took shelter among them. Ryker adjusted his spectacles. “Nell, what have you done?”
“What needed to be done.” Nell descended a few more stairs and addressed Thalia again. “You can Trade back any time. Just try.”
Thalia’s instincts told her to spread her wings and hiss at Nell again, so she did. Nell went back up the stairs two hasty steps. The swan in Thalia’s nature felt fierce satisfaction.
As both her swan and her human halves calmed, Thalia was better able to distinguish the two. Thalia’s swan was always there, she realized, waiting inside her for a chance to hiss and strike at the threats that filled the world around her. Thalia let her human understanding that she was safe and among friends soothe the swan within. The swan, little by little, calmed down.
When Thalia reached the point where the need to groom her feathers became irresistible, she let her guard drop completely and yielded to the urge.
The Glass Magician Page 15
