The Death Of The Necromancer - The Death Of The Necromancer Part 39
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The Death Of The Necromancer Part 39

Nicholas dressed hastily in the plain dark suit that mostly fit and boots that were a little too small. He wasn't sure if the consternation of the servants was due to his refusal to accept his status as a prisoner, or that they had simply expected him to spend most of the day in bed, moaning. The place in his chest where he had been stabbed felt, and looked like, he had been kicked by a horse.

The servants didn't try to stop him but the majordomo hovered conspicuously as Nicholas stalked through the antechamber and salon and out into a high-ceilinged, pillared corridor. He paused there, noting the presence of two palace Guards who appeared startled to see him.

This might be the King's Bastion or possibly the Queen's. The carved panelling on the walls was certainly old enough and the marble at the base of some of the columns bore cracks and discolorations from age. He started to turn to the majordomo to ask where the hell he was when he saw Reynard coming down the corridor.

Reynard looked in far better shape than Nicholas but his brow was creased in a worried frown. They must have sent for him in the hope that he could exercise some sort of restraint over Nicholas.

"Where's Madeline?" Nicholas asked as soon as he was within earshot.

"She's all right, I've had word from her." Reynard took his arm and drew him behind a pillar where they could speak in comparative privacy, much to the consternation of the majordomo and the Guards.

Lowering his voice, Reynard said, "She left before you and Arisilde were found by the Prefecture. She wasn't sure what our status was with the palace and thought at least one of us should be on the outside."

Nicholas nodded. "Good." A little of the tightness in his chest eased. She's alive and she's well out of this. He tried to get his thoughts together. "Is Crack here as well?"

"No, I thought it better if no one in authority got too curious about him. Once he gave us the map and told us where you were, I had him hauled off to Doctor Brile's surgery. Fortunately for the men who did the hauling, he was too exhausted to put up much of a struggle. I received word this morning that he's patched up and recovering nicely."

"And Isham?"

"He was well enough to sit up in bed and demand to know where we were and what had happened Brile said, so he should be all right in a few days. He's a tough old man." Reynard hesitated. "It's too bad Madeline's grandmother-"

"Yes, it is." Nicholas looked away; he didn't want to discuss Madele. "Did Madeline say where she would be?"

"No, but there was something else she wanted me to tell you. This note was in our code, by the way, so it's not as if half the palace knows our business." Reynard glanced idly around, unobtrusively noted the location of the Guards and lowered his voice a little more. "When you were down in the sewer and Ronsarde thought he wouldn't make it out, he told her he had some papers hidden under the floor in his apartment and that she was to make sure you got them. It can't be about Macob or he would have told us before this, surely."

Nicholas started to reply then stopped, arrested by a sudden memory. A memory of a moment that had never taken place. The garden at the old house at Lodun, and speaking to Edouard while he listened to Macob's scream of rage. The last thing Edouard had said was if I had known it would worry you so much I would have told you about the letter. He said, "No, I think I know what it's about.""Oh." Reynard was a little nonplussed. "Well that's good, anyway, because she went to Ronsarde's apartment last night to retrieve the papers and found the place had been ransacked. Whatever it was, it's gone now."

Of course it is. Nicholas closed his eyes briefly and swore. Montesq runs true to type, as usual. "Is Ronsarde here?"

"Yes, I was just over there, though I couldn't get in to see him. He's going to recover according to the physicians."

Nicholas thought hard. An idea was beginning to form, though there were some things he had to make sure of first. He looked at the guards loitering nearby, then turned back to Reynard. "Are you free to leave or are they watching you as well?"

Reynard hesitated, his expression hard to read. "Nic, Giarde has offered me a colonel's commission in a cavalry regiment, the Queen's First. As a reward for sounding the alarm over Macob, I suppose."

"That's a very prestigious regiment," Nicholas said. His throat was suddenly dry. He had known Reynard had never wanted to leave the cavalry. He was a military man at heart and would still have been in the service if he hadn't been unfairly driven out.

"Yes, service to the Crown and all that. Ronsarde apparently said some complimentary things, too."

Reynard cleared his throat.

"Have you accepted it?"

