Hunting (25 page)

"Are you thinking the knife was
poisoned?" Thornaster asked, hands stilling.

"Just sharp." She waited until Heran
returned, and rested the Herbal on the curving arm of the lounging
chair. "Open it for me. Further on. About two pages more. There."
She paused to read.

"Kismollen?" Thornaster and Verel were
both peering over her shoulder.

"Blue fingernails, and breath that
smells like liquorice. I didn't see his eyes – were the pupils
dilated?"

"I've heard of Kismollen." Farpatten
abandoned his guarding-the-door position. "The puppet drug."

"A small dose upsets the balance of the
mind, makes the subject vulnerable to suggestion." She touched the
flowing Khanteck script. "Regular doses – dull you, makes you
obedient, unquestioning. If that's it, his lips will turn blue
after death, and the skin around his eyes. Not every herbalist
would recognise it, but Genevieve most certainly. They must have
been killed against the possibility that a description of his body
would be circulated. On a
possibility!
"

Ash shuddered, and found herself
tilting forward, vision hazing. Verel lifted the Herbal away, and
they lowered her so she was propped against the raised end of the
lounging chair.

"If Enderhay was a cats paw, there must
be a second stage to tonight's attack," the Investigator said.
"Something that could be blamed on Enderhay. A trap, a poisoned
drink."

"It would be best if you and Veirhoi
Heran do not return to your apartments tonight, Ser Rhoi,"
Farpatten said. "We will undertake a thorough search."

"Very well," the Rhoi said. He sounded
sick.

"How difficult would it be to obtain
kismollen?" Thornaster asked.

Ash sighed, and struggled to put words
together. "No respectable herbalist would supply it, because it
doesn't have any legitimate use. It's native to Naggol, and
has...liquorice taste. Long exposure...builds up to fatal dose.
Genevieve didn't have any. Not likely to grow well in...don't know
– don't know anyone who..."

"That's enough, Ash." Thornaster paused
in his stitching to press fingers to her throat. "Let's lie her
down fully. Heran, grab a cushion to raise her feet."

Ash briefly tried to remain awake, then
wondered why she was bothering. The important point had been made,
and the Guard would not treat Enderhay's attack as the conclusion
of their investigation. Everything else – she'd rather think about
when not being sewn together.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wiping grit from her eyes, Ash levered
herself stiffly upright, her arm and back burning in protest. No
one in the room. Verel had been there during two previous wakings,
matter-of-factly changing Ash's bandages, salving, feeding her and
helping her with a chamber pot before mercilessly dosing her with
something syrupy and bitter.

Taking it slowly, Ash managed to dress
herself, finding movement easier the more she tried. Once tidied,
she sat on the bed and thought through her next step.

Enough with playing seruilis, surely.
The reason behind Genevieve's murder had been uncovered, if not the
culprits, and Ash's herbal knowledge was no longer a critical
hidden card. Nor, she suspected, would Heran make it easy for her
to act as unofficial bodyguard after the revelation of breasts. Her
time would be better spent looking into the disappearances.

This settled, she went to face
Thornaster, but the apartment was empty. Caught between relief and
disappointment, Ash headed to the kitchens instead, and was
disturbed by the number of people who outright stared at her, even
though she'd left her spare tabard behind.

"Mirramar," she said, spotting the cook
conveniently close to the kitchen's inner entrance. "Could I bother
you for some food?"

Mirramar nearly dropped her mixing
bowl. "Ash!" She hastily put the bowl down and took Ash by her
uninjured arm. "What are you doing up and about?"

"Dying of hunger."

"Star's Grace, you little idiot, sit
down before you fall down," Mirramar said, whisking a chair from
nowhere and manoeuvring Ash into it.

"I'm fine, Mirramar. Don't fuss."

"Fine? You look like death warmed over.
Don't you move from this spot."

The whole kitchen was staring, and the
loaded tray Mirramar brought back came accompanied by the head
cook, congratulations and compliments. Ash dealt with this by
assuming mortified shyness until the man went away.

