A House Divided (Astoran Asunder, book 1) (14 page)

She made it to Toran's study without incident. Was this a foolhardy effort? What could she hope to find in here? If someone had murdered Toran they would have known the Enforcers would trek through whichever room he was found in, so they would have to be devoid of intelligence to leave anything lying about.

Ought to have thought of that sooner. Might as well take a look while you're here.

After half an hour of searching, though, she found nothing. It didn't look as though anyone had done much since Toran's death. Parchment and ledgers littered the top of his desk, and she kept her eyes studiously averted from the carpet. She didn't like the pattern she saw in its crushed surface.

Paging through the ledgers, her eyes glazed over at the endless columns of numbers. She detested accounting, long ago deciding it was better left to the Coin Masters. She had already ascertained there was nothing of interest in any of the drawers, nor did they have false bottoms or anything attached to their undersides. The parchments also yielded nothing, and she was on the verge of calling it a night when she halted. Paging through the ledger more slowly, she noticed something that struck her as odd. Toran must have devised his own system, because he never used words, just letters and numbers. Positive figures had been inked in black and negatives in red. It was all very neat, orderly, but Cianne studied one entry, brow furrowed in concentration, then flipped past a few pages. Sure enough, she saw it at that entry as well. So faint she had almost mistaken it for a random blot, there was a hash mark next to the entry, just as there were with at least six others scattered throughout the ledger. What if Toran had attempted to hide something but had done so in plain sight?

Easing the ledger into her pack, Cianne decided it was time to go. It might prove to be a dead end, but it was all she had to work with, for the moment.

Chapter 14

"I've brought you something," Miss Wyland said as he emerged from his office on his way to make himself a cup of tea.

"Do make yourself at home," he said in a dry voice, wondering if he appeared as taken aback by her presence as he felt.

Brushing the comment aside, she said, "I've no wish to invade your privacy, but marching through your front door wouldn't be advisable. It's best if I slip in and out."

"You seem to have become quite skilled at it."

"I have," she said, her voice matter-of-fact.

He didn't think the statement prideful, merely a confirmation of something he had already ascertained, and he liked her for it. He disliked braggarts but didn't see the point of being coy about one's accomplishments, and he found distasteful anyone who employed false modesty in an attempt to garner the favorable opinions of others. Straightforwardness was a virtue he appreciated.

"What do you have?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wasn't overly fond of the thought of her coming into and out of his lodgings at will. It was also no use denying that it was rather humiliating to know that she could get the better of his security. He ought to look into that.

"No need to be ashamed of your security measures," she said, as if reading his mind. Her gaze was fixed on him, so perhaps she had seen the brief frown that had crossed his face. "They're more than sufficient to deter any common thief. In fact, your window latches and door locks are better than those on many of the enclave dwellings, and the wires you've rigged in front of the windows and doors are quite ingenious. It pains me to admit it, but I almost missed the hair you tucked into the window frame."

He couldn't stop himself, he grinned, but he quickly schooled his features into an expression of gravity. "Thank you for that evaluation. I wouldn't have thought a young woman of high standing in House Staerleigh would possess such skills," he said, prodding a bit, waiting to see if she would bite.

She shrugged, her face remaining a blank mask. "We must all develop what skills we can."

"True enough." He would let it rest for now. He sensed a frontal assault would garner him nothing. She was no doubt used to maintaining the utmost discretion, and if she felt he were pushing her she was likely to shut down. Gaining her trust by increments would yield better results, if he could manage the feat. Though she was eager to share everything she could about her House, she was certainly cagey when it came to details about herself and her somewhat shady skills.

Sliding a dark brown leather tome from her pack, she handed it over to him. "I found this ledger on Toran Stowley's desk."

"Dare I ask how you obtained this?" he asked, raising his brows.

"I'm certain it goes without saying that Moiria Stowley didn't offer it to me for my perusal."

"You know I can't do anything with this on an official basis?"

"Yes, I am aware of that. It's hardly relevant, anyhow, is it, as Enforcement has closed the inquiry."

"That's true as well. Our Chief Anatomical Examiner confirmed that Toran Stowley died of self-inflicted injury. An overdose of sophoria caused his death, and his body showed no signs of any other trauma. Both his wife and the House Healer confirm that Advisor Stowley took an occasional dose of sophoria to relieve his chronic headaches, and Burl and I spoke with the Apothecist who made the compound."

"All wrapped up as neatly as a gift."

"Which isn't an indication that anything is amiss."

"Nor is it an indication that anything isn't. Do you think Burl wouldn't stoop to helping the House cover up a crime if she were asked?" Miss Wyland's tone was confrontational.

For a second he was tempted to protest, but he'd be doing so on principle alone. The thought of another Enforcer aiding and abetting a crime was beyond sickening, but he knew Miss Wyland wasn't insulting his profession in general. She was better acquainted with Burl than he was, and she seemed to have a finger on the pulse of whatever underhanded activities were going on in House Staerleigh, even if she didn't have all the details. She was testing him, determining if he was open to the possibility that Toran Stowley's death and the subsequent neat inquiry were the result of a conspiracy.

"I know nothing about Burl," he said, which was the honest truth.

She accepted it. "Allow me to fill in some details as to how Cearova works. The trade Houses run the city—unofficially, of course. All three Houses have made an excellent show of swearing their allegiance to the royal family, such as it is. They are staunchly loyal subjects of the regents, trusting in their wisdom at determining the line of succession, and eagerly awaiting coronation day.

