Kuro was unable to truly appreciate the majesty of the chateau, however, as a wolf prowling outside the main doors pulled his attention away from the soaring architecture. The beast stopped sniffing the ground at their approach and fixed Kuro with its golden eyes.
“Hi, Garmr,” grumbled Kuro as Flint pushed him into the residence.
Talen Dubois’s familiar lifted its chin, as if to nod a greeting to Kuro, and went back to cataloguing the various smells outside the chateau.
The interior was ridiculously ornate. Kuro couldn’t imagine who would have had enough time to paint all the paintings and sculpt all the sculptures. The soaring arched ceilings were covered with stunning murals depicting scenes of nymphs dancing in the sun. Every surface was crafted by a master’s hand and adorned with mosaics and marble statues. Chandeliers and candelabras of crystal and gold crowded the hallways, filling them with a bright, scintillating light. Even the air felt decorated, with scents of lilies, jasmine, and lavender taking turns in his nostrils.
It was beautiful, but useless. People were supposed to live there, but there wasn’t anywhere he could see to do any living. All of Autumn Lodge could nearly fit in the entryway, and yet there wasn’t a single place to sit or a safe place to play. Kuro couldn’t figure out the point of it all.
He was ushered onto a grand sweeping staircase whose steps began to move him upward the moment he was on it. It seemed the residents of the chateau were too rich to have to exert themselves with anything so pedestrian as climbing stairs.
At the end of yet another corridor full of endless art, Kuro was greeted by a pair of Hounds who were standing, bored, outside a room. One was a surly and grizzled woman who grunted at him. The other was chipper and friendly, and Kuro distrusted him immediately. “Go on in, Kuro, the boss is waiting.” Kuro didn’t like Hounds, but friendly ones were the worst. It was like a dragon being cordial to sheep.
Flint abandoned Kuro at that point, retreating from the Hounds and leaving Kuro to his fate.
There was a lot to take in upon entering the room. First was the sheer size of it. Based on the furnishings, it could only be a student’s bedroom, but it was twice the size of the one Kuro shared with Arthur. There was a desk for studying, a dressing table, and a writing desk. The bed was big enough for two adults to sleep comfortably, and there was a wardrobe big enough to fit the bed inside.
All that space and furnishing, though, was just fuel for the disaster the room had been turned into. The wardrobe was emptied onto the floor and every drawer upended, their contents spilled out across the room. The duvet, mattress, and pillow had been torn open, coating the room in fluffy white down.
The familiars of the two Hounds were meticulously sniffing their way through the room. One was a long, grey, tightly muscled creature that moved with methodic efficiency. The other looked more like an enthusiastic mop as it bounded around the room, wagging its tail and stirring up the feathers so that they got in Kuro’s mouth and nose.
Kuro did his best to ignore and remain ignored by the two human occupants of the room, but that proved impossible.
“What is he doing here?” screeched Evelyn. She stood at the centre of the destroyed room as if at the eye of a hurricane, perfectly polished and untouched by the devastation around her.
“You accused him of being the burglar,” replied Talen Dubois. He leaned against one of the posts of the bed frame, his long green uniform coat unbuttoned. “I brought him in for questioning.”
“I do not see how that means he should be allowed in my bedchamber.”
“According to your report, Lady Lemieux, he has already been in your bedchamber.” Dubois managed to sound respectful yet condescending at the same time. “And it can be informative to have a suspect revisit the scene of a crime.”
“Suspect?” Evelyn huffed. “He is the culprit for certain. He should be already in chains.”
“And your evidence against him?” Dubois pulled out a notebook and pen from deep in a large satchel he carried over one shoulder. “For the official record, Demoiselle Lemieux.”
“He is a thief. Everyone knows it.”
Dubois wrote dutifully but added his own thoughts. “He is certainly a thief, but that is unfortunately insufficient evidence to be certain that he is the thief. Have you anything else?”
