The Innocent Mage (23 page)

Asher shrugged. ‘It only just happened. Reckon Hi Highness’ll get around to officially tellin’ you it’s me in hi own good time. Mayhap he’s been too busy trimmin’ hi toenails to think of it.’

Orrick’s thin lips tightened. If they hadn’t been surrounde by the captain’s nervous subordinates, all looking out of tb windows and muttering about the gathered crowd outsidi Dathne would have trodden on Asher’s toes, hard. Pelle Orrick was the last man in Dorana to be amused by a eccentric sense of humour.

‘His Majesty has charged me straight to keep tl prisoner isolated,’ Orrick said. ‘Do I understand you expe me to disobey a lawful order from the king?’

look,’ said Asher, sighing. ‘I don’t know nowt about that. All I know is Prince Gar sent me hotfootin’ it down here to have a quick gander at this Spake from Basingdown. You be holdin’ his note of authority in your hand. If you want to get in a brangle between the prince and his da, that be your business. Mine’s doin’ as I’m told by the man payin’ me a fat sum of trins every week not to stand around arguin’ about every little thing. Right?’

Orrick’s chill gaze shifted. ‘You’re not mentioned in His Highness’s letter of authority, Mistress Dathne.’

‘No, but I am,’ said Asher. ‘And she’s with me. Brought a mite of comfort for the prisoner. You sayin’ you ain’t go in’ to let a condemned man have a mite of comfort in his last days? That’s hard, that is.’

Unprompted, Dathne held out the string bag. Orrick took it from her and inspected the contents. ‘It’s not much,’ she said. ‘But a little is better than nothing.’

‘You know what crime it is this man stands accused of?’ said Orrick, handing back the bag. ‘Yes, Captain. Word’s got about, it seems.’ Orrick’s face tightened. ‘And knowing it, still you’d bring him comfort? This blasphemous traitor?’

‘As you say, Captain, he is but accused,’ she said, keeping her gaze discreetly lowered. ‘And Barl believed in mercy as well as swift retribution. If guilt is proven he’ll be punished soon enough.’

Orrick made a disgusted, impatient sound. ‘Very well.’ You have five minutes to satisfy your prince’s concerns, Meister Asher.’ Turning to one of his guards he snapped his fingers. ‘Bunder. Take the prince’s assistant and Mistress Dathne here along to see the prisoner Spake. Stay with them while they count his fingers and toes and bring them back smartly thereafter.’

Bunder saluted, then took the brass ring of keys Orrick handed him. ‘Yes, Captain!’

Dathne favoured Orrick with her best smile. ‘Thank you so much, Captain. I’m sure His Highness will be well pleased, won’t he, Asher?’ When Asher scowled she tread on his toes.

‘Oy!’ he said, annoyed, then took the hint. ‘Aye, he’ll be tickled pink.’ He glanced out of the nearest window, then | looked back at Orrick. His expression softened. ‘Reckon you got a bit on your plate tonight as it is, Captain. We’ll k out of your hair directly.’

Orrick’s eyes lost a little of their chill. ‘I would appreciate it. Bunder?’

There was a stout wooden door to one side of the main desk. The guardsman opened it for them, let them pass, then closed it and led them along a corridor towards the rear of the building. The cells on either side of the passageway wete empty. Dathne wasn’t surprised; the guardhouse tended to fill up only at the end of the working week, when an excess of cheer and ale and lost bets on the horses caused trouble, As she followed Bunder’s stiff spine and squared shoulders, the string bag bouncing on her shoulder, Dathne felt hei heartbeat booming louder, faster.

It was a terrible thing she planned to do, terrible and dangerous. Draconis was not an obvious poison. It acted slowly, weakening the blood vessels in the brain. Some hours after consumption it induced violent seizures, mimicking the natural effects of a stroke. After suffering a series of convulsions, the victim lapsed into a stupor from which he could not be roused, then faded away over two or three days. Twice to her knowledge it had been used in other, equally dire circumstances and in neither case had the Olken healers or Doranen pothers summoned for aid detected its presence. Like so many other things, the knowledge of draconis root had slipped into darkness.

