The Element of Fire, Martha Wells [books for new readers .txt] 📗

the last of its contents onto the polished surface. She stirred the pool twice with a finger and stared into it intently.

Unwilling to ask, Thomas stepped up behind her to see what she was doing.

Without looking up, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. Before he could pull away, he saw a shadow come over the wine pool and something move within it. It was a man. At first the image was shifting and muddy like a poor mirror, but abruptly it cleared, revealing the face of the man in the other room, the man who had been with Denzil at court last night.

Kade said quietly, “I thought so. He was in here, and they fought, or at least argued. Violent emotions always make the strongest impressions.”

She let Thomas go and he stepped back, and the pool became only spilled wine again. He hadn’t realized until then how the sounds of his men searching the next room and the occasional drunken protests of Lestrac’s friends had temporarily faded as the picture appeared in the pool. “Is he a sorcerer? Did he conceal the door?”

“Maybe. But that one might have done it, too.” She nodded toward Lestrac’s still form. “You said he knew some of the art, and it wasn’t a very powerful illusion, though it was tricky.”

Thomas nodded to himself. “He brought Dontane in here, Dontane killed him, then walked out through the unconcealed door on this side. He stayed with the others to make sure Lestrac didn’t come staggering out gasping accusations. He must have known how long it would take to die from the stuff. Any later and we would have missed him.”

Kade looked thoughtful, then turned for the door, remarking pointedly, “Well, I’m certainly glad I bothered to come.”

After considering Lestrac’s slumped body a moment more, he followed her.

Later, Thomas had the guards carry Lestrac out past the group gathered in the parlor. Leaning on the billiard table, which was extravagantly covered in green velvet and lit by candleholders mounted on its raised sides, he watched the nobles react with varied degrees of befuddled shock. Including Dontane, whose reaction was perfectly in keeping with the rest.

“When do we carry out this lot, Captain?” Castero asked.

“Now. Take them to the Cisternan Guard House for the present” He touched one of the silver bells fitted above the billiard table’s goal. “All except Dontane.”

Dontane looked up, but if he was startled he concealed it well. As Castero and the other guards herded Lestrac’s guests out, Thomas waited patiently. When they were gone, that left Dontane, three watchful guards at the door, and Kade, who was sitting on top of a sideboard and swinging her feet. As Thomas looked at her and started to speak, she announced, “I’ve been a help, and shown quite a bit of restraint, and I think I should be allowed to stay and watch.”

It was harder than Thomas would’ve thought to conceal his smile. He said, “Well put.”

Watching them with contempt, Dontane said, “I assume there is some reason for my being singled out.” He swayed slightly and steadied himself on a chair.

“You assume correctly.” Thomas watched him a moment more, wondering how long the playacting would last. “How long have you known Lord Lestrac?”

“Not long. But I am a friend of the Duke of Alsene.”

“That puts you in the minority, then, because no one else here is.” It would have been foolish to deny the connection; Dontane must realize he would’ve been seen at court last night. And why attend court at all, except to activate the golem so it could attack a certain sorceress. Thomas folded his arms, deciding on a more direct attack. “I know you poisoned Lestrac.”

Dontane drew himself up. “That is an insult, and I will challenge you for it.” He stiffened resentfully as one of the guards at the door chuckled.

The man was certainly presenting a good performance of a foolish young noble. Thomas said, “You were in that room with Lestrac. Were you discussing a spy named Gambin, perhaps?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s lying,” Kade interrupted.

“Yes, thank you, I know,” Thomas told her patiently.

“I suppose I should be flattered that you find it necessary to have your pet witch here to deal with me,” Dontane sneered. But he had lost a little of his pretense of drunken nonchalance. Thomas thought Kade’s presence was making the man uneasy. As well it might.

“‘Pet witch.’ I like that,” Kade said, apparently addressing the blue faience vase sitting next to her on the sideboard. “I’m going to put a curse on him.”

“If you can’t be quiet you’ll have to leave, pet,” Thomas said.

Kade turned a look of narrow-eyed reproach on him, then regarded Dontane with so much sly malice it had to be artificial.

Thomas studied him thoughtfully a moment, then asked, “Are you a sorcerer?”

Dontane’s expression was calm. “I am not.”

“Then are you a dabbler in magic, like Lestrac?” He hadn’t forgotten the young lord’s last words: he said he’d teach power. If one had a taste of power, enough to hide a door by illusion, or to witch a useless spy dead, the temptation to learn more at the hands of a master like Grandier might be overwhelming.

“No, I am not,” Dontane said, looking away in disgust.

Had he hesitated, deciding how to answer? “Is he a sorcerer?” Thomas asked Kade.

She dug a moment in the pocket of her smock, and when she drew her hand out her fingers were covered with a dark powdery substance. She touched her forefinger carefully to the corner of each eye, then looked up at Dontane.

He smiled, scornfully. “Well, witch?”

She held his eyes a moment, then said, “I think he knew what I was doing.”

Dontane snorted derision and looked away. Watching him carefully, Thomas asked, “And what was that?”

