The Eternal Dungeon: a Turn-of-the-Century Toughs omnibus

by Dusk Peterson

CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Amnesia?” said Barrett. “You think that’s what it is?”

  Mr. Taylor did not immediately reply, since he was busy chipping out old wax from a candle-holder with the dagger he had borrowed from Barrett. Finally, when the holder was cleaned to his satisfaction, he replied, “It’s not unknown, in cases where the murderer commits an act that violates his conscience. It happened to me.”

  Barrett started slightly as he took the dagger back from his Seeker. So used was he to thinking of Elsdon Taylor as an upholder of the law that he often forgot that the younger man was in this place only because he had committed a bloody kin-murder at age eighteen.

  “It would fit the facts, I suppose,” Barrett said finally, as he used his handkerchief to wipe off the remaining bits of wax from the tip of his dagger. “I would swear that Mr. Holloway was sincere when he said he didn’t know how the bloody dagger came to be in his wardrobe. But why would he attack the younger Earl, who had shown him kindness when he was young?”

  Barrett thought he could hear a grim smile in Elsdon Taylor’s voice as he replied, “I’ve been asked that question myself, many times. Why did I kill my sister, who did me no harm, when it was my father who abused me? All I can say is that, toward the end, everyone like my father became my enemy.”

  Barrett considered this as Mr. Taylor carefully spiked a new candle so that it would be set in place in the holder. Barrett had met the junior Seeker walking down the corridor next to the Seekers’ cells, wiping his hands free of grease because he had just spent an hour examining the dungeon’s new heating system. “Wasting my time on pleasure activities,” Mr. Taylor had commented apologetically, as though he had been born in a mechanic’s household rather than being raised by a high-born father who had owned one of the largest businesses in the city. Elsdon Taylor forever revealed new layers to himself; Barrett wondered how the High Seeker managed to keep up with him.

  “Who are the prisoner’s enemies, then?” Barrett asked finally. “The younger Earl, because his father abused Mr. Holloway?”

  “And perhaps any high-born man. Have you noticed Mr. Holloway’s extreme diffidence?”

  “It’s hard to miss, sir,” Barrett replied as Mr. Taylor blew out the taper he had just used to light a candle.

  “I had the same diffidence in my boyhood. I told myself that I was a much lesser creature than my father. But part of me knew otherwise and raged against my father’s attempts to unjustly humble me. So on the surface I was meek, while inside I was developing into a killer.” Mr. Taylor stepped back from the wall, his eye on the flame of rebirth that he had just lit for one of his former prisoners. “It was so great a separation in my mind that I hid from myself the knowledge of the murderer that lurked inside me. Though I can’t be sure, it seems possible to me that Mr. Holloway has done the same, making a murderous attack on the younger Earl because of the man’s high-born status, and then hiding from himself the fact that he had committed the crime.”

  Barrett took a deep breath, his eye travelling over the hundreds of flames lit in this place for executed prisoners. They represented, he knew, only a small portion of the prisoners who had died due to evidence given by the Seekers. “Sir,” he said, “if Mr. Holloway has committed the murders—”

  “Murder,” corrected Mr. Taylor without looking away from his prisoner’s flame. “An attempted murder.”

  “If he has committed murder, sir, then is there any chance that the magistrates will sentence him to life imprisonment?”

  Mr. Taylor shook his head as he turned away from the candle. “Not when he has been charged with an unprovoked attack. And the magistrates are not currently in a mood to ameliorate charges against any prisoner, as you may have heard.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Barrett, inwardly cursing the power of the press to sway justice. “Then perhaps the Eternal Dungeon will be able to grant him refuge, as it did in your case? For this is surely a case where the prisoner would be willing to make reparation for his criminal activity, through his labor here.”

  Mr. Taylor paused to stare at a black hollow in the ground, where prisoners’ bodies were burned after execution. “The High Seeker has decided to end that custom. He says there is no mention of it in the Code of Seeking.”

  Barrett felt as though the lid of the ash-pit had just been lowered upon his stomach. It took him a minute to find breath to speak. “I hadn’t heard that, sir.”

  “It hasn’t been officially announced yet. He told me last night, when I discussed Mr. Holloway’s case with him.”