"How you can put on that
butter-wouldn't-melt face without a blush is beyond me," Mirramar
said, once the head cook was out of earshot. "And why you must go
jumping onto knives, I don't know. I've had Larkin in here two days
running asking after you."

"You know I love being the centre of
attention."

"Truer words have never been
spoken."

"What have they been saying, Mirramar?
Not about me – about Decsel Enderhay."

The junior assistant cook gave her a
dubious look, and then a more serious one. "Of course, everyone
knows that Decsel Enderhay tried to kill the Rhoi and you stopped
him. I've heard a thousand stories as to why Enderhay would act
that way. He was such an upright man, generous to a fault,
and..."

"And some people are saying he had to
have had a good reason," Ash guessed. "That the Rhoi is weak, that
Thornaster controls the Rhoi, and all sorts of outlandish claims as
to what the real story might be." She sighed when Mirramar nodded.
"Anything else being talked about?"

"The Rhoi moved out of his apartments,"
Mirramar said. "A spider infestation. Another lad's gone missing
out of the Commons. The high snows are lingering late this year,
and the Milk's sluggish."

"Who are they saying would have been
put forward for judgment, if the Rhoi had been killed?"

"Why, Veirhoi Heran, of course,"
Mirramar said, with a sharp glance.

"But a wide open field after him."

"Don't go borrowing trouble, Ash
Lenthard. The Veirhoi's fine."

Wishing she could be sure he would stay
that way, Ash left a message for Larkin and started toward the
stables. It was most important to reassure Cloud Cat that any
neglect wasn't intentional. But she was hardly out of the kitchen
before she discovered an urgent need to sit down. A nearby barrel
spared her from ignominious collapse, and the fortunate advent of
Cassia turned the situation into an opportunity to collect further
rumours. Nothing new, and obviously plenty Cassia wasn't quite
ready to mention.

"I was going to the stable," Ash said
finally, "but I think maybe I should put that off 'til tomorrow.
Would you mind very much giving me a hand back to Thornaster's
apartment?"

"Happy to. Especially if we can go via
the Water Court because then I won't even have to say anything to
be the envy of the entire laundry."

"Sounds like a fair bargain."

An easy favour, but as Cassia escorted
her past the stares of the Water Court, Ash began to wonder if she
could escape the notoriety of the gutter seruilis without
abandoning Ash Lenthard altogether. Being the centre of attention
was only fun when it was on her own terms.

ooOoo

Thornaster was at his desk, writing.
Pausing in the doorway, Ash struggled again with the question of
playing gutter seruilis. Did her role in the palace hold any
further value? Should she walk away from the official investigation
to start out on her own? And could she even make it to the Commons
without collapsing?

But staying meant enduring this
unexpected ache, as large as the sun and as dangerous. Thornaster
had enjoyed partnering with an imp, and was not going to object to
that imp being a girl, but would most certainly have some qualms if
that girl revealed her overwhelming desire to slide her arms around
his neck. It did not matter whether or not that was incredible,
impossible: what mattered was that the question could not be
raised. Genevieve was more important.

She had to remember her anger and step
back, not to the precocious brat, but the girl she had been a few
days ago – amused by Thornaster and not yet lost. That version of
herself had one purpose, and no qualms about allying with this man
to achieve it.

The glossy black hair was as usual
trying to fall into his eyes, and he swept it back with an absent
hand. Unnecessarily tall, but finely built, possessing a grace born
of strength and restraint, he was infinitely desirable.

"I'm guessing you won't be requiring me
to dress you any more."

Her Aremish Visel started, then
fulfilled her expectations by laughing, and shaking his head
ruefully.

"You guess correctly." He rose,
indicating that she precede him back into the receiving room. "I
doubt I'll be calling you stripling any longer, either. Now my turn
to guess – you've been out hunting up information about the
disappearances?"

"Asked for an update on them." She
checked the lounging chair for stains, then sat down heavily, and
waited until he took the opposite chair.

Thornaster surveyed her, mouth
ominously flat. "Sera Arpesial has been visiting. Most insistent
that I don't mention her presence to anyone else, though. I imagine
she'll return later this afternoon. How old are you, Ash?"

"Twenty-one in about a month." She met
his eyes, unwavering. "Too old to be a seruilis."

