A Parliament of Owls
Page 40
Lyssemarhe listened, but she could not tease separate words out of the cacophony. "I can't tell what they are saying," she admitted.
"Among other things, we are being accused of having murdered Thyzhecci."
Lysse sighed and shifted so she could watch the Dark Lady's people. She suddenly realized that while Ferret was nearby, Mouse was not. Scanning the room for her she found her making her way toward the part of the mob where the shouting was loudest. Lysse nudged Ferret and pointed. "What's Mouse doing?"
Ferret shook her head, half exasperated, half admiring. "Taking risks—as always."
***
When Lynx and Marhysse arrived in the Ghytteve library, they found not only Owl and Cithanekh, but also Vixen, Arre and Thantor.
"Thank the gods you're safe," Cithanekh said. "Tell us what happened."
They related the events as coherently as they could. Thantor interrupted once, to ask, "Would you recognize the swordsman, either of you?"
Marhysse shook her head and Lynx, after a moment, said, "I would know his swordplay, if I saw it again, but as to his face, no. He was hooded and it was getting dark."
"Too much to be hoped," the spymaster said. "Go on."
When they had finished their report and there were no more questions, Marhysse asked, "Any further word from the Windbringer's Temple? I can't help worrying for Lysse's safety."
"I haven't much reassurance to offer," Owl admitted. "The last time I spoke with Kerigden, a mob—mostly Dark Lady's people—was in the sanctuary breaking statuary. He said they hadn't attacked any people yet, but I have no way of knowing whether that restraint will hold. I'll tell you if I hear anything else."
"Thank you," Marhysse responded; then she departed to report to Cezhar, but Lynx remained. There was a brief silence, which Donkey broke.
"Now that we've had a look at the duty logs, I think I had better go see to the questioning of this pastry cook. If we can pin him down more exactly to dates and times, we should be able to exonerate you, Owl, at least as far as the Emperor is concerned."
"Thantor," Lynx said suddenly, urgently. "Have someone question him who has not seen the duty logs, who in fact doesn't know the duty logs exist."
"What are you thinking, Lynx?" the spymaster asked her.
She shrugged. "I am possibly becoming too suspicious, but when Marhysse and I were talking, she was perplexed as to what could impel someone to fix a death sentence upon himself. One might do it for the truth—but I know this man is lying. I thought that possibly one of our enemies might be holding his family hostage—but Marhysse seemed to think that represented more risk than a noble would relish. So then it occurred to me: what if it is Hassyth Bodywalking again? Klarhynne is free; we know that. If Hassyth is Bodywalking, he won't be the one who takes the punishment, ultimately, so the pastry cook's apparent sacrifice makes more sense. If I am right, and it is Hassyth Bodywalking, it is also possible that he would be skilled enough to extract information from the mind of whoever questions him. If his questioner has read the duty logs, he may be able to tailor his story so that our records do not exonerate Owl; and if his questioner knows they exist, he may claim to be unable to be more exact as a precaution."
Thantor nodded. "Thank you, Lynx." Then he rose, bid them good night, and departed.
"I do not think," Owl said softly, "that I place much faith in our ability to catch this pastry cook out in his lie. He's already skirted the most obvious pitfall: he never claimed I came alone. And since he's implicated Lynx, it makes her testimony suspect. If the plotters have been careful—and they do seem to be planning quite meticulously indeed—they've probably had someone watching our comings and goings from very early on. Tharhyll will pick some times when I was out with Lynx, the duty log will bear him out, and we'll still be in the same old corner. Still, there's no point in giving them everything on a plate. Good thinking, Lynx."
"But did Hassythe really have time to make it all work?" Arre asked. "After all, Mouse saw her in the late afternoon. If she remained in the area long enough to murder Thyzhecci—"
"She didn't have to do that," Vixen pointed out. "If she'd left immediately after she set the fire, that would give her more time. Do we know when Tharhyll turned himself in?"
"It was in the report the Emperor saw," Arre said, sending her bard-trained memory after the elusive fact. "It was in the very end of the second watch—that would be a little before the sixth hour after noon. Sharkbait came for you when?"
