by Dave Duncan
Bellman grinned. “As the Grand Duke’s representative, I reserve his right to lodge a complaint about this harassment.”
“Oh, a pox on yours! No, let me open it, in case it’s booby-trapped.”
“You think I wouldn’t tell you if it was booby-trapped?” Trudy said indignantly.
It was locked.
Valiant shouted down to his men and East came running up with a huge ring of keys. On the third try, Valiant found one that worked and threw the door open. The room was vast enough to hold a four-poster as large as a haystack, two palatial sofas, four chairs, a couple of tables, a washstand, a desk, and a bookcase, and still seem spacious. The carpets were thick, window drapes sumptuous, tapestries intricately patterned. Without hesitation, Trudy strode across to a pair of studded cowhide traveling boxes, shabby and well-used, seeming strangely out of place amid such luxury.
“This one. Don’t touch it!” she added quickly as the men arrived beside her.
“Warding cord?” An innocent-looking rope had been tied around the box that interested her, secured with a very simple knot.
“Definitely. It’s not the same conjuration the inquisitors use, but there’s enough death in it to hurt you.”
“I do believe this trunk was inspected when His Grace arrived,” Valiant said, uncomfortable again.
Trudy flashed her big grin at him. “But not opened. And now we have five deaths to explain. I’m surprised the coroner hasn’t impounded this box as evidence. Move that one out of the way, please, Bellman. And lift this one away from the wall, but don’t touch the rope.” Then she dropped on her hands and knees to peer along the top and sides of the box, moved around it to try the same thing from other angles. No wonder the Sisters were known as sniffers.
“There’s a lot of odd stuff in here,” she muttered. “All mixed up together. That is a way of hiding death elementals, of course. Can’t make anything dangerous without a death component. Hard to make almost anything without at least a trace of it.”
Now Valiant was even more uneasy. “I thought you said last time that you could detect anything really deadly from downstairs?”
Trudy sat back on her heels, looking frustrated. “Mother Celandine said that, and now she’s catatonic. But I sensed this box from downstairs far more readily tonight than I did a week ago—I don’t think even she would ignore it now. And it’s not as simple as she said, anyway. What I’m detecting in there is several small conjurations. Yes, those may be jars of pills or ointments. Or purges,” she added with an unladylike leer. “But there’s at least two that feel scary, really scary. They’re also very localized, very small. That makes them hard to analyze at a distance, of course. It is not impossible to make something very small and very deadly! A poison pill conjured with fire to speed up its action is difficult to sense. I know, because they tried to trick us with that one on a test at Oakendown and I was the only one in the class to get it. We’re taught exceptions like that and then tend to forget them when we don’t meet them in real life.”
She couldn’t have more than a month’s real-life experience if she had arrived at the palace about the time Bernard did. Trudy certainly did not lack confidence in her own abilities.
Bellman said, “Were you told to examine this box closely tonight?”
She looked up with a conspiratorial grin. “I was told to be thorough.”
“How tactful of them!” Valiant said furiously. “Are they having cold feet or second thoughts? Or both? Have you any idea what the next session of Parliament is going to say about spiritual murders inside the King’s palace?”
“That’s why the old dears are flapping like chickens,” Trudy said, grinning.
“What do you want me to do, Sister? Is this box dangerous enough for me to order it removed at once, or will it wait until the Baron returns to open it? Or,” he added hopefully, “will it wait until tomorrow?”
She shrugged. “I think it will wait until the Duke returns. And so will I. Why don’t you put a guard on it for now and inform my escort that they needn’t wait for me?”
Valiant’s eye settled on Sir East lurking in the background. After delivering the keys, he had remained to snoop with a nosiness worthy of Hazard himself.
His commander smiled. “Good of you to have volunteered, brother! Stay in this room and let nobody touch that box.”
East pouted. “All by myself ?”
“Read a book. Exercise that mess you call a mind.”
“You’ll soon have the Baron to keep you company,” Bellman said helpfully. “You can read him a bedtime story.”
