by A. C. Cobble
“Worse?” squeaked Duke. “What do you mean worse?”
“This is not good,” muttered the old priest. He looked between Sam and Duke. “We need to leave.”
“Leave?” exclaimed Duke. “But our plan!”
“Our plan was to surprise who, or whatever, comes to this estate,” barked Thotham. “If she knows you two are working together, it is no large leap to infer this is a trap. If she knows it’s a trap, there is no surprise, and we lose the one advantage we had. Maybe this girl is involved. Maybe she is not, but the risk is now too high. What if she’s involved and working with others? We cannot face unknown sorcerers who are prepared for us!”
“I may also have mentioned that we had something planned for tonight that was related to catching her parents’ killers,” mumbled Sam. She glanced at Duke. “I now realize that was a mistake to share.”
Thotham struggled to his feet. “Duke Wellesley, you need to evacuate your staff that hasn’t already left. Anyone here after dark could be in grave danger. Send them to the palace or whatever other homes you have in the area. That should be sufficient protection as long as there are around plenty of other people. No one will move against them publicly unless they think they are catching us as well. Then, we must go and confront Isisandra Dalyrimple right now.”
“What?” cried both Sam and Duke at the same time.
“You cannot run, and you cannot hide if she has some material from you,” declared Thotham. “Waiting is too dangerous if they have any inkling of what we’re planning. Surprise, not letting them plan, it’s all we have left.”
The Initiate VI
“I don’t appreciate you demanding my presence like this,” rasped the man behind the red, silk mask. “You work for me, remember? Not the other way around. Appointments like this should only be done at night. I am a busy man outside of these walls and I risk much to meet you in the middle of the day.”
Isisandra swallowed and said, “I thought this was important.”
“You should hear what she has to say,” added the elder. “I wouldn’t have allowed the contact if I didn’t think it was necessary.”
Redmask glanced at the elder then back to her.
“Duke Wellesley and the priestess I told you about, Sam, they are working together still. They are investigating my parents’ murder,” said Isisandra. “They were supposed to have wrapped up the investigation and put it into the hands of the inspectors, but…”
“But what?” demanded Redmask, exasperation thick in his voice.
“They have something planned for tonight at Duke Wellesley’s estate, some way that Sam thought they would uncover the killer. She, Oliver, and a mentor of hers are involved. If… if that man Nathaniel Child was the perpetrator, I’m not sure what they hope to accomplish.”
Redmask’s fingers drummed on the table.
Isisandra waited, clenching her toes into fists, trying to stop herself from shifting nervously. They were in the same room she’d met Redmask before, inside the Feet of Seheht’s chapter house. Only this time, she’d requested to meet Redmask and not the other way around.
“Duke Wellesley did somehow discover the involvement of Nathaniel Child,” remarked Redmask after a long pause. “Days ago, he dragged his brother to the man’s house, and they battered down the door. They found nothing, of course, so perhaps they mean to… You said the three of them are at Duke Wellesley’s estate?”
“They are,” confirmed Isisandra. “Master, I—”
“Did the girl Sam or Oliver ever mention her mentor’s name? Has she ever discussed a person called Thotham?”
Isisandra closed her mouth and shook her head. “She did not give a name.”
“Thotham,” said the elder. “That name sounds familiar.”
“He’s one of the few surviving Knives of the Council of Seven,” answered Redmask, only a fraction of his attention on the conversation. For her benefit, she suspected, he added, “He’s an assassin-priest tasked with hunting down sorcerers and killing them.”
“You think he is tutoring the girl to follow in his footsteps?” questioned the elder.
“Of course he is,” growled Redmask.
“If we take her, then perhaps we can draw him into the open,” suggested the elder.
Redmask waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve known where the man is for years. He meets regularly with Bishop Yates on the Church’s grounds. He has a small apartment in the city, and an associate recently discovered his nest in Middlebury.”
“Then why haven’t you…”
“If we were to kill him, what do you think the Church would do?” inquired Redmask. “They would send more like him — lots more. For two decades now, the Church has believed sorcery died in Enhover, that no true practitioners remained. Why do you think we operate in such secrecy? We’ve been safe here because they do not think to look for us. Until it is time to challenge the Church directly, there is no sense risking their wrath. Besides, the man serves my purposes as well as the Church’s. He will find anyone foolish enough to make themselves known, and he will take care of them, saving the trinity the trouble of doing it ourselves. We have more important matters to spend our time on.”
Isisandra felt her heart racing. The man was casually talking about gaining strength to challenge the Church itself. It was why she’d started onto the path, why she’d apprenticed herself to the elder. She wanted what this man had. The trinity… she’d never heard of it. She started to ask about it but paused. Patience. Sometimes, the dark path required speed. Sometimes, it required patience.
“We?” asked the elder.
Redmask turned to look at the man.
“More important matters?” questioned the elder. “What is more important, or concerning, than the Church?”
“The Church is filled with fools, but there are a lot of them,” answered Redmask. “Because it is no great difficulty to avoid them, that is the easiest course. The real danger for those like us is the others walking the dark path. Knowledge is power, as you know, and it becomes more powerful as fewer people hold it.”
