Eyes of the Calculor (18 page)

Demitral untied the horses and led them to the doors. Laharre jumped to the ground behind him—then Demitral saw his companion suspended in midair, his arms hanging limp and his head at an acute angle. A momentary gleam of harpsichord wire betrayed the real nature of the apparent levitation.

Corporal Demitral whirled and fired his flintlock. The horse di-

rectly behind him collapsed, shot between the eyes. A cloaked, hooded figure stepped out from behind the other horse. Demitral presented the pistol and fired but there was only an emphatic click. Taking the gun by the barrel, he raised it and swung the butt, but his wrist was seized and twisted, then his arm was wrenched up above his head and his wrist bent so acutely that the blinding pain forced him to drop.

A knee rammed into the corporal's back, his face was pushed into the straw. Soft fingers caressed the skin of his neck, then pressed firmly into his flesh. Corporal Demitral tried to struggle against the hold and wristlock, but he had no leverage. He began to feel drowsy. The artery hold, he thought. Pass out, never wake up. Darkness and lethargy clouded his mind. The light faded, he was held down as he once held Velesti down. Someone was banging on a door, asking if everything was all right, asking about a shot. Unlike Velesti, the corporal died.

Velesti was fetched from the reference desk of the theological library by two Constables' Runners. They were unaware that they were being watched and followed by a young man with stubbly hair and beard, all the way back to the Disore mansion. Velesti arrived home to find the city constable, ten runners, her mother, Ju-lica, the cook, and the groom in the parlor. The argument that was raging was of such an intensity that they scarcely noticed she had returned.

"You are saying that nine of Elsile and Velesti's attackers have now been killed?" Elene Disore exclaimed as one of the runners tried to write down a statement and another stood by with a pair of lock shackles.

"Along with the city magistrate, his steward, a military medician, twelve additional musketeers and their officers, and ten members of the local criminal community," said the city constable.

"Who did this?" asked Elene.

"If I knew that, would I be here? The general feeling is certainly

that it was done to avenge the ravishing and murder of Elsile Cam-derine, the death of your son, and the attack on this young lady here."

He gestured to Velesti. Velesti stood with her arms folded, listening to everything.

"And my husband," Elene Disore added, anger smothering her grief. "I have just heard that his body was found, and that he had been murdered. Nobody will tell me more."

"I know, / gave that order . . . but what does it matter?" The city constable sighed. "A paper found with the body of the medician in the barracks infirmary had the words 'Harren Disore 1 and 'Lake' written on it. That is why we trolled grapples through the lake's shallows. We found Harren's body, and it had a knife wound in the back. The cloth of a dueler's second was still pinned to his sleeve. He was obviously your son's real second—"

"And the duel was obviously a double murder!" concluded the enraged Elene.

"Well, that does seem possible. Lieutenant Grammain and his surviving comrades have meantime disappeared as well. Evidence suggests that a Balesha vigilante was responsible, and that he had some justification in taking vengeance on the city magistrate, but his actions are nevertheless criminal."

"Balesha? Are you saying that Brother Martyne Camderine renounced his order and came two thousand miles to avenge his sister?"

"Yes. Where was Brother Camderine of Balesha on the night of the twenty-ninth of September?"

Beneath the floorboards of the room Martyne listened to the conversation with great interest.

"How am I to know?" asked Elene. "The last we heard, he was still in Balesha."

"Then who is responsible for at least thirty-four killings plus an additional fifteen deaths that resulted from the consequent mayhem?"

"I don't know, but I approve," replied Elene.

"There is also a rumor that some secret lover of Elsile has been avenging them," said Julica.

"Then why did he wait so long?" demanded the city constable. "Was he intending to share a few killings with Brother Martyne, but got tired of waiting?"

"He may have been away at the war," suggested Elsile.

At this point a militiaman entered, dusting his jacket and carrying a dispatch folder. He presented it to the city constable.