East glared at him.
“What’s in here?” Valiant crossed to a second door and threw it open.
Voices yelled in outrage. Little Manfred came storming into the room. Harald, the pale ox, loomed in behind him without his normal smile.
Valiant tried to explain—in Chivian. Shouting and gesticulating, the two servants were obviously ordering the intruders out. Harald looked ready to start picking them up and throwing. Bellman tried to mediate, pointing to the royal insignia on the Blades’ livery. Everyone got louder and louder.
• 7 •
Sister Gertrude, however, was enjoying the confusion. Her new supervisor, Mother Evangeline, had approved Trudy’s request to be returned to the Quamast night patrol with almost no argument at all. When her friend Sister Seamist had heard this news, she had been instantly suspicious.
“They’re setting you up!” she said. Seamist had been Trudy’s best friend all through Oakendown and was still her best friend here in the palace—very supportive and great company, even if she couldn’t tell a love potion from a vomitive at arm’s length.
Trudy was suspicious, too, but didn’t care much. “Possibly. Not bothering to open the medicine chest? Calling a seeming a ‘translation device’? I ask you! Pull the other one.”
Seamist’s eyes opened very wide. “Sister Gertrude!
Surely you are not suggesting that the Reverend Mothers are covering their ethereal asses?”
“Do Reverend Mothers even have asses, Sister Seamist?”
They sniggered in unison.
“Just what are you trying to achieve?” Seamist asked.
“I want justice for Bernie! But at least I’ll get to meet a Grand Duke. And a lot of slinky Blades.”
Seamist shuddered. To her Blades stank worse than rotten eggs.
“Besides,” Trudy added, “it’s the only bear-baiting in town. All I ever do is stand around watching other people have fun. I never thought palace life would be so boring!”
Now it wasn’t. That traveling box was definitely unboring. It made her skin crawl.
Adventure loomed. And so did young men. Although he lacked the shine of a bound Blade, Master Bellman had a quiet, nonspiritual sparkle of his own. Seamist would say he was obviously dependable and dependable just meant dull, but he was good company. As for Sir Valiant’s current gaggle of Blades, they were entertaining, although none could compare with Bernard. Trudy had just reached that melancholy conclusion when she detected the glow of two more Blades beyond the outside door, and then the Grand Duke’s seeming. She could sense a Blade binding at thirty-three paces. She’d measured it.
The moment the Duke and his train entered the hall, tumult broke out. The big servant, Harald, began shouting from the balcony in whatever language he used. The Baron roared back. Then the smaller servant, who had been keeping watch on the Blade keeping watch on the box, appeared and joined in the shouting. The Duke looked to Bellman, who explained.
“We must discuss this, Sir Valiant,” His Highness said, and led the way upstairs to the audience room.
Trudy was not impressed by the Grand Duke so far. If his seeming could manage nothing better than that worn-out, decayed look, then his real appearance must be gruesome indeed.
Nor did she think much of the audience room, which was smaller than the Baron’s bedchamber, and unpleasantly stuffy, with crazy insects hurling themselves around the candles.
The tapestries were heavy and faded, moth-eaten in places, and the ceiling frescoes had suffered water damage. The Duke settled on a raised chair of estate on a low dais at one end, which gave him a royal heft he had lacked before. A dozen or so ordinary chairs were set around the walls, but he did not invite anyone else to sit, so they stood around in a half-circle facing him: Bellman, Sir Valiant, the gross Baron, one servant—the big blond one—and Trudy. The little wrinkled man had gone back to guarding the guard guarding the box. The Duke’s new Blades were also there, one on either side of his chair. They were an odd couple, one short, dark, and surprisingly young, the other fair and husky. He winked at her. Before she could decide whether his blondness and beefy calves justified such brashness, she was pulled into the discussion.
“Sister, er, Gertrude,” the Grand Duke said. “That atrocity last week was only the latest in a series of attacks directed at me. I have been hounded across Eurania by them, and I have no doubt that they originate back in Krupina. I even know who is behind them, although I cannot prove it. Now you are suggesting that they are local in origin. You are accusing some member of my entourage of five attempts to kill me and the deaths of more than a dozen people! These are serious charges.”