"I needn't tell you how well that affair has gone; the claims are still disputed and seemingly no closer to resolution than they were twenty years ago. Does it matter, at any rate? Astoran's next monarch will be a fourth cousin of the former king, twice removed; a distant relation of the former queen, the provenance of whose line seems dubious; or the king's third cousin, an infant too small to travel with the royal entourage at the time, or he surely would have been slain as well. Every advisor of value also happened to be with the royal family at the time of the massacre, which means Astoran is, in essence, being led by a pack of headless chickens.

"Meanwhile, the trade Houses have been free to do as they please. Cearova has become almost a realm unto itself, for all its talk of being part of Astoran."

Kila had to admit he hadn't kept up on royal politics. He was aware, of course, of the upheaval caused by the royal massacre, as well as the chaos that had ensued. Yet the fact of the matter was that people had to continue on with their lives. When he'd last been in Cearova, there had been talk of what was happening in Vyramas, the royal seat, but he had paid it little heed. He wasn't an Astoran, and though he liked the realm well enough, he could return to Myrsha if Astoran's position became untenable. Once he was in the remote regions of Astoran the problem had seemed even more removed from daily life. After all, it wasn't as though the royal family had paid that much attention to the tiny forest villages on the outskirts of their realm. King or no king, queen or no queen, not much had changed for the residents.

For the trade Houses, though, royal affairs would be of great interest, so it didn't surprise him that Miss Wyland was so well-versed. The likelihood that the trade Houses had Intentionists and Obscurists galore embedded within Vyramas was high. Most of the Adept Houses, in fact, enjoyed various benefits as a result of the lengthy instability that went along with Astoran's lack of a Head of State. Without a clear leader to dictate what they should and shouldn't do, to command them to curb their excesses, and to keep them in line, they could conduct themselves however they saw fit.

The benefits weren't relegated to the Adept Houses either. The criminal elements enjoyed freer rein than they would have under the aristocracy. Crime couldn't run rampant, of course, particularly in a place like Cearova, where the people would turn to the might of the trade Houses. But to whom could the common people in other parts of the realm turn? Their young lords and ladies hadn't any real sway as there was no one on the throne they could influence, which meant the common folk hadn't an obvious authority to whom they could address their grievances. Clerics had stepped into the breach, but they were held in check by the Adept Houses, who no more wanted Church control than they did an autocratic monarch. The Church reciprocated by holding the Houses in check, and so the wheel turned.

Even so, the realm was beginning to buckle under the pressure, the cracks becoming more apparent each day. If the trade Houses were plotting something, as both the chief and Miss Wyland seemed to think, wasn't it probable that their schemes concerned the question of who would lead the realm? Could Toran Stowley's death be somehow tied to this if it was, in fact, a murder?

Miss Wyland maintained her silence while Kila thought, and he appreciated her allowing him to ruminate undisturbed. "I won't commit to any belief as of yet," he said at last. "But I will allow that if someone in House Staerleigh wished to cover up a crime, they would benefit from the assistance of someone like Officer Burl."

"Given this, I'd suggest you take care with Burl. I don't know the extent of your gift, but I can assure you that she isn't one of the barely touched."

It was valuable information, and he filed it away. "How well do you know Burl?"

"Not well on a personal level, but I have gathered as much information on her as I can, both through observation and through reading House member documents. I have nothing glaring that I can provide you that points to her engaging in unethical conduct, but she has made herself quite indispensable to House Staerleigh."

"In other words, you had no hope that the official inquiry would uncover anything, even if there were something to be found."

"Precisely," she said, nodding her head at the ledger. "That's why I had no qualms about engaging in unethical conduct of my own."

"Are you so certain you aren't allowing your imagination to run away with you?"

"No," she admitted with a sigh, looking away from him. "Perhaps I simply need to feel as though I am doing something useful in this case. However, I do know that something is going on in the House, even if it is unconnected to Toran's death. What's more, Lach is insisting that his father didn't kill himself."

"It's not unusual for the loved ones of a suicide to insist that the person who committed suicide would never do such a thing."

"Yes, I know that sort of denial is common, and I can't say for certain that what Lach insists isn't a product of denial. But he was vehement. He says he and his father made plans to take a voyage together, which does seem like an odd thing for a person to do if they're planning on taking their own life before said journey. Yes, it could have been an attempt on his part to conceal the depths of his despair from his son, but Lach insists that his father wasn't despondent. He says his father was preoccupied, but not in any manner that made Lach fear for him. Moreover, Lach says his father was thrilled that he arrived home early from his voyage."

"Very well, but what if Captain Stowley's return simply made Advisor Stowley have second thoughts about killing himself? Perhaps in a fit of relief he made plans with his son, but then his despair claimed him once more."

"It's possible," Miss Wyland said.

"Is anything suspicious about the captain's being kept sedated?"

"No," she said definitively. "I've never seen Lach in such a state. He needed the sedation for his own good. I don't think his mother was keeping him drugged in order to keep him quiet, if that's what you mean to imply, though I wouldn't put such an action past her."

"Have you known her to scheme in the past?"

"That woman never ceases to scheme," Miss Wyland said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Opening the ledger, Kila flipped through its pages. "These marks," he said, noting them immediately. It was as if they'd leapt off the page and assaulted his eyes. "What do they mean?" He glanced up at Miss Wyland, who looked rather impressed.

"I don't know," she said. "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps they're just smudges caused by his having accidentally brushed his pen over the page."

"No," Kila said. Someone without his gifts might have written them off as accidental, but he had an unshakable sense that they weren't.

"So what could they mean?"