The Death Of The Necromancer - The Death Of The Necromancer Part 32
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The Death Of The Necromancer Part 32

"Yes, the two men, gray-haired, one with a doctor bag, one with a cane? Doctors come all the time lately, I hardly notice."

"How long before?" Nicholas asked sharply, interrupting whatever pronouncement the official had been trying to make.

"Not long." The concierge narrowed his eyes, lips pursed in thought, anticipating the demand for a more specific answer. "I heard them go up the stairs, a door open and close. Then Cesar, from the market, came to argue about rent, but that was only for a moment and boom! It knocked us both down from fear. Things fell, dust came down the stairs in a great cloud. I thought the whole place would come down on our heads."

It was a trap, then. If Nicholas had correctly understood Isham, then the removal of whatever spell had imprisoned Arisilde had alerted their opponent, but instead of acting immediately he had waited to see who would come to Arisilde's side. But if Arisilde was waking, why hadn't he tried to defend himself? I have to get into that apartment.

"And what relation was the tenant to you?" the official asked.

Nicholas was glad he hadn't brought a pistol with him; he would've been tempted to shoot the man.

But before he could answer, Madeline shouldered the bulky constable out of the doorway and shoved into the room. She stood, breathing hard, looking down at Isham. Nicholas saw the official look askance at her coat and trousers and he told the man, in a cold voice, "She's on the stage."

"Ahh." The official pretended to understand that statement and persisted, "I understand the shock of the situation but-"

Madeline lifted her gaze to Nicholas. "How is he?" she demanded.

Her eyes glittered and not from unshed tears. It was a dangerous light, uncertain and with an edge to it. Nicholas answered, "Not good. He needs to go to Doctor Brile immediately."

The concierge abruptly remembered his duty and said, "I get you a carriage," and pushed his way out past the constable.

Nicholas hesitated for a heartbeat, then put his faith in Madeline's quick wits. He stood and caught her hand, saying urgently, "You look faint!"

Her expression didn't change but she blinked and raised a suddenly trembling hand to her brow. Then she fell backwards, boneless and apparently completely unconscious, right into the arms of the surprised official. He staggered under her sudden and unexpected weight and the constable leapt forward to help support her. The woman who had been tending Isham yelped in sympathy and scrambled around the bed to help.Nicholas shouted something about going for help and slipped past them and out the door. He reached the landing again, saw the other tenants still milling below, and hurried up the stairs.

The doorframe in Arisilde's apartment was cracked and splintered and the door hung on its hinges, revealing the familiar hall choked with rubble and debris. He stepped through it carefully, making his way into the long parlor at the back of the apartment. The hole was between the two windows that had looked down into the alley, the edges ragged with broken stone and shattered wood. The floor was buried under plaster from the ceiling and broken glass from the windows and the skylights and the remnants of the curtains were stirring gently in the cool breeze. Nicholas moved around the room, noting the familiar objects strewn about, the furniture broken or overturned, the scattered books and smashed plant pots.

A gas explosion, Nicholas thought in contempt. Whoever came to that conclusion was delusional.

From the look of it all, it was immediately obvious that whatever had burst through the wall had done it from the outside coming in.

He left the wreck of the parlor and searched the rest of the apartment swiftly. The other rooms were not as badly disturbed, except for objects knocked off the walls and the cracks in the plaster. There was no sign of Ronsarde or Halle, no sign that anyone had been here.

Arisilde's bedroom was oddly undisturbed, as if it had been at the still center of a violent and destructive storm. The coverlet on the bed was thrown back and the impression in the soft mattress where Arisilde had lain was still visible.

He heard voices from below and knew he had run out of time. He moved quickly toward the door but a glint of white wedged into the bottom of the splintered doorframe caught his eye. He knelt and worked it free.

It was a piece of ivory, carved into the shape of a Parscian hunting cat's head. It was the ornament from atop the ebony cane Reynard had loaned to Inspector Ronsarde.

The concierge had found a carriage to take Isham to Doctor Brile's surgery and Nicholas used that confusion to get down the stairs to the lower landing without anyone noticing. In the ensuing effort to get the injured man down the stairs without hurting him further, Nicholas managed to give some coins to the woman who had let her rooms be used as hospital and morgue and to ask the concierge to send for an undertaker to take charge of Madele's body. He escaped into the street without further interrogation by constables or anyone else.

