The elixir of inheritanc.., p.27
The Elixir of Inheritance, page 27
“Just so,” Ladyship said. “Where is he?” She turned her head to Mentor Nieminen. “Did you send him on an errand?”
“He requested the evening to apologize to the Savoldyn widow,” Nieminen said. “He showed a remarkable amount of loyalty to maintaining your ties with their house.”
Ladyship continued to eat, delicately wrapping bread around a bite of mouflon sausage. “They have been supplying me with goods for most of the time that Viran has been with the sect,” she said, and chewed. She licked her fingers, and began peeling a glass apple.
“No doubt, he wishes to smooth over the trouble your young agent’s meddling put her through.”
Nieminen lifted her chin to fix her stare on Ibram; he bowed slightly. Her eyes narrowed, before she sniffed and looked away. Ibram chewed the inside of his lower lip. Viran had been down the living mountain all night, then, and with permission to approach Mistress Savoldyn. On the first foot, it was a stretch to think Mistress Dolman would follow one outrage of impropriety with another. Yet, on the second, Ibram no longer knew what to think. Amota Viran and a married woman? Amota Viran and a widowed murderer?
“Yet we may have to trouble her further,” Ladyship said. “After all, the man was murdered. How did you find the corpse, Doctor Berot?”
“Suborning one of my folk, are you?” Mentor Stadat asked.
From the other side of the table, the good doctor looked up at his name. He had made some attempts to lay flat his shorn hair for the morning’s meal, and he had changed from his green smock to the standard gambeson and grey wrapped trousers, though his gambeson had red crystals embroidered on its sleeves as well. The table quieted as he cleared his throat.
“Indeed he was, Mentor,” Berot said. He picked up his wooden goblet of small beer, and drank quite deliberately. “It was as I thought.”
Lady Azadiya nodded and sighed. “The charge has been laid,” she said, “and most definitely proved.”
“Who made the charge?” Stadat asked.
“Her agent,” Nieminen said. “The one standing behind you there.”
Stadat turned briefly in his chair. “Quite the precedent,” he said. He had sharp pale eyes and a face too young for grey hair. He faced the table and again, and Ibram’s breath stuttered in his chest. “What killed him, then?”
Ibram clenched his fists behind his back. He rose up on his tiptoes and, from across the way, Amita Sarrha nodded at him. He settled, but couldn’t help the bubble of excitement from expanding in his chest.
“My agent, Ibram, was present at the death and noticed the irregularities with the corpse,” Lady Azadiya said and flicked her right hand over her shoulder. The glass apple peel slipped from her fingers, paused mid-air, and then returned to Ladyship’s trencher. “He laid the charge before my—”
She paused and touched her fingers to her temple delicately. The table slowly quieted as she breathed in and out, an obviously calming pattern. Ibram tensed, and took a step forward. She was still apt to turn pale and waver on her feet. Doctor Berot began to stand from his chair, but Lady Azadiya came back to herself and waved him down.
“Apologies, Ortwin,” she murmured, but by then all at the table were so quiet, everyone could hear her clearly. She smiled thinly. “While these goggles of Dakreia’s are very effective, there is still a touch of vertigo involved if I move too quickly. Now, as I was saying, Master Kalmar was notified that Ibram feared a murder had been committed. He of course brought the matter to me, and then to my temporary replacement.”
Here she gestured to Mentor Nieminen, whose smile grew a touch fixed. Ladyship took cut out a sliver of glass apple. She chewed and swallowed.
“Attendant Abele rather helpfully ruled out the usual poisons,” she said. “And then Ibram reported his and Ahksell’s findings to me later on. Really, I am grateful for Mentor Nieminen’s assistance in this matter. It takes a great leader to understand when one must meddle, and when one must stay above the fray.”
Mentor Nieminen drank from her cup of shay. “I am always happy to help another alchemist, of course,” she said.
“As should we all,” Stadat said in a very bland tone. “Guardians of the Emerald Mountains, aren’t we?”
“At least this portion,” Nieminen said. “What shall you report to the Imperial Commissioner? Surely with the Fourth Mentor back on her feet, this matter doesn’t reach the level of warder intervention.”