Redmask turned and met her eyes.
She gasped. Realization flooded through her, and suddenly, she understood why her parents had been killed. She’d accompanied her mother to Southundon, knowing her mother had discovered something big, but the countess would not share the details. Her fear and excitement had been evident, though, and the day after they had arrived and she’d made contact with an old acquaintance, Isisandra had been sent home. She’d assumed that acquaintance was Baron Child...
“Are you saying Baron Child was on the dark path? He killed my mother to steal the artifact she was carrying with her? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cold blue eyes stared at her behind the red, silk mask. “Nathaniel Child struck a blow, but did he act alone, or did someone direct him? The artifact your mother carried was not recovered on his body or at his home.”
“Tell me who else,” demanded Isisandra.
Redmask blinked at her. “I know much, but I do not know all. There are others on the dark path beside us who are hidden from me. They are the true threat.”
“I can find out Sam and Oliver’s plans,” offered Isisandra, anger and shock blowing through her. Her parents’ deaths were not yet avenged. “They trust me, and I’m certain I can get them to open up. What they know of these… these others on the path, we will know as well.”
“No,” said Redmask, his silk cowl whispering as he shook his head.
“She has leverage over them,” advised the elder. “She’s bedded them both.”
“The girl, too?” asked the masked man. “Interesting. Do they both know?”
Isisandra swallowed. “I believe they do. Sam was rather upset about it this morning.”
“You saw her this morning?” questioned Redmask.
“She was in the palace,” answered Isisandra. “That is when I found out she was working with the duke, staying with him at his estate.”
“Why is sh
e staying with Oliver?” wondered Redmask. “What was she doing in the palace?”
“Aside from visiting me, I believe she retrieved some documents from Prince Philip’s secretary. I overheard Oliver and Prince Philip discussing it last night. Some packet the Company had sent that Philip forgot to deliver.”
“I’m not aware of any… Frozen hell,” said Redmask, his gloved hand clenching into a fist and pounding the table.
“What?” asked the elder. “What were the documents?”
“Shipping manifests,” muttered Redmask. “The boy requested them weeks ago when he was first investigating Hathia’s death. He was trying to figure out how she arrived in Enhover and who would know she was here. Those documents have probably been sitting in Philip’s office ever since then.”
“The Company’s shipping manifests, how do you know?”
Redmask did not respond. Instead, his eyes turned to Isisandra.
“My mother traveled to Enhover on a Company ship before she died,” she whispered.
“As did you,” accused Redmask, “and then you returned on one. You think I am not aware of you and your mother’s movements? You were on Captain Haines’ airship, the man who killed your father.”
She swallowed.
“Haines, that is the first place Oliver will look,” continued Redmask. “He’s familiar enough with the documents he knows that passenger names or descriptions are listed there. It will be no great leap to connect Haines to your mother’s transportation, and if he’s smart, he’ll see you returned the same way. Despite his birthright, he’s brilliant when he applies himself. If he finds the thread, he’ll pull it.”
“I-I don’t understand,” stammered Isisandra.
“Girl, it’s possible he’ll learn you traveled here with your mother, on the airship of your father’s killer, and that Captain Haines is the one who returned you home. At the very least, he’ll know you’ve been lying to him. What else do you think he might infer?”
“Oh.”
“We have to stop them,” declared the elder. “They’re at his estate in the city tonight. If we strike quickly—”
“It’s a trap,” said Redmask, sitting back, his fingers drumming restlessly on the table.
“How could you know that?” questioned the elder.
“It’s so obvious a child could see it,” chastised Redmask, “though it almost worked… That’s why the girl was in the palace. Oliver has a legion of servants who could have performed that errand. She was sent for a reason. She was making herself known, dropping hints about where she was, and who she was with. We’ve covered our tracks, and they have no leads to follow that lead to us. They’ve found another way. A clever way, I admit. They mean to use the old priest as bait to draw out their opponents. Thotham has a plan. He almost enacted it in Middlebury but was foiled by the timely arrival of one of our associates. Oliver and the girl came shortly after, killing a grimalkin and rescuing the old man from killing himself.”
Isisandra licked her lips, fascinated and frightened by the scope of Redmask’s knowledge. A tremor of doubt tickled the back of her mind, but she forced it away. After, when this was done, then she would consider it. Consider what tracks the sorcerer had covered. Consider who would view her parents as a competitor on the dark path, who would know their movements… Now, she had more immediate concerns.
“I’ve allowed Thotham to live for long enough,” declared Redmask suddenly. “He and his apprentice are getting too close, and if we hadn’t had this discussion, it’s very possible… Well, we did have this discussion. It is time we ended their line of inquiry. The Church will send more knives, but that is unavoidable. We cannot confront Thotham directly, though, not when he is ready for us. Instead, we must draw them to you. Reverse the trap.”
“Me?” asked Isisandra, staring at Redmask in confusion.
“Go to Derbycross. Leave this afternoon,” he instructed her. He turned to the elder. “You go as well. When you get there, prepare to defend yourselves. I have no doubt that Thotham, his apprentice, and maybe even Duke Wellesley himself will be there soon enough. Tell no one you are going. Face them alone and kill them.”