As he gave the coachman instructions and a note for Doctor Brile, he saw Madeline waiting across the street with Reynard and Cusard. He checked that Isham was settled as comfortably as possible, then sent the coach off and joined the others.

"Are you all right?" he asked Madeline.

"Of course," she snapped.

"Do we know anything of what happened?" Reynard asked, as if he didn't have much hope of an answer.

Nicholas shook his head. "From what Isham was able to tell me, Madele discovered what was wrong with Arisilde. It was a spell, not drugs or illness. But when she removed it, it somehow alerted the sorcerer. He waited long enough to draw a few of us into the trap." He stopped, compressing his lips', then looked at Madeline. "Why didn't she tell me she had discovered what was wrong with Arisilde?"

"She never told anyone anything. She probably didn't want to get your hopes up if she was wrong."

Madeline knotted her fists and paced angrily. "Damn stupid old woman."

Reynard was looking up at the ruin of the tenement's top floor. He said softly, "Now what?"That wasn't a question Nicholas wanted to answer at the moment, even though he knew exactly what he had to do now. He looked around, struck by the sudden notion that he was missing something important. "Wait. Where's Crack?"

Reynard turned back and Madeline looked up. Cusard blanched and said, "He was with Ronsarde and Halle when I left...."

Nicholas cursed and started back down the alley toward their coach. He would check the apartment but he knew he would find no one there. He had told Crack to "watch the others" and Crack would not have let Ronsarde and Halle leave the apartment alone.

Chapter Nineteen.

Nicholas read the telegram one more time in disbelief, then crumpled it into a tight little ball. The struggle to control rage took all his concentration for a moment, but then he was able to turn to Reynard and say tightly, "I'm informed that any messages I send will not be delivered to Captain Giarde."

Reynard stared in disbelief. "Fallier?"

Nicholas considered it, then shook his head. The Court Sorcerer couldn't affect the delivery of private messages to the palace. No, that was the Prefecture's realm. "Albier. He thinks I'm trying to undermine him on Ronsarde's behalf. He has probably given orders to block messages from Ronsarde and Halle, as well." No one in the Prefecture knew that the two men had been in the shattered apartment in the Philosopher's Cross. Nicholas had sent his message from the telegraph office on the Boulevard of Flowers and then returned with the others to the Panzan apartment to find the place chill and empty, the fires gone out from lack of tending. As he had feared, Crack was nowhere to be found. Nicholas had sent Lamane over to check the warehouse, hoping against hope, but he knew Crack must have followed Ronsarde and Halle to Arisilde's apartment.

He threw the telegram into the hearth. Madeline was sitting on the divan near the window with her knees drawn up. She lifted her head and regarded him with a dark unflinching gaze, but said nothing.

Cusard was pacing anxiously.

"But Albier's honest, or enough so for this purpose," Reynard said, looking thoughtful. "We could go to him and explain, ask for help."

Nicholas grimaced at the thought but as much as he disliked the idea of an appeal to Albier, it was the quickest way to get Captain Giarde's assistance. "Madeline will go to Albier." He hesitated, not wanting to drag Reynard into this. He had lost enough people to this sorcerer. But I can't do it alone. "You and I will go after the others."

Reynard stared hard at him. "You know where they've been taken?"

"It's only speculation." Nicholas found the folder of maps he had tossed into a chair and dug out the one he needed. He spread it on the table. "This is the key. The Monde Street sewer."

"He's hiding in a sewer?" Cusard said, coming over to look, his doubt evident.

"For the past few days the Monde Street sewer syphon has been subject to blockages, caused by bone. Human bone," Nicholas explained. At their expressions he said, "No, it's not what you're thinking.

These bones were years old, that was apparent from even a cursory examination. That was why the sewermen were not alarmed.""Better start from the beginning," Reynard said, exchanging a dubious look with Cusard.

"From experience I know how difficult it is to find a reliable, safe hiding place in this city," Nicholas said patiently. "Considering that our sorcerer chose Valent House the first time, I found it unlikely that he would have tried to purchase or acquire property, and the Prefecture would be investigating any deserted buildings that were possibilities. So before extending the search outside the city walls, I wanted to see if he had gone underground."

"The Sending. Isham said it could have been the remains of a long dead fay, buried somewhere, didn't he?" Reynard tapped the map thoughtfully. "A catacomb?"