Still, she was taking a dreadful risk. Captain Orrick was a diligent man, jealous of his authority and jurisdiction. There was a chance he might on principle suspect foul play.

even though she knew it most likely the brainstorm would be blamed on an Olken’s tampering with magic. If the stakes hdn’t been so high she never would have contemplated such a dangerous act. But if this fool Spake’s nerve failed and he attempted to save himself by implicating others …

She felt vilely sick, with nerves and revulsion for what she was about to do. As poisons went draconis was relatively painless, but even so … Jervale forgive me, I have no choice. Either I soil my hands a little now, or see them soaked in blood later.

At the end of the corridor there was another door. Bunder selected a key from the ring he carried and unlocked it. Swinging the door open, he ushered them through.

The room beyond was small and windowless. Most of it was a cell, partitioned from the small front section by floor-to-ceiling metal bars in which a narrow door had been set. It was heavy with padlocks. The cell contained a bench, a bucket and a man. Its floor was strewn with fresh straw. Two small barred vents high up on the rear wall allowed ftesh air to flow into the restricted space, but it wasn’t enough to mask the stench of recent vomiting.

Hearing the door open, the prisoner looked up from his hunched squat over the bucket. The first thing Dathne thought on seeing him was: Veira! Why didn’t you tell me be was so young?

Young, slight of body and plain with it. His face was unremarkable, his chin a trifle weak, his eyes mud brown and his black hair cut unbecomingly above his ears, which stuck out ever so slightly. There were freckles on his nose. It was hard to imagine him shaving. Harder still to imagine him whispering the words of forbidden magics.

She glanced at Asher, solid and silent by her side. His expression was smooth, unflustered; she was beginning to learn that it meant some deep consternation. Behind them Bunder closed the door and stood before it, feet wide and arms crossed over his chest. Fingers tight around the neck of the string bag, Dathne took a deep breath to calm her roiling stomach and waited.

‘Is Hervy coming? Hervy Wynton?’ Timon Spake asked] uncertainly. He had a pleasant voice, deep for a young man, and it shook only a little. ‘He’s a family friend. He said he was coming.’

‘I ain’t the one to tell you that,’ said Asher. ‘I’m from the prince, to make sure they’re treatin’ you fair.’

Spake’s shoulders slumped. ‘Oh. I see.’ With a grunt and a grimace he got to his feet, one hand pressed to his middle.

‘Well?’ said Asher. ‘Got any complaints, do you?’

‘No,’ said Spake.

Asher glanced over his shoulder. ‘Sure you ain’t just sayin1 that cause he’s listenin’?’ He jerked a thumb at Bunder.

‘No,’ Spake said again. He was very pale, and there was a twitch beside his right eye. ‘I’m all right.’

‘Hungry?’

Spake shuddered and glanced at the bucket. ‘No. They gave me something a while ago but it’s just made me sick.’

Dathne felt a wave of despicable relief. Surely that would help muddle the cause of death, hint at something wrong before ever she got there … unless the cakelets made him ill, too, before the draconis could do its work. She tried not to frown. It couldn’t be helped, she’d just have to hope for the best. The best, as she stood here face to face with the man — the boy — she was plotting to kill. She could easily have been sick herself. Not for the first time she wished she’d been born anything, anyone, other than Jervale’s bloody Heir.

Asher said, ‘Well, there’s some cakelets here for you, and a book anyways. It’s bound to be a long night, you might as well have somethin’ to take your mind off things. And Dathne’s cookin’s got to be better than prison slops. But then you’d know that, eh, what with her bein’ family.’

Spake stared, clearly puzzled. ‘Family? I’m sorry, I don’t think I —’

Damn. ‘Distant family,’ she said quickly. ‘Cousins of cousins, several times removed. You’ve probably never heard of me except in passing mention.’ She took a hard breath then, and let it out again softly, instinct warring with caution. ‘Although … I think we both know Aunty Vee …’

The young idiot didn’t make the connection. With a kind of hopeless courtesy, Spake raised a hand. ‘No, no. Thank you, but —’ He blinked. ‘Did you say Aunty Vee}’

‘Aye, y’fool. Be you deaf as well as gormless?’ Asher said roughly. ‘Go on, take ‘em, whether you know her or you don’t. She needn’t have brought anythin’ for you, Spake. And you might be glad of somethin’ in your belly afore the sun comes up.’

