Chapter 10
Tagahra ordered one of his men to take Adramal to an inn. When the maid showed her to her room, she flopped onto the bed without bothering to undress.
The next morning, as she sat in the bar eating breakfast, the Watchman who had brought her here came in. He bowed and said, “Good morning, Lady. Captain Tagahra requests your presence at his office in the Government Buildings.”
She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to see him again. “What’s it about?”
“Officers generally don’t explain the reasons for their orders, Lady,” the Watchman said, a shadow of a smile on his lips.
Adramal sighed. “Give me a minute, then we’ll go.”
The term “Government Buildings” had suggested something grand and imposing, probably in white stone, with sweeping staircases and wide balconies. Adramal was disappointed, therefore, to find it a haphazard collection of wooden and brick structures, few of them bigger than the inn she had just come from. The Watchman led her through alleys between them.
The place thronged with people — priests of Mathran, Watchmen, and young men and women in grey, almost all of whom carried wooden boxes. The latter class tended to be in a great hurry, and didn’t pay much attention to what was right in front of them. After the third or fourth near-collision, Adramal asked her escort who they were.
“Civil servants,” he said, as if that explained everything.
I thought servants were supposed to be civil anyway. And this lot are anything but.
Abruptly, they left the huddle of small buildings and moved into an open area to the north. It was the biggest space Adramal had seen in Kyer Altamar, easily a hundred yards across. To the north of it lay the River Aglos, a few barges drifting downstream. In the middle of the square stood a statue, perhaps twice life size, of a portly, regal-looking man on horseback.
The Watchman pointed to a three-storeyed grey stone building that filled the eastern side of the square. “This way, please.”
A broad staircase led up to the entrance on the first floor. Two Watchmen with long spears stood guard at the top of the stairs, but let them pass without comment. They ascended a staircase to the second floor. A torch-lit corridor ran along the length of the building, and closed doors led from either side of it. Each door had a little metal plate that bore a name. At the one marked “Captain Tagahra,” the Watchman knocked.
“Come in,” called Tagahra.
The Watchman opened the door. Tagahra stood with his back to them, looking out of the window. After a few moments, he turned around.
“Adramal,” he said. He looked as though he’d had even less sleep than her. “Thank you for coming. I hope this won’t take long. Watchman, you may return to your duties.” The Watchman saluted and closed the door. “There are a couple of things I want to discuss, but before that, I’d like to thank you, properly, for your help yesterday. We were in quite a rush, and I don’t think I made clear how grateful I am to you.”
Adramal felt herself blush. “I’m not sure I did anything, really...”
“You’ve ruled out some possibilities that I would otherwise have had to spend several days investigating. The reason I asked you to come here is that the Watch have to keep records about all the crimes we investigate.”
“That must be a lot of records.”
He sighed and gave her a knowing look. He picked up a slate, about a foot square, from a pile at one end of his desk. “This is a draft of a report about what you did yesterday, and the conclusions you reached. I’d be grateful if you’d read it and tell me if there are any mistakes, or if I’m misrepresenting you.”
The slate was covered in the fast, loose hand of someone who wrote much more than he would like to. It used a lot of abbreviations, most of which he had to explain to her. To her relief, it didn’t mention how tired she’d been, or how she’d vomited on first entering the house. Tagahra clearly had no understanding of how wizards’ magic worked — he just wrote what she’d said, and what he’d seen her do. But as far as it went, his report was accurate, and she told him so.
He put the slate back on the pile. Then he took a small leather pouch from a drawer in his desk. He counted out five silver coins and offered them to her.
“What’s this for?”
“Payment for the work you did for the Watch yesterday.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I know it isn’t much, but it’s the going rate — well, there isn’t a going rate for a wizard, but it’s what we pay the Church for a priest, up to third rank. The rates are set by the City Assembly, and the money comes out of taxes, so they don’t want to appear to be wasting the citizens’ metal... If it’s any consolation, my pay is four and a half silvers a day.”
“Oh!” Remembering her manners, she said, “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting to be paid.”
“Another thing I wanted to discuss,” said Tagahra, “was the proposal I made the day we first met. Do you recall?”
“Spy on the wizards at Kyturil?”
He bit his lower lip. “I don’t like to call it spying,’ but I suppose that’s what it would be. Have you had any further thoughts about it?”
“Not really.”
He frowned. “But you accept that a wizard has some involvement in these murders?” She nodded. “Even if that person isn’t the killer, he or she knows who the killer is.”
“I accept,” she said, “that a wizard mutilated the corpse I examined yesterday. And I accept that the wizard probably knows a lot about the murderer.” She sighed. “I’m just not sure what I should do about it.”
“Well, Kyturil is the obvious place to start looking for that wizard. I’ll make it worth your while. Ten silvers a day — twice the going rate.”
She tried not to gasp. A hundred and forty silvers a fortnight? What would she do with so much money?