"Exactly. After speaking to the sewermen and looking over the maps from the Public Works office, it became apparent that a catacomb was being cleared, the bones dumped into the sewer somewhere above Monde where they were flowing down into the syphon."

"But what if there's been a collapse somewhere, and the bones washed out of a catacomb naturally?"

"The sewer level would have dropped since there hasn't been rain for days." Nicholas hesitated. It was all a tissue of suppositions, but he still thought his reasoning was sound. "It's only a theory. But I've thought hard about it and it's the most likely option."

Reynard eyed him thoughtfully. "How long have you known this?"

Nicholas glanced at Madeline, but though she was watching alertly she still betrayed no reaction.

"Since I looked at the maps I received from a clerk at the Prefect of Public Works office last night, before we went to meet you. I wanted to be sure it was possible for a catacomb to exist in the location it would have to occupy for this to work. There's been so much building in the past few decades and none of the original catacombs that are still accessible are very deep."

Reynard was nodding. There were catacombs that were still in use under the cathedral and others in the older parts of Vienne that were opened occasionally for tours. "But this was a catacomb only our sorcerer knew about? The same way he knew about everything else, I suppose."

Nicholas nodded, distractedly. "Once we know for certain that this is the sorcerer's hiding place, we can return and direct Fallier and Giarde and his men to the exact location." He glanced at Cusard. "I'll need some things from the warehouse."

Cusard nodded and let out his breath in resignation. "Sewers. Ghouls. I'm glad I'm old."

"Let me be clear on one point," Reynard said. "The idea is to locate the sorcerer so he can be dealt with by Fallier and the other resources the palace can command, not take care of him ourselves."

"Correct. The situation doesn't call for suicide," Nicholas said, a brow lifting ironically. "But should we be cornered, there can't be that much difficulty. After all, I am related to the man who killed the sorcerer Urbain Grandier."

"As I remember the story Alsene shot him in the back, from a distance," Reynard said dryly, folding his arms.

"That would be my preference as well."

"Hmm." Reynard stroked his mustache and said consideringly, "How does one dress for the sewer?"

Nicholas started to answer but Madeline stood suddenly, saying, "Nicholas, I'm going with you, not Reynard."

They both turned to stare at her.

She seemed to realize she would at least have to clarify her position. "There are a number of reasons.

One of which is that we know Edouard's sphere works for me and we don't know that it will work for anyone else, and there's no time to make a suitable test. I assume there will still be ghouls in the sewers."She paused, as if to give him leave to interrupt at this point, but Nicholas kept silent. He had never been spoken to in this tone by anyone not holding a pistol trained on him and he found himself unwillingly fascinated. He wondered if she would mention Madele.

After a polite interval, Madeline continued, showing no sign of being disconcerted by his silence, "I could threaten, I could shout. I could follow you or delay you if you try to stop me. But I'm not going to do any of those things. I'm just going with you."

Nicholas waited but that seemed to be all. He cleared his throat. "That would mean Reynard would have to attempt to contact Albier and Captain Giarde."

Her mouth tightened. She must know Reynard had been acquainted with Giarde from his days as a cavalry officer and Nicholas had to admit it was a low blow. Dryly, she said, "I don't think Reynard's sensibilities are as delicate as yours."

Reynard and Nicholas exchanged another look. I know she just insulted both of us but I'm not sure how, Nicholas thought. He said, "You almost fainted from the stench when we went into the sewer from the prison." He was aware he sounded accusing. And ineffectual.

"You were ill when you saw the carnage in Valent House," she retorted. "I'd say that makes us even."

Nicholas took a deep breath for calm, then looked at Reynard, who said immediately, "This is your decision. I'm not in the middle of this."

The problem was that she was right about the sphere. Once they found the sorcerer's hiding place they would certainly be pursued; it could mean the difference between getting out alive and perishing nobly. Nicholas wasn't fond of the idea of dying heroically, alone or in company.

"We're running out of time," Madeline said softly.

"There's something I need to tell you both first." Nicholas folded the map slowly. Regardless of which of them went, he wanted them to know what they might be facing. "I don't think this sorcerer is a man pretending, to himself and everyone else, to be Constant Macob."

Madeline frowned. Reynard looked confused. He said, "But I thought that was the conclusion indicated by everything we'd discovered."

"It is," Nicholas assured him. "But I think he actually is Constant Macob."

There was a moment of silence, then Reynard said, "He is Macob, but not in the flesh, you mean?"