"Ah, the statement of the river galley captain and extract from the Darlington immigration registers," said the city constable as he broke the seal. " 'Boarded at the free port of Mildura, mail galley Black Duck . . . twenty-ninth, Balranald . . . Fras Martyne Camder-ine, good character, strong and diligent rower. . . fifth of October, arrived Darlington. Extract of Entry, Darlington Inwards Register of Souls: Martyne Camderine, eleventh hour of the morning, fifth of October.' "

He handed the folder back to the militiaman, clearly disappointed.

"This means nothing. He could easily have paid some yoick to carry his papers and answer to his name."

"So, how many of the filthy swine are still alive?" asked Elene.

"Two members of the squad are under protective guard."

"Yes?"

"But both were proven to be elsewhere when your daughter was attacked. As I said earlier, the remaining five are missing. The squad's lieutenant, sublieutenant, a sergeant, and two corporals."

At that moment yet another militiaman arrived, wide-eyed and smelling of a horse hard ridden.

"Who is dead this time?" asked the city constable wearily.

"The two corporals, Fras."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"In a stable, about two miles from here."

The city constable looked around, his hands on his hips and an expression of exasperation on his face.

"Well, there is clearly no business to be done in the name of justice and the enforcement of the overmayor's law in this house," he said to Elene Disore. "Frelle Elene, Frelle Velesti, good folk, I

must be off. There are three more bodies and one exceedingly dangerous maniac to locate within the city walls."

I he Disore and Camderine families dined together at the Disore mansion that night, and the atmosphere was a curious mixture of sorrow and elation. The guilty were atoning for their crimes with their lives ... yet Harren, Elsile, and Reclor were gone forever. Ve-lesti sat in silence, eating a special meal of meats and salads.

"At last we see a modicum of justice, yet our rulers and protectors treat it like a disaster," said Elene.

"The question is, who is meting out the justice?" asked Graten Camderine. "My son, or someone else?"

"I have given the matter some thought. Those swine must have done such crimes before. Someone else may have lost a girl to them in like manner, and been trying to track them down. Then he heard what happened here."

Mica began clearing the dishes away, and had just turned from the table when the double doors were pushed open. Martyne stood before them, cloaked but with his hood thrown back to reveal short, black hair on his head and face. Julica dropped the armload of dishes and screamed, Velesti looked up without any trace of recognition, and the others bounded to their feet and rushed around the table to the former monk.

"There are none left," said Martyne in a remote, desolate voice as they crowded around him.

Another place was hurriedly set at the table by Julica as the groom cleared away the broken crockery, then the elder Camderines and Frelle Disore sat down with Martyne and Velesti for the first time in over five years.

"The servants will be discreet about your presence," began Elene, but Martyne waved her silent with a chicken bone.

"I have spoken with the city constable. My name is clear."

"Ah, well, that is good news," said his mother, Telsa.

"How?" asked Graten.

"I was very convincing," replied Martyne.

Velesti was munching her way through her salad, paying no attention to the conversation and ignoring Martyne completely. Mar-tyne answered all questions with short, flat, economical replies.

"It is wonderful to all be together again," said Elene, attempting warmth.

"Those of us who are left," responded Martyne.

He drained his wine, then a thought seemed to cloud his features. He grimaced with pain. The silver goblet crumpled in his grip.

"It was not your fault, you were far way," said Elene.

"I should never have gone."

"You know there was no option but to send you to Balesha," said his mother.

"Reclor should have waited."

"He wanted to claim a couple of kills before you arrived in Griffith," explained Elene. "Family honor, you see."

"Very unlucky, dueling as a virgin," said Martyne.

Julica pressed her lips together as she set a new jug of wine on the table. Martyne put an elbow on the table and rested his face in his hand. Elene refilled her own goblet. There was a prolonged silence. Velesti placed her knife and fork together, then wiped her lips with her napkin. Elene called for another goblet for Martyne.

"I have registered to take the Dragon Color examination at Li-bris," Velesti announced.

"Libris?" exclaimed Elene.

"I booked passage on the galley train. I leave tomorrow."

"But—but Rochester is a wild and dangerous city," protested Elene. "You will not be safe."