“Putting gascoign powder in my eyes. If he had been using a spell, or if there had been a spell on him, I would see it. It doesn’t prove he isn’t a sorcerer.”

Dontane smiled. “Alchemical powders are hardly a secret.”

“Maybe,” Thomas agreed. He had heard of gascoign powder as well, but that explanation for Kade’s actions hadn’t immediately leapt to mind. If Dontane wasn’t trained in the craft of sorcery, he had at least been much around those who were. “Where’s Grandier keeping himself these days?”

“Who? I don’t know the name.” It was said admirably, with just the right amount of confusion.

Thomas smiled. “Then you must have been under a bushel. Everyone else knows it” After Dr. Braun’s murder, rumor had spread out of control in court circles and Urbain Grandier’s name had been prominent, though without any real detail.

Dontane’s expression froze and for a moment he looked dangerous, and not at all like the drunken puppies that Castero had herded out.

Dangerous, Thomas thought, but weak, like Lestrac, Someone’s useful tool. He said, “You will be glad to know that I am extending the hospitality of the palace to you.”

“You’ll regret this.” Dontane had gathered up the remains of his fa�ade, and spoke with drunken arrogance.

“I’m sure one of us will,” Thomas agreed.

*

It was evening by the time they returned to the palace. The rain had stopped but the clouds still obscured the stars and the waning moon. Thomas had seen the prisoners settled in the Cisternan Barracks, with Dontane in one of the cells specially warded against the use of sorcery. Then he set off through the corridor within the outer wall toward the King’s Bastion. He wanted to find Lucas and hear what they had found at Gambin’s house, though he suspected it wouldn’t be much. The answers he needed would have to be pried out of Dontane. It was pure luck they had managed to catch him at all.

Pure luck, and Kade, who had disappeared again after they passed through the Prince’s Gate, taking her confused motives with her. She couldn’t be here simply to cause trouble. Thomas might have realized Lestrac’s hidden room was there without her help, but he would never have gotten into it in time to question the dying noble.

He climbed the rough-cut stone staircase that angled up into the King’s Bastion. The tapestry-concealed entrance on the third floor gave onto a long central mirror-lined gallery, which was unusually crowded and noisy for this time of night.

Thomas made his way past a group of loudly talking courtiers and saw the cause of the excitement.

Denzil was dueling with Aristofan, Queen Falaise’s poet-companion. They had stripped to their shirts and were stalking each other up and down the length of the candlelit room. The young poet was intent but breathing hard, and was obviously having the more difficult time. Denzil, his blond hair tied back, was moving with easy grace and confidence. It was the social event of the night, the women watching from behind fluttering fans, the men commenting on the performance and quietly placing wagers.

Thomas joined Lucas, who was watching from the sidelines with the old Count of Duncanny and a few other bystanders. “How did it start?” Thomas asked him.

Lucas shrugged. “The boy accused Denzil of insulting the Queen in some way and Denzil challenged him. It’s all very mysterious. Neither will say exactly what the insult was.”

Arms folded and eyes critical, the old count said, “I don’t think they know.”

Most duels were sparked by boredom. Courtiers and city-dwelling nobles with little to do except drink, gamble, and argue fought over everything from their wives’ honor to the score of card games. This one had a certain impromptu look; there were no seconds and they were fighting in the flickering inadequate light of the long gallery.

Face shining with exertion, Aristofan was quick to take advantage of the openings in Denzil’s guard, but his blade never seemed to connect. After a few moments, Thomas recognized Denzil’s technique, which was one he had often used himself for training inexperienced swordsmen. Denzil was completely controlling the fight by maintaining a constant distance between himself and the young poet. Denzil was the taller man, and with his longer reach and better control, Aristofan hadn’t even a chance of wounding him.

The Duke of Alsene was using a special dueling sword with a black metal cup hilt that matched his main gauche. Thomas noticed Aristofan was using a businesslike dueling rapier. “Where did he get that sword?” He looked at Lucas.

Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “You should have seen the one I took away from him. The boy was going to try to defend himself with a piece of jewelry.”

Thomas snorted. “Getting sentimental in our old age, are we?”

“Won’t help,” the count said quietly.

Thomas sensed movement near him and looked down to find Kade Carrion at his elbow again, watching the fight with a faint look of contempt. He was beginning to wonder if the woman was intentionally following him. As if aware her presence had been noted, she asked, “What’s this about?”

Several nearby watchers looked around at the shabby figure of the sorceress in surprise, having not realized she was there until that moment. Thomas said, “Possibly the Queen’s honor, possibly nothing. Public opinion is divided at the moment.”

She glanced up at him suspiciously. “Oh.”

Denzil was continuing to play with Aristofan, turning the duel into a cat-and-mouse game Thomas began to find repellent. He should end it. Bastard.

Kade asked suddenly, “Are the rumors about Denzil and Roland true?”

Thomas automatically glanced around to see if any of Denzil’s tale-bearing friends were within earshot. Roland had a morbid fear of idle talk, and what the gossips would make of Kade’s innocent question would reach his ears in no time. Her presence had cleared the