“Kill them?” whispered Isisandra.
“Is that a problem?” asked Redmask.
“No, I…”
“If you send others with us, we will have a better chance,” stated the elder. “If Thotham is a true knife, we could use the help.”
“You are a master, are you not?” barked Redmask. “If you cannot handle a single old priest and two untrained children, then I am not sure you still deserve the rank. Besides, it appeared the old man started acting on his plan in Middlebury before we interrupted him. I suspect he’s already lost much of himself. If that is the case, he will only be a shadow of the knife he once was, and you do know how to deal with shadows, yes?”
“I do,” murmured the elder.
“Thotham carries a spear,” added Redmask. “Based on what we surmised before our associate was killed and what we learned from the shades, I believe he’s bound himself to it, and it is with that weapon he was going to kill himself. He is no longer what he once was, but the spear will be more. Do not get killed by it.”
“Understood,” claimed the elder.
“You have four turns of the clock until nightfall,” instructed Redmask. “Be gone from here in two. I will slow them down.”
The Cartographer XVIII
“Derbycross!” he exclaimed. “Why would she go to Derbycross? She just left today, you say?”
“Ah, yes, m’lord,” mumbled a nervous-looking servant. “I helped carry her luggage out just two turns of the clock ago, m’lord. I… Did something happen last night between you two, m’lord?”
“Happen last night? What do you… Oh, the Winter Gala.” Oliver scowled and the man cringed. “No, nothing happened last night that would cause the girl to flee. I, well, I am surprised she left is all. Perhaps she had urgent business to attend to at her family’s estate.”
“Perhaps,” said the man, though he didn’t look like he agreed.
“When you carried her luggage out,” asked Oliver, “where did you put it? How did she leave?”
“In a carriage, m’lord.”
Without further word, Oliver stormed out of the suite of rooms to find Sam and Thotham standing in the hallway. The older man was leaning against an ancient tapestry which threatened to collapse under the pressure of his shoulder.
“You found the one thing around here older than you,” complained Oliver, pointing at the hanging.
“What?” asked the priest, looking up.
“There you are!” called a new voice from the end of the hallway.
Oliver turned and saw Director Randolph Raffles striding toward them.
Mutton-chop whiskers bristled as the man threw his arms wide. “Where have you been, Oliver? I’ve been looking for you for days.”
“Days?” asked Oliver.
“You haven’t been in your rooms in the palace, and don’t tell me you have been!” laughed the man, shaking a finger at the duke. “I saw you at Philip’s Winter Gala, of course, but with the young Dalyrimple girl on your arm, I was loathe to interfere. I am still loathe to get involved, but I can’t help myself. Oliver, you and she would make a grand match. Good looking, adventurous, and combining two substantial shares in the Company… I confess, I am a bit of a romantic, and when that comes together with my duties to the Company, well, you have my backing.”
Oliver stared at the man speechless. Finally, he shook himself, and asked, “You’ve been looking for me to ask about… about the Dalyrimple girl?”
“No, of course not. I only mention it because you looked quite the pair last night. I’ve been looking for you because we need to know about the Westlands, Oliver,” charged on Director Raffles. “I and the other directors will understand, of course, if you view Isisandra as a more worthy pursuit, but if we’re to make the expedition to the Westlands, we have to prepare. Captain Ainsley has been granted t
he official appointment as captain of the Cloud Serpent, and she’ll be ready to sail in days. We need to know where to send her. Time is a factor, Oliver. Our resources are tied up in that ship, and it’s been unproductive for too long. The directors are getting anxious.”
“I…”
“Can you come with me to Company House?” inquired Raffles. “We can get a schedule settled that meets the needs of both, ah, both of your quests. You’ll have time to make your courtship and time to earn her a fat income from the Westlands — if we do a little planning. What do you say, Oliver?”
Shaking his head, Oliver mumbled, “I have to be honest. I haven’t even been thinking about the Westlands these last few days.”
“Of course not!” boomed Raffles, reaching forward to slap Oliver on the shoulder. He nodded knowingly at the door to Isisandra’s suite. “I know you’ve been busy. The Company waits but not forever, even for you. Let’s get some plans on paper and send a glae worm transmission to the directors in Southundon. That will free your mind to, well, do what you do best.”
Oliver shook his head. “Later, Director. I’ll get it sorted, but I have something urgent I need to attend to.”
“Urgent?” wondered the director.
Oliver nodded toward Isisandra’s door. “You understand?”
“I do,” replied the man, sighing. “You’re going with her to Derbycross, then?”
“How do you know she’s going to Derbycross?” questioned Oliver.
“I saw her down in the south carriage court when I arrived,” explained Raffles. “I asked her man where they were off to, and he told me Derbycross. I thought she must be checking up on things. I don’t believe she’s been back there since she returned to Enhover. I didn’t know it was a planned escape with you, or I would have kept my mouth shut.”
“She’s still in the carriage court?” pressed Oliver.
“Well… I-I don’t know,” stammered Director Raffles. “Are you or are you not planning to leave with her? If you are, you’d better hurry. You don’t keep a pretty thing like that waiting.”