by Eric Ugland
I waited a moment longer than walked over to Ragnar.
“Back,” Ragnar said, still throwing nuts to himself.
“I am,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Right,” he said, and threw up the rest of the handful of nuts.
His face moved about quickly, snatching each bite out of the air with incredible agility, not missing a single nut. Then he hopped out of his chair and we left the ballroom.
59
“What’s going on?” he asked as we walked along the hallway.
I looked up and down, seeing if anyone might be listening.
We were alone, and I was hoping the combination of the ball’s music and the devils’ screeching would drown out any eavesdroppers.
“The Master is here,” I said. “We need to find him before Fiends’ Night is over.”
“Aw, fuck,” Ragnar said. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. You think this is some sort of twisted scavenger hunt or something?”
“No, but, I mean, why aren’t you calling up the Legion?”
“Because we don’t know who The Master is.”
“Okay, fine. Call them up and have them go through every single person—”
“I mean, I don’t want to shut down every idea you come up with, but I’m pretty sure The Master has figured out ways around simple identification.”
“Sure, but—”
“We need to do this tonight. We think he’s going to make a break for it as soon as we open the doors when Fiends’ Night ends.”
“Fine,” he said, crossing his tiny arms over his tiny body. He leaned against the wall with a perfect otter pout. “Fine. What are we doing then?”
“Where’s Skeld?”
“Oh, of course. Why do you need Ragnar? To find Skeld.”
“That’s not — I need more than just you and me. And I need people we can trust.”
“Skeld and Bear are taking tonight off.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? You really need me to spell it out? It starts with an F and ends with—”
“I know what they’re doing. I get it. I just would have expected them to tell me—”
“That they’re—”
“Taking the night off, yes.”
“Oh. Not—”
“No. I don’t need to know that.”
“But that’s what they’re doing.”
“Yeah. Picked up on that.”
“Kinda weird, don’t you think? That sort of inter—”
“You know, I’m not worried about it. I’m happy for them and I hope they can have their night off. What about Tarryn?”
Ragnar shrugged.
“Yuri?”
“Who’s Yuri?”
“The Léonen.”
“Lion-looking guy? No idea.”
“Arno?”
“Don’t know. I do know Nikolai’s in his office.”
“He’s also taking the night off.”
“Why didn’t I think of doing that?”
“Because we’re the responsible ones.”
“If that’s true, Coggeshall’s fucked.”
“I’m starting to get that feeling,” I said. “Let’s go down to Nikolai’s office.”
I headed off. I knew Ragnar followed close behind, because I could hear him grumbling.
The stairwells still had some traffic, with some poor schlubs, like me, forced to keep working while the rest of the city (term used very lightly), partied. There were some kitchen workers hauling raw food and ingredients from the stores up to our third kitchen, which was on the fourth floor. I don’t know why we needed that many kitchens, but when I’d asked Harmut, he’d assured me they were necessary.
The throne room was empty. No reason for anyone to be there.
Ragnar and I walked across and stopped in front of Nikolai’s door.
“Are we being sneaky or loud?” Ragnar asked as soon as my hand touched the doorknob.
“Oh, probably sneaky, right?” I asked.
“He can’t punish you. I’d rather not go at all.”
“He can’t punish you either. Has he punished you?”
“He’s the damn chancellor. He can order me taken out of my rooms and flogged.”
“No one gets flogged here.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t order it.”
“You’d think in a world of literal monsters, you wouldn’t need to make up stuff to be afraid of.”
“You’d think in a world of literal dukes, you’d learn to act like one.”
“Touché, and fuck you.”
“You’re welcome. Sneaky would be my preference.”
“Okay, stealth it is.”
I opened the door carefully, and it swung silently on its hinges. I peeked inside.
Nikolai was snoring on his bunk.
And there was a woman inside.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the room, a little loud.
The woman turned around, and immediately dropped a curtsy.
“Your grace,” she said.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Cleaning, your grace,” she said, and pointed to the collection of cleaning implements next to the door. Notably, the bucket I’d knocked over that was pouring dirty mop water out over the floor.
“Shit,” I said, summoning prinkies like mad, and using them to sop up the water. They did not work very well, so I sent them to get towels.
“Your grace,” she said quickly, “it is my job to clean. You should not have—”
“My fault. I knocked over the bucket. I’ll finish up in here, and you can, I mean, you could clean later. Go have fun.”
The woman hesitated a second, looking around the room, pointedly over at the snoring Nikolai and the radiating disaster around the bed. Then she nodded, grabbed her things, and hurried out between Ragnar and I.
“You know,” Ragnar said, sitting in Nikolai’s chair, “this place could use a clean.”
“Get out of that seat,” I said.
“I think I suit this chair,” he replied, swing his feet up on the desk. Or, at least, he tried. But lutra have short legs, and his didn’t make it to the desk like he’d planned, which meant he fell right off the chair and disappeared underneath the desk with a soft grunt.
