Masque of Death (Kormak Book Nine) (The Kormak Saga 9) (7 page)

“I will remain here for a minute,” said Shahad. “I would like to say goodbye. In private.”

Kormak left the man to his grief.

* * *

“
S
o you killed Lady Khiyana
?” Orson asked. He stared at the assassin, willing the changeling to look away but as always it was the merchant who blinked first. He studied the chamber around him, taking in the beautifully carved furniture, the rich tapestries, the cut glass decanters, the fine weapons. He rested his weight upon his plush couch. “Do you think it will really slow down the Guardian?”

“I think you forget who you are talking to, friend Orson,” said the changeling. The shapeshifter seemed to have altered his manner since coming ashore and meeting Count Balthazar. Orson was not sure why but it seemed as if the assassin felt like it did not need him any more. “I am not one of your lackeys.”

Not for the first time, he wished the Count was here. The sorcerer seemed to handle the changeling much better. “You are not my superior either.”

The changeling said, “What have you done to advance our venture?”

“My man Lorenzo and his agents are investigating the provenance of the sarcophagus. It should not be too difficult to locate the people who sold it to the Governor. Enough of the gold you affect to despise will let a man find out anything eventually. Lorenzo is efficient, and he knows this city.”

“Let us hope it is soon. We may have gained only a few hours by the death of Lady Khiyana.”

“Did you enjoy killing the woman?” Orson kept his tone bored. He found that sometimes worked with the changeling far more than any show of interest.

It tilted its head to one side and seemed to consider Orson long and hard. “No. It was necessary for my mission. Do you think you would have enjoyed doing it?”

The changeling’s gaze intensified. It wanted very much to know the answer to that question. What did it know that Orson didn’t? Something about Khiyama’s death had affected it; Orson felt sure.

“No,” Orson said. “Did you speak to her before she died? What did she tell you?”

“Nothing,” said the changeling.

Orson felt sure it was lying. He wished he knew what the accursed woman had said. She was far deeper into the mysteries of Balthazar’s cult than Orson had ever cared to be. There were questions there he suspected he would not like the answers to. “Was it really necessary to pretend to be the Guardian?”

“I suspect that man frightens you, friend Orson.”

“With good reason. The man killed Vorkhul, a consort of the Lady, one of her chosen warmasters. Vorkhul was known as a slayer of armies.”

“Vorkhul was sadly diminished when he encountered the hillman.”

“I have not noticed you being anxious to cross swords with him since your last attempt.”

“Do you seek to provoke my wrath, friend Orson. Death comes for every man in the end.”

Orson matched the changeling’s smile. It seemed he had found a weak spot in its armour. “Even you.”

“Ah, but you are assuming that I am a man.”

No. You are not that, Orson thought. You are a freak and your time is coming. He did not like the changeling. It was an ally foisted on him by circumstance. He needed it because of its connection to the Courts of the Moon and the power they represented. Once that alliance was made, the removal of one shapeshifting assassin would not matter a damn. Perhaps, he would make sure the Guardian knew where to look for his prey. Orson was looking forward to that day more than he cared to admit even to himself.

The changeling gave him a disturbing smile. Almost as if he were reading Orson’s thoughts. But that was not possible. Was it?

K
ormak strode
into the Governor’s study.

“Well, did you find anything?” Governor Aurin asked. He turned the wine goblet around in his hand as if he intended to study his reflection in the vintage rather than drink it.

“She went willingly with the man who killed her. If man it was.”

“You insist there was an Old One in my mansion. That is not possible. The place is warded with elder signs.”

“So was the Royal Palace in Trefal and an Old One got in there and almost killed the King. And that’s something you may still go to the headsman for,” said Kormak. He felt the urge to twist the knife, remembering how the Governor had smiled when it looked like the crowd might go for him on the suspicion of murder.

The Governor hastily swallowed his wine, then recovered himself. “I am still the Governor here, you know. The men are loyal to me no matter what your piece of paper says.”

“You can explain that to Prince Taran then when he shows up with a fleet.”

“You think that is likely?” Why was the man testing him now? Did he sense some way to find an advantage in this situation? A man did not get to be a colonial Governor by lacking ruthlessness, guile or ambition.

“There is only one way to find out.” Kormak let the words hang in the air.

The Governor stared at him long and hard, took another gulp of his wine, drummed his fingers on the table and said, “What do you intend to do now?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? The assassin had been here last night. It was quite possible he had come in with the group of soldiers, but it was equally likely it has come with the guests. “Send for Frater Ramon. He may be able to help.”

