Chapter 39
All Gods’ Day dawned, bright and warm. Midsummer was not far off now. After wolfing down breakfast, Adramal and Perinar left Kyturil.
As they neared the junction where the track from Kyturil joined the main road, they heard a horse galloping behind them. They turned just in time to see the animal charge past, the rider bent so far forward as to be hugging her neck.
“Wasn’t that the stable master?” said Perinar.
Adramal shrugged. “He was going too fast to get a good look at him.”
They walked on. Second watch sounded when they were about a mile from the gate. Inside the city, she bade him farewell and wandered through the Eastern Market, not really looking at any of the stalls. She found her way to the bank of Drakhshaf and Speph, a few streets from the eastern docks. The building was small and squat, with bars on the windows. She sighed as she joined the queue, which stretched down the street. At least that would provide some plausible delay while she did her “shopping.”
When she eventually reached the counter, she presented her account token and requested a draft for twenty-five silvers and thirty in cash. The clerk gave her a suspicious look, as though thinking her too young to command such vast sums, but did as she asked. She went to the tavern next door, The Dancing Bears, where Tagahra had said a Watchman would meet her.
She hoped he wouldn’t be long. The tavern seemed to slouch between the buildings on either side, as though they were holding up a wounded comrade. Inside, the floor sloped. The few patrons were Salmarians, judging from their particoloured clothing and full beards. She hoped no one would recognise her from the embassy.
She supposed, in order not to look totally out of place, she should buy some beer. As she edged towards the bar, a man called out, “A pint of best for my niece!”
She turned to see Watchman Morakh, sitting apart from most of the other customers. She hadn’t recognised him out of uniform. He motioned her to join him.
“Hello, uncle,” she said as she sat down. “It’s good to see you again. How are you?” That must sound so false. No one’s going to believe I’m his niece. I don’t look anything like him. I don’t sound anything like him.
“I’m well, thank you,” he said. “I trust you are too?”
“Yes.” The barman set a large, heavy mug of dark ale in front of her. Morakh handed over a couple of coins. “Thank you,” said Adramal. She took a sip, shuddering at its strong, bitter taste.
“A Salmarian recipe,” Morakh said. “You might have to get used to it.”
She put the mug back down and gave him a quizzical look.
“An acquaintance of mine from Vannharial is looking for a tutor for his children. He’s willing to pay well, and it’s only two hours a day.”
She swigged as much of her ale as she could stand, and asked, “Is this acquaintance in the city now?”
“Yes.”
She stood up. “Then why don’t we go and meet him?”
Morakh took her by a very roundabout route to the Watch’s headquarters. At every turn, her head swayed with the effects of the ale. When Morakh asked for Captain Tagahra, the Duty Sergeant said he had been called away a short while ago, and told them to wait in Tagahra’s office.
“He’d better not be long,” Adramal muttered as she and Morakh went upstairs.
“He is a very busy man,” said Morakh. “These murders aren’t the only crimes he’s investigating.”
“Oh... you mean there wasn’t another one last night?”
“Not as far as I’m aware, Lady.”
Perhaps, then, with Degoran seemingly on his deathbed, the problem had taken care of itself. In Tagahra’s office, a large map of the city hung on the wall. Six little pieces of red paper were pinned to it, mainly on the eastern side.
“Would you like some refreshment, Lady?” Morakh asked.
“Yes please. Anything except beer or wine.” He left. She studied the map. One of the pins was in the Salmarian Embassy, so she guessed they showed where the bodies of the victims had been found. Lengths of thread connected pairs of pins, like the web of a mad spider. Was Tagahra measuring the distances between these places? Perhaps, since there was a pattern to the times of the murders, there was a pattern to the places, too. But if one existed, it eluded her.
Morakh returned not with food, but with a slate. “I’m very sorry, Lady. The Duty Sergeant has just given me this. The Captain left it when he was called away, but the man he gave it to didn’t pass it on immediately.”
Accepting the slate from him, Adramal read, Messenger just arrived from Kyturil requesting my immediate presence. Return there if possible, but — obviously — do not show that you know me. I will try to find some pretext for talking to you alone. Morakh took the slate back and wiped it clean with a cloth.
Adramal said, “I’d better do as the Captain says. Good day.”
As she descended to the ground floor, she had to resist an urge to swear. So how am I supposed to persuade Perinar to go back to Kyturil?
Lelsarin coughed. You could simply not to go to Princess Park.
I can’t abandon him.
Why not? He’s a big boy now — old enough to find his own way home.
And how is that going to make him feel — after what he did for me yesterday? He’s going to think I’m using him.
Lelsarin raised her eyebrows. Aren’t you?