“Perfect,” I said. “Check the drawers.”
“For what?” he asked from under the desk, not moving.
“Some people went missing,” I started.
“They won’t be in these drawers,” Ragnar retorted.
I sighed, wishing Skeld was around to balance out my little lutra buddy.
“Yeah, figured that,” I said. “Nikolai said that he had people checking on those missing people and that every missing person had someone who could vouch for their whereabouts. I want to know who the vouchers are.”
“Because alibis are fishy?”
“Because they all had alibis. Not one person actually went missing.”
“I’m still not seeing it.”
“Just see what’s in the drawers.”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking in the rest of the room.”
I heard him finally try the first drawer.
“Locked,” he said.
“Check Nikolai for the keys,” I replied.
“I don’t want to wake him up.”
“I knocked over a bucket and it didn’t do a damn thing. I’m pretty sure he’s passed the fuck out.”
“Doesn’t seem like Nikolai.”
“I know, but he was pounding wine like—”
Ragnar’s face popped up above the desk with a wide smile, and he interrupted to say: “Skeld pounds—”
“Stop,” I snapped. “I’ll check for the keys.”
Ragnar shook his head.
“No fun,” he said.
I felt like my assessment was correct: Nikolai was passed the fuck out. Which was impressive, considering how much noise the two of us were making. I knelt next to him and
carefully patted his pockets and pouches. I didn’t exactly believe Nikolai was so drunk he’d go to sleep with his keys on his person. But then again, there really didn’t seem to be another place he’d put his keys, and — yep. He had them in a pouch. Some gentle touches, and I was getting nowhere. So I took Nikolai’s slim dagger from his belt and cut the key pouch off.
With a casual throw, I tossed the keys across the room, only for Ragnar to miss rather spectacularly. The keys crashed to the floor with a tremendous racket.
Nikolai grumbled, then rolled over, blocking access to the sheath I’d pulled the dagger from.
I sighed and slipped the dagger onto the floor between a half-eaten sandwich and a bottle of something that could either have been warm, rancid beer or piss. Even odds.
“Anything?” I asked.
“No,” Ragnar said as flipped through papers and ledgers. “But why would he put that stuff in here when he has his notebook?”
“Shit,” I said, and hit myself in the forehead. “I’m an idiot.”
“At least you’re catching on,” Ragnar said.
“You realize I’m your duke.”
“I’m filling the jester position until you get a professional one.”
“Better watch out or you’re going to fill it permanently.”
“Does it come with better pay than being in the hirð?”
“No.”
“Stick with my current job, I will.”
“Don’t suppose you’ve got some skillful fingers,” I said, looking at Nikolai’s vest and realizing how hard it would be to get my hand into his pocket. “And don’t make jokes about any women right now.”
“Man, I had a good one.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
He harrumphed and pushed past me.
Then he delicately unbuttoned Nikolai’s vest and pulled out the notebook. Ragnar held it up to me like it was nothing.
Nikolai grumbled again. Ragnar flew across the room so fast he was a blur.
I sighed and picked the notebook off the floor.
The notebook had always looked like a nothing sort of a thing. Just a very basic collection of paper. But flipping through it, I was impressed. The paper was exceedingly fine, bible-paper thin, but almost completely opaque. Nothing showed from one side to the other.
There were notes a-plenty. Notes on anything and everything. Thank the gods Nikolai had pretty decent handwriting, or I would have been in trouble. Most everything had a single firm line through it, looking very much like he would make a note and cross it out when he’d completed the note. Or completed the thought about the note. The only problem, I had to pore over what seemed like hundreds of pages.
“I need a snack,” I said, pocketing the notebook and leaving Nikolai behind. “Put his keys back, will you?”
Ragnar gave me a serious frown, but then stomped over to return the pouch to Nikolai.
60
We sat down at a table in the cantina. It was crowded with a good mixture of Coggeshallians. Some people were clearly eating to get a little ballast and stave off drunkenness, and some were shoveling food into their mouths so they could go back to the Dwarven project as quickly as possible. And then there were those who were just passing the time eating and socializing. A few tables had card games going, and one people reading books and shushing those who dared speak near them occupied another.
And then there was us. Ragnar stood on his chair, trying to juggle oranges, while I ate meat pie and read Nikolai’s notes.
“There’s a lot of information here,” I mused.
One of the oranges landed on Ragnar’s head instead of in his hand, and he slipped off the chair.
“Balls,” he said from the floor.
I stopped an orange from rolling away and set it back on the table.
“I think this might be it,” I said, stabbing my finger at the page.
There was a list of twenty-three names, which I recalled was the magic number. Nikolai had crossed each name out with a line that ended in an arrow. There was a number after each arrow. That number pointed to a later page, which had another name and a short scribbled description of the missing person’s whereabouts.
