Shadow's Son (25 page)

"I didn't realize its significance," she said. "Not until tonight."

"So it's true. Your father was the head of a cult."

"Not a cult. A secret society aimed at restoring the empire."

"You believe Parmian now?"

She tucked the necklace away. "I knew it for truth as soon as he said
it."

"And now we're here to traipse through your daddy's secrets in the
basement?"

"Do you have a better idea? Someone killed my father for what he
knew. He must have left some clue in that chamber. My father was a
careful man. He would have foreseen the event of his death."

"All right. If we're going to do this, let's get started. I can get you
inside. That shouldn't be a problem."

"So now you believe, too?"

"I believe we need to find out what's going on. After that, well, we'll
just have to wait and see."

He led Josey to the corner of the roof and showed her where to put
her hands and feet. She was a fast learner. Minutes later, they crept around the side of the earl's manor house, their footsteps muffled by the swirling
fog. The neighborhood was quiet, almost unnaturally still. Caim wished
Kit were here and damned her for her obstinacy. But neither wishing nor
damning made her appear. He had to do this on his own. For some reason,
the thought was more disturbing than he had anticipated.

The mansion looked the same as on the night Caim had first broken
in. Its tall gables frowned in the darkness as if forbidding them entrance.
The back gate was closed and secured by a new chain.

Caim jumped and caught the top of the wall, lifted himself up, and,
after making sure no nasty surprises awaited them inside, reached down
to hoist Josey. Caim dropped to the other side first, and then helped her
descend.

Caim pulled her down into a crouch as he surveyed the yard. Everything looked clear; all the windows were dark. In all likelihood the City
Watch had locked up the house and left it alone. The estate would be auctioned off eventually unless a legitimate heir turned up, and Josey's enemies were determined not to let that happen. If the Elector Council was
behind the murder of Josey's father, then he was setting himself up
against a host of powerful adversaries. And his list of allies was pitifully
short. Without Kit or Mathias, he had Josey. And possibly Hubert. A
meager force against the most influential men in the realm, and their
armies. Yet despite the odds, he found himself thrilled by the prospect.

He motioned for Josey to follow, and together they crossed the
grounds, which had grown over during the past few days. Weeds and tall
grass brushed against their shins as they made their way to the rear wall
of the mansion. He bypassed the door. He hadn't brought his line and
grapnel, but he thought he could climb to the second floor easily enough.
If he could find something to lower, he should be able to pull Josey up.
He was studying the wall for good handholds when a faint click reached
his ears. He whirled about to catch Josey opening the door.

"Wait!" he whispered too late, and jumped in front of her as the door
swung open with a shuddering creak.

"What's-?" she started to ask.

He held up a finger to silence her. The door entered into an empty
anteroom. An archway in the opposite wall led deeper into the interior.
He drew his knives.

"What's the matter?" Josey whispered over his shoulder. "Did you
expect the Third Legion to be waiting in the parlor for us to swing by?"

"Not exactly." All was quiet, but that didn't banish the invisible fingers plucking at his nerves. "But you didn't expect your friend's fiance to
give the order to have you drowned either, did you?"

Chastened, Josey hung back while Caim encroached farther into the
house. A quick survey of the rooms on the ground floor confirmed his
hunch. The front door was locked, but except for a few muddy boot prints
on the carpets there was no sign anyone had been inside in recent days.

"Where's the cellar door?"

But Josey had gone to the stairs leading up to the higher floors. She
stared up into the gloom. "I want to go upstairs."

"Wait a moment. We can't-"

"I need to see his room."

Caim hissed between his teeth, but didn't argue. He took the lead up
the winding staircase. His feet found the soft spots in the boards out of
habit; he winced with every creak she caused. To his ears they rang as clear
as alarm bells. If anyone was waiting for them, they had ample warning
to ready a welcome.

On the top floor, Josey passed by the first two doors without a glance.
One was a maid's room. The second led into a cozy bedchamber with feminine decor. By the large bed with its frilly lace canopy and pastel colors,
Caim guessed it had been her room.

