The Amethyst Angle

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  “Blunt and to the point,” Haurice says. “It always was one of your more,” he tracks his disapproving eyes up and down me, “endearing features, now wasn’t it?”

  The table shakes as I plant my knuckles on it. “You know cursed well I didn’t kill the boy.”

  “And you think I did?” He lifts his gnarled hands in evidence to the contrary.

  “Maybe not in person, but someone like you has to know someone capable of such a heinous act.”

  “And how, pray tell, would I come across someone of that ilk? Present company excluded, of course.”

  I’m practiced at ignoring his insults, though that doesn’t mean they don’t rile me.

  “What do you gain by Anderest’s murder, Haurice? Why did you have him killed? Was the boy part of the plan as well?”

  Haurice leans forward and his eyes narrow. “So now not one, but two murders? Who is the one falsely accusing another now?”

  Juniper pulls at my shoulder and points at Haurice. When he leans back, she drops her hand. “No one is accusing anybody. Not yet.”

  Haurice raises his hands in ambivalence. “Then what is he doing here?”

  “You set the Watch on me,” I snarl.

  Haurice keeps his cool. “You entered the estate by unconventional means. And when you departed, was it not with more than which you’d come?”

  Juniper looks at me, a question in her eyes.

  “It’s not what you think, June. Speak with the granddaughter if you don’t believe me.”

  She looks as if she’s struggling to believe me, and when her shoulders relax I know she’s on my side. Though, if she’s still as good as she was back when I was training her, Juniper won’t take my word on the matter and will likely ask Vayvanette personally about it. I wouldn’t be wounded in the least if she did. She nods for me to go on.

  “I’ll ask one more time, Haurice,” I say. “What did you gain by killing Anderest?”

  “I had more than any one man could possibly want with Master alive and well. His death has brought about only heartache and pain for me, and for the rest of the staff.”

  “Says the man sitting at the head of the table,” I growl.

  “Says the man who is treading water, barely staying afloat while blooded sharks circle me. When all is said and done, who knows what I will be left with?”

  Juniper steps closer to my side. “What are you talking about?”

  Haurice glances her way. “The Magician’s Aristocracy is claiming that without the will, they will be taking anything and everything that pertains to College affairs. When they are done, all that will remain is the estate grounds, I’m afraid.”

  “And the business garnered from the estate is still quite reasonable,” I point out.

  Haurice huffs with indignity at that.

  “What of Vayvanette?” I ask.

  His face drops, the first sign of me getting through to him. “Excuse me?”

  “Vayvanette. Anderest’s granddaughter. Where is she in all this?”

  His perceptive eyes float between Juniper and me before he answers. “I’ve sent word to her. On numerous occasions. I have received no response, in person or by messenger. It is as if she couldn’t care less about what happens to us. Not once has she returned to the estate after her grandfather’s untimely demise.”

  Juniper jumps in with, “Did she visit often?”

  “Often enough,” Haurice answers. “At least twice a month, that I was aware of.”

  “What does that mean?” Juniper asks. “That you were aware of?”

  Anger creeps into his voice. “There were times when I’d be informed of her presence hours after her arrival. Each time I’d been sent to find yet another vase for whatever flowers she’d brought along. Like I was some common servant.”

  I could see how this would drive someone as controlling of the estate as Haurice to anger. He liked—no, demanded—that everything be run by him first. Vayvanette showing up here without his knowledge would be an affront to his skills as head of the household. Having him fetch vases each time was icing on the cake. I silently praise Vayvanette for her unwitting slight to Haurice’s ego.

  “In fact,” Haurice goes on, “it was she who discovered Master in his room.”

  “Conveniently leaving you as the second person to find Anderest dead,” I say. “Pushing the blame even further from you.”

  “Your accusations are as unfounded as you are uncouth, Knell,” Haurice spits. “What Master ever saw in you is beyond me, and gods curse me if I will allow you to step into my office and harass me this way.”

  He abruptly stands and turns to face Juniper. “And I will speak with your captain, Watchman Leesh. To bring this man here and facilitate his delusions is unbecoming of a public servant. You should be ashamed of yourself, and I will see your Watch pin stripped from your lapel.”

  I have to fight an incredible urge to lash out and grab the old man’s wrinkled, weathered neck and demand he apologize to Juniper. Insult me, I’m used to it. Insult Juniper, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.

  “My office,” Juniper says slowly, ignoring Haurice’s outburst. “My office,” she says once more, as if tasting the words.

  Haurice stiffens. “Excuse me?”

  “Your Master has been dead, what … less than three days? And already this is ‘my office.’ It just strikes me as, well, odd that you are so ready to assume the mantle of the estate.”

  “Well, I …” Haurice stammers. “A slip of the tongue, I’m afraid. Brought on by grief and the immense burden on my shoulders. Now, if you will excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend.” Gnarled fingers do their best to point toward the door we entered. “Good day. Both of you.”

  The magistrate appointed to Haurice watches us from down the hall as we exit and neither one of us speaks until we’re well outside, where the white stones give way to packed dirt.

  “What do you think?” Juniper asks.

  “I think you are a quick mind, June.”

