by Hilari Bell
I now knew why they called it “enlightenment” — the sudden burst of knowledge burned in my heart, like staring into the sun burns the eyes.
My first impulse had been to run, as it always was. And maybe it was impossible for someone like me to marry Kathy — but I hadn’t been hanging around a knight errant for three years without learning that impossible things can happen, if you’re willing to throw common sense in the air and try.
Kathy, more than anything in my life, was worth fighting for … assuming she wanted me to fight for her? That was the tough question. Did she love me at all? I knew she liked me, but could she be brought to love me? And not just a little, but enough to marry me?
Even assuming she could, and would, I was going to need all kinds of help to bring this off. In fact, I’d need Michael’s help, and lately I hadn’t been doing much to earn it. He actually might not want me to marry his sister, and then there were her parents … not to mention the fact that I had a criminal past, no money, and no prospects.
Desperation isn’t the only thing that hatches mad plans. Hope can be almost as bad.
Professor Dayless had said that whoever solved the Heir’s problem could write their own ticket, not only with him, but with the High Liege as well. And the project had begun to get results.
If someone protected that successful project from saboteurs — and it could succeed, couldn’t it? — then surely the hand of one maiden, who was technically in the Liege’s wardship, wouldn’t be too much to ask. And maybe a small estate to support her?
Hang it, if I had the estate and agreed to forgo her dowry, Michael’s father might actually consent! He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he wasn’t some idiot tyrant. If what Kathy wanted was reasonable, he’d probably agree.
“What Kathy wanted” was still the biggest if of the bunch, and that was saying something. Even with Michael’s help — and I no longer gave a rat’s ass who was in charge — it would be hard to find the saboteur. Then the project had to succeed… And all of that paled beside how hard it might be to persuade Kathy to love me.
It was a chancy proposition in every way, but I’d made my living off chancy propositions since I was eleven. And like Professor Stint, I’d won more than I’d lost.
I wasn’t running. Not this time.
If I could stop the saboteur, if the project worked, and if the Liege Heir was suitably grateful… If I could bring all that off, I might be able to ask Kathy to marry me.
I had thought Fisk would argue about my decision to turn Quicken over to the guard, but he seemed a bit distracted on the long ride back to Slowbend. And whatever he said, this was my part of the investigation so the decision was mine. I wasn’t about to see another criminal escape justice on Fisk’s say so. Not with Benton’s future at stake.
My worst fear was that Josh Barrows, or some messenger he sent, would beat us back to town and warn Quicken to flee, and the unpredictable arrival of the third applicant for Benton’s job made our need for haste still greater. By pressing our horses we managed to reach Slowbend some hours after dark on the next day … and found Benton and Kathy waiting up to tell us that yesterday the Liege Guard had ridden out to the farm, and returned the jeweler to the university’s custody.
“What were they supposed to do?” Benton asked. “The jeweler told the guards he wanted to go home, and went with them willingly. And he does want to stay there. Kathy went to see him yesterday evening, and she says he was fine … or at least, as good as he ever is.”
“More to the point,” Fisk murmured. “Is Captain Chaldon about to come and arrest us for kidnapping him in the first place?”
“No,” said Kathy. “Because when he came to “talk” to Benton about it, I told him the jeweler had gotten off the campus on his own, and that he’d come looking for Fisk here at Benton’s rooms. And then I told the captain about the thugs trying to kidnap the man, and our belief that he might have seen something incriminating to do with the project. I said that was why we’d gotten him out of town, and that if he was returned to the tower then it was up to the Liege Guard to keep him safe there!”
“That was quick of you,” I said.
“Then Captain Chaldon asked us what was so wrong with the project that we thought a man’s life might be in danger because of it,” Benton said gloomily. “And since the only thing that’s happened is some burned papers, we didn’t have a very good answer.”
Fisk, usually the first to appreciate cleverness, said nothing. But he was watching Kathy intently, and color suddenly surged in her face.
“At least he didn’t arrest us for taking the man out to the farm and hiding him,” Kathy went on. “And he doesn’t have any reason to think either of you were on the campus that night. I think he’ll keep an eye on the jeweler, too. He said he’d tell Professor Dayless that the Liege had entrusted this man to the university’s custody, and if anything happens to him they’ll be held responsible.”
“You did all you could,” I said. “And we now have a better answer for the Captain about what’s going on with the project.”
“Or at least, an alternative sacrifice,” Fisk said.
The final applicant for Benton’s job still hadn’t reached town, as far as they knew, and Fisk pointed out that even if Barrows did send someone to warn Lat Quicken, Captain Chaldon wasn’t going to leave his bed to arrest the man over burning a few papers. This was true and we were all weary, so I agreed to go to bed — though I knew Fisk wanted to talk to Quicken himself, instead of bringing in the guard.
But when I woke next morning, to go early to the Liege Guard’s office, I found Fisk awaiting me outside his door, which was closer to the stairs than mine.