Their eyes met and Reynard's mouth quirked in a smile. "Not yet."

"How coy of you." Nicholas paused, and suggested cautiously, "Before you do, can you get some messages out of the palace for me, without anyone knowing?"

"Well, I'm not a Queen's officer yet."

Ronsarde was ensconced in a suite of rooms in the King's Bastion and there were a number of physicians, upper level palace servants, and officials of the Prefecture in attendance. Nicholas talked his way through the anteroom just as the inner doors opened and the Queen emerged with her train of attendants. Nicholas tried to duck behind a pedestal bearing a bust of some late bishop, but she spotted him and cornered him against a cabinet when he tried to retreat.

"You're awake," she said. She eyed him with that startling directness, then turned to study the china ornaments in the cabinet. "Did you know where it was?" she demanded.

Nicholas was aware he hadn't properly bowed to her but it was impossible now as she had him backed into a corner. At least, he decided, she was armed with neither the cat nor Captain Giarde. "Did I know where what was, your majesty?"

"It was buried back in some salon, in a box no one had looked in for years." She glanced at him to see how he was taking it, and added, "That's odd, isn't it?"

He deduced that she was talking about Macob's skull and that she was not accusing him of knowing its location, but trying to impart it as an intriguing curiosity. "It wasn't as odd as some things that happened, your majesty."

She considered that judiciously, then nodded to herself. "Are you going to see Inspector Ronsarde?"

"Yes, I was."

She looked up at the large and well-armed Queen's Guard who had been standing at her elbow throughout the conversation. He turned and suddenly a path opened through the crowd to the door intothe inner chambers of the suite. The Queen stepped back so Nicholas could get past and he made his escape gratefully.

It wasn't until he walked into the bedchamber that Nicholas realized that Ronsarde had been housed in a set of state apartments. The room was about the size of a modest ballroom, with two large hearths with intricately arabesqued marble chimneypieces. The enormous bed, hung with indigo curtains, was set up on a dais and had a daybed at its foot. Ronsarde lay in it, propped up by a mass of pillows with Doctor Halle and another physician standing nearby. Halle was pale and had a large bruise on his forehead but otherwise appeared none the worse for his experience. The Inspector, however, was too red-faced for real health. "I don't want to rest," Ronsarde was saying in a querulous tone. "It's ridiculous that- Ah!" He saw Nicholas and sat up straight. "There you are, my boy."

Nicholas walked to the foot of the dais. He wondered which Kings of Ile-Rien had slept in this chamber. No recent ones, since the furnishings were too far out of date. Rogere, perhaps? With the current Queen's sense of humor that was all too possible. He said, "If I could speak to you alone. . . ."

Ronsarde looked at Halle, who sighed and reached for his medical bag. "I suppose it would do more harm to argue with you," Halle said. He gestured the other doctor ahead of him and clapped Nicholas on the shoulder as he passed.

Nicholas stepped up to the bed and as the door shut behind the two physicians, he said, "Your apartment has been vandalized."

"Yes, I know." Ronsarde's welcoming expression faded a little. He said, "It was discovered when Halle sent for some of my things this morning. I knew it wasn't you, since your men would have known where to look." He paused, worried. "Madeline did escape the sewers, did she not?"

"Yes, but she didn't fancy palace hospitality."

Ronsarde let out his breath. "Sit down, at least, and don't stand there like an executioner. I can tell you what was in those documents."

Nicholas sat down on the edge of the bed, aware of the tension in his muscles and a headache like a stabbing needle in his left temple. Ronsarde said, "I never stopped investigating the case surrounding your foster father. I say the case 'surrounding' him, because in some ways I now believe he was incidental to it."

Nicholas nodded. "It was always difficult to keep sight of the fact that necromancy is a magic of divination and of the revealing of secret information."

"Yes," Ronsarde said, gently. "Count Rive Montesq was Edouard Viller's patron. Count Rive Montesq has been linked, through various circumstantial reports, to blackmail and illicit financial dealings.

Two fields of endeavor in which the revelation of secret information would be of great benefit."

"And Edouard had a device, invented with Arisilde Damal, the most powerful sorcerer at Lodun at that time, that would allow a layman to perform magic."

