The Kaiser Affair (The Drifting Isle Chronicles)

by Lewis, Joseph Robert

  Arjuna shrugged. “It’s a symbol. A visual design to convey both abstract concepts and literal terms, a simplistic tool for complex social signage and communication. Right? So we probably want an anthropologist, or an art historian. Where do they keep the good ones around here?”

  Bettina smiled.

  A mind like a library, the body of an angel, and the stomach of an adolescent. Two out of three aren’t bad, I suppose.

  She knocked lightly on the wall and said, “Oster, take us to Mueller Hall, please. I’m certain we’ll find our anthropologist in the Humanities department there.”

  They puttered slowly through the narrow campus lanes, pausing frequently to wait for self-involved students or oblivious professors to cross the road, and they soon pulled up in front of an ivy-draped building of white stone and gray iron and blue-tinted glass with the name “Mueller” stamped over the entrance in black steel. Arjuna hopped out first and helped Bettina dismount the carriage, and as Oster pulled the autocarriage back onto the narrow lane in search of a place to park, the detectives climbed the short stairs and entered the hall.

  Bettina turned Arjuna into the first door on the right, which was a small office, home to a single desk and three tall bookcases overflowing with papers and folders, and a small elderly woman with very large spectacles on the end of her nose. She looked up from her writing and squinted at the intruders. “Yes?”

  “Excuse me, madam, but where could we find Professor Haver? Is he in his office upstairs?” Bettina asked.

  “Haver quit,” the secretary said, frowning. “Just this winter. Just left a note on his door and walked out without a word. Most unseemly behavior we’ve ever had around here, in all my years at this school.”

  “Oh.” Bettina glanced at Arjuna. “Well, if he left so recently and so abruptly, I don’t suppose the university has found a replacement for him yet, have they?”

  “Of course they did,” the secretary grumbled. “This is the University of Eisenstadt. We do not leave posts vacant, regardless of how suddenly and selfishly a faculty member chooses to leave us. Professor Adewole has replaced Professor Haver as the Mueller Chair, and has taken Haver’s office on the third floor. He may be there now, or he may be taking lunch. It is about that time of day, isn’t it?”

  The little old woman raised a suspicious eyebrow at them and then returned to her paperwork without another word.

  Bettina sighed and returned to the hallway with Arjuna in tow.

  The third floor. Damn.

  They took the stairs, slowly and painfully, and on the third floor they found Professor Adewole’s office directly next to a ladies’ toilet. The freshly painted letters on the door shone darkly, but beneath the new name she could still see the faint outline of “Haver” on the glass. She knocked.

  “Come in,” a man said. As they opened the door, the man went on to say, “I can only spare a minute. I have to run out and be back before my one o’clock and… oh, hello.” He looked up from his cluttered desk crammed into his own tiny office and frowned at his visitors. “You’re not students at all, are you?”

  “Not since graduation, unfortunately.” Bettina shook his hand with a smile. “Victoria Cogsworth, and this is my husband Eldric. We just need a minute of your time, Professor.”

  “Oladel Adewole, a pleasure to meet you. And how can I help you?” Professor Adewole looked to be a young man slightly taller than Arjuna and slightly slimmer as well. He wore his hair trimmed close and his cheeks were clean-shaven to reveal a striking set of cheekbones that looked as though they had been carved in mahogany just to accentuate his weary eyes. He spoke with a light Jerian accent in a rather deep, commanding voice that demanded attention and respect, even when he was speaking softly and politely.

  His dark gray wool suit looked a bit new and not entirely well-tailored to his frame, but he had succeeded in dusting the cuffs liberally with chalk dust already. Draped across the shoulders of his suit was a bright silken cloth of sunny yellow striped with dark blue, which appeared too thin to offer any warmth. Gold-rimmed reading glasses dangling from his hand, and he played with his glasses as he spoke, though he made no motion to put them on.

  The two gentlemen exchanged a look that was equal parts amusement and suspicion, as though trying to assess each other’s motives for having left their respective homelands to come live in the cold steel city of Eisenstadt.