She couldn't read his immediate
reaction, but then he sat back, becoming brisk. "Well, technically,
too old in a month, if there's some reason to strictly enforce such
rules. It's certainly my preference to resolve this mystery before
then."

It was an offer to continue their
partnership, and Ash hid a sigh of relief, and then let herself
focus on the problem at hand.

"What's the story with the Rhoi's
apartments?"

"Nests of thar-spiders. Tucked down
beneath the coverings of the Rhoi and Veirhoi's beds. Our opponent
wasn't counting on Enderhay succeeding with the kill – only to take
the blame. Farpatten has a team going over Arun's apartments in
case there's anything further, but given how tightly those rooms
have been guarded these past few weeks, the question of spiders is
exercising his security detail considerably."

More suspicion for Carlyon, living
temporarily under the Rhoi's supervision. He had remained carefully
in the background during last night's drama, and Ash couldn't hope
to guess if that suspicion was misplaced.

"Did his lips turn blue?"

"Yes. Your diagnosis shows no flaws as
yet."

"What chance that they might just stop?
They can't blame further attacks on Enderhay."

"Limited, I should think, given
Karaelsur's possible involvement."

Ash realised that she'd started to
tilt, and straightened, a recovery that Thornaster didn't comment
on. But a corner of his mouth turned up.

"It's going to be another couple of
days before I can really get about," she said, giving him an
admonitory frown. "I just wanted to work out what's happening next.
Does this clear Hawkmarten?"

"Not unequivocally, but it has
reassured Arun that Hawk doesn't want him dead, which I never did
find easy to believe. It doesn't explain the rings. Verel will
continue to take both of us with a few precautionary grains of
salt, I suspect, but is now favouring the idea that we were to be
the next targets. As for what now, Arun has arranged for a detailed
map of ownership of smallholdings in the city to be prepared. We'll
see what information your sources bring, put it together, and hope
for inspiration."

Chapter Twenty-Five

"I've never known anyone so determined
to convince me of her death."

"Kiri." Ash shifted slowly upright, and
then held her arms out to her friend. "I am being more than
ordinarily dramatic lately, I must admit."

"You are ridiculous," Kiri said,
squeezing her gingerly. "And impossible. And if you ever do that to
me again, I swear I'll strangle you myself."

"I can only promise to try."

Even the most cautious embrace was not
yet possible without winces, but Kiri's arrival at least solved the
problem of how to change her bandages. While Kiri unwrapped and
salved and wrapped again, Ash caught her up with the long tale of
murder and poison and their diminishing number of leads, and Kiri
listened with the same grave air of appraisal she had given to the
not-always-truthful stories with which a younger girl had
entertained her.

"Decsel Donderry," Kiri said, when Ash
was done. "Setsel Gibrace, Setsel Vicardie and Visel Itratan. Those
four are the most likely to be put forward now that Decsel Enderhay
is dead."

"Itratan? I haven't heard his name
suggested before."

"He's a favour collector." There was a
flat note to Kiri's voice. "Of the others, Setsel Gibrace is by far
the most capable. Vicardie is considered reasonable, and is well
liked. Donderry has greater resources, but is so full of enthusiasm
that many believe he would gallop Montmoth into disaster. Still, he
has a core of supporters and, if the Landsmeet vote is split among
too many, he might unexpectedly find himself in the lead."

Ash watched Kiri's face as she fastened
the last bandage. How little had changed. This was still the Kiri
she had once seen only when they were alone, her reserve receding
as she switched between amusement and an almost severe
intelligence, analytical and detached.

"You've kept to your goal?"

Heavy lashes swept up. "Why would I
give it up?"

"'My father is Visel'," Ash quoted. "'I
am his only child. So I will study the Balance, and the duties of
the Landsmeet, and stand before Astenar and Luin. No matter what my
parents plan for me.'"

"That at least has improved. They still
want me to marry well, but Father is so pleased to be sure that
Ariancy will be properly managed when he's gone he verified my
first heir's right as soon as I was sixteen. Of course, it helped
that cousin Ryovar grew up to be a tremendous idiot."