Ibram felt his eyebrows threatening to raise, and schooled his expression. His stomach rumbled as a servant darted past bearing a tray of bread fresh enough to make his mouth water and a crock of herbed oil. Amota Berac glanced at him, and then turned his head to mutter into Amita Sarrha’s ear. She laughed, and stabbed a pear to bring onto her plate.
“Oh, we shall always have need for the empire’s peacekeepers,” Lady Azadiya said. “But I believe we can handle the matter ourselves before turning the culprit over to the proper judiciary.”
“Feeling equal to it now?” Stadat asked.
“Entirely,” Lady Azadiya said.
Stadat finished eating his mouflon pie, and then washed the remains down with the contents of the mug on his left. “And who will handle the rest of your examinations?”
“I believe I have enough information to score Zorion’s results,” she said, and laughter rippled down the table. Zorion glanced up from his food, still chewing, and looked confused. “But the limits of this device impel me to call upon the services of a scribe. I shall complete that report, and then review the rest of the cohort assigned to my division. I believe they were released back to Afsoun?”
“They were,” Nieminen said.
Ladyship shrugged one shoulder. “Then they can resubmit their proposals. If I cannot adequately judge their competency, I will inform their teachers in Afsoun. I highly doubt it will be necessary, but in the interest of fairness I should give the matter its due attention.”
“More than fair,” Stadat declared, and waved his hand at a servant carrying a large platter of steaming beef broth. “You’ll drink this,” he said over his shoulder. “It fortifies.”
“Of course,” Lady Azadiya murmured.
Ibram frowned. Behind his back, he began to tick off the remaining Attendants to be examined. Rumin, Frumari, Ences… The tally came to about six in number, or seven if the twins decided to break up their duo and be critiqued separately. That left precious little time for Lady Azadiya to determine who amongst Savoldyn’s exiled relatives or moderately beloved household had murdered him.
The breakfast party decamped quickly enough after Lady Azadiya had been shown off to half the sect, even though the cook staff remained hard at work, preparing for the rest of the day’s meals. Ibram had tried to melt into the crowd streaming back to the makeshift dining hall for a bite to eat, but Amita Sarrha had intercepted him before he’d even stepped foot off the field. She had him firmly by the back of the gambeson as if she’d caught him trying to climb the walls for freedom.
Ahksell smiled encouragingly next to him, as they followed Ladyship and his amitai down the road to the tower. He removed a glass apple from his bundled handkerchief and handed it over. Ibram snatched it from Ahksell’s hand and bit into the apple immediately; the tart juice burst out and dripped on his hand. He wrinkled his nose, and licked his palm, and then chewed.
“It’s like all your lessons in courtesy slid out of your ears as soon as Verena stuffed them into your head,” Amita Sarrha said, and shook her head.
“Ama hasn’t thrown me barefoot into the street,” Ibram said, still chewing. “I must be doing something correctly.”
Ahead of them, Ladyship had taken Amota Berac’s arm for balance. Amota Lakum kept dividing his time between watching where he was going, and making sure to keep Lady Azadiya in his sight. She seemed to be walking all right, but at moments her head wobbled. Other times, her normally brisk steps slowed and Berac’s back muscles bulged as if he were bearing up a sudden weight. Doctor Berot had attached himself to Lady Azadiya’s orbit, and was patently observing her every move. Amota Lakum kept up a steady murmur of all the events Ladyship had missed in her absence.
Ibram swallowed his mouthful of glass apple. “Some of us had no breakfast, you know. I’m hungry.”
“And you never found Viran,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Which I recall ordering for you to do. Is there a reason I was ignored?”
Ibram bit another chunk of apple off, and shrugged. Ahksell looked pained. “He didn’t ignore you,” he said. “We were waylaid by certain events.”
Amita Sarrha frowned. “It’s just as well Ladyship found out where he went, since you made no attempt.”
At this, Lady Azadiya turned her head to her right shoulder. “Do I hear myself talked of?” she asked. As always, when amongst her division, her accent came through the strongest, burbling like a clear water stream. “I am an ill woman, make light of my faults.”