  Discussed with raised voices, Barrett guessed, interpreting the levelness of his Seeker’s tone. Even now, with Elsdon Taylor publicly opposing the High Seeker’s policies, he would not directly criticize his love-mate in the presence of others.

  “Is there no hope for the prisoner, sir?” He could hear the desperation in his voice.

  Mr. Taylor kneeled down to stare at the blackened ground. “If he is found guilty, he will hang – unless I can prove that he is mad. Yclau law does not permit the execution or imprisonment of young children or the insane.”

  Barrett frowned. “Was that issue raised at your own trial, sir? You could surely have been said to have entered into a momentary madness when you committed your crime.”

  Mr. Taylor shook his head. “The magistrates are reluctant to release convicted murderers unless the prison’s healer certifies that the prisoner is permanently insane. Mr. Bergsen could find no justification for making such an assessment in my case. This case is somewhat different, though, since the attempted murder has taken place so many years after the original act that may have sparked it – and Mr. Holloway’s scar suggests that his brain may have been harmed fifty years ago, with the effects only now being shown.” Mr. Taylor rose to his feet. “In any case, the issue may be moot, as we are not yet absolutely sure that Mr. Holloway was the one who attacked the younger Earl.”

  Barrett’s silence must have reached the junior Seeker eventually, for Mr. Taylor slowly turned his head. “Mr. Boyd?” he said cautiously.

  Barrett sighed. “Over here, sir, if you will.” He waved toward the table-ledge nearby, in front of the enormous glass case of leather-bound books.

  The books were behind glass to protect them against the mildew that dungeon books were prone to acquire. Books elsewhere in the dungeon could be cleaned periodically, but many of the volumes in the glass case were too ancient for such treatment, having been transferred from the ruins of the previous royal dungeon. They contained the names of every prisoner – and in recent decades, every torturer – who had been buried in the royal dungeons.

  Only the most recent volume lay open for use on the table-ledge. Glancing at it as he came forward, Barrett saw the name of the High Seeker’s prisoner from the previous month, who had died on the rack, due to a heart condition that had not appeared in his medical records. In the far right column of the volume, in his characteristically bold handwriting, the High Seeker had noted the cause of the prisoner’s death: “Killed by his Seeker.”

  Barrett wished he knew whether Layle Smith had written those words with sorrow or with pleasure.

  Mr. Taylor carefully pushed the volume aside before looking down at the two documents that Barrett placed on the table-ledge. After a moment, he said, “The first list, I assume, shows the dates on which Mr. Holloway had his headaches. And the second list, with names and dates?”

  “The dates are those on which murders occurred in this city that remain unsolved, during the past five years. Mr. Sobel suggested I petition for that list. The names are those of the victims.”

  Mr. Taylor scanned rapidly the list, which was a jumble of names, mainly that of commoners and mid-class folk, but with a few elite mixed within them. “You’ve marked the names of several titled men here,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. Their murders match the dates on which Mr. Holloway had his headaches.”

  Mr. Taylor nodded. “This is well done, but the evidence is still superficial. There are many
dates on which Mr. Holloway had headaches but no murder occurred, and many dates on which a murder occurred but Mr. Holloway had no headache. The overlapping dates could be coincidence.”

  Barrett said nothing, but placed the third list in front of Mr. Taylor.

  After a minute, Elsdon Taylor said, in a voice too level, “What is this, Mr. Boyd?”

  “The other information you requested, sir. The names of Mr. Holloway’s patrons, over the years. I’ve marked the relevant names.”

  After two minutes more, Mr. Taylor raised his right hand and covered his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He stood that way for a long time. Then he stepped back from the table-ledge. “Send a message to the magistrates, Mr. Boyd, and tell them that, in addition to the original charge, the Eternal Dungeon is charging Mr. Holloway with eight murders.”

  “Yes, sir. And the lesser prisons who investigated his patrons’ deaths? Should they be informed?”

  “Yes. I want a complaint lodged against those prisons, at the Guild of Prison Workers. The investigators should have made this link before.”

  “They could hardly have thought, sir, that a beneficiary would kill his own patrons. Only a madman would do that.”

  “I very much hope,” said Elsdon Taylor as he turned toward the sanctuary door, “that the dungeon healer agrees with your assessment, Mr. Boyd.”