"We left here around the fifth hour," Lynx said, "and by the time we arrived, the building was already burning."
"It's tight," Cithanekh said. "How long would it take for Hassyth to get back to the Palace?"
"But if he's Bodywalking," Owl said slowly, "the distance to the Palace may not matter. He would need to get to the safe place where he has chosen to leave his body, but that might be quite close by."
Vixen shuddered. "I'm not used to taking magic into account. And this Bodywalking scares me. If we don't catch this Adept, how will we ever know who's safe and who isn't?"
No one could offer her any reassurance.
***
Mouse stood still near the edges of the crowd of Dark Lady's people. She could hear someone shouting—an odd voice, being high for a man or low for a woman. The person—a man trying to make himself sound like a woman? she wondered—was screaming that Thyzhecci's death was part of a plan by the Windbringer's Temple to curtail the Dark Lady's influence. "It's an outrage," he shrilled. "They deserve to die, every last one of them!" When he paused for breath, Mouse laughed.
"An outrage, is it?" she demanded, pitching her voice to carry. "The outrage is that you are lying for your own ends! Thyzhecci wasn't murdered by anyone from the Windbringer's Temple. I've never seen a Windbringer priest with any more lethal weapon than a quarter staff. Mehnyssarre's High Priestess was killed with a poisoned throwing dagger. I can't imagine one of the Windbringer's people using such a thing."
As Mouse spoke, some of the clamor lessened as people paused to listen.
"She can't possibly know anything about this," he cried to his followers, "unless she was there. And if she was there, then she was the murderer."
Mouse laughed again. "What logic! I was there—I admit it. A burning building draws a crowd—but it wasn't a crowd of murderers."
"Don't listen to her! She's lying. She is hoping to confuse you, to sap your resolve. She is trying to protect the Windbringer with her lies!"
"Me?! Protect the Windbringer? I should think the Windbringer is perfectly capable of protecting herself, if she so chooses. In any case, I would never be fool enough to lie in Talyene's name." As Mouse spoke the goddess's ancient name, a gust of wind tore through the sanctuary, making the lamps flicker and the shadows reel.
The Dark Lady's followers had fallen silent. Now, there was a faint moan from a few of them, an inarticulate sound of fear and awe.
"Tricks! It's all tricks!" he shrieked.
"No!" Mouse cut in, her voice overriding his as though bolstered by a storm. "I am not the trickster. If there have been tricks played on you faithful servants of Mehnyssarre, they've been played by Thyzhecci's recent associate; the historian. The one who convinced Thyzhecci—and all of you—to seek to raise power by reviving blood sacrifices. That was the trick! Because that rite, that sacrifice wasn't really for Mehnyssarre at all, and the power it raised was not granted by your Lady. That murdered child's blood fed the Bone King, and the power it raised was his tainted gift."
"Lies!" he cried. "All lies!"
The wind swirled around Mouse again, stronger, insistent. "Come out of the crowd," she thundered, "and say that to my face! Or don't you want me to know who you are?"
As the wind blew again, the crowd parted, opening a corridor to the spokesman. Mouse saw him: the wind billowed in his cloak and hood, before he caught at the hood and pulled it down to hide his face. Then he turned and ran into the night.
"There's your trickster," Mouse cried. "Or one of them.
He's the one who lied, who tried to use you to work more evil against Talyene—and the peace of this city. Do not be misled."
They were silent, unmoving; some stared after the fleeing man, others gazed at Mouse.
"Go now," she said, much more gently. "Grieve for your loss; High Priestess Thyzhecci led you well for many years, and she has already been harshly punished for her lack of judgment. With calm deliberation, and great care, choose her successor. With Mehnyssarre's aid, I am sure you will choose well. Return to your Temple, and to the Dark Lady's faithful service."
There was the shuffling sound of movement as many of the Dark Lady's people began to make their way out of the Windbringer's sanctuary. But one priestess stopped before Mouse and said in a tone that carried, "Who are you, that you dare to speak this way?"
"I am Amynne Ykhave."
