“I, well, yes,” Trip stammers, words rolling out of his mouth like pebbles. “But, Gideon here, he’s been hired by Vayvanette Herchsten. The granddaughter.”
The Head Magistrate waves a hand dismissively in the air. “The case is being seen to.”
“With all due respect, Ma’am, I must conclude the case myself.”
I flick my eyes Trip’s way. Seems he’s grown quite a pair lately.
“It is a Magistrate affair now, Captain.”
“It is a murder investigation,” Trip responds, stepping forward ever so slightly. “Murder of a non-magically talented citizen of Wrought Isles. And as such, it falls strictly under the jurisdiction of the Watch. We leave matters of magic to your magistrates. And you, with all due respect, leave all other matters to myself and the men and women of the Watch.”
Now, I’m all for spitting in the eye of those who think they’re better than me, but Trip isn’t me. He’s supposed to be a respectable fellow. To be on the outside looking in, I see how incredibly stupid I must look half the time.
“Trip,” I warn, ready to pull him back from the precipice.
“Captain,” the Head Magistrate says, “you would do well to watch your tongue.”
“Just trying to do my job.”
“Is that so?” She goes back to twirling her hair for a moment. “You are right.”
My chin hits my chest. “He is?”
“Of course,” she says. “Then do your job, Captain, and see this man you brought here detained for questioning.”
“He’s done nothing wrong!”
In response, the Head Magistrate simply points at the dragonfly inside its shimmering ward.
“He’s integral to my investigation,” Trip pleas, though there’s less bluster in his voice.
The Head Magistrate raises a brow. “I thought it was his investigation?”
Memories of being a little kid while my parents talked about me like I wasn’t in the room blossom in my mind. I open my mouth to say something to that effect but Trip rolls over me.
“We’re aiding each other,” he says. “We came here to determine the beneficiaries of the Herchsten Estate.”
“And?”
Trip looks at me—apparently, I’m not invisible—and I give him a go-ahead look. He tells her, “It seems that the one item everyone is going on about, this amethyst, is real. And it has been left to the College.”
A guileless smile graces us. “And why do you believe that?”
Trip points to the ledger. “Anderest’s will and testament.”
“Hmm.” She purses her lips in a show of thought. “That is an outdated article, is it not?”
“And you are quick to know that why?” The words burst out of my mouth like a cat pouncing on a rodent. All attention firmly back on me, I immediately regret speaking up. I don’t know what came over me. But, now that the cat’s out of the bag …
“We just discovered this was an old ledger,” I say. “How did you know that unless you know the details of the investigation?”
She doesn’t say a word, but the gleam in her eye shouts volumes.
“You have it!” I exclaim. “You have the current will!”
The four mages rile at my tone but do nothing more as the Head Magistrate keeps them at bay with a raised hand. “That is quite the accusation, detective.”
I watch the mages but speak to the Head Magistrate. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
“The only explanation I’m interested in is why the good captain has yet to arrest you,” she says. “If,” she pins Trip with her narrowed eyes, “you cannot perform your duties as Captain of the Watch then I will be forced to perform them myself.” She points at me with her raised hand, a cue for the four mages to advance.
I step back while Trip steps forward. “Wait,” he says.
The Head Magistrate flicks the same hand again and, like puppets, her lackeys stop short.
“Do you have the missing will?” Trips asks in a careful tone.
She stares Trip dead in the eye. I’ve never met the woman before this day, only seen her from afar, and had believed her to be a figurehead, a person in power only because she happened to have the backing of the magistrates and the College Council. But that look, cold and calculating, that is something that cannot be ignored. Powerful mages at her side or not, in this moment I know that this woman is far more dangerous than I had given her credit for.
And in this moment, I’m glad that I’m relegated to the background once more, as the adults test each other’s wills.
“You do not want to make an issue of this, Captain,” the Head Magistrate says, breaking the silence.