Amita Sarrha rubbed her upper lip, and shook her head. “Just Ibram’s inability to follow orders,” she said.
Ladyship held her head still for a moment, and then turned back to face the road. She hummed in thought. “And yet do I censure a boy for what benefits me?” she asked. “If he had sought Viran, would I then know he is missing?”
Ibram had the strangest urge to both puff out his chest and hunch his shoulders and hide behind Ahksell at the same moment. He looked over at Ahksell instead, and found his discomfort easily echoed. Ahksell shrugged; Ibram returned the gesture. Amita Sarrha tsked as they turned down the sight hill cut through the stand of withy trees that led back to the tower.
“Better to have a fugitive in hand and then explain why he was gone,” Sarrha said.
“A sensible thought in less urgent times,” Ladyship said.
“If only there existed a method of informing others without telling them personally,” Amota Lakum mused to the bright green canopy overhead. “Some kind of servant who could, perhaps—”
“Lakum,” Ladyship said. “Save your humor for the stables.”
Amota Berac laughed, though at a fraction of his usual volume. Ibram finished his glass apple and tossed its core into a bush; he licked his fingers clean and Ahksell handed over his handkerchief. They continued down the path, and Amota Lakum pushed open the front stone doors of Ladyship’s tower. She had ordered the lamps be lit, but the windows and mirrors be kept covered. The dark wood beams and whitewashed walls seemed closer without the bright, encompassing light, but their footsteps echoed on the floor as they all trooped inside. Ibram shivered; it felt wrong for such a lively place to be so silent. Ibram wiped his hands clean, and handed the cloth back to Ahksell.
“Down here, I should think,” Ladyship said, and pointed down into the open space around the fountain. Long couches had been placed there, and enough room without the tables that there was no fear of tripping. “I have had enough of my rooms for now.”
She allowed Amota Berac to lead her down the small set of stairs and into the wide open space. He guided her to the nearest couch and she settled down onto the central cushion. Ladyship resettled her clothing about herself, and flipped her long braid over her shoulder while holding her mask steady with her left hand. They all stood before her, the amitai in front and Ibram in back with Ahksell. Doctor Berot lingered to one side of the couch.
“Send for Evren, Lakum,” she said. She pressed both hands in parallel along the column of her neck and then up under her chin, and wiggled her shoulders in a stretch. “He has the best hand of all of you, and the clearest voice.”
“Yes, Ladyship,” Amota Lakum said. He bowed and stepped quickly up the stairs. Ibram heard the doors open and close behind him.
“Now, if Viran has been in charge of his usual duties as well as mine,” Ladyship said, and leaned back. “What have you all been up to?”
“Tending the stables and keeping the most junior of the Attendants away from the kitchen garden,” Amota Berac said. “We’ve had most of our agents out in the fields making sure the Learners and the Attendants not under examinations were kept out of trouble.”
“And you, Sarrha?”
“I’ve been keeping busy,” Amita Sarrha said, and leaned her weight on her good leg. She scratched the underside of her chin with one finger. “There’s a heavy load of work when you take a tumble, to be sure. When Viran disappeared with the Third Mentor’s permission, I took his place in her conferences, just to make sure our interests were represented.”
“What conferences?” Ladyship asked.
“To the purpose at hand,” Amita Sarrha said. “The Ignalles, the Pilot and Bo’sun of the local Ark, and then the Second and Third Mentor having a polite disagreement on the proper disposal of a body they don’t want to deal with.”
Lady Azadiya played with the mongoose signet ring on her finger. “Anything of importance?”
“The Pilot holds the will in trust for the Savoldyns,” Amita Sarrha said. “He will be executing Savoldyn’s demands after the body is burned. That won’t happen, of course, until it is removed from the Hall of Tranquility, where Berot has the corpse captive. The Ignalles aren’t happy about that, but they didn’t seem overly concerned. It’s probable that they need the money, but it’s also likely they won’t see a faunt until the circuit judge from the Courts Civil makes it up here to determine who has control of the business while the heir is so young.”
“They’ll likely get the regency, though,” Ahksell said. “Since they are the only remaining family.”
Ibram frowned. “Wouldn’t it be a case for the Court of Chancery, then?”