  She hides her face from me briefly before looking back. “I meant about Haurice. Was he telling the truth?”

  “More than once he referred to the estate as ‘us’ or ‘my.’ He seems to assume that he will wind up running the estate.”

  “What about the granddaughter?”

  “I can’t believe that Anderest didn’t want her involved in running his estate when he’d passed. Vayvanette surely has more title to the estate than Haurice.”

  Juniper taps her nose twice. “Then why isn’t she here? If it were me, I’d be a permanent fixture in this huge place, making sure I wasn’t overlooked. This is her family, her future, we’re talking about.”

  Which is all true. What’s keeping Vayvanette from staking her claim? The woman is fairly well-off, but show me a person who wouldn’t want more and I’ll show you a devil with a conscience.

  Which brings me to ask, as casually as I can, “Any chance you can find out what the Aristocracy is looking for?”

  She steps back at the change of subject. “What?”

  “They threatened to ruin my business, June. If I don’t back down from this, I think they’ll follow through with it. You saw how the magistrates looked at me in there. I just stepped my foot into a bear trap and now I’m hoping it’s too rusted to clamp down before I can take the next step.”

  “They wouldn’t do something like that. Would they? Just for doing your job?”

  “If I interfered with their plans, they would.”

  “Then why are you even here?” she snaps. “There have to be other cases out there for you. Why risk your job for this one?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “No, it’s not. You don’t mess with the magistrates, Knell. You just don’t.”

  I lift a hand back toward the house. “You saw them, what they were doing. They could give a rat’s ass about Anderest and who killed him. All they want is what he had, what was likely stolen from vault. They don’t care about bringing justice to him.”<
br />
  I know I hit a note with that because Juniper stares pensively at the house.

  “You’re smart, June. Probably the most capable person in Watch right now, next to Trip. Their involvement has to have brought up some questions in your mind.”

  “Yes, it has.” She turns back to me. “But they’re involved in everything.”

  “But why this particular murder? Why send a magistrate to shadow Haurice, who, as much as I hate to admit, does seem to be keeping the estate running in his master’s absence?” I stare off at the house. “What is it they want and why is Haurice letting them have the run of the place?”

  Juniper shakes her head. “You think Haurice struck a deal with the Aristocracy? He kills Herchsten, they get anything of magical value? I know your distrust of them runs deeps, Giddy, but isn’t accusing the Aristocracy of being complacent in murder going too far?”

  “I’m not accusing them of murder, June. But I am saying that this murder has benefitted them. Or they’re planning on benefiting from it. And I’ll bring down anyone who gladly benefits from Anderest’s death.”

  Juniper steps up to me and takes my hand in both of hers. “He meant a lot to you, didn’t he?”

  I swallow, choke back all the fond memories I have of Anderest and my time spent at his house.

  “He was a good man,” I say, keeping my reply short to cut back the risk of breaking down. “He deserved better.”

  She gives my hand a gentle tug. “You’re diverting. I’m not some stranger in passing, Giddy. Who was Anderest Herchsten to you that you would risk so much for?”

  I look over her head, not willing to look her in the eye. “He was a friend when I needed one most.”

  It’s not the answer she wanted, but it’s all I want to give. I can’t tell her about my dark curse and how Anderest taught me to keep in it check.

  “And what does that make me?” My hand falls as she slips hers away. “You know what? Don’t answer, Giddy. It doesn’t matter.”

  I hold my breath as she turns to face the estate, hiding her eyes from mine.

  “June—”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about the Aristocracy’s involvement, but I don’t think that tree will bear any fruit.”

  “Thank you,” I say to her shoulder.

  “I’ll keep Captain apprised of anything I find.” She turns and walks away. “Take care of yourself,” she says without looking back.

  There are no clouds in the sky and yet I feel as if my day just darkened tenfold.

  11

  A WALK IN THE PARK

  “Want me to go with you, boss?”

  I look past my reflection in the tarnished mirror in the corner of my office to the hovering morph-imp. “I don’t expect to run into any trouble.”

  “You never know.”

  I finish up the topmost button on the cleanest of my shirts and fix my collar. “It’s just dinner. Early dinner, at that.”

  After a restless night of sleep, I was woken by persistent knocking on my front door. After fumbling around for something decent to throw on, I trundled downstairs to find a stick of a boy waiting impatiently outside.

  “What?” I grunted from my parched throat and through my dried lips.

  After scrunching up his face and waving a hand before his nose, the boy handed over a letter. “From the Lady Herchsten.” Then, as an afterthought, “Sir.”

  I grabbed the letter, fetched the boy a copper for his trouble, and read Vayvanette’s acceptance of my offer to meet her at her cottage at four hours after noon.

  And now, a quick glance at the clock I’d acquired from Anderest’s room informs me that I have less than two hours to be there.

  “I could morph into something small,” Durmet says. “One of those ferret-things the highbrows keep as pets, perhaps?”

  I put my back to the mirror to look him in the eye. “I’ll be fine.” I walk past him to my narrow closet, “I don’t relish the thought of having to explain why I’ve brought my pet along.”

  “I’m not a pet,” he grumbles.