We said little on that short walk. I believe in justice. I believe that most often the courts supply it. But what I was about to do would, at the least, cost a man his job, and I knew he’d only done what he had to, to save his daughter from being crippled. The taste of that was more bitter than I liked.
Capitan Chaldon was in. He asked a few pointed questions about the jeweler, but when I told him I had a better lead in the case he fell silent and heard us out.
“It sounds like I can find plenty of witnesses that Quicken was taking bribes, most probably to burn those papers,” he said when I’d finished. “But what about the greater crime? Did you find any connection between him and Hotchkiss?”
“None,” I said. “And none between Hotchkiss and anyone who worked on the project, thus far.”
“Except for Master Benton Sevenson,” Capitan Chaldon said. “Who might have kidnapped the jeweler to keep the man from informing against him.”
I was beginning to understand why Fisk prefers to avoid the law.
“No one kidnapped the jeweler,” Fisk said. “He came to Benton’s rooms … well, not begging for shelter. He’s not that coherent. But it seemed safer to keep him than to send him back, with everything that was going on.”
“And my brother has an alibi for the time of the murder,” I added. “He also spent the better part of a week reconstructing his notes for Stint, so the professor could replace his lost formulas. Benton wouldn’t have done that if he was the one who burned them.”
“Unless he was trying to prove his value to the project,” said the captain. “Maybe even to the university, in the hopes of getting his job back.”
“That’s the most ridic—”
“But you plan to arrest Quicken for the papers,” Fisk cut in smoothly. “So there’s not much point speculating about Benton’s motives. Do you mind if Michael and I go with you, and watch the arrest?”
Chaldon and I both stared at him, but the captain beat me into speech by half a breath.
“Why? You’ll have a chance to confront him at his hearing — and the judicars are sitting in three days. You’re now liege witnesses, you know, and required to appear.”
I hadn’t thought of that, and I was still too angry to respond civilly.
“I’m not required to do anything by law, Captain C
haldon — I’m unredeemed. Or had you forgotten that?”
He blinked in surprise, as if he actually had forgotten.
“Being unredeemed just means that the law doesn’t owe you protection,” he said. “Given your service to the Realm in the Rose Conspiracy, I think the judicars would agree to accept your testimony — particularly since there are other witnesses to back it up. As for requiring you to testify … you’re the one who brought the charge. If you don’t want Quicken convicted, why did you bother?”
There was no good answer to that, but I wasn’t prepared to admit it.
“Oh, we’ll testify,” said Fisk, committing me without even a glance in my direction. “But before we do, I’d like to see how Master Quicken reacts to being arrested. If you don’t mind.”
He left hanging the implication that if we couldn’t witness the arrest we might not testify — nor did he succumb to the inviting silence that Capitan Chaldon left lying for longer than I thought necessary.
“I don’t see why not,” the captain finally said. “But stay to the back, and keep out of my men’s way.”
Fisk agreed cordially and I nodded. I had little desire to see poor Quicken’s arrest … but I had considerable curiosity about what Fisk was up to.
The captain rounded up three men to assist him, and ’twas late enough by then that we went to the university instead of Quicken’s home. He ignored the stares of the scholars, bypassed the guard on the tower door with a wave of the hand, and found the gamekeeper in the tower’s yard, pushing assorted vegetables into rabbit cages.
“Master Quicken?”
The man turned and saw us. After one brief flash of fear all expression left his face.
The captain didn’t dally over it. “We’ve heard witness that you’ve been taking payments from someone dressed as a nobleman, with whom you’ve exchanged letters, and who paid you large sums three times now. Did this man bribe you to burn those papers?”
Most would have been startled into some hasty reply, though truth or lie might be a tossup. Quicken took the time to think it over.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to talk to my employer before I go answering questions.”
“I do mind,” the captain said firmly. “Did you burn those papers? And what about Hotchkiss? Were you bribed to kill him, as well?”
“No!” Quicken’s shocked gaze flashed from one of us to the next. “I never killed him, or anybody else. Why should I? He’d nothing to do with … with anything, far as I know.”
“Then you admit to having burned the papers?” Chaldon demanded.
But Quicken was done being startled into admissions.
“I need to talk to Professor Dayless before I answer any questions about the project. When I was hired on, she made me swear not to tell anyone anything about it. If I’m going to talk I need her permission.”
I didn’t think Quicken felt that much loyalty to the project or anyone who worked on it, except mayhap Benton. Though he had gotten Professor Dayless’ permission before he spoke to me.
He would speak to the judicars, or they’d come to their conclusion and sentence him without his own voice raised in his defense. Which is why everyone testifies to them. So Capitan Chaldon shrugged, and told his men to take Quicken off to gaol while he had a word with Professor Dayless.
I expected Fisk to follow the captain up the tower stairs, or mayhap go to visit the jeweler himself, but instead he followed Quicken and his guards.
The gamekeeper went with them meekly, his gaze downcast, his face so set all I could tell was that behind that impassive mask he was thinking furiously. ’Twas only as we neared the gates that he looked at Fisk and me.
“It’s Josh told you about the money, isn’t it?”
