Point of Hopes (58 page)

Rathe nodded, tightly. “Sorry, Chief.”

Eslingen sighed. “Caiazzo is simply going to love
this.”

“
Caiazzo,” Rathe said, “will
appreciate not being hauled up on treason charges. Come
on.”

They took a low-flyer, and Rathe paid without demur.
As they climbed out of the carriage outside the Tour, Eslingen
glanced uncertainly up at the thick stone walls. It looked more
like a fortress—more like the gatehouse it had once been, the
strongest point in the city walls—than a court of justice, and he
couldn’t help wondering just how much of the old ways still
prevailed within those walls, in spite of all the boasting. Caiazzo
would not be pleased, he was sure of that, and wished for an
instant that there had been time to contact the trader, ask what he
wanted done. But Rathe was right, time was short, especially if
there was to be any chance of overtaking this last victim. He took
a deep breath, and followed the others into the dimly lit
building.

Rathe spoke quietly to the first green-robed clerk
he saw, and within minutes, they were ushered into the
surintendant’s room. Eslingen glanced around once, quickly,
impressed in spite of himself by the delicately painted paneling,
fruited vines climbing pale willow trellises, and the obviously
expensive furniture. Then the man behind the desk cleared his
throat, and Eslingen blinked, startled. The surintendant wore plain
black, unrelieved by any lace, just the pale linen at collar and
cuffs, and his thinning hair was cut unfashionably short. He raised
one sandy eyebrow in chill query, and Eslingen found himself
wondering whether the furniture or the clothes represented the
man’s real taste.

“
We know what’s happening to the
children, sir,” Rathe said and Eslingen saw the older man
blink.

“
Then you had better sit down,
hadn’t you? Magist b’Estorr I know, primarily by reputation, but
this gentleman?”

Eslingen met the cold stare calmly. “Philip
Eslingen, lieutenant, late of Coindarel’s Dragons, currently of the
household of Hanselin Caiazzo.”

“
Indeed?” Fourie looked at Rathe,
the hint of a smile on his thin lips.

“
Not what you think, sir,” Rathe
answered and no longer felt the triumph he had expected. It was a
hollow victory, with Asheri lost. “When we determined that the one
thing all the kids had in common was that they knew their stars to
better than the quarter hour, I asked Istre to look at all of them
together, to see if he could find something in common there—why
these children, with these stars.”

b’Estorr said, “What I found was that there was only
one magistical process for which these nativities, and children,
would be suitable. And that is the making of aurichalcum.”

“
Even Caiazzo isn’t that stupid or
ambitious that way,” Fourie said. His eyes narrowed. “Those damned
hedge-astrologers, and you were right, Rathe, and I was wrong.” He
looked at Eslingen then. “Or was I?”

Eslingen took a long breath, choosing his words
carefully. “Master Caiazzo has—interests—in an estate in the
Ile’nord, in the Ajanes, more properly. And there’s a gold mine on
that estate.”

“
Which has been funding his sudden
prosperity, I dare say,” Fourie muttered. “Go on.”

“
The owner of the estate has taken
in a magist,” Eslingen said, “who seems to be keeping the gold for
his own purposes, and is willing to kill to keep them secret.” He
gave an edited version of the previous night’s events, stressing
that Caiazzo had been waiting for an overdue payment. “Master
Caiazzo thought it was just de Mailhac pushing to see how much she
could get away with, she did that last year, too, or at worst that
she’d overspent herself and didn’t have the money to send never
something like this. As soon as he realized it involved politics,
he sent me to the points.”

“
And that was the last piece we
needed,” Rathe said. “The children are at Mailhac, in the
Ajanes.”

Fourie leaned back in his chair, pressing his long
fingers together at the tips. “It’s never the easiest solution with
you, is it, Rathe? An estate in the Ajanes, which means it falls
under the rule of four quarters.” He shook his head. “It’ll take
time to organize an expedition, a few days at least—”

“
We don’t have that much time,”
Rathe said. “Putting aside the kids, we don’t know what he’s mining
the aurichalcum for, we could be standing on the edge of a
disaster—”

b’Estorr cut in, his own voice uncharacteristically
urgent. “The clocks—aurichalcum moves clocks, or it can, it has
powers most of us don’t even dream of, not in our nightmares.
There’s no time to be lost.”

“
There’s no time left,” Rathe
said.