  “Well you see, my husband and I have seen a rather unusual symbol, or perhaps a family crest, or even some ancient hieroglyphic. We don’t know at all,” she said airily. “And we were wondering if you might be able to help us.”

  “I can certainly try. I know a bit about hieroglyphics, and if I cannot help you, then I can suggest another person to speak with. Where did you see this symbol?” the professor asked tersely. He suddenly twisted around in a sharp motion to look at the small silver clock on the corner of his desk, and he frowned a bit deeper. “I am sorry, I need to eat before my next class. Can we talk on the way?”

  “Absolutely,” Arjuna said with a smile.

  Bettina grimaced politely. “Of course.”

  The three of them descended the stairs as their guide explained that it was tuna salad day at the faculty cafeteria and he was quite looking forward to his sandwich, which he had found to be one of the few Rhendalian dishes that did not offend his Jerian sensibilities, though it would no doubt be improved by a proper cup of coffee, which of course was not to be found within the city of Eisenstadt. He continued to chat in this fashion, but Bettina focused on the stairs until they reached the ground floor and she could resume her usual stride with her cane swinging smartly at her side.

  They crossed a small sun-drenched quad and went down a few stone steps to enter the neighboring building. Several left turns later, they entered the small faculty cafeteria in what appeared to be the converted basement of an old library. Some of the older metal shelves remained bolted to the stone walls, but instead of books they held framed photographs of the professors, past and present. Bettina noted the image of Professor Haver as she followed the gentlemen to the serving line.

  When they all had their sandwiches and tea, they sat together at a small table in the corner of the room where the soft white noise of a dozen other conversations throughout the space would not bother them greatly. Arjuna attacked his grilled fish, Professor Adewole carefully lifted his tuna salad sandwich to prevent even the smallest morsel from falling onto his suit, and Bettina reached into her purse to produce the paper that had the raven’s mysterious symbol drawn on it.

  She passed it across the table to the professor, saying, “Eldric and I were in an antique shop this morning and we discovered this strange shape carved into the underside of a very nice dining room table that we were considering buying. We were hoping you might tell us what it means, and whether it makes the table any more valuable.”

  Arjuna glanced at her, but said nothing and continued eating.

  The professor took the paper in one hand as he made several faces at it, as though an offensive odor was assailing his nostrils. “It’s not as warm as yesterday.”

  “The food?” Arjuna said with a frown.

  “The room,” he replied. “On some days, it is almost comfortable in here. Today is not one of those days.” He slowly rotated the paper to inspect the drawing from different angles.

  Bettina paused, and then realized that she was hungry as well, and she began to nibble discreetly at her avocado salad on sourdough.

  “Tell me, do the birds ever bother you?” Adewole asked.

  Bettina froze.

  Did he see Scratch following us? Was the raven outside in the quad, or was he at the window now?

  Bettina glanced up at the small, narrow basement windows that allowed her to see the ankles of the students walking about outside.

  If not Scratch, then what does he mean? Unless he is somehow involved, and we’ve tipped our hand to our enemy. This man could be working for Ranulf Kaiser as well. Damn it. I should have b
een more suspicious when the secretary said Haver had left suddenly, to be replaced by this foreigner, who—

  “Because they disturb me to no end,” the professor said as he reached for his tuna salad on wheat. “In the city streets, the markets, the parks, everywhere. And here on campus, we have talking pigeons on the statues, on the benches, and each one of them thinks he is an expert on whatever topics the students are discussing outside. I have been lectured by pigeons at least a dozen times since I arrived here, on every subject from economics to the history of science to the design of theatrical costumes. It is maddening.”

  Bettina smiled, feeling more than a little relieved. “Your secretary mentioned that you had only just recently arrived in our fair city. I take it that talking birds are still something of a novelty in your country?”

  “Indeed. I miss the quiet. And here, when I ask for eggs at breakfast, people look at me as though I were some sort of monster or madman.” Adewole set the paper down and began eating with gusto.