Cusard groaned and covered his face.

"Not in the flesh," Nicholas agreed. "Not anymore."

"You mean Edouard's device brought him back to life?" Madeline asked. She shook her head doubtfully.

"Good. We'll all need it later," Cusard muttered.

"No, I don't think Edouard's device did that. Or at least, not yet." There was an uncomfortable silence as that sank in. "I think Octave must have been in contact with Macob before he obtained the sphere and the notes on Edouard's work from Ilamires Rohan. I think Octave contacted, or was contacted by, Macob in one of Octave's earlier attempts at spiritualism. Macob used his sorcery to discover things of benefit to Octave. Necromancy is, after all, primarily concerned with divination and the discovery of secret knowledge. One of the things Macob discovered for Octave was that Ilamires Rohan still had one of Edouard's spheres. Octave blackmailed Rohan to get it then must have used the sphere to strengthen Macob's connection with the living world." He paced away from the table. "Macob must be planning some way to make that connection permanent, to bring himself back to life. To do this heapparently needed to get his body, or whatever was left of it, out of that room below what used to be Ventarin House. He sent Octave to contact the Duchess of Mondollot, but he didn't quite trust his accomplice. It was after all in Octave's best interest to keep the business of holding circles and discovering hidden treasures going as long as possible. Macob must have realized that Octave never meant him to succeed. So Macob sent the ghouls he had made with his necromancy and they located and stole the corpse for him. But it must have startled Macob that we arrived in Mondollot's cellars almost in time to witness the retrieval of the body, because he sent the golem of Octave to question my motives.

He was afraid I had discovered that Octave was using Edouard's sphere." He shook his head. "No, he didn't want Octave to know what he really wanted, not at that point. He was playing at helping Octave with the spiritualism confidence game. I think it wasn't until that night after the circle at Gabrill House that Octave began to suspect the truth. He wanted to tell Macob that someone had tried to follow his coach, so he went unexpectedly to Valent House. Perhaps he truly didn't know the extent to which Macob had returned to his old practices until then. I only know that when I saw Octave at Lusaude's the next night, he was very frightened."

"But Macob's had his body back for days," Madeline said, gesturing in frustration. "That can't have been all he needed."

"No, there is some other element still missing. Something that is presently in the palace."

"The palace?" Reynard said, frowning. "What does the- Wait, you said Fontainon House was inside the palace wards. So Macob wanted Octave to hold a circle there and that would let Macob inside the wards and into the palace?".

"I suggested as much to Captain Giarde," Nicholas agreed. "But there was no proof."

"But what does Macob want there?"

Nicholas shrugged. "I don't have the slightest idea. The palace has been a home for sorcerers for hundreds of years. It could be anything. It might be something no one knows is there. No one except Macob." He looked at Madeline. "Do you still want to go?"

"You shouldn't have phrased it as a challenge," she said dryly.

Reynard had already departed for the Prefecture and hopefully a meeting with Lord Albier. If he couldn't convince Albier of the urgency of his errand, and if he avoided being thrown into a Prefecture cell, he would try an audience with Giarde directly. Nicholas had to admit that Reynard would be far more adept than Madeline at tackling the issue of Albier's bullheaded stupidity without infuriating the official to the point where he had him arrested.

After some hasty preparations, Cusard drove them in his wagon to the sewer entrance Nicholas wanted to start from. It was on a street with little traffic, lined with tenement apartments that were quiet during the day, with broad walks and potted trees that kept passersby at a distance. It was also very near to the Monde Street syphon.

The wagon was drawn up in such a way as to block the view of the manhole and Nicholas checked through the waterproofed knapsack he had quickly packed, enduring Cusard's doleful inquiries about extra candle stubs and matches.

Madeline stood nearby, with the sphere wrapped in sacking and tucked under her arm. She looked more impatient to get started than anything else.

Cusard followed his gaze, and muttered, "Take care of her ladyship there. And find Crack. I didn't realize I'd gotten so used to the bloody bastard."

"I will," Nicholas told him. "And don't worry; if everything goes well, we shouldn't be in muchdanger."

"Don't say that," Cusard demanded. "You're tempting fate."

They pried up the heavy metal cover and Nicholas went down first to get the lamp lit in the shaft of mild sunlight from the opening. Madeline climbed down after him and he motioned for Cusard to slide the cover closed.