Fourie lifted a hand, and Rathe subsided
reluctantly. “I have no authority outside Astreiant. No pointsman,
adjunct point, or surintendant himself has that authority outside
the city. Much as I’d like to, much as I desperately want to, I
can’t send you or anyone into the Ajanes. I don’t have the
power.”

It was an impasse, Eslingen thought, and a bad one.
He looked at Rathe, seeing the frustration barely held in check,
saw the same anger, better hidden, in the magist’s eyes. He said,
slowly, certain he would regret it later, “Denizard—Caiazzo’s
household magist—she said Hanse would have to send someone north to
deal with all of this. Admittedly, that was before we knew what was
going on—” And Caiazzo still doesn’t, he realized abruptly, would
be furious when he was told. “—but I can’t see that it’ll change
things. Someone will still have to deal with de Mailhac, and I
don’t see why that someone can’t also deal with the magist and the
children.”

“
He has the resources,” Fourie
said, with distaste. “And I’m sure a little good will from the
judiciary wouldn’t come amiss. Especially given the questionable
nature of his involvement in this entire affair.”

“
The main thing is the children,”
Eslingen answered, and prayed he wasn’t committing himself too
deeply for Caiazzo to back him up. “Caiazzo has been made part of
this without his knowledge and against his will. I know he’ll want
to put it right.”

Fourie stared at him for a long moment, then reached
for a sheet of paper. He dipped his pen in the silver inkwell and
began to write, saying, “I’m not fond of relying on people like
Caiazzo—on anyone outside the judiciary or the nobility,
Lieutenant, not your master in particular. This should be a matter
of the law. But, as you say, the children have to be our main
concern.” He looked at Rathe, his pen never pausing. “Rathe, I want
you to go with him. Mind you, this is not an order, I cannot order
you to do anything outside the city, but you’re the best man I
have.”

“
Of course I’ll go,” Rathe said,
and Fourie nodded.

“
b’Estorr I can’t give any orders
at all, but I imagine his talents would come in very
useful.”

b’Estorr looked at Eslingen. “If you’ll have me,
yes, I’ll come.” His mouth tightened. “I’d like to see the end of
this.”

“
You’d be welcome,” Eslingen
answered, and meant it.

“
I wish I could send a troop of the
royal guard with you,” Fourie went on, and lifted the sheet of
paper, waving it to dry the ink, then reached for his seal and a
stick of wax. “Unfortunately, there isn’t time to arrange it. What
I can do, have done, is send you with a letter authorizing you to
call on the royal auxiliaries in the area.” He glanced at another
sheet of paper, looked at Eslingen with another of his thin smiles.
“They’re commanded by your old colonel, Lieutenant. It makes one
wonder what Coindarel has done this time.” He looked back at Rathe,
held out the sheet of paper. “Use it if you need to, Nico. I hope
you don’t.”

For an instant, Rathe could only stare at the
letter. Whatever he had expected—and he wasn’t at all sure what
that had been; Fourie’s temper was notoriously uncertain—this
official carte blanche had not been it. If anything, he’d expected
more pleasure at Caiazzo’s inadvertent involvement, had half
expected the surintendant to take the opportunity to try to trap
the trader, to score a point on him at last. And I’ve been unjust,
Rathe thought, abashed. The children have always been the main
issue; Caiazzo can wait for another day. “Thank you,” he said
aloud, and took the paper, folding it carefully, protecting the
heavy seal.

“
Be off with you, then,” Fourie
said. “And bring those children home.”

They took the river to Customs Point, a quick
journey with the current, and Eslingen led the way to Caiazzo’s
house. The trader had been waiting for him in his workroom, the
steward said glancing warily at Eslingen’s companions, but at the
soldier’s nod brought them up the stairs to the gallery. Caiazzo
rose as the door opened but checked when he saw Rathe and the
magist.

“
Oh, come, surely this is a little
elaborate for a simple case of assault, and self-defense, at
that.”

“
If it were just a simple case of
assault,” Rathe snapped “I wouldn’t be here. But in fact, you’ve
given me the last piece of a very nasty puzzle.”

The trader’s face went still. “What are you talking
about?”

Behind him, Denizard stirred, then was silent. Rathe
said “Your gold mine, Hanse—yes, Eslingen told me about it, and a
damn good thing he did too. You think it’s just greed that kept
your bought noble from sending you the coin you needed?”