“I’ll see about paying your fees at Kyturil as well,” said Tagahra. “They accept banker’s drafts, so we’ll open an account for you.” Her lack of understanding must have been plain, because he added, “One of my men will explain how it all works.”
“Well,” she said, “it sounds generous — very generous. But I’m still not convinced the wizards of Kyturil have anything to do with this. There could be a rogue wizard in the city. Since all the victims have been found inside the city walls, isn’t it more likely the wizard is here too?”
Tagahra grimaced. “I said something similar to Marik, a couple of fortnights ago. He sent the External Inquisition out on patrol. They found you. And since you were the only wizard they found, and Marik himself proved you innocent, they stopped patrolling.”
“Oh.” She folded her hands over her stomach. “Why can’t Marik test the wizards at Kyturil, like he tested me?”
“If only it was that simple,” said Tagahra. “The wizards there — those whose names I know, anyway — are members of the Lesser Houses. One has an uncle in a Great House. Marik would never agree to cast such an intrusive spell on such influential people.”
Adramal harrumphed. “Whereas he has no qualms about casting it on a nobody like me.”
Tagahra sighed. “That was... regrettable. But it was either that or let him string you up in Zemil Square.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“Perhaps not. One thing that makes me suspect the killer is at Kyturil is that all the murders have occurred on the night of Sujas’ Day. On All Gods’ Day, there are no lessons. So he can come here on Sujas’ afternoon, stay the night in the city and return in the morning, among all the other traffic on the Salthes road, without anyone noticing he’s missing.”
“But he could be anyone outside the city, in that case,” said Adramal. “All Gods’ Day is a day of rest for almost everyone.”
“True,” said Tagahra. “But the fact that all the murders have happened on the same day suggests the killer is someone who isn’t at liberty to move about whenever he wants to. Someone who has a timetable to keep, perhaps. The other thing that makes me suspect Kyturil is that the wizards there have refused to talk to me.”
“That doesn’t mean the murderer is there,” said Adramal.
“True. A citizen doesn’t have to answer a Watchman’s questions unless he’s been arrested for a crime. But my gut feeling is these people are hiding something.” He paused and gave her a hopeful look. “Will you do it?”
Her chest seemed to tighten. She didn’t answer.
“Will you at least consider it?” He sounded desperate.
She took a deep breath. “I’ll consider it.”
He relaxed. “Thank you. Please come back here when you’ve made your decision, whatever it is. I’ll pay any expenses you incur.”
He took her to the stables behind the Watch building. After finding a horse, driver and wagon, he bade her farewell, and Adramal began her journey back to Darund-Kerak. The rocking of the wagon made her sleepy, but every time she was about to nod off, it hit a bump that woke her.
Could she do what Captain Tagahra asked? If he was right about where the murderer was hiding, she could well end up as the next victim. But if it was within her power to stop the killings, could she stand by and let them continue?
She had an obligation to the people of Darund-Kerak as well. If she left to go to Kyturil, people would sicken and die for want of her attention. But they’d managed without her until last fortnight. And it wasn’t as if she could never come back. Perhaps, once she was inside Kyturil, the murderer’s identity would be obvious. She might only be gone a few days.
The driver brought her to the front door of her house. A queue of patients had already congregated there. As she pushed at her door, Hispar, the village leader, bustled up to her.
“Good morning, Healer Adramal,” she said, beaming. “I trust you had a pleasant stay in the city?”
“‘Pleasant’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind,” Adramal said.
“Oh. Well you can tell us all about it this evening, when you come to dinner. You hadn’t forgotten, had you?”
Adramal yawned. “No.”
“Good. You had a visitor yesterday, while you were gone.”
“I have visitors every day.” Adramal’s bed called to her.
Hispar laughed. “No, not someone wanting healing. Someone from... didn’t say, come to think of it, but he was on a horse. Looked ever so grand and important. He gave me this for you.” From a bag around her shoulder, Hispar took a folded piece of parchment with a red seal, which she passed to Adramal. It smelled strongly of mint, which she guessed it had not done when it left the rider’s possession.
“Thank you,” said Adramal, putting a hand on her door.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
Adramal smiled awkwardly. “Since he wouldn’t discuss it with you, I imagine it’s a private matter.” The look on Hispar’s face, and those of the waiting patients, reminded her that in a place like this, private matters were about as common as pink sheep. “I — I’ll tell you as much as I can this evening.” She darted inside her house and bolted the door.
She sat on her bed, breathing heavily. After a few moments, she tried to light a candle by magic. She needed three attempts before the flame took hold. Her hands trembled as she broke the seal on the letter. She did not unfold it — not yet.
Well come on, Lelsarin grumbled. I want to read it too.
Adramal opened the letter. The handwriting was small and fussy, and so she brought the candle nearer.
All Gods’ Day. Dear Adramal, we trust you are well. Word has reached us of the assistance you have given the people of Darund-Kerak, and the benefit you have brought to their lives. In view of this, we, the Council of Kyturil, wish to extend to you an invitation to apply for apprenticeship at our school. We anticipate your prompt reply. The letter was signed by one Eskalyn, First of the Council.