"That was intended to allow a layman to perform magic," Ronsarde corrected. "As we know, and as Viller and Damal must have discovered almost immediately, the device did not function quite as anticipated and the wielder had to have some small gift of magic before it would work."

Nicholas looked down at his hands, avoiding Ronsarde's perceptive gaze. "Montesq must have asked Edouard to use the sphere for necromancy, to discover secrets."

"Viller refused, not only because it was a violation of law, but because he couldn't use it. He was not a sorcerer. Montesq, being a liar himself, did not believe Viller was telling him the truth. But Montesq wanted the power of the sphere. He is a man who craves power. It must rankle that he has to depend on hired sorcerers for magic." Ronsarde ran his fingers along the edge of the quilt thoughtfully. "He wasViller's patron and it would have been easy for him to obtain keys to the rooms Viller was using for his work. He entered them one night after Viller had gone and he tried to use the sphere."

"And it didn't work," Nicholas said.

"The failing could not be his, of course, so he tried again. He brought a hired thug, who took a beggar woman off the street for him, and he tried the necromantic spell in Macob's time-honored fashion. And it did not work. So he left and allowed Viller to take the blame."

Nicholas said nothing.

Ronsarde hesitated, then added carefully, "It helps to know why something occurred, when one is reconstructing a chain of events, but it can also cloud the issue. You can't be faulted for suspecting that your foster father had actually committed the crime he was executed for. The evidence was overwhelming and he was the only one directly associated with the situation who had a motive to use necromancy. His desire to speak to his dead wife was well documented during the trial. And he wouldn't talk. He wouldn't tell you what had happened. And you knew he was keeping something from you. The power of the 'why' obscured the 'how.' " His mouth twisted ruefully. "It can happen to anyone. It has certainly happened to me."

Nicholas shifted. His shoulders ached from tension. "What was in the missing documents?"

"They were sent to me a month ago. I was pursuing the matter from the only direction that was left to me: that Edouard Viller knew something detrimental to Montesq and that he did reveal this information to someone before he was executed. To that end I was tracing and contacting his correspondents. I had had no luck. Then I was sent a package of letters from Bukarin, from the daughter of a man Viller had corresponded with for some time, a doctor of philosophy at the Scholars' Guild in Bukarin. The man had died before Viller was executed. The daughter had received my request for information that was directed to her late father and sent me all Viller's letters that she could find among his papers. One was unopened.

It had been sent only two days before the dead woman was discovered in Viller's workroom, but had arrived after the man it was addressed to had passed away. In it Viller describes the curious incident of Count Rive Montesq's request that Viller use his device for necromancy."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Nicholas said. The words sounded oddly hollow.

"Montesq must have threatened your life to insure Edouard's silence." Ronsarde spread his hands. "It doesn't matter. We have all that we need. Montesq will suffer for his crime."

"You don't have the letters anymore." Nicholas shook his head. "Montesq knows. He's been preparing all this time while we were pursuing Macob."

Ronsarde's brows drew together.

"He sent Fallier after me and directed Lord Diero of the Prefecture to arrange your arrest," Nicholas explained. "He has known all along. He is well prepared by now to deal with a public accusation."

"It doesn't matter how well he has prepared. It won't help him."

"Don't be naive."

Ronsarde glared at him, but his expression turned worried when Nicholas got to his feet and said, "I assume I'm to be detained here."

"For your own good," Ronsarde said, watching him carefully. "Only until Montesq is formally charged."

Nicholas nodded. "I'm going abroad and my man Crack will be looking for a new position shortly.

You need someone to watch your back, who could help with your work. Would you consider taking him on?""Crack would certainly be adept at frightening away any old enemies in search of revenge," Ronsarde admitted. "I assume he was innocent of the murder charges against him?"

Nicholas smiled, a trifle ironically. So Crack's real identity hadn't escaped Ronsarde's notice either.

"Any in-depth investigation of the extortion branch of Montesq's little empire will reveal that Crack was framed for those charges."

"All right." Ronsarde nodded, then asked sharply, "Where are you going?"

