The Element of Fire, Martha Wells [books for new readers .txt] 📗
- Author: Martha Wells
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“So one of them takes it on himself to remove the irritant? It’s unlikely.” But Gideon had said something about Braun last night. And Lucas clearly believed it was a possibility, though he wouldn’t say it outright.
Thomas was struck by an unpleasant image. Braun, unable to find Thomas in the crowded gallery, stopping a faceless Queen’s guard on a deserted stair. Asking him to take a message to his captain, stepping into a quiet parlor to use the writing desk… But Thomas had always seen Braun as a pitiable figure, and the young sorcerer had been coldly eliminated in a way that didn’t agree with the theory of a guard murdering him in sudden anger. Then again, Braun was a sorcerer and would surely have had some means of defending himself; he would almost have to be taken from behind…
The door creaked as a servant opened it to usher in Ephraim, the ragged ballad-seller and professional spy.
“Good news?” Thomas asked as the old man grinned and bowed to both of them.
Ephraim pulled off his cloth cap and began to knead it conversationally. “In a manner of speaking, Sir. It’s quite a tale. The Gambin lad’s dead, you see.”
If he had his throat slit around the same time as Braun did, I’m going to retire, Thomas thought, and kept the surprise off his face. “What happened?”
“From the beginning it was that a couple of my own boys followed Gambin to see if he would lead us to the fellow who hired him, and he led them a merry way, Sir, but he ended up back at the palace quarter and entered Lord Lestrac’s house.” Ephraim hesitated. Not from trepidation, but more as if he were still trying to sort things out in his own mind. “After a bit he came out, and the boys followed Gambin on a wandering way back to his home ground, and waited outside his house, as they hadn’t any instructions to do otherwise. Before dawn this morning a young woman arrives, and she goes in and starts to scream. The boys figured they should go in and see what the matter was, and as Gambin didn’t know either of them they could say they were passersby. Well, they didn’t have to say much at all, because Gambin was dead, you see, without a mark on him.
“When I got there I sent for a lady who lives down in the Philosopher’s Cross and knows a bit about these things, and in her opinion it had the look of a wicked sending about it, though I never heard of Gambin to trouble with sorcerers before. She said it was most likely in something he was given, some token, that was enspelled to murder the lad whenever the master was finished and didn’t want the likes of anyone asking questions. It cost extra for her to search for the token, and I thought you’d want your own people to do that, so I locked up the house and came on here.”
“You’ve done your best,” Thomas told him, preoccupied. This was another piece in the puzzle. And it was a damn good thing he had set Ephraim on this job; without him, it might have been days before news of Gambin’s death reached Thomas, and the evidence of sorcery in the killing might have been gone by then. “Tell them to get you a drink, and the Paymaster has your fee.”
Ephraim’s bow was unpolished but sincere. “Oh, that’s very good of you, Captain.”
When the spy had left, Lucas grimaced. “Well, well. Lord Lestrac is our nameless letter-forger, and Gambin is silenced the same way you think Dr. Surete and Milam were. Another connection to Grandier?”
“Maybe.” The attempt with the letters was the sort of unsubtle ineffective trick Denzil’s friends were famous for in their attempts to please him, and of which the Duke unconcernedly let them suffer the consequences. “It almost seems as if there are two different men, or factions, at work. Grandier with his sorcery, and then someone else plaguing us with little distractions. Gambin was hired by the second man, and when he was compromised, Grandier killed him.”
“If they’re working together. They might not be.” Lucas worked his dagger out of the table, frowning at it. “There’s no way to tell.”
Thomas bit his lip thoughtfully, considering his options. He said, “I want you to send men to search Gambin’s house and pick up the body; I’ll want an opinion on it from Dubell.”
“How lovely for him,” Lucas said dryly, getting to his feet. “You know, if I’m not mistaken, Lestrac is also a friend of Denzil’s. I think the good Duke of Alsene maintains that house for him.”
“He does. And it was searched by the King’s Watch about two days ago. They didn’t discover anything.” Lestrac’s house was one of a group of manses for royal dependents that were built up against the outside of the palace’s west wall. Lestrac was a landless dissipated young nobleman, useful occasionally as a tool for Denzil but not much else. He had never been implicated in one of Denzil’s plots deeply enough to send him to the traitors’ graves outside the city, but he assisted Roland’s cousin in the spreading of rumors and lies. Thinking it over, Thomas shook his head. “Even if we did connect a friend of Denzil’s to Grandier, it won’t prove anything to Roland. To convince him we’d have to catch Denzil standing over the royal bed with a drawn sword, and even then I’m not sure he’d believe it.”
“Lestrac was supposed to have dabbled in black magic in his wilder days, and bargained with demons, like Grandier. The letters might have been his own idea, and he could have killed Gambin himself,” Lucas pointed out.