Josey stopped at the entrance to her father's bedchamber. Caim
remembered standing in this very spot, prepared to take the old man's
life. The memory bothered him. Despite his hard words earlier, he
couldn't deny some reservations over the direction his life had taken. In
reexamining his choices, one fact was unmistakable. Yes, he had been a
victim of violence, but every decision he'd made since that dire day had
been his own. He had chosen this life for himself. No amount of rationalization could change that.

Josey lifted the latch and pushed open the door. Caim stood beside her
as she surveyed the room. The bodies were gone, but otherwise it looked
exactly as it had three nights ago. Dark stains marred the carpet. Caim
replayed the battle in his mind, matching each blemish to its maker, until
his gaze came to the table and the small dots under the padded chair. Josey took a step in that direction and stopped. Burning shame rose in the back
of Calm's throat. There, but for some strange chance, was the spot where
he would have killed her father. He would have done the deed and left
without a care for how it might affect this woman standing beside him.

He took her arm with a gentle touch. "We have to get going."

She lifted her fingertips to her lips and blew a kiss at the empty chair.
With a firm nod, she turned with him to leave.

Calm's eyes darted back and forth as they descended the stairs, but his
adrenaline was fading in the absence of a credible threat. On the ground
floor, he let Josey lead him through a series of rooms into a side wing of
the house. From the dusty smell, this part of the mansion saw little use.
Paintings decorated the walls of a long hallway, portraits mostly, of old
men and women dressed in the fashions of previous generations.

Josey stopped at the end of the hall, at the opening of a narrow niche.
It was empty, its paneled walls bare, although pale rectangles showed
where pictures had hung in the past.

"This is it," she said. "The door was hidden in one of these walls. I
could never find it again afterward."

Caim moved past her and searched the small space. He knocked on each
wall. They were insulated, probably with cork. The floor felt solid enough.
He was bending down to check the bottom panels when cracks in the strip
of rosewood wainscoting caught his eye. He tapped the odd section with a
finger. Nothing happened. Then he twisted it, and a piece of the molding
pivoted away to reveal a small hole in the bare wood underneath.

A keyhole.

He smiled at Josey and moved aside. She approached with the golden
talisman in hand. The key's smooth shaft slid into the hole without difficulty. Turning it produced a faint click, and a portion of the wall sprang
open. He eased it open with the point of a knife. Stone steps wended down
into the darkness beyond, flanked by walls of heavy blocks. Odors of earth
and mold rose from the depths.

"Wait here," he said, and jogged back down the hallway to a sitting
room.

He fetched a table lamp and returned to Josey. She stood at the top of
the steps with her arms wrapped around her body, staring down into the
dark.

He came up beside her. "Ready?"

"I guess so.
Caim?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you.,,

He inclined his head. "Let's go."

Caim went first, with the lamp in his left hand, a knife in the right.
The steps were steep and irregular in their spacing, almost as if they had
formed naturally. Trails of niter ran down the walls like melted wax. Josey
stayed close to his back. He wanted to whisper for her to give him more
space, but held his tongue. This place held a lot of memories for her, most
of them scary and confusing. Anyhow, he didn't expect any trouble. The
hidden door didn't look as if it had been used in years.

The steps entered into a large, round chamber. The ceiling was
double-vaulted and formed with rows of square stones. Down from the
center hung a cast-iron chandelier. A vivid fresco illuminated the smooth
walls. In the painting, twelve figures in hooded blue robes stood under a
starry night sky. Each clutched a yellow dagger in the left hand and held
forth the right, dripping blood from the palm, as they gazed upon a dead
man sprawled under a burning tree. It was all very strange, and probably
symbolic, but he couldn't make hide nor hair of it.

"All the years you lived in this house." His words reverberated back
to him from the walls. "You never suspected this place was down here?"

"No, I told you. There was only the dream."