“It is a clear act of vengeance. He is jealous of my royal bearing and was terribly shamed at the feast.”
Dubois looked to Kuro for a response. “I don’t,” Kuro choked halfway through answering. The little dog had just stirred up a bunch of down, and he had inhaled a mouthful, which tasted of salt, soap, and seaweed. The flurry of feathers didn’t bother the other two as they were too tall for the feathers to reach their faces. “I don’t remember tha,” he said as he tried to spit them out.
“He was called a barbarian, a thief, and a scoundrel,” Evelyn said, as though they were the gravest of insults, “and was seen to be uncouth and uncultured in front of several members of the noblesse.”
Dubois raised an eyebrow and tapped his pen, awaiting Kuro’s reply.
Kuro was picking the remaining feathers off his tongue by hand. “Yeah,” he agreed around his extended tongue. “That’s all true. It didn’t bother me, though.”
That infuriated Evelyn beyond words and allowed Dubois some time to interrogate Kuro. “Can you account for your whereabouts last night between the hours of seven p.m. and midnight?”
“At the festival, same as everyone.” Kuro scowled up at the smug face of the Hound.
“And can someone vouch for your presence for every moment of the festival?” Dubois asked.
“No,” Kuro admitted. “Probably not. I danced with a lot of people.”
Evelyn clapped as though a steel trap had been shut.
Dubois was not as convinced. “Troublesome,” he said, continuing to scribble notes diligently. “And yourself, Demoiselle, could you have anyone account for your whereabouts the entire evening?”
Evelyn’s red face and extended silence answered the question for her.
“But that is the nature of the festival. I doubt there’s a student in the school who has a reliable alibi for the entire event.” Dubois sighed in frustration. “It will make establishing a case against the accused more difficult.”
“You’re not going to arrest him?” Evelyn’s voice cracked as she realized what Dubois was saying.
“I’m sorry to say, Demoiselle Lemieux, that there is insufficient evidence at this time to make an arrest.” Dubois shut his notebook. “Rest assured that the Royal Guard will take your testimony fully into account and will investigate with all resources available.”
“But—” Evelyn started to interrupt.
“It would reflect poorly on everyone involved if Mr. Hayashi, here, was arrested inappropriately. Especially as there is a history of this student being falsely accused at the school. If there’s nothing else, milady?” Dubois offered, then continued when Evelyn failed to speak. “Then I will escort Mr. Hayashi out. I’m sure you’d agree he shouldn’t be allowed unsupervised access to the chateau grounds.”
Evelyn waved them off imperiously.
Kuro did not need any encouragement to leave. He stomped out, covered head to toe in feathers and trailing more behind him, a fact that wasn’t lost on the servant they passed in the hall, pushing a cart full of fresh bedding and cleaning implements. He was the same pale man with thinning hair and tired eyes who had served Evelyn’s table at the feast.
His gaze fell on Kuro and conveyed the sense that he was personally responsible for all the woes of the servant. Given the events of the past day, Kuro couldn’t blame him.
Dubois breezed past him, but Kuro stopped to apologize for the mess.
“Très bien, monsieur” was the servant’s only response.
Garmr joined them as they left the building, moving in to flank Kuro and block paths of escape.
Kuro noticed the wolf but paid little mind. He wa
s puzzling over everything that had just happened. It didn’t make sense.
Once clear of the gates, Dubois prodded Kuro. “So, what do you think?”
Kuro’s suspicion of the Hound snapped into focus. “Why are you here?”
Dubois shrugged. “I’m investigating a series of unexplained burglaries, normal business for the Guard.”
“But why are you here?” Kuro repeated. “You’re the head of the Hounds. Those two sniffers could have done it without you.”
“As the knight commander of the Canine Unit of the Royal Guard,” Dubois corrected, puffing himself up and walking like a proper guardsman, “I am often called on in cases where nobility has been targeted.” Kuro stared at the Hound until he returned to his usual loping, predatory gait. “Also, I’m the one who first arrested you. You’re my case.”