The Governor rang a bell that summoned Ezra and then instructed him to send for the mage. “Now what?”

“What do you know of Count Shahad and Lady Khiyana?”

The Governor smiled as if he knew exactly why Kormak asked. “Shahad is a bull of a man, thoughtless rather than unintelligent. His father came during the Conquest, carved out a huge estate. The son grew up wanting to be like his father, but the opportunities to be a great conqueror were just not there. Shahad has a temper, as you probably noticed. Killed three men in duels in the last year. All of them suspected of being lovers of his wife.”

“And this is well known?”

“Lady Khiyana’s affairs and her husband’s reaction to them have been the talk of the town for years. I don’t know why he put up with her. He should have divorced her years ago. I am surprised he has not killed her himself.”

“He would have been my first suspect under normal circumstances, but too much else points to sorcery.”

“Which conveniently clears you of wrongdoing as well.”

“Why would I kill a woman I have only just met? And why would I do it in such an obvious manner?”

“It’s the second one of those that makes me believe you didn’t do it. Your order has the reputation for being assassins.”

“So I keep hearing. I might start doing some assassinating if I hear it a few more times.”

“I trust that was an attempt at humour.”

“Trust what you like. Tell me about Lady Khiyana.”

“You met her last night, apparently, briefly. She was everything she appeared to be. Intelligent, beautiful, witty, vicious when she wanted to be.”

“Until you said the last I would have suspected you of being smitten by her yourself.”

“I’ll save you the bother of fishing for answers, Guardian. I was one of those men her husband would have challenged to a duel if he had known about me.”

“But he didn’t.”

“You have seen the man. I had good reasons to be discrete.”

“It appears his wife was less so.”

“She liked to taunt him sometimes. Not always. There were times when I think even she felt rather sorry for him.”

“You realise this gives you a motive for the murder.”

“Indeed. And am I a shapeshifting sorcerer?”

“If I thought so, you would not now be among the living.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t.”

“Have there been any other murders like this in recent times?”

“You mean involving shapeshifting sorcerers? Not that I can think of, but then I wouldn’t know, would I? Not if the wizard were clever.”

“There might have been strange things surrounding the killings.”

“You do us too much credit, Guardian. We are simple people in the colonies. Our killings are usually performed by drunks busy murdering their friends and loved ones after drinking too much wyrmspike wine. The murderer is usually found standing with a bloody blade in his hand over the corpse of his victim. He usually blubbers as he confesses.”

“Can you think of any exceptions?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps you would do me the kindness of telling me about those.”

“They are normally done by magic. No. Don’t look so interested. There are no shapeshifting sorcerers involved. Usually, someone hires a witch or a wizard to remove a rival or an inconvenient relative. They put a curse on the victim and the victim pines away.”

“Put a curse on the victim?”

“Send them a rune marked in blood or a head of a chicken with black needles through the eyes. You know that sort of thing. Often I think its as much the victims fear as any magic that kills them.”

“And what do you do when such things happen?”

“I send for Frater Ramon and he and the Watch round up some hedge wizards. It’s not hard to find who paid them either. You just need to check among the relatives, acquaintances, and neighbours of the victims.”

“It sounds like you are quite busy investigating these things.”

“It only sounds that way because you are getting all my experiences in ten years of being a Governor compressed into a few minutes. There’s been at most a score of such murders in my whole time here. Now, listening to what I have to say, do you think it likely that any of these people are your culprits?”

“In all honesty, no. But I have to ask. Also, we still need to find the men who sold you the sarcophagus.”

“I will have Ezra instruct the Watch. He knows what they look like. Is there anything else I can tell you or can I go and take a nap now? All of this excitement has done nothing for my hangover.”

“I get the feeling you don’t enjoy my company, Governor.”

“Forgive me if I seem rude. It’s just my life has become much more complicated since your arrival. I do not like being thought complicit in an attempt on the life of my king any more than I enjoy the murder of my former lovers.”

The Governor rose from his chair, bowed to Kormak and withdrew. The Guardian sat by the table and considered his next move.

* * *

I
t was
past noon by the time, Frater Ramon arrived. His face looked jaundiced in the sunlight, his hair even greyer, and his eyes were tired. He took a seat in front of Kormak, but he did not reach for the wine. He did not look pleased with being dragged from his sick bed.

“Murder, is it? The messenger told me,” he said. “Lady Khiyana. You’ve held the husband, of course.”

“I don’t think it was him.”

“And what do you base this on?”

“I think there is sorcery involved.”