"From the Free School," the priestess said. It wasn't a question. "What right does a teacher have to speak for the gods?"
"Thyzhecci and her associate were preying on children. Who makes a better advocate for them than a teacher?"
"Advocate—or avenger?" the priestess charged. "Did you kill Thyzhecci?"
"I did not," Mouse said calmly. "I merely persuaded her to repent. Now, I've told you who I am: who are you?"
"I am Anesstri," she replied; then she bowed and turned away.
Mouse loosed her breath in a slow, shaking sigh. Before she had finished her exhalation, she was enveloped in a hug: Kerigden.
"Oh, Mouse," he said. "I don't quite know whether to shake you or canonize you! Do you know what a risk you took?" When she nodded solemnly, he demanded, "Then why did you do it?"
She shrugged. "Someone had to. And it did work."
"Did you see him? Could you tell who it was?"
"Yes, though the light was uncertain, and his reflexes were very quick."
"Who, then?"
"Morekheth." She sighed. "Perhaps I should have named him and sent the Dark Lady's Order after him like hounds on a scent, but I was afraid to do it. The situation is so precarious; I feared it might loose more rage than any of us could control. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, Mouse," Kerigden told her. "You were splendid."
"I'm glad you approve," she said. She had begun to shake. "Now, I don't suppose you would have anything like brandy in this place?"
"Come with me and we'll find some. I daresay we could all do with a drink." He swept Ferret and Lysse into his sphere and they all left the sanctuary together.
Chapter Thirty-four—Aftermath
The morning was already hot. Though the Palace was situated to catch the breeze off the sea, no air moved in the stifling chambers. Faced with the heat and heavy atmosphere, the Emperor chose to hold his earliest meetings on the terrace of his garden. He had coffee brought while he waited for his first councilor to arrive. When Prime Minister Zherekhaf came into the Emperor's presence, Khethyran was shocked to see how much frailer he looked. The old man leaned heavily on his cane, and his face was pale and lined with pain.
"You should have sent word you were too ill to come," Khethyran blurted. "I would have come to your apartments and saved you the walk."
Zherekhaf bowed stiffly and managed a smile. "When I am in truth too ill to walk the Palace corridors, Your Majesty, I shall request that you replace me." At the Emperor's invitation, he took the chair across from him and nodded when Khethyran gestured to the samovar. In spite of the heat, he curled his claw-like hands around the coffee cup, as though to draw heat and strength from the fragile porcelain.
"You've heard that Ysmenarr found someone who confesses to the poisoning?"
"Yes, and that Owl Ghytteve is being held in his apartments. You think the man is lying?"
"I cannot believe Owl is involved."
"Perhaps not. But the testimony is very damaging—and most people will accept its veracity, since the pastry cook doesn't stand to gain anything."
"I need Owl; he's a valuable ally. That's why he's been targeted."
"If you are convinced of his innocence, Your Majesty, suppress the charges. Make it plain you won't countenance any further attempts to discredit your Seer. Then all you'll have to worry about is whether they'll manage to assassinate him."
"Arre gave me much the same advice. Quash the charges or reform the courts, she said."
"You should do both, Your Majesty."
"Both? And—now?"
"If you reform the courts without dismissing the charges against Owl, the nobles will put it about that you removed their judges solely to protect your favorite—and to many people, that is what it will look like. If you exercise Royal fiat to protect your favorite and then reform the courts—when you've made it clear he will not be subject to them in any case—it will make it more difficult for the nobles to convince people that you have merely substituted your own corrupt judges for theirs."
"The Council Houses won't like it, Zherekhaf."
"Understatement," the Prime Minister commented dryly.
"Indeed. So: will it be enough to drive them into open revolt?"
Zherekhaf sighed heavily. "I don't know. It might be. Frankly, Your Majesty, you've kept them in hand far more effectively—and longer—than I ever imagined you could. You have your intractable enemies, of course, but many of the other nobles have come to respect you, even when they do not embrace your policies." He paused, and then smiled ruefully. "If there is anyone who can reform the courts and survive the aftermath, my Emperor, it is you."