Caiazzo reseated himself behind his desk, fixed
Eslingen with a cold stare. “I had thought so, yes. It’s not that
unreasonable a thought, is it? But you’re going to tell me there’s
more to it.”

Denizard said quietly, “We knew that, too, Hanse.
There’s the magist, and the clocks, to make things urgent.”

“
Which is why I sent to the
points,” Caiazzo answered. “This isn’t business I want to
handle.”

“
Except you’re in it up to your
neck already,” Rathe said, “and you don’t even know what it is.” He
looked at Denizard. “You must have some suspicions about all
this.”

The woman shrugged. “A gold mine, and a magist
interested in it, keeping the take for himself? Coupled with clocks
that strike when they shouldn’t? It speaks of aurichalcum to me,
which speaks of politics, though how he’s making the stuff is
beyond me. It’s too much for one person to handle, even if you
could find the people you needed—” She stopped abruptly, the color
draining from her face, and Rathe nodded.

“
Couple it with the missing
children, and you get a nasty picture.”

Caiazzo looked from the pointsman to his magist. “Is
it possible?”

Denizard shook her head. “It’s too many variables.
Getting the right nativities would be hard enough—hells, just
making sure you have total celibates handling the gold would be
hard enough. I don’t care how careful the guilds are, celibate
means celibate.”

“
The nativities match the process,”
b’Estorr said, and Denizard looked at him.

“
I know you. I’ve heard you
lecture. You’re sure?” b’Estorr nodded, and she winced.

“
Gods, then I suppose it is
possible. But it’s crazy.”

“
I don’t know him,” Caiazzo said
and Denizard shook herself.

“
Sorry. His name’s Istre b’Estorr,
he’s a necromancer. I’ll vouch for him.”

Caiazzo said something under his breath. Rathe
leaned forward. “It was the hedge-astrologers, the ones working the
fair without bond, that found the kids, and they were careful, did
their work well. Most of the kids are under the age where sex
becomes a serious curiosity, and every single one knew her or his
nativity. You’ve been playing a political game for the first time
in your life, Hanse, though it’s not the one Fourie thought it was,
but I don’t really care. All I care about is getting the children
back safely. The rest—doesn’t exist, as far as I’m concerned.”

Eslingen cleared his throat. “I understood that
you’d be sending people to—rectify the situation, sir. I want to
go. And so do they.” He nodded toward Rathe and b’Estorr.

“
And why in the names of all the
gods don’t they just send a royal regiment?” Caiazzo demanded. “No,
don’t tell me, too much time, too much money, and better to let
some poor trader handle it. Gods, what a mess. Yes, Eslingen, I was
planning to let you deal with this magist, you and Denizard, but
under the circumstances, any assistance would be gratefully
accepted.”

“
Doing it this way means you stand
less chance of losing that land,” Rathe snapped, and stopped
shaking his head. “Thanks, Hanse. I won’t forget this.”

“
But everyone else will,” Caiazzo
said with a dark smile. He reached for a bell that stood on the
edge of the table, rang it twice. “You’ll need money and horses, I
can get those from the caravan. Take Grevin and Ytier, they’re good
men in a fight, and you’ll want men to help with the baggage. You
can pass those two off as agents of mine, Aice, no one in Mailhac
should have contacts in Astreiant, and Eslingen’s just new to the
household.” He stood up as the steward appeared in the
doorway.

“
Sir?”

“
We have a journey to arrange,”
Caiazzo said. “There’s a pillar in it for you if everything’s ready
by first sunset.”

To Rathe’s amazement, the steward had everything in
order by the time the neighborhood clock struck six. Caiazzo’s
servants, a pair of tall, greying men who had been soldiers and
caravan guards in their younger days, accepted the sudden
assignment phlegmatically enough—they were probably used to this
sort of thing, Rathe thought. He had sent to Point of Hopes, both
to warn Monteia of his departure and to send a runner for his
clothes, and now that bundle was tied with the rest on the frame of
a rather ill-tempered pack horse. There were two others, one of
whom carried food and water, as well as a spare, plus the six
riding animals: nearly twice as many horses as people, Rathe
thought, and shook his head. He wasn’t used to this sort of travel;
he had spent most of his life in Astreiant, except for a trip to
Dhenin, and then he’d gone by river. He had learned to ride as a
boy from a neighbor who was an hostler at the local tavern, but the
roads to the Ile’nord and the fields outside the city were two very
different things. He sighed looking at the horses, as Eslingen came
up beside him.