Amita Sarrha shook her head. “If the child were still in infancy, then yes,” she said. “But there is no freeholding in the will, so the land isn’t an issue.”
“How old is the heir?” Ladyship asked.
Amita Sarrha shrugged. “From their talk, the girl’s about five.”
“A perilous age,” Ladyship said.
“Mistress Savoldyn seemed to believe that her husband’s daughter would take over as the child’s regent,” Ibram said. “She admitted it readily.”
Lady Azadiya thought for a moment, and then sighed. “Is it certain, when he left, that he would go to Mistress Savoldyn? Might it be otherwise?”
Of course, she would ask about Amota Viran. Ibram cleared his throat, and picked at the skin beneath his thumb nail. It wasn’t certain that Amota Viran was complicit, merely… Ibram wrinkled his nose. Merely possibly having an affair with a woman who possibly murdered her husband. There were unwelcome images playing across his mind.
Amita Sarrha shrugged. She shifted her weight from her braced leg, and Ladyship frowned. She gestured to the room.
“Sit, Sarrha. Berac, fetch her a chair.”
Amota Berac lumbered to his feet, and lifted one of the taller, sturdier wooden chairs from beside the fountain. He set it down by Amita Sarrha. Amita Sarrha sighed and patted his hip as she sat down, and he returned to his former spot.
Amita Sarrha made herself comfortable, but shook her head. “He’s been acting like a fenek who smells a wolf on the wind for days.”
“He doesn’t like shocks,” Lady Azadiya said. “My sudden removal is a rather large one, you must admit.”
“I’ll allow, Viran also hated that,” Amita Sarrha said. “But usually, this time of the season, all we have to do is send him down the living mountain to a nice welcoming evening courtyard and then cart him back up the next morning. Last night, he went down and did not return.”
Ibram winced. The morning after the night before was typically the responsibility of the more junior agents. He had never yet managed to avoid it.
“Did you know the Savoldyns, Mentor?” Ahksell asked.
Ladyship cocked her head in his direction. “Not personally,” she said. “Viran handled all of the orders, and we approved the samples together.”
“So he alone would have had contact with the joyous widow,” Amita Sarrha said. “You had no chance to take her measure.”
“We don’t know if she’s happy,” Ladyship said. “No one has seen her since the rushes have been tied.”
Ibram cut his eyes directly towards Ahksell; Ahksell stared right back. They broke eye contact almost immediately. Ibram’s scalp tightened. Amota Viran had not told Ladyship about his breaking into the Savoldyn’s home. He hadn’t told her anything, really. He frowned down at his leather boots and coughed.
“Not strictly correct,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “Ladyship.”
“What?” Lady Azadiya asked, and leaned back in her couch cushion to turn her face in his direction.
He shivered. Ladyship had a way of looking at a man like she knew his character down to the last breath of animus, but now it made Ibram’s scalp prickle. It was uncanny how Lady Azadiya could see through the mask, with no holes cut into the cloth. She could probably see six feet past his very blood and bones.
“Well, you see,” Ahksell said. He swallowed heavily. “Ibram had forgotten one of your packages, and—”
“I prevailed upon the household staff to let us into the house and searched the office for evidence of foul dealings,” Ibram said. “Ahksell delved for him.”
“He did what?” Ladyship frowned.
Amita Sarrha’s bark of laughter was sharp and immediate. She shook her head, grinning. “Ladyship, I take back my harsh thoughts.”
“As to Mistress Savoldyn’s disposition, I would call it distressed,” Ibram said. “She spoke plainly of their differences in the marriage, but seemed…understanding of Savoldyn’s problems.”
“His problems?” Lady Azadiya repeated.
“The drinking you are already aware of, Ladyship,” Ibram said. “He was a bad poet but spent money on expensive scrolls to record his work.” He began ticking off items as he recalled them. “Kept a barely useful staff of servants after he tossed the rest of them away in a fit a few years ago. His wife’s jewelry is fancy but of middling quality, and all his most recent expeditions for profit show that he reinvested much of it back into his business. When he could, that is. He registered some decidedly purse-flattening losses.” He turned to Ahksell. “We should have stolen the ledgers.”