“I didn’t do it,” Kuro grumbled at the Hound.
“Convince me,” Dubois growled.
“It’s all wrong,” replied Kuro. “I would have come through the window, and I couldn’t have locked it behind me when I left. Also, I never made a mess when I robbed a place. Most people never knew I’d been there. Also, the stuff that’s been taken is worthless. There are lots of better valuables left behind. And the mess is the same no matter what they take, whether it was hidden or not. It doesn’t look like a burglary at all.”
“What does it look like to you then?” A sly grin crept across Dubois’s mouth.
“You want me to be a snitch for you?” Kuro clammed up immediately.
“Not at all.” Dubois laughed unconvincingly. “I don’t need another informant. Besides, that would require you to know something.”
“If you knew I was innocent, why did you drag me all the way out here without breakfast?”
“I didn’t know,” Dubois defended. “I suspected.”
“And now everyone will think I’m guilty, being talked to by the Hounds.”
“Everyone already thinks you’re guilty,” replied Dubois. “Being questioned and then released will go a long way to throwing water on that fire.”
“So, this was some kind of favour?” Kuro was skeptical.
“The Royal Guard does not do favours. We are impartial arbiters of the laws of the Confederation.” He said the lie as though reading off a plaque. “Chasing you is a waste of everyone’s time. Besides, you may have given me some valuable information that we had overlooked.”
Kuro was annoyed that he might have helped the Hound. “What’s that?”
“The window was locked.”
Fourteen
Smoke and Mirrors
“Were you really arrested by Knight Commander Talen Dubois?” That was the first through fifth question from Kuro’s classmates.
He’d arrived early to class because he was already in the Spring Quarter and didn’t have enough time to get to Autumn and back before school started. Evidently word had travelled very quickly, and everyone knew some version of the events that morning.
He had to re-explain the truth of it over and over until his friends arrived to rescue him. It didn’t stop the questions, but Charlie enthusiastically took it upon herself to speak on Kuro’s behalf while he scarfed down some cinnamon radish bagels that Marie had been thoughtful enough to bring for him. They tasted weird at the best of times but were particularly odd with the foul taste of the pillow stuffing still lingering in his mouth.
Charlie’s version was better anyway. In it, Kuro had been summoned as a consultant due to his expertise in theft and had been promised a medal if he caught the burglar.
The eventual arrival of Evelyn stopped the demands on him, as all attention turned to her accounting of the burglary. She, unlike Kuro, was not covered in feathers and had eaten a proper breakfast before coming to school. In the time that had taken, she had decided Kuro was not the culprit. In fact, she explained that she had never believed him to be as it would take a much more clever and powerful wizard to break into the Chateau du Printemps undetected.
Kuro considered proving her wrong. All he needed was ten minutes and a butter knife, or ten seconds and a rock. Her room was much better defended against magic than mechanics. The temptation was fleeting, but it was satisfying enough to know that he could do it if he wanted.
The bell rang for class to begin, and Ms. McCutcheon entered at exactly that moment. That was her way. Class began at the bell and ended at the bell. Not before or after. It was an uncanny ability. Most days the first chime of the closing bell would act as the final period on the last sentence of her lesson.
Today, however, would be different. She had made a promise at the beginning of term that they would be learning to summon their familiars after Samhain, and it was officially after Samhain. She informed them that all other classes had been moved, and they would be spending the whole day on their familiars. “And it is an incredible misuse of your time,” Ms. McCutcheon reminded them as she began her lesson.
“The only reason we schedule this day for this purpose is that we know none of you will pay any attention to another lesson until you’ve learned the spell. So as to not interrupt any of the other classes and to allow us to move on to more relevant matters, we shall spend today, and only today, attempting to summon familiars.” She distributed small booklets to each student as she spoke. Those who received one immediately stopped listening and started devouring the contents.