  I pull out my overcoat and shrug into it. “No, you’re not. Pets are more companionable.”

  “And have to have their filth cleaned by their owners.”

  “Point taken.”

  He flies over to my desk and settles near the bottle of sailor’s brew. There’s about a finger’s worth left and it looks lonely to me, so I finish it off.

  “You know you can be one-minded when it comes to that stuff,” Durmet remarks.

  To which I simply say, “Sweet pies.”

  That keeps anymore comments brewing in that head of his blissfully unspoken. I grab my six-spell and boot knife and present myself to Durmet for a final inspection.

  “I’ve seen better,” he chuckles.

  I shoot him a withering glare.

  “What?” He swishes his tail back and forth. “I thought we had a relationship built on honesty?”

  I groan and he walks closer to the edge of the shelf to adjust my coat, hopefully managing to conceal the few stains on my shirt beneath. “Speaking of honesty …”

  His ears twitch when I look down at him, so I step back to get a glimpse of more than the top of his head.

  “What, Durmet?”

  “This date—”

  “Dinner.”

  He sighs. “This dinner. What are you hoping to accomplish?”

  “I told you. I want to see what she knows of her grandfather’s work. If the Aristocracy is concerned, then I want to know why. I hope she can shed some light on this whole affair.”

  “Affair,” he sniffs. “That’s along the lines I was thinking, but not regarding the Aristocracy.”

  “This is strictly business, Durmet. She’s the only shark in the water who isn’t frenzied by the scent of blood.”

  “Which should be lighting up your suspicions like a Summer Solstice celebration. I’m not saying she’s involved, but why isn’t she … well, more involved?”

  “We don’t know how close she and Anderest were. Maybe the two weren’t all that close. Or maybe her grandfather’s death hasn’t fully hit her yet. It could be a number of things.”

  He glances at my desk. “Things that could be determined with a sit-down session here, in the office.”

  “Sometimes people are more willing to air their laundry when they feel less threatened.”

  “So,” Durmet says, clicking his tongue, “your brilliant plan is to put her at ease and see what she happens to spill?”

  “More or less.”

  “And dinner at Julien Fareski’s, which will cost at least half the coin we have on hand, will be what? The more? Or the less?”

  I’m not about to explain how some women enjoy the finer things in life, how a nice dinner at one of the most top-notch establishments in western Wrought Isles could be just the thing Vayvanette needs after this horrible week she’s been put through.

  Instead, I say, “It’s a human thing, Durmet. Gods above curse me if you’ll ever understand.”

  He waves a paw at me. “Devils below bless me if I ever want to.”

  “Durmet, just know that this is necessary expense, and leave it at that.”

  He flaps his way over to his corner perch. “Once we solve the case, I’ll expect you to collect from her the necessary coin to cover these necessary expenses.”

  I sketch him a formal bow. “It will be as you command, Master Treasurer. Our coffers will overflow to your delight.”

  He presents his back to me, and I’m stuck watching his tail flick back and forth. “You’re going to be late,” he says.

  I slip four silvers into my pocket. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  Before I close the front door behind me, Durmet calls out, “And you don’t forget to bring me back an extra serving of whatever’s being offered for dessert!”

  Smiling to myself as I bounce down my steps, I wonder if “extra dessert” falls under the necessary expense category in Durmet’s mind.

  —-
<
br />   Even before I head across the cobblestones to the other side of the street, I know which cottage is hers, and not simply because a dark-haired figure in an emerald dress stands beneath a parasol outside the front gate.

  Vayvanette’s small section of northwestern Wrought Isles is as flat as it is expansive, sitting in a slight depression that allows me an encompassing view. A waist-high stone wall topped with interweaving and spiraling iron bars as tall as the average man defines her territory, marking it with surety as well as a touch of refined grace.

  I assume the several pathways edged by either bush or flower that meander through the vast fields of gardens and orchards green is considered beautiful and idyllic, but I’ve never been one for such things. My mother, if she were still alive, would no doubt kick off her shoes and spend a day of it running around out there, and from what I remember fondly of her, she wouldn’t keep to the pathways.

  “It brings a smile to my own face to see one such as that on yours, Mister Knell.”

  Unexpectedly, Vayvanette has left the shade of the parasol to meet me halfway, and I get my first look at her in the natural light of day. If her cottage grounds are beautiful, then the caretaker herself is beyond breathtaking, as mesmerizing as the splashes of color dotting her estate.

  Here, too, as she walks my way, are curves that any sane man would get lost traveling, hinted at beneath the shimmering emerald fabric that is neither too loose nor too tight. Her hair is drawn back simply, a long tail that makes an occasional appearance to either side of her swaying hips, and her dress leaves her arms bare to the shoulders, skin inviting. A small bandage on the inside of one arm catches my eye and that slight imperfection makes her even more perfect. But perhaps the most stunning thing she wears as she stops a pace before me is the genuine smile that kisses her wide eyes.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she says through that smile, “but the day is so welcoming that, well, I wanted to welcome you outside.”

  “Not at all,” I say, glad that I’ve found my tongue in working order.

  She tilts her head just so and crinkles her nose. “Is everything well, Mister Knell? You seem out of sorts.”