Thomas wasn’t convinced. “I heard he dabbled, but I never heard he dabbled all that successfully. Finding the token should settle it. Have them be especially careful of anything valuable on Gambin’s body. If I were Grandier, I would have put the spell on the payment that was given him.” He paused. “I’ll see Lestrac myself.”
Lucas frowned. “Will you take Dubell with you?”
Thomas shook his head. “He’s still a target for Grandier and I’m not sure I want to risk him. He may be the only protection the palace has.”
Lucas eyed him, not happily. “So you go to Lestrac’s house where Grandier is hiding and he kills you because Galen Dubell is safe back here. Does that make sense?”
Thomas had to concede the point. “It’s not a perfect plan, I’ll admit. I’ll take one of Braun’s apprentices. They aren’t completely useless.”
“Or take me.”
Kade Carrion was sitting in the window, perfectly composed, the ragged hem of her dress tucked under her feet. How she had gotten there without either one of them hearing her was incredible; from her attitude she might have been there for the past hour.
“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked, so startled he dropped a hand to his sword.
Her look said she suspected his sanity. “Listening. Next you’ll ask me how much I heard, to which I’ll very likely reply ‘enough.’ Can’t we dispense with all that?”
Lucas looked at his captain and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Thomas shook his head minutely, and asked Kade, “Take you where?”
She made an impatient gesture. “To what’s-his-name’s house where you think Grandier is.”
Thomas leaned back against the pillar and folded his arms. “Why do you want to go?”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’m offering to help.”
“And in such a touching and spontaneous way. If I refuse your help?”
She appeared to seriously consider the question. “I might follow anyway. I’m good at that. Or not. I might do a lot of things; the day is young.”
This was ominous. “And I’m expected to trust you?”
Apparently outraged, she sat up straight against the window casement and said, “I gave my word.”
“No, you did not.” Thomas was fairly certain he would have recalled that.
“I did.”
“When?”
He saw her hesitate, then she gave in and grinned. She said, “So I didn’t. Come on, you know you want me to go. I’m lucky.”
“Lucky for whom?” Lucas muttered.
“This isn’t a game,” Thomas said, wary. She had her own brand of charm, that was certain. And Thomas realized that even against his will he was tempted by that charm. Because she’s different, or because she’s dangerous? he asked himself, irritated. Stop being ridiculous and concentrate. “You’ve said you want to help, but you haven’t told me why. And you haven’t been terribly helpful in the past.”
“The past is the past.” Kade tilted her head to one side, watching him with those very direct eyes. “Grandier would have killed Galen Dubell, who is my oldest friend.” She finished lightly, “I can’t have that, can I?”
Trusting her was a decided risk, but if Grandier was in that house, or had been there and left more traps, Kade would be their best hope. And so far Thomas had come across nothing to suggest that she was the Bisran sorcerer’s ally. And this is certainly one way to find her out if she is. He said, “Very well.”
THE HOUSES THAT clustered against the palace’s west wall presented blank stone fa�ades to the public, most of their life and wealth turned inward. The clouds had closed up overhead and a light rain had started, settling the dust and washing away the habitual stench of the street, preparing to turn it into a river of mud. Street vendors who sold ribbons, trinkets, foodstuffs, and amulets to protect against night-dwelling fay were gathered in damp clumps around the pillars of the promenade that faced the line of houses. Coaches splashed by, trying to reach their destinations before the storm started in earnest; few of the wealthier residents were abroad at this hour, and most had retreated into the rich shops further under the sheltering roof of the promenade. The street was mostly unobserved, for which Thomas was glad. He hated an audience for this sort of work.
Lestrac’s house was four stories topped by a steeply pitched red tile roof, set between the towering residence of a ship owner and the winter home of a minor noble.
Rain dripping off his hat, Thomas stepped back to look up at the barred windows while Castero banged on the door. Another Queen’s guard tried the double carriage doors while the others spread out in front of the house and attempted to look innocuous. There was no back alley and no other exit. He had brought twenty men, which was overkill if this was Lestrac’s own plot. If Grandier himself was in there despite the earlier search by the King’s Watch, the entire troop might not be enough.
There was no answer at the door. Thomas started to tell Castero to break it in when he glanced down and found Kade Carrion at his elbow. The water that was beading on his dark cloak was dripping from her hair and her dingy red dress. She had appeared so suddenly it was possible that she had simply risen out of the mud. She had been investigating the street on her own, wandering about in a random fashion and poking around doorways. “There’s someone in there,” she said positively.
Thomas eyed her. “Is it warded?”
She stared at the door, brows drawn down in concentration. “No. It should be.”
“Open it,” Thomas told Castero.
The guard drew his pistol and used the heavy butt to pound the lock. The wood around it cracked and Castero used his shoulder. As he struck the door it swung backward and came
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