“People always think there’s sorcery involved here. Cats howling outside their windows are demons sent by their neighbour.”

“I know the difference between a cat howling and a demon,” Kormak said. He allowed the slightest trace of annoyance to show in his voice. The priest’s gaze went to the hilt of Kormak’s sword. It was a normal reaction for a mage.

“Forgive me, Guardian,” said Frater Ramon “It has been a long week. The Masque of Death is always a trying time. There are always accusations of sorcery flying about.”

Kormak looked at the mage. “The Lady Khiyana was murdered last night by supernatural means, by a foe who took my face and shape but did not change its clothing.”

Frater Ramon frowned in concentration. “Not an illusion then and not anything that makes others see what it wants them to see. A true shapechanger most likely.”

“I was thinking the same.”

“Old Ones can change shapes.”

“They rarely bother to copy human forms with such precision. It is beneath them.”

“That does not mean they cannot.”

“I know.”

“What exactly do you want me to do here?”

“Can you perform a divination and try and pick up the thing’s spoor.”

“I can try. There were a lot of people here last night, and there are a lot of elder signs which will interfere with the flow of the magic.”

“But you are capable of such a thing?”

“Perhaps. Take me to the place where the body was found. It will be the best place to look for a trail.”

Kormak led him to the bedchamber. It had been cleaned. Someone had already moved the body, changed the sheets and mopped the floor.

“That’s not so good. Traces of blood and skin always help with this sort of thing.”

“Just do what you can.”

The mage closed his eyes and began to chant.

The amulet on Kormak’s chest grew warmer as the spell took effect. A faint halo of light surrounded the man’s head and hands. He stretched out both his arms and began to turn slowly on the spot. As he did so, his frown deepened.

After he had finished that ritual, he performed another, muttering the words of a spell then taking in deep breaths through his nostrils. After a minute, he said, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Kormak asked.

“No trace of any magic. Perhaps your sigils and blade are interfering with the spell, but it’s unlikely.”

“You are saying that no magic was used in this chamber.”

Frater Ramon shook his head. “I am saying that no magic was worked that I can detect. I am a competent wizard, but I am not infallible. I tried another spell I know, one that lets me pick up faint traces of scents in the air. Too many people have been in here for too long for me to catch anything.”

Kormak stared at him. “You can detect nothing?”

“Does not mean that there was not anything. Certain spells can mask the use of magic. Certain creatures leave no residue on the place. Some Old Ones can mask their presence, and there are other things that can do it as well.”

“You are thinking of the changelings.”

“Yes.”

Kormak nodded. They could ignore the elder signs as well. They were altered humans not something that would be affected by the sort of wards that would work on one of the Eldrim.

“You have encountered one of them before?” The priest glanced around the room nervously before looking back at the Guardian.

Kormak shook his head. “Not knowingly. But I have seen their handiwork in a number of places.”

“Where?”

“Taurea, the Northlands, Skorpea, a few other places.”

“You are well travelled. I have been in the Far Colonies since I was ordained. I rather envy you that.”

“I envy you getting to stay in one place. Sometimes.”

“You think there is the possibility of a changeling here. That is an alarming thought.”

“The question is why any such supernatural killer has it revealed itself now.”

“It has not exactly revealed itself,” said Frater Ramon. “I have been able to find no trace. And no one will be able to if it is everything it is said to be. How do you propose to find it?”

“By whatever means necessary.”

“If you knew what it wanted you could lay a trap for it. Why did it kill Lady Khiyana?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it was simply to make me a murder suspect.”

“Why draw attention to itself in this way?”

“Perhaps to keep me from my mission.”

“If that’s true perhaps you had best let me investigate this thing and continue with what you were sent to do.”

“I would but I can’t.”

“From what the Governor says you are on a mission for King Aemon.”

“I did not swear my oaths to King Aemon. I swore them on the Altar of Blades on Mount Aethelas.”

“I suspect that is not all there is to it.”

“I feel responsible.”

“Why? Because some monster killed an innocent woman. If I felt guilty about every victim I was ever sent to investigate the death of, I would have given up years ago.”

Kormak sighed. “It’s not just that. There is something happening here that I don’t understand. It might be important to the mission I am on, and even if it’s not, it gives me some insight into the mind of the creature I am pursuing.”

“Spoken like a true hunter.”

“Is there anything else you could do here?”

Frater Ramon shook his head. “I can start making inquiries among the guests. I have a small gift for sniffing out the truth.”

“Let’s hope it works better than your spell.”

Frater Ramon shrugged. “Let us hope.”