“Yep,” I said, wiping mustard off the corner of my mouth. “Bingo.”
Ragnar hopped off the floor and back onto his chair, and leaned over with his hands on the table.
“See,” I said, and went over the names and arrows and numbers with him. “Now we just need to find these people. You know any of them?”
Ragnar mumbled through the names.
“Maybe this one?” he pointed to Lazar Zidarski.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“How many do you know?”
I read over the names a third time, hoping one would leap out at me.
Still nothing.
“That’s what I thought,” Ragnar said.
“I’m a bit socially inept sometimes,” I said.
“Yeah. I’m aware.”
“Who’s the social butterfly of Coggeshall?”
“Eliza.”
“She’s not leaving the ball.”
“You realize you can bring the notebook to her.”
“I think she’s pissed at me,” I said, slipping the notebook into my jacket pocket.
“Hear the tale of the brave and mighty Montana of Coggeshall, who can face down a forest wyrm without a tremor in his hand, yet runs from an irate young lady!”
I kicked his chair out from under him and Ragnar, for the third time that night, fell to the floor. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”
“It is an easy target. But I might have deserved that,” he said.
“Let’s go for a dance,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
61
We found a new band playing, filling the ballroom with much softer music. And the doors to the other hall were opened again, the one where we’d had our family dinner. Lots of people rested in the hallway between the two vast rooms, but even more spread out in the dining area. A quick glance showed that most of the older residents were the ones taking a break, while the youngins were still going strong.
I spotted Eliza having a terse conversation with a tall young man who was smirking.
I stepped up behind him, where Eliza could see me, but the young man could not.
“... and I am telling you that sort of behavior will not be tolerated by the duke,” she said.
“Yeah, have the duke tell me that to my face.”
“That sort of behavior will not be tolerated,” I said.
The young man spun around and the color drained from his face.
“I, uh,” he stammered.
I smiled. “Understand now?”
He nodded meekly.
“Maybe you should be done with the ball for tonight,” I said.
“I, um,” he was starting to mount some sort of defense, I think.
But I just shook my head. “Bed time, kid.”
He paused.
I pointed.
He left.
I smiled.
“Thank you, your grace,” Eliza said.
“What’d he do?” I asked.
“He was a little overly friendly with some of the young women here,” she said.
I felt the blood rush to my head, and my heart pound.
Her hand gripped my forearm.
“Your grace,” she said firmly.
I looked down at her hand and realized I’d taken two big steps after the creep.
“He is young and foolish,” she said. “And a warning is what he deserved. He did not push far past boundaries, just was a little more—”
“I don’t want any of that here,” I said.
“You did what was asked of you,” she said. “If it happens again, I will not stop you.”
I took a few calming breaths.
“Okay,” I said with a nod. “If that’s the case, that’s the case. I won’t doubt you on this.”
“Thank you,” sh
e said. “Now, I am assuming you are here for a reason.”
“Other than to see your pretty face?” I asked.
She blushed and looked away.
“We’re looking for someone,” Ragnar said, pushing in front of me. “A lot of someones, really.”
I pulled out Nikolai’s notebook and showed her the list of names.
“Do you know any of these people?” I asked.
She perused the list, then touched the notebook lightly.
“Gillian Faryndon,” she said. “Winston Bawden. Suzoun de Lorraine is right over there.”
Eliza pointed to a young woman standing by the punch bowl, drinking down the noxious red stuff like it actually tasted good.
“Lovely,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Is this, I mean,” she started, then paused. “Can you tell me about this?”
“Just tracking down leads,” I said.
“Leads?” she asked.
“We’ll explain later,” Ragnar said. “I’m sure we’ll be back in about thirty seconds to ask you where Winston and Gillian are.”
I rolled my eyes, but I knew Ragnar was right.
Suzoun had a frail look to her, but she wore a bold and stunning yellow dress. She smiled at me as I approached, and deftly set her punch glass behind her as she curtsied.
“Your grace,” she said, with a slight bow to her head.
“Lady de Lorraine,” I started.
“Oh, I am no lady,” she said quickly.
“Ah, uh, well, I’m looking for Batistin Guyot. Do you know where he is?”
“I don’t believe he intends on returning to Coggeshall, your grace,” she said. “He left a few days ago to see about joining his family on their farm to the south.”
“Where was he going to spend Fiends’ Night?”
She shrugged. “He did not tell me, your grace.”
“Thank you,” I said, giving her a nod before walking back to Eliza. Who was standing next to Ragnar.
“See,” Ragnar said. “Back already.”
“I am,” I said.
“Anything?” Ragnar asked.
“No.”
“Who next?” Eliza asked.
“Do you know Batistin Guyot?”
Eliza nodded. “I do. Not well, but he is a dyer. Did that yellow Suzoun is wearing, I believe. He seems to be very skilled, especially how new he is.”