  Arjuna tossed his napkin onto his empty plate and settled back in his seat with a contented smile. “So, do you have any thoughts about that picture?”

  “It is a cosmic clock,” the professor said between bites. “I did not recognize it at first. There are a few extra elements that are probably just flourishes on the part of the artist. But it is definitely a cosmic clock. Here, look.” He turned the paper around and began pointing at different parts of the drawing, his eyes a bit brighter and his face wearing fewer harsh lines than a moment ago. “This represents the sundial, and this is a classical hourglass. And these circles around the edge denote the orbits of the planets around the sun.”

  “A cosmic clock.” Bettina looked from the drawing to the man in the ill-fitting gray suit. “But what does it mean?”

  The professor resumed eating and talking between bites. “Variations on the cosmic clock have appeared in cultures all around the world since ancient times. It is usually a reference to a god of time, or the beginning of time, or the motions of the planets.”

  “Ancient times, I see. But professor, why would someone use this symbol today? I mean, why would they carve it into a dining room table?” Arjuna asked the question politely enough, but the look he gave his wife was one of impatient exasperation.

  “An excellent question,” Adewole said. “The cosmic clock is one of several symbols that have been used throughout history by various cults and secret societies as a marker or emblem. It is entirely possible that this table you found was once owned by a member of one of these cults. Perhaps the table itself was used for their secret meetings, or it contains a secret compartment where they hid their papers!” The professor became more animated and smiled more brightly as each new thought tumbled out. “Do you think it would be possible for me to inspect the table with you? Perhaps this evening after my classes I could meet you at the shop and—”

  “Professor, what a fascinating notion, secret societies!” Bettina smiled brightly and a bit vacantly. “What sort of societies might those be, assuming they were here in Eisenstadt?”

  “Oh, let me see, let me see.” He reached absently for his cup, sipped at his cooling tea, and made a hideous face. “Ugh. Awful, just awful. I reached for it thinking it is coffee, and then, tea!”

  Bettina waited, maintaining her expectant smile.

  “Well, if you will indulge me, in my opinion, this is exactly the sort of symbol that would have been used by the Shadows,” Adewole said. “I realize the Shadows are nothing more than folklore now, but all modern folklore has a basis in some fact, and I personally am of the opinion that these Shadow people most likely did exist at some point in your history, probably as simple assassins, not as magical or demonic figures, naturally.”

  “Naturally.” Arjuna glanced at his wife with a raised eyebrow.

  “So if I were to create a narrative around this theory,” Adewole continued, “I would imagine a society of hired assassins, very private, very jealous of their professional secrets, holding clandestine meetings all around this city and using the image of the cosmic clock as a sign to each other to indicate safe hiding places, or treasure vaults, or meeting places.”

  “Fascinating.” Bettina let her smile fade and she dabbed the non-existent crumbs from her lips with her napkin. “Well, we can’t thank you enough for your time, professor, it has truly been an enlightening discussion, and I think this table we found may be even more special than we had previously thought. But we wouldn’t dream of taking up any more of your valuable time. We appreciate what a busy schedule you have, and one o’clock is fast approaching, so we will say thank you, and good day, and we wish you well settling in here in your new position.”

  She rose to her feet as she spoke, shook the man’s hand warmly, and gestured for Arjuna to follow suit. And a minute later, they had left the cafeteria and were once again outside, striding smartly across the greens among the harried students in search of Oster and their car.

  “Shadows!” Bettina shook her head. “First Magdalena Strauss, then the crows, and now the Shadows. I’m beginning to wonder if there is anyone who isn’t involved in this business. What on earth could Kaiser be planning?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just glad that the professor had no idea that the Shadows are real, or we might have never gotten away from him. Did you see how excited he was?” Arjuna asked. “And what was that business about the symbol being carved on a table?”

  “It was a reasonable lie.”

  “It wasn’t reasonable at all,” Arjuna said. “I hate going to antique shops, and you know that.”