Oh no! It would make an interesting start and even more interesting sudden end to her career, but Trudy was not going to be trapped that easily. “Your, er, Grace. With respect, I did not say any such thing! I merely report that there are many conjurations inside that box and some are dangerous. Even deadly. They should be properly inspected. That’s all I say.”
“The box was approved by the White Sisters when we arrived. It was inspected on the very night of the attack.”
“That was me that night, Your Grace. Five men died soon after. Nobody opened it, either time. Nobody even went close to it. And it has changed since then.”
The Duke frowned. “And were you told to reexamine it tonight?”
“No, Your Grace. I was merely told to do my duty.”
“Did you not do your duty the first time?”
“I was not in charge that night. I wanted to inspect the box more closely and was overruled. Sir Valiant can support my testimony.”
Sir Valiant nodded, but the Duke kept his frown aimed at her.
“You are certainly implying, even if you are being careful not to say so, that something in that box can be used to summon shadowmen. But the only people who have access to the box were all in this building that night. The perpetrator would have drawn danger upon himself.”
She had never crossed swords with a head of state before, but nor did she let Mother Superior browbeat her, and she was not about to kowtow to old Baggy-eyes.
“I am not a conjurer. I don’t know how to summon shadowmen, although I suspect you’d start by using some special sort of contagious poison to kill the first one. That would be easier than shooting a conjured arrow all the way from Krupina, wouldn’t it? All I am saying—”
“She says too much!” the Baron roared. “Sire, this is intolerable insolence!”
Grand Duke Rubin nodded as if agreeing, but what he said was, “I may have been listening too much and thinking too little. Continue, Sister.”
That was flattering. “It’s late, Your Grace. If I’m wrong and everything in that box is harmless, then the Fellowship will certainly discipline me and apologize to his lordship. Why don’t you let the Blades guard it until tomorrow, and then we can bring in more Sisters and take a look? I am very good, but having more opinions is always a smart idea in sniffing.”
“Your Majesty knows very well that everything in that box is harmless!” the Baron shouted.
“You’re lying,” said Trudy.
Hm. Not diplomatic. Everyone was staring at her in shock. The Baron was turning purple, about to set his whiskers on fire. Even the Grand Duke was frowning again, and he’d almost been on her side.
“I shouldn’t have said that, Your Grace.”
“No, you certainly should not!”
“But not because it isn’t true! It’s just that we’re not supposed to claim truth-sounding powers. The inquisitors do that. Most White Sisters can do it, too, because words are made of air, obviously, plus wisdom, which means light, which is largely fire. So words are air and fire plus a little earth for solidity. But lies also contain death and water. Water for shapelessness. So a lot of Sisters can truth-sound as well as the snoops do, but it’s not part of our claim, so I’m not supposed to mention it.” She pouted at the fat old Baron. “He was lying.”
“Your Highness!” the old man screamed.
The Duke raised a hand for quiet, smiling gently. “Remember, Baron, you said I knew very well that everything in the box is harmless. Obviously I do not, because I did not pack it and have very little idea of what’s in it. I know only what you have told me. Had you asserted that you knew the box contained nothing harmful, then your statement would have been strictly true.”
Everyone waited for the fat man to accept that invitation, but he didn’t. He fumed, “It is still intolerable! My honor has never been questioned before. For full ten generations my forebears have born arms for Krupina. All my life I have served. And now you submit me to this! The wench should be whipped. King Athelgar must apologize in person!”
The Duke sighed. “It is late. Sir Valiant, please guard the box until morning. His Majesty waived inspection of my baggage, but to clear all suspicion in this matter, we shall do as Sister Gertrude suggested.”
“Intolerable!” the Baron roared. He spun around with remarkable agility for a sack of custard and waddled rapidly to the door. The big fair-haired servant ran to open it for him and followed him out.