Since there was no other reason for us to be there ’twas an obvious deduction, but I confirmed it anyway.
“I’m sorry, Master Quicken,” I added. “But ’tis a crime I can’t let my brother be accused of. Not when another man is guilty.”
He eyed me grimly, but then a sigh expanded his thin chest.
“Aye, I see that. I’m not surprised at Josh, either. All the spine of a slug, that one.”
“Are you going to admit burning the papers?” Fisk asked.
All his guards were listening for the answer, so ’twas not startling when he said, “I’ll answer that at my hearing. After I’ve talked with the professor.”
We passed through the gates together, but as the others set off for the barracks and the cells Fisk fell back and let them go.
“Well?” I asked, when they were out of earshot. “Did you learn whatever you were looking for?”
Fisk turned to me, eyes blazing with determination.
“He didn’t do it.”
“What do you mean, ‘He didn’t do it?’” Michael demanded. “The man all but confessed to burning those papers.”
“Oh, he may have done that. But he didn’t kill Hotchkiss, and there are so many holes in this case you could use it for a sieve. Think about it, Michael.”
I turned back toward Benton’s rooms. And for once, my mind wasn’t on seeing Kathy again.
Michael fell into step beside me. “I agree he’d no motive to kill Master Hotchkiss. But Hotchkiss’ murder may have nothing to do with Benton’s troubles.”
“Then why did the killer print out that pass, to make sure Benton had an alibi? I could see Quicken doing that, except it’s such a … scholarly alibi. Quicken would have had someone lure Benton to a tavern, or some other public place. And it’s not just the murder,” I went on. “If Quicken got the money months ago, why did he wait so long to burn those papers? Why did someone keep paying him, for months, while he did nothing? And why didn’t he just mix up the rabbits, or give them the wrong formula, or replace them with new-caught rabbits that had never been dosed? He could have sabotaged the experiment by doing any of those things, and he’d probably never have been caught. I’m not even sure he burned those papers, and I know he didn’t kill Hotchkiss.”
Michael trudged beside me in silence, for several long moments.
“You’re right. We know Quicken took a bribe, most probably to sabotage the project — though we don’t even know that. And there’s far too much going on that we haven’t a clue about. But aside from seeing what Quicken says at his hearing, what more can we do?”
One of the things I like best about Michael is that he has the courage to admit it when he’s wrong. And when he doesn’t know what to do next. Unfortunately…
“I don’t have any answers,” I admitted. “Just questions. But maybe…”
My steps were getting faster, before I’d even completed the thought.
“Maybe Kathy can think of something.”
“How would I know?” Kathy said. “I’ve never even met Master Quicken. Though looking for someone else, who may or may not have been bribed, seems like a long shot.”
“But with Quicken under arrest, whoever paid him may do something else to sabotage the project,” Michael said hopefully. “That might give us another thread to pull.”
“Then they’d better do it in the next few days,” said Kathy. “Because once the third applicant for Benton’s job arrives in town, we’re out of time.”
“Maybe we don’t need to rely on that,” I said. “We may be out of suspects, but we still have one piece of physical evidence.”
I went over to one of Benton’s shelves and sorted through the pile of clutter that had accumulated over the past ten days. I carried the forged lecture pass back to the table.
“We never found where this came from. We got distracted.”
“You spoke to both of Slowbend’s printers,” Michael pointed out. “Do you want to go to Crown City, and ask among the printers there?”
“We may have to,” I said. “But you don’t need a print shop to own a press, particularly in a university town. The presses aren’t that expensive; it’s a complete set of type that costs. In fact, that’s probably why they were forced to use
a slightly different set, because it was the closest match they had to the one Demkin’s used for the original passes — but it wasn’t a perfect match.”
“How are you going to find out who might have a printing press tucked away in their attic?” Kathy asked.
“By asking the helpful Peebles, of course.”
Clerk Peebles looked wary as we trooped into her office, all of us but Benton, who cringed at the thought of approaching his friends, colleagues, and scholars while he was still considered a cheat. Though if they all felt like Clerk Peebles and Mistress Flynn, he might have been pleasantly surprised.
Peebles knew of two professors who owned presses, though one had taken his apart for cleaning several months ago, and she didn’t know if he’d reassembled it.
“…and there’s that deserted shop by the river the university picked up,” she finished. “If you start asking the hobbyists, you’ll be sure to hear that story. But it’s been locked up for years now.”
“There are ways around locks,” I said. “Are you telling me the university owns a print shop? Then why does Demkin’s do most of your printing?”
“It’s closed,” she said. “It’s hard to print without a printer, not to mention half a dozen assistants. When the old printer died, his two sons thought they could make more money by printing more of the items that sold best. Why bother to print and bind some engineering book that would only sell four or five hundred copies? So they put out nothing but … scholar’s fare,” she finished primly.
“Bawdy ballads?” Kathy guessed. “I take it they’d forgotten that scholars are always broke.”
“And less than a year later, so were they,” Peebles said. “The shop went cheap. They just wanted a stake so they could go to the city, and become clothing decorators.”