"You're the greatest detective in Ile-Rien," Nicholas said. He put his hands in his pockets and strolled to the door. "Figure it out."

His next visit was to Arisilde, who had been given a smaller suite of rooms on the same floor as Inspector Ronsarde. It was less difficult to obtain entry and Nicholas was soon sitting in the chair next to his bed. "How are you?" he asked.

"Oh, better, I suppose." Arisilde's long pale hands plucked anxiously at the coverlet. "Have you heard anything about Isham? No one here seems to know."

"He's at Doctor Brile's house, awake and recovering." He told Arisilde what Reynard had heard about the Parscian that morning.

"Good." Arisilde sat back against the pillows, more at ease. "I hope he's well soon enough that he can come and see me here. It would be terrible if we all visited the palace and he missed it." His violet eyes turned pensive and he added, "The Queen was here. She's very sweet, but she asked me if I wanted to be Court Sorcerer. I don't think she's very fond of Rahene Fallier. I told her I'd have to think about it. I'm not very reliable, you know."

"You were there when it counted, Ari."

"Well, yes, but. ... I remembered what I had been going to tell you, you know. That night I went so mad and charged all over the room."

"What was it?"

"I'd looked at those things you brought me. The fabric with the ghost-lichen on it and the remnants of that golem. There was the mark of an unfamiliar sorcerer on them. A very powerful sorcerer. But it went right out of my head until now."

"It wouldn't have mattered, even at the time." Nicholas hesitated a long moment. "I came to tell you that I'm going away for a while."

Arisilde brightened, interested. "Really? Where?"

"Abroad. I'll write you when I get there and let you know. If you like, you and Isham can move into Coldcourt while I'm gone."

"Ah, yes. They told me that Macob didn't leave much of the garret. That would be very nice. And you'd better write Isham instead of me. He'll keep track of the letter better than I would." Arisilde watched him a moment, his gaze sharpening. "Take care of yourself, Nicholas. I don't think I could manage to bring you back from the dead twice."

Nicholas stood, an ironic edge to his smile. "Ari, I hope you won't have to."

They were watching him, of course.Nicholas sent two messages, one to Madeline and one to Cusard, both in code. Reynard got them out for him easily enough under the cover of an innocuous note to Nicholas's butler Sarasate at Coldcourt, asking him to send one of the footmen with some clothes proper for court attire.

Ronsarde demanded to see him again but Nicholas dodged the Inspector's questions and refused to elaborate on his future plans. He had to endure a court luncheon where the others in attendance all seemed to know his Alsene antecedents and to be present only to get a look at him. It did however provide Reynard, who now had the Queen's favor and Captain Giarde's powerful patronage, with an opportunity to be rude to a number of highly placed courtiers.

Rahene Fallier was also there, with a dour expression somewhat at odds with his usual implacable visage.

After the luncheon, Nicholas slipped away from the men assigned to watch him and followed Fallier.

The sorcerer went through the wing that held the galleries and grand ballrooms and into the main hall of the Old Palace, which adjoined the newer, open sections of the structure with the older defensive bastions. At the top of the massive stone spiral stair that led to the King's Bastion, Fallier stopped, turned back, and said, "What do you want?"

Nicholas climbed the last few steps. Fallier's eyes were cold and not encouraging. "We need to talk."

"I think not." Fallier took his gloves out of his pocket and began to pull them on.

"I know you didn't do Rive Montesq's bidding of your own will."

Fallier hesitated, all motion arrested, then finished tugging on his glove. He looked at Nicholas and the expression in those opaque eyes was deadly.

Nicholas leaned one hand on the balustrade. "No, you don't want to kill me," he said, easily. "I have friends who wouldn't take it kindly. Especially Arisilde Damal, who is ordinarily the mildest of creatures.

But he is suffering the effects of many years overindulgence in opium and his temperament could be uncertain."

Fallier considered that. "Damal would be a worthy opponent," he said. "Perhaps . . . too worthy.

What do you want?"

"I don't care what Montesq is holding over your head. I studied at Lodun myself, at the medical college. I know many student sorcerers dabble with the harmless minor divinatory spells of necromancy.

Of course, with your position at court-"

"I understand you. Go on."