Adramal put the letter and the candle on the table. She took several more deep breaths.
Lelsarin asked, What do you make of that, then?
It might be nice to have a rest from falling into bed exhausted every night. I think, said Adramal, somebody at Kyturil wants me where they can keep an eye on me. So maybe Captain Tagahra is right to be suspicious of them.
Somebody give the girl a medal, said Lelsarin.
Do you think I should go?
You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you? Lelsarin grinned. When do we leave?
Adramal told Hispar of her decision that evening over dinner, saying she was going to Kyturil to learn to be a better healer. The lie must have been plain on her face, but the village leader accepted it without comment.
The following morning, Chavaen offered to take her on horseback to Kyturil. She asked him to take her to Kyer Altamar instead, telling him she wanted to buy a few things she would need at the school. To her relief, she was able to persuade him that she could make her own way there after shopping, so he didn’t need to wait while she made her purchases. The look of sadness on his face as he bade her farewell nearly broke her heart. How could she deceive him — all of them — like this?
She went to the Watch headquarters and asked for Captain Tagahra. After she had paced around the lobby for a while, a Watchman came down the staircase and escorted her to the Captain’s office.
“So,” said Tagahra, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
She took a deep breath. “I — I’ll do as you ask.” Her voice sounded distant, as though someone else was speaking.
“Good,” he said. He didn’t seem particularly pleased, or even surprised.
She told him about the letter she’d received from the Council at Kyturil, and her suspicions about their motives for inviting her there.
“Healing isn’t one of their specialities, as far as I know,” said Tagahra. “So you may well be right that they want you where they can see you. That could make things more dangerous for you.”
Should she change her mind? It would mean going back to Darund-Kerak and telling them... what? That she’d lied to them? She couldn’t do that. The letter had merely invited her to apply for an apprenticeship. Could she say the school had rejected her? Would the villagers still want her as their healer if she did that?
“The main thing about this mission,” he said, “is that it’s supposed to be secret. The fact that Alesin is your father will make some people curious about you, but don’t give them any reason to be more curious. Apart from keeping the mission secret, it’s probably best if you tell the truth about yourself. If you lie, you have to remember the lie, so you can repeat it the next time you need it. And the more lies you invent, the greater the chance that one of them will be inconsistent with another, and you’ll be caught out.”
“I understand.” It was a relief that she wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone else. The wizards at Kyturil were bound to know her father by reputation, if not personally, and that meant they probably already knew something about her.
“Now, this is what I want you to try to find out,” he said. “Firstly, are any of the wizards powerful enough to cast the spell you saw? Secondly, were any of them absent from Kyturil on the nights of any of the last five Sujas’ Days, or the morning of the day after? Thirdly, we know the names of some of the wizards there, but not all of them. I’d like to know all their names and what they look like.”
She nodded.
“There are actually two days when the apprentices have no lessons — All Gods’ Day and Mathran’s Day. So you can report to me on both.”
“If Mathran is free too,” she said, “why were none of the murders committed on the night before it?”
He shrugged. “Maybe the murderer has something to do late on Shadrakh, and can’t get here before the city’s gates are locked.”
“Won’t it make me stand out if I’m always away from Kyturil on those two days?” she said.
“Apprentices come to the city on both days,” Tagahra said. “You can contrive some excuse to come here — visiting a relative, perhaps, or going to the market. Or you could say you’re going to Darund-Kerak to heal a few of the villagers.”
“If I say I’m going to the village, but really I come here,” she said, “isn’t there a risk that someone from Kyturil will see me and become suspicious?”
“Yes.”
“So if I say I’m going to the village, I should go there.”
“Yes. It might be safer to meet there, actually. I can’t promise to be able to go in person, but if not, I’ll send a man. He won’t be in uniform, but he’ll say he’s come about his aunt Belmorna.”
“Belmorna?”
“It’s a password. So you’ll know he’s come from me. Now, we need to open a bank account for you. The bank will hold messages, so if you need to contact me before Mathran’s Day, you can write to me there. I’ll give you a draft for your first fortnight’s tuition, and an advance on your stipend in cash for any other expenses. We’ll pretend the money’s coming from an uncle.”
“My father doesn’t have any brothers,” she said.
“What about your mother?”
Adramal winced.
“Is something wrong?”
She closed her eyes for a moment. Where’s Mama gone? Why can’t she come back? “I don’t know if she had any brothers.”
“It can be a more distant relative, if you like. The cousin of an uncle?”
“All right.”
“You need to pick a name for him, then.”
“Narahund,” she said after a few moments. A childhood friend.
“Very good. I’ll take you the paymaster, who’ll do the paperwork and explain how bank accounts work.” He stood up and went to the door. “I’ll see you on Mathran’s Day in Darund-Kerak, then. Good luck — and thank you.”