The Emperor's answering smile was wry. "Which is not the same as saying that I will survive the aftermath."
"No. I'm too cautious to make such a rash assertion. Your Majesty, I can assert, with certainty, that you have sufficient credit with the nobles to retain your authority if you exercise your Royal fiat in the matter of Owl Ghytteve."
He laughed bitterly. "Retain my authority? They'd dance in the street if I gave them such an example of my being no better than they. Half of the trouble the Council Houses have with me is that I won't make flagrant use of noble privilege—and that I am doing my best to curtail their use of it. If I intervene on Owl Ghytteve's behalf, it will make it that much more difficult to insist on other important reforms."
The Prime Minister was silent for a moment. "That is a very astute observation, Your Majesty. All the same, I believe that even the most obdurate of your opponents would admit—grudgingly to be sure—that the Emperor's coronet bestows the right to rule by fiat; it is the establishment of a rule of law that they fear. Do you not trust yourself to rule wisely and well without it?"
"Even if an Emperor does rule by fiat wisely and well, his son—or grandson—may be a fool, or venal. I want to establish the rule of law in order to protect the people—and my opponents among the nobility know that, and rightly fear it. I'm not sure that I can afford, politically, to weaken myself by intervening for Owl."
Zherekhaf sighed again. "Then, Your Majesty, you will have to decide whether you will allow a man you believe to be innocent to die for your scruples—or were you thinking of banishment?"
The Emperor shook his head. "I don't know what I'm thinking—except that I wish this were someone else's dilemma. Thank you, Zherekhaf. You've given me a great deal to consider."
***
The Temple District was quiet, if not exactly calm in the dense, heavy air. It was, Thantor thought, a breathless quiet, the kind of tense hush one experiences after an argument, when one isn't sure whether all the spleen has been vented or not. The wide avenues were empty, though guards were in place at the gates and doorways to the various gods' precincts. Thantor reached the Windbringer's Temple without being challenged, though when he climbed the broad steps to the sanctuary door, he found two priests waiting on the threshold.
When he identified himself and asked whether it would be possible for him to see Kerigden, they let him in and found an acolyte to take him into the High Priest's presence. Kerigden, who was having coffee with Mouse, Ferret and Lysse, greeted him cheerfully.
"Please," he replied, seating himself in one of the empty chairs. He looked at Mouse, Ferret and Lysse. "I'm glad to see you safe and well. We were all very relieved when Owl relayed your message, Kerigden—that things were under control and no one had been hurt."
"And now you'd like the details?" Kerigden ventured, handing him a cup.
At his nod, Mouse related what had occurred in the Windbringer's sanctuary. Donkey listened with his usual attentive silence. When she had finished, he said softly, "Anesstri. She would make an interesting successor to Thyzhecci. I understand that there was quite a lot of tension between them. Thyzhecci's leadership was far too pragmatic and political for Anesstri's liking. She would be interested in—and skeptical about—the question of your authority, Mouse, to speak in Talyene's name."
"But I didn't speak in Talyene's name," Mouse protested. "I merely countered the lies of the man inciting the violence."
"You told the crowd you wouldn't be enough of a fool to lie in Talyene's name. For one of Anesstri's stamp, that would be close enough. But now, I wonder whether it would be possible for me to speak with Klarhynne Dhenykhare?"
"Let me send to see if she is awake, and whether she will see you," Kerigden replied as he rang for an attendant.
"How safe is she?" Donkey asked. "I mean from Hassyth? Will he be able to reassert control over her?"
"Not while she remains here under Talyene's protection," Kerigden replied. "Outside these walls? I don't know. Razhynde says Klarhynne is not blessed with a particularly strong mind; it is possible—even probable—that if she were again in a position that offered some advantage to the Adept, he would make an effort to repossess her—and likely succeed."
The spymaster nodded and shortly, the Healer Razhynde returned to conduct the spymaster to Klarhynne.
The Queen's lady was composed, though pale, when Thantor was shown in. She was seated in a comfortable, battered armchair, holding a cup of coffee. The spymaster bowed slightly to her before he seated himself in the room's other chair.