Shelves and casements stood against the walls. They held books and
racks of scrolls, strange ornaments and miscellanea. It was like walking
through an old person's memories, everything placed in no particular
order.

"Looks real enough to me."

While Josey wandered around the chamber,
Caim went to the center,
where a design had been painted on the stone flagstones. It was a yellow
lion with an eagle's head and wings on a field of navy blue. A griffon,
symbol of the old imperium. So it was true. Caim wondered what else
Parmian could have told them about the meetings if he'd applied more
pressure. Perhaps nothing. The man had sounded sincere in his desire to
leave his father's schemes behind. Whatever secrets the earl had possessed
in life had likely died with him.

"Caim!"

He hurried over to Josey's side. She stood before a display stand. A
row of ceramic plaques lined the top shelf. Josey's gaze was fixed on the
center picture, which was a rather good likeness of her late father, Earl
Frenig.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." Her voice sounded odd, as if she were speaking to him from
far away.

He studied the plaques closer. Twelve sober faces stared back, two of
them women. "So these are the members of your father's society. Not a lot
of people to challenge the might of the True Church."

"Twelve members." Josey ran her fingertips over the face of the shelf.
"Same as the number of theocrats on the Elector Council. Father liked balance. He was a little odd that way. Making everything tidy, he called it."

"I wonder what came of them. Are they still alive? Or has the Church
?" He remembered her father's fate too late.

"Silenced them?" she finished for him.

"I didn't mean to-"

She placed a hand on his forearm. "It's okay. I'm fine."

A large tome rested on a beveled table beneath the portraits. Its heavy
cover was bound in smooth leather, possibly sheepskin, dyed a deep sapphire blue. Tarnished silver studs shined in the lamplight.
Caim opened the
book. The yellowed pages were covered in a concise scrawl of black ink. The
characters were Nimean, but he couldn't understand a word of it.

"This looks like a code."

Josey broke her gaze away from the picture. "You don't read Old
Nimean?"

"No. What does it say?"

"It's a journal. It looks like my father's hand. The title says 'Revolution Day."' She ran a finger across the page. "`In the eleven hundred and
twenty-sixth year of the empire, a coalition of ministers and nobles from
the outlying provinces gathered in secret. Dissatisfied with the influence
held by the imperial court, and further motivated by liens against their
properties and titles, these individuals plotted to depose the emperor. Key
legionary commanders were involved by a variety of means, including
bribery, blackmail, and at least one known murder of a state official. This inaugural meeting was held at the Basilica of St. Andros in the free city
of Mecantia."'

She glanced at him. "The presiding minister was Praetor Terentius
Vassili, count of Leimond."

"
Archpriest
Vassili?"

"Before his ascension to the Elector Council, it seems, and before
Mecantia was annexed by primal decree. It goes on to say that the coup
succeeded. The coalition armies defeated the imperial garrison and seized
control of Othir."

Caim set the lantern on the table. "I thought it was the Church that
led the uprising against the emperor."

"That's what we were taught," Josey said. "Since then, the prelate has
held temporal power over Nimea in addition to his spiritual authority."

"For the good of the people, no doubt."

She frowned as she bent over the text. "Listen to this. After the
usurpation, elements of the Sacred Brotherhood took the palace. The
coalition leaders were tried by an ecclesiastic court and executed. Thereafter, select churchmen were put in important positions in a government
imposed by the Council and supported by the Brotherhood. Any who
voiced dissent were imprisoned, or killed outright, and their lands forfeited. There's a list of nobles who switched allegiance to the new regime
and were allowed to retain their titles."

She read off the roll of names. The muscles in Calm's jaws bulged at
the mention of a familiar name: Reinard, duke of Ostergoth.

He cursed behind clenched teeth. Mathias had vetted every detail of
the Ostergoth mission because of the high-profile nature of the target. He
had convinced Caim everything was in the clear, but it was too convenient to be coincidence. They had been played like fools.

Mat, what did we get ourselves into?