“I’m simply doing the job appointed to me by the Council.” Though he spread his hands in an attempt to appear subservient it seems forced to me.
“The Council answers to me,” she counters.
“And I answer to the people,” Trip throws back, all sense of subservience gone. “From the beginning, this case has been stonewalled by the Aristocracy. People are getting hurt because I’ve been turned aside on more than one occasion.” He squares his shoulders. “I have a job to do and I intend to do it.”
A spark of irritation flares in the Head Magistrate’s eyes. “You are treading a fine line, Captain.”
“I do every day,” he says. “The will?” he asks her once again.
Amusement flits across her face. “What do you hope to find in this supposed will?”
“Evidence that Anderest was murdered for the amethyst.”
“His murder is none of your concern anymore. And now,” the Head Magistrate waves her four Magisters forward. “I’m sorry I have to do your job, Captain, but you leave me no choice.”
“Sir?” the up-to-now-silent Silverman says, coming to stand at Trip’s side. He looks torn between drawing his sword and stepping aside.
Trip raises a stalling hand Silverman’s way. “Please, Head Magistrate,” Trip says, eyes flicking back and forth over the advancing mages. “I just need a little more time.”
“I’m sorry, Captain, but you have had time enough.”
First Trip, and now Silverman. I’ve got them both in this mess, although I don’t really feel bad for Silverman. I don’t rightly know him enough to care. But still, I’m sure if I let anything happen to him, I’ll never hear the end of it from every single woman in the city.
A desperate plan comes to mind as I edge forward, eyes on the dragonfly on the table. Trip says something under his breath to me but I ignore him. I slip my hand deliberately into my coat pocket and look directly at the Head Magistrate.
“Wait,” she says, stopping her lackeys, sensing I have something up my sleeve. Or, in this case, my pocket.
Now, Trip knows I’m unarmed. I know it. But the Head Magistrate? She has no clue. I come to edge of the table and wiggle my hand in my pocket, using my fingers to make it look like I’ve got a wand in there.
“What are you playing at, Knell?” she asks.
“You should have taken this when you had the chance,” I say, nudging the dragonfly with a finger from my free hand. “Do you have any idea what will happen when I send a fireshot at it?”
She glances to her fire mage, a stout dwarf who suddenly looks concerned. Good. I’ve got him wondering as well.
Might as well go big.
“I fire into this thing,” I say, “and the whole place goes up in flames; every single ruby in the area ignites with every ounce of energy stored inside. Want to guess what happens when the emeralds join the fray?”
“You’d kill yourself,” the Head Magistrate says, not quite sounding impressed. “Kammon here is quite talented.” She gestures to the dwarf. “He would protect me if you were to be so foolish.”
I look to the visibly shaken fire mage. “That is if he doesn’t take the coward’s way out and protect himself instead.”
“He wouldn’t,” she assures me.
“One way to find out,” I say, this time talking directly to Kammon. There’
s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his fingers twitch. I don’t care who you are, when the cards are down and it’s you or them, you’re going to fold. To the hells with everyone else.
Cold calculation runs through the Head Magistrate’s eyes. She must be thinking along the same lines as I am. Would she risk her life, put her coin down on the altruistic actions of another? Heartbeat after thunderous heartbeat passes and her face goes blank, the respite before a storm, or perhaps the very eye of the storm.
I briefly worry that I may have pushed her too far, that forcing her to fold in front of her Magisters was the wrong course to take. If she truly is as powerful as I think she is, she’d rather call my bluff. If that’s the case, I’ll go down fighting.
“I have the utmost faith in my magistrates,” she finally says. “All of them.”
The fire mage stiffens. The others step closer to him in anticipation.
“But this is not about my life,” she intones, words directed to everyone in the room. “We stand in the heart of history in this Hall. I will not allow you to destroy all that has been meticulously collected and protected over countless years.”
She looks past me. “Master Chronicler, if you would please fetch the legitimate Herchsten will?”