“I will also remind you that few will successfully summon a familiar today. Conjuring a familiar is a very personal process which requires patience and self-reflection. You will be graded on your technique only, not your success.”
Kuro received his book, a small manual entitled The Familiar and You, In You, Is You. It was a couple dozen pages, and a quick flip through the book convinced Kuro that he was going to have a rough time of it. Just the incantation was five pages long and entirely in Gaelic. It was not something he was in the right frame of mind to process.
Most of the morning was filled with learning the tune, humming along at first, then singing together. They were meant to be finding a connection to the words and music, internalizing it, and letting it speak to the part of their spirit that would manifest in a familiar. They were supposed to meditate on feelings of home, family, and those things that made them feel safe and comfortable.
As home and family had rather the opposite effect, Kuro tried his best not to think about that at all. Instead, he found his thoughts returning over and over to the crime scene he’d seen. It was wrong, and the more he thought about it, the more wrong it became. Nothing fit together.
The most obvious explanation was that it was a threat; someone was trashing the rooms to make the victims afraid or to put pressure on them. He’d seen that before. It was a way of sending a message to someone who had moved into an area in Detritus Lane where they weren’t welcome, or to someone who believed they’d escaped a debt.
Kuro watched Evelyn as he considered that possibility. She seemed unmoved by the experience. She was showing off her singing skills and outperforming everyone else in class with the same arrogance as always. Back in her room, she hadn’t seemed at all scared either; she was mostly annoyed. If anyone thought the victims were in danger, there would be a dozen peacekeepers on the island guarding those students. Also, they were all the kids of nobility. Nobody with any sense openly threatens nobles like that.
If it wasn’t a threat, then the mess didn’t make any sense either. Especially the bedding. He was still picking feathers out of his clothes and would probably be finding bits of it on him for weeks. They were a dead giveaway that he’d been at the scene. If anyone ever searched him, they’d find pillow stuffing somewhere on his person.
He was forced to stop puzzling over it at lunch as Charlie brought An Index of Familiars and Their Meanings out again. She was forcing Marie, Kuro, and Arthur through the quiz. Marie had already done it but was hoping for more interesting results. Arthur and Kuro had both resisted until that point, not wanting to get their h
opes up about something they probably couldn’t do, but Charlie was insistent. The whole thing came to a crashing halt on the fifth question, though. “What’s your birthday?” she asked, ready to scribble down the responses.
“It is still the twenty-eighth of December,” said Marie, annoyed that she couldn’t adjust the answer.
“June fifteenth,” replied Arthur.
“Don’t have one,” said Kuro between bites of his sandwich.
There was an extended silence as the other three just stared at Kuro until it became unbearable.
“What do you mean you don’t have one?” Charlie was mortified at the very thought of it.
“I wasn’t really born,” said Kuro. “I was kind of assembled, I think.”
“Well, when were you finished, then?” Charlie demanded, pen poised to take down the information and continue the quiz.
“Sometime before the summer equinox,” said Kuro, trying to piece together what little he knew. “We had to run away after the Coup d’Été, so I must have been finished by then.”
“Well, pick something so we can finish before lunch is done,” instructed Charlie.
“Same as Arthur’s then. It’s a bit before the coup.”
“No, that’s no good,” said Charlie. “You can’t have the same birthday. It’s too hard to get you both presents on the same day, and it’s better to be during the school year anyway. We should do it soon, so we don’t forget. Your birthday is next Friday, November 12th. Agreed?”
She looked to Marie and Arthur, who nodded their assent, and she dutifully marked down the date on the quiz answers as though it were true.
Kuro was pretty sure that wasn’t how birthdays worked, but he had more than enough to worry about, so he let it pass.
Charlie’s quiz concluded just in time to start heading back to class. She read out the results as they jogged across the island. “Arthur, you’re a mountain lion—fierce, wide roaming, and independent.”
“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” said Arthur.
“Marie, you’re a rough-skinned newt, passive, mild, and shy.”
Volume 2: Burglary Page 13