  “Yes, darling, but he didn’t know that.” She patted his arm. “So you know where we have to go now, don’t you?”

  “There are at least a dozen known Shadows on record at the Ministry,” Arjuna said. “And that means there are probably more than ten times that number lurking around the city. How are we going to find the right one?”

  “Simple deduction, sweetheart.” She held up the drawing of the cosmic clock. “The sundial, the hourglass, and the orbits of the planets. Yes?”

  He nodded.

  “Plus some artistic flourishes that the good professor didn’t recognize?”

  He nodded again.

  “Well, I recognize them now. These little marks aren’t part of the clock pattern at all. They’re part of the watermark that was on the paper our Shadow used to write the note for the crows,” Bettina explained. “And that watermark is the crest of the Aelhingen Arms.”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  “It’s one of the many historic bed and breakfasts that I have often hinted at wanting to visit with my adoring husband, to absolutely no avail.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek as Oster pulled their carriage up in front of them. “But now at least we have an excuse to talk to the manager, and perhaps one of their shadowy guests. The only trick will be figuring out which of their guests is the Shadow that Kaiser hired.”

  “That will be the easy part. Don’t you remember our last security briefing?” Arjuna asked as he opened the carriage door. “All of the Shadows use the same last name. Nacht.”

  Bettina caressed his cheek lightly as she climbed into her seat. “Whatever would I do without you, darling?”

  Arjuna sighed as he climbed in beside her. “Apparently, you would spend more time in antique shops and historic bed and breakfasts with a man called Eldric.” He turned to the small window behind him. “Oster, to the Aelhingen Arms!”

  Chapter 6. A Slippery Shadow

  The autocarriage trundled slowly through the early afternoon traffic. Bettina glanced out the window several times to see what was taking so long, and each time all she saw were hundreds of heads and hats, and a handful of mounted riders. The horses seemed to be clip-clopping along a bit faster than anyone else, perhaps because the pedestrians were more fearful of being trampled by a nervous animal than being crushed by a runaway car.

  She cleared her throat and sighed softly, despairing at the thought of spendin
g the entire day sitting in the carriage as they crept back and forth across the city to interview one person after another. “Has there been anything in the news about the Shadows of late?” she asked.

  “Nothing solid,” Arjuna said. “But then, with the Shadows, nothing ever is.”

  “But there are reports? Suspected involvements?”

  “Sure. And each report is stranger than the last. Everything from petty theft to art forgery to assassination. Any time there’s a crime and the police can’t figure out how it was done, a copy of the report ends up in the Shadow file.” He shrugged and leaned back in his seat, tipping his hat forward over the top half of his face. “Which is ridiculous. They can’t all be Shadow jobs. I think the street coppers just don’t like doing real police work, such as thinking. Why investigate anything when you can just blame it all on the magical Shadows and call it a day?”

  “Well, you have to admit that the claims are rather spectacular,” Bettina said. The car rattled slowly across a small metal bridge from one busy shopping district into another. “Cloaked figures dashing across wide lawns in the blink of an eye, mysterious masked killers appearing inside locked rooms, victims who disappear and never resurface, not even dead?”

  “Don’t tell me you believe that these Shadow people are masters of the dark arts?” Arjuna grinned.

  “Not at all. But clearly they are the masters of uncommon skills, knowledge, and tools,” she replied. “Like our own quarry, Mister Kaiser, the Shadows seem to relish the art of the crime as much if not more than the profit of the crime.”

  Arjuna nudged his hat up to look at his wife. “You don’t suppose Kaiser is a Shadow himself, do you?”

  “I don’t think so. If he had a fraction of the mythical abilities of the Shadows, he should have been able to escape from Torghast long ago, or at least have been rescued by his devilish confederates.” Bettina smiled. “Although there may be some other connection. Perhaps he attempted to join them, without success. Perhaps he used to be one of them, but was expelled from their secret circle. I can’t say, but from what we know of Mister Kaiser’s style and ego, I don’t think he matches the profile of a supernatural assassin.”