“Of course,” the Chronicler bobs his head. The room seems to let out a collective sigh as he disappears though the door behind his work station.
“Giddy,” Trip whispers.
“I know,” I say right back, never taking my eyes from the Head Magistrate.
I’m still watching her when her eyes flick over my shoulder at the Chronicler’s return.
“Trip?” I say, never looking back.
“I got it,” he says.
Moments later he’s back at my side. He holds up the ledger in my periphery and I nod.
“Check for the amethyst,” I say. “See if it’s there. Who is the beneficiary?”
As Trip sets the ledger down and flips through the pages, Silverman edges closer to him, watching his back. Good man, that Silverman. I’ve got to give him credit.
I leave them to it, keeping an eye on the Head Magistrate. “So you killed Anderest?”
She merely scoffs at the accusation.
“Then how did you get that?” I say with a wave Trip’s way.
“We received it from a trusted source at the Herchsten Estate.”
“Haurice,” I spit.
“A trusted source is only trusted if that trust goes both ways.”
“And why trust you with the stolen will?”
“My source was overwhelmed, frightened even, by the events that unfolded, and felt it the safest course of action to bring it to me.”
“And what does this source have to fear?”
In response, she purses her lips and nods toward Trip. As if on cue, Trip looks up from the ledger. “Vayvanette,” he says. “She’s the beneficiary, Giddy. The amethyst.” He flips through a few pages, back and forth. “Actually quite a bit of this has been left to her.”
My heart sinks.
“There you have it,” the Head Magistrate says. “And now,” she waves the Chronicler forward to collect Anderest’s will. “You have what you were seeking. It seems your client has much to answer for. Maybe instead of threatening your betters you should look into why the girl wanted this will so badly.”
The fire mage steps forward, the look on his face matching my thoughts. “Ya can’t be meaning to let him leave?” he says. “Not after what he’s done? What he threatened to do?”
“Look at him,” the Head Magistrate says with a condescending grin on her lips and a dismissive wave at me. “He’s broken. Been used, dragged into something he never had a hope of figuring out. A pawn, nothing more.”
Cursed woman! Cursed women!
“Giddy,” Trip whispers, a hint of apology in his voice. “She’s right. Not about the broken part, but about Vayvanette.”
I won’t admit it. Not after all this.
“I’ll allow you to leave, Captain,” she offers. “Take this man from my sight. If he steps out of line one more time, I promise I will not be as lenient as I was tonight.”
Trip sighs and puts a hand on my arm. He doesn’t grab me, but it is an insistent touch. “Come on, Giddy. Let’s go. Silverman?”
“Yes sir?”
“Please, lead the way.”
“Sir.”
As Silverman walks ahead, a ship’s bow through a harsh sea, I take my hand from my pocket and grab the dragonfly from the table. The Head Magistrate narrows her eyes at me.
“Assurance that you won’t go back on your word,” I say.
Kammon grumbles something and lifts his hands and Silverman calls out a warning. Both the Head Magistrate and Trip turn to tell their subordinates to stand down and I take the opportunity to swipe the Underly genealogy book and tuck in into my waistband at the small of my back. When the tension dies down, the Head Magistrate glances back at me and raises a brow, a mother’s silent rebuke to a spoiled child’s actions.
“Gideon,” Trip urges. “Now.”
With Silverman in the lead and Trip close on my heels, I leave the Hall of Chronicles.
We remain silent on our way through the College, and only after we part with Silverman at the Moon Gate does Trip try making small talk with me. After several attempts, he gives up, promising me we will speak of tonight’s events tomorrow. I can tell he’s disappointed, but it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling.
18
FAMILY TIES
By the time I make it back to Fermenster, the sky is turning into a dark bruise, purpling in anticipation of the day to come. I want nothing more than to sleep, to throw my clothes off and hide under my sheets, but when I near my place, I see that hiding from recent events won’t be an option. My front porch hasn’t seen this much activity in years, and I have a wry idea of charging rent to make ends meet.