Velesti folded her arms and glared at her mother. Elene broke eye contact very quickly.

"Is Griffith safer?" Velesti now asked, triumphant.

"But why?" asked Elene.

"Career."

Velesti pushed her chair back before the groom could walk across to her, then stood up.

"Career? But, but ever since you were a child you only wanted to marry. . . ."

Elene shot a glance at Martyne. Martyne joined his hands in the posture of prayer and raised his eyes to the candle chandelier above them.

"Well, to marry," Elene concluded.

"I have changed," replied Velesti.

Velesti walked from the room, and the groom pulled the doors closed behind her. Violating table protocol, Martyne poured himself more wine in the replacement goblet and drank most of it in a single gulp.

"I abandoned my vocation to avenge my sister," he declared. "But I returned to a circus!"

"Some people just don't appreciate the performing arts," said Graten.

Martyne selected several grapes from the fruit bowl and began to juggle them. Unaccustomed to even the small amount of alcohol that he had drunk, he lost control. One landed in his father's goblet, another in his mother's cleavage. Graten declared that Martyne had had more than enough to drink for one night. Telsa agreed, and angrily told Martyne that he was not too old to have his bottom smacked. Martyne promptly unlaced his trews, turned, and bared his backside across the table to his mother. Both of his parents promptly stormed out, slamming the double doors behind them.

"Fras Martyne is not in a state fit to be seen by servants," declared Elene to the groom. "You may retire for the night, but tell Julica that I shall send for her when the table is to be cleared."

The groom left. Elene Disore leaned with her back against the doors, folded her arms and shook her head to stop it spinning. Martyne attempted to bend over and pull his trews up again, very nearly toppled over, then pulled his shirt down to cover his loins instead before sitting back on his chair.

"Velesti's . . . lost her mind," mumbled Martyne, his head resting against the back of his chair.

"Yes, Velesti has changed since that terrible night," replied Elene. "She remembers nothing and nobody from before it."

"Not me."

"Not even me. Alas, there will never be an heir for the Disores."

"How so?"

"She cannot stand the touch of men."

"Understandable. Neither can I."

"All she does is eat, exercise, and study."

"She would fit in well at Balesha."

"Did you fit in well at Balesha?"

Martyne tilted his head forward, sat up, arid was alarmed to see two images of Frelle Disore. He decided it was safer to stare up at the chandelier again.

"I seem to remember hearing a question, but not what it was," he confessed.

"Did you fit in well at Balesha?"

"I excelled."

"Would you go back?"

"No."

"No? You put five years into your vocation."

"Nonetheless, no."

"Why not?"

"Monks are . . . very wise in some matters but in others ... a turkey accepting a Christmas dinner invitation couldn't be more stupid. F'rinstance, having relieved oneself at the privy, one is permitted to shake one's penis five times in innocence, but a sixth shake is considered masturbation."

"Not having a penis, I think it hardly my concern."

"Has to be confessed as a sin . . . forbidden pleasure of the flesh."

"I prefer my pleasures to be more substantial," said Elene, pushing away from the door. "What were the other monks like?"

"Some were there to perfect themselves physically and mentally for. . . the greater glory of God. Some were there to escape. The world, life, who knows? Some just liked having everything planned for them."

"None of those sound like you."

"Hated the place. Pushed myself harder and further to ... to shut it out."

Elene reached the table, and put a hand down to steady herself.

"There was a time when Harren pushed harder and further, may his soul rest in peace."

"I hoped to die . . . in some sparring bout, or weapons accident."

"Not a good attitude."

"Once challenged the Dragon's Cough. That's when a flintlock's fired at you. See this scar on my palm? Struck the bullet aside. Trick is to move on the sight of the striker throwing sparks, not the blast. Somehow . . . survived every ordeal. Surpassed my teachers. Really wanted to die."

"Perhaps God was trying to teach you something."

"Well, He allowed me to leave. Now here I am. Elsile dead, Reclor dead, Fras Disore dead, and Velesti like a cage without the parakeet—ah, no offense, gracious Frelle."