After a moment, the Grand Duke said, “What you’re all thinking is impossible. Ernst von Fader is no conjurer. He cannot have been behind those murders, never! I have known him for years and no one has been more faithful to me. He has lost everything in my cause. Am I lying, Sister Gertrude?”
“No, Your Grace.”
He smiled at her. There was something lacking in his smiles. He did not smile at her the way most men did. Not like that lecherous leer coming from the taller Blade, or even the boy’s shy yearning. Bellman wasn’t smiling at all. Nor was Sir Valiant.
It was to him that the Grand Duke spoke next. “We thank you for your service. I assume you can provide the Sister with an escort when she leaves? We do need a final word with her first, though.”
Sir Valiant took the hint. Saluting, he withdrew, and when the door closed the company was down to Trudy and four men. Interesting odds, Seamist would say.
The Grand Duke took a moment to study his signet ring. Then he said, “Do you sense conjuration upon me, Sister?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“What is it?”
“A seeming of some sort. It probably changes your appearance in some way.”
He nodded. “I will be leaving Chivial soon, to continue my quest for justice, my mission to overthrow the usurper. It may be a long and painful campaign. When King Athelgar offered me Blades, he said that I needed some White Sisters to go with them. Without Sisters I would have only half a team, he said, but he could not command the Sisters, he could only ask. Tonight he told me that Mother Superior had canvassed the entire Fellowship and no Sister wished to volunteer.”
What!?
He smiled at her expression. “You were not asked?”
“No, Your Grace! I didn’t hear of anyone else being asked, either.” The more she saw of the workings of the Fellowship, the more it seemed like a toothless gaggle of incompetent old women.
“Well, keep it in mind.” Rubin rose and stepped down from the dais. Everyone else shifted, sensing an end to the meeting. “I have been promising my Blades and Master Bellman that I would tell them the whole story. I have delayed too long. If you will give me your word not to repeat what you hear, then I invite you to stay and listen.”
She hesitated, wondering if her oath allowed her to keep secrets from her superiors. Mother Evangeline
was a terrible gossip. She thought, too, of that veiled invitation to enter the Grand Duke’s service. Palace life was dull, just endless standing beside doorways as visitors trooped in and out, or against the walls at parties, watching other people enjoy themselves.
“I swear, Your Highness.”
He noticed the honorific and nodded acknowledgment. “Then let us make ourselves comfortable, and I will tell all four of you. Lock the door, Sir Ranter. Mine is a sad tale, but you can testify to the others later, Sister, that it is a true one. Now sit, all of you.”
He pulled a chair around to face two others, and Bellman quickly dragged in two more to make a circle.
Bellman had watched the Trudy-Baron match with amusement and no little admiration. From all he had been told about the White Sisters’ prim and stuffy ways, she must be a mammoth-sized gadfly for them, and the fact that she was tolerated at all suggested that she must have considerable ability.
“Master Bellman?”
“Sire?”
“Sir Ringwood said that you had penetrated my disguise. I want to hear where I slipped up. I have been living my role for months and thought I was close to perfect.”
“I suspected nothing, sire, until you ran upstairs in Main House. Under the circumstances, that surprised me in a man of your apparent years. This evening I watched Trudy do that, and she first lifted the front of her robe so she would not trip over the hem. You made the same gesture, although you were wearing hose. I snooped and learned that you either did not shave or were content to do so in cold water.”
The duke laughed. “Well done! Sir Ringwood inspected my baggage that night and discovered some garments not normally worn by dukes, grand or otherwise. As my Blade, he told no one except Sir Ranter.”
Ringwood grinned. Ranter pouted.
“I told them today…that’s yesterday now. Now I will show them, and you. Everything I said was true, except I switched identities.” He reached both hands to the back of his neck and fumbled. “I wear a locket containing a miniature of Grand Duke Rubin of Krupina. It is a conjurement to make the wearer look like him.” He lifted the ends of the chain and pulled the locket free of his collar. “In fact I am his wife, Grand Duchess Johanna.”