Though the initial sight of her huddled upon my steps, with shadows of cats keeping her company, melts some of the day’s frustration away, I slow my pace. I had wanted to gather my thoughts first, to come at her with a fresh mind and clear head.
I try not to feel used, try to understand why Vayvanette did it. All proof points to her. Why then do I wish it different? I want to believe there’s an explanation, that it was all some mistake. I nearly turn around and pretend that I didn’t see her; if I leave and return later on she won’t be there. The fact that I even consider such an option is warning enough for me to keep my emotions in check, to not let her get under my skin.
I was hired to do a job. Though it was Vayvanette that hired me, I feel I have a duty to Anderest to see this through.
Too late to change course, I ball my hands at my sides, steel my nerves, and finish my approach. She stops petting a cat that is more fur than anything and looks up at me. I will not let my emotions get—
The cats scurry away as Vayvanette suddenly rushes to me, practically jumping into my arms, and buries her face in my chest. Nothing for me to do but wrap my arms around her. Not for any emotional response, but to keep my center of gravity. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she breathes into my chest. Her breath is warm, her tears soaking into my shirt are as well.
“Of course, I am.” I’m loath to pull away from her, but with resolve I didn’t know I possessed, I manage to force her back to arm’s length.
Gods, she’s beautiful. Pale skin glowing with what I like to think is concern for my wellbeing, like I’m the only man alive in her world, the only man that matters to her. Before I can stop my hands from moving, they’re up, one hand cupping her chin, the fingers of the other brushing tears from her cheek.
“What are you doing here?”
She leans into my hand, closes her eyes. When they open again, she says, “Your friend, Julien. He sent word to me that you went to the College. That the Captain of the Watch had taken you.” Here, she sniffles, and my traitorous fingers brush away another tear.
“I wasn’t taken,” I explain. “I went with him.”
She nods. “I thought, when Julien sent word, that maybe you had been arrested. After all that has happened, I didn’t know what to do. So I came here, hoping to see you, hoping to—”
I stop her with, “It isn’t safe for you to be out by yourself.”
She offers me a quick smile and points two houses down. “There’s an old couple that came out earlier to check on me. They said if I was a friend of yours, I could wait inside with them where it was warm. I told them I’d be fine.”
I glance back in time to see the lamp in the Willards’ downstairs window go out. They’d stayed up, burning precious oil all the while. Even in this convoluted chaos of deception and lies that seems to be Wrought Isles, some few still hold an open flame for those in need. I’ll have to find a way to repay them their kindness.
“Well,” I say, amazed at the hard edge of my voice, “I’m fine. Everything is just fine.”
She angles her head and stares up at me, eyes glistening in the spare light. “What happened?”
“Let’s talk inside.”
I walk past her and my hand tingles as her hand brushes mine like a soft-spoken question. I do my best to ignore it. I lead her inside, and then on upstairs, trying to distance myself from her, physically and emotionally. In my office, I light my desk lamp and offer her the seat in front of my desk. I pull out the book I had tucked at the small of my back and toss it down within the glow of the lamp. She looks at the chair like it has poisoned needles and I leave her to it as I grab a bottle of brew from my shelf.
When I finally take my chair, she’s seated, looking at me with puppy dog eyes. I don’t speak, just pour into the battered tin cups and slide one over to her. She takes it, slow and deliberate, and holds it in both hands. I’d bet loaves to crumbs that she glanced at the book while I was grabbing the bottle.
I have no idea how to banish the oppressive silence between us, where to even begin, and it angers me even more that she’s the one to break first.
“What’s wrong, Gideon?” Her voice is so full of concern that it makes me doubt her every word.
What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! How about you’re a killer, that you lied about who you are, and that I have half a mind to tell you to run, that I’ll give you an hour’s head start before I come after you.
The Amethyst Angle Page 20