Adramal came out of the Watch building into Zemil Square. The map in Tagahra’s office had shown the park on the other side of the buildings at the south side of the square. An alleyway led through the buildings to the park.
Tagahra’s map represented the park as a simple semicircle, but it actually consisted of dense hedges and bushes. These formed small spaces, no bigger than her house in Darund-Kerak, and passages connecting them. She wandered around, looking for Perinar, but finding only fountains — mostly dried up — or statues — too weathered to recognise — or benches — too rotten to sit on.
After a few minutes, she came to a broad avenue that led south out of the park. Perinar waited at the end of it, beneath an arched iron gateway. Her heart jolted, as if she hadn’t seen him in years. She threw her arms around him and kissed him firmly.
When they let go of each other, he asked, “Did you find what you needed?”
“Yes,” she said, even as she realised her satchel must look empty.
“Have you had lunch yet?” he said. “We could find a tavern.”
A hollow feeling formed inside her. “I... actually... maybe we should go back to Kyturil.”
He frowned. “We’ve only just got here. If we leave when we hear third watch sounding, that should give us enough time to walk back.”
“It’s not that — though I wouldn’t want to miss curfew again. I was thinking about the stable master or whoever it was passed us this morning. He wouldn’t have been riding that fast unless there was an emergency. We should go back and offer whatever help we can.”
“What can we do that the people there can’t?”
“I’m a healer, remember.”
Perinar nodded — reluctantly, she thought. “But if they need you, specifically, why did the stable master ride straight past us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t recognise me.”
He took her hands in his and edged closer to her. She pulled away. “Sorry. If we don’t go back, I’m going to be worrying about it all afternoon. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if it turns out someone died and I could’ve saved them.”
No need to plough the furrow so deep, said Lelsarin.
Perinar released her hands. “You’re right. We should go.” He didn’t move.
“The Salthes Gate is that way, isn’t it?”
He gave her a nervous smile. “I have something for you. It’ll only take a moment.” He reached into his satchel and offered her a small cloth bundle.
Her heart raced as she accepted it. Inside the cloth was a necklace, a delicate chain of bronze. It clasped a milky, egg-shaped stone, about the size of her little fingernail. She held it up to study it. Faint bands of colour shimmered across its surface, like a soap bubble.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, a lump in her throat. “Thank you. You’re going to think I’m horrible. I haven’t got anything to give you.”
“It’s all right,” he said, though hurt flickered in his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“I’ll get you something the next time I come to the city.”
“Only if you’re sure you want to.”
“I do.” Because she wanted him to be happy, or because she wanted to relieve her guilt? She opened the clasp and put the necklace around her neck. Her hands shook as she tried to fasten it.
“Let me help,” he said. He lifted her hair and, after some fumbling, closed the clasp. The stone nestled in the little hollow between the tips of her collar bones, cool against her skin.
“I bought it from a Melinandish trader in the Western Market. The stone is an opal. They’re supposed to bring good luck.”
The stone had no enchantment that she could perceive. She couldn’t imagine how magic could be made to do something so vague and general. Besides, hadn’t Rakbanorath said the Melinanders had no wizards or priests?
“Was that why you chose it?”
“Partly. But also because —” He looked down briefly. “Because it’s beautiful. Like — like you.”
Adramal felt herself blush furiously. “You can’t really think that.”
“I do,” he said, as though he thought he’d made a fool of himself. “Especially when you smile.” Unable to stop herself, she did just that. “You see?”
She laughed. “I’ll have to take your word for it. We really should be going now.”
They set a steady pace back to Kyturil. The sun was still a hand’s-breadth above the horizon when they reached the outer gatehouse.
“Where’s the gatekeeper?” said Perinar as they passed into the outer ward.
There was no sign of anyone else, either. “Is it always this quiet on All Gods’ Day?” said Adramal.
“No. I don’t like this.”
They entered the middle ward. Still they saw no one. They passed the refectory and the classrooms.
“Hey!” A woman’s voice, behind them. They turned to see Meldoran hurrying across the grass towards them. “Where have you two been?” Sorrow choked her voice. As she approached, Adramal saw she had been crying.
“We were in the city,” said Perinar.
“What’s going on?” said Adramal. “Where is everybody?”
Fresh tears rolled down Meldoran’s cheeks. “C-come to the Great Hall. Please.” She ran towards the inner gatehouse.
Adramal caught up with her. “What’s wrong?”
Meldoran turned to her, and for a moment, Adramal thought she would collapse in a sobbing heap. Meldoran took several deep, shuddering breaths. “D-Degoran,” she managed to say. She stared at Adramal, eyes wide in fear. “He-he’s killed himself!”