She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, raise her voice to cajole the boy further. She’d done enough, invoking innocent Veira’s name. But she held up the string bag, of a size to slide between the prison bars, and took a step forward. Just then somebody hammered on the door behind them and burst through it, shouting. Unprepared, bellowing, Bunder rocketed forward and sideways. Crashed straight into Asher, who yelled and crashed into her. She went down hard beneath his weight. Landed on the string bag and the cakelets and the book, crushing them all together in a sticky mess.

The guard whose fault it was stood panting and red-faced in the doorway. ‘Captain Orrick says you’re to come at once! There’s folks barged into the guardhouse and he says he wants the prince’s man to send them away again or he’ll fill the cells to bursting and a pox on all their guild-meister heads!’

Winded, groaning, her ribs bent almost double and her thoughts in shrieking disarray, Dathne lay on the cell floor as Asher and Bunder found their feet and cursed the stupid guard who’d skittled them.

‘Bloody idiot, Torville!’ Bunder raged. ‘You might’ve broken all our bones!’

Asher reached down a hand and pulled Dathne to her feet. ‘You all right?’

‘I’m better than the cakelets,’ she said, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This had been her one and only hope of saving the Circle from Edvord Spake’s arrogant son, Now all their lives were in his foolish, trembling hands.., and she didn’t know how she felt about it. She kicked the string bag with the toe of her shoe. ‘They’re fit for nothing but rubbish now.’

He patted her on the shoulder. ‘Never mind, Dath. It were a kindly thought, and that’s what counts.’

Picking up the string bag she took out the book, which had escaped the worst of the mess thanks to the tea towel she’d wrapped around the cakelets. After swiping her sleeve over it she thrust it through the prison bars. ‘Here.’

‘Thank you,’ said Timon Spake, taking the book. He looked at its cover and read the title. ‘Heroes of the Old Days. I’ve never read this one.’

‘Ifs very good,’ she said, and fixed her grim unblinking gaze upon him. ‘It’s about brave men facing dire consequences with courage. Men who keep to their oaths despite all danger and temptation.’

‘Oh,’ said Timon Spake. Nothing showed in his face, but in his sad, troubled eyes questions were dawning. ‘It sounds … inspirational.’

‘It is,’ said Dathne, still holding his gaze. ‘It surely is.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You could do worse than follow their example.’

‘You must come now!’ Torville insisted in the doorway, sounding shrill. ‘Captain Orrick insists!’

So they left the prisoner to his book and his thoughts and hurried back to the guardhouse lobby, where pandemonium ruled. Somehow a great gaggle of well-dressed City Olken had forced their way past the guards in the street outside and were now all shouting and stamping their feet and banging their fists upon the desk. Captain Orrick was standing behind it on a chair, trying to make himself heard above the din.

‘Here!’ he shouted as Torville practically shoved them through the door. ‘Here is Asher, His Royal Highness Prince Gar’s Assistant Administrator! If you damn fools refuse to listen to me, then listen to him! For if you don’t I swear I’ll see you all locked up for a month of Barlsdays!’

Dathne dug her elbow into Asher’s ribs. ‘Go on then, introduce yourself. After all, they had to meet you sometime, didn’t they?’

‘Ha. Don’t reckon Gar had this in mind when he mentioned me gettin’ to know a few people.’

The largest well-dressed Olken pushed to the front of the crush around the desk. ‘Who do you say he is? I have never seen this man before!’

Cornered, Asher shot Orrick a dagger-drawn look then lithely leapt on top of the desk. ‘You heard ‘im! I be Asher, Prince Gar’s Assistant Administrator, as was newly appointed and announced last Barlsday. Who are you?’

The large man swelled inside his velvet and furs. ‘I? I, sir, am Norwich Porter, Meister of the Brewers’ Guild!’

‘Ah,’ said Asher. ‘Got yourself the prince’s acceptance to the banquet, have you?’

Norwich Porter goggled at him. ‘What? Well … yes … as a matter of fact it arrived —’

‘Well, you can set an extra place for me. I’ll be there, and so will His Highness — provided you quit all this caterwauling and get on home where you belong!’

Norwich Porter’s face flushed dark red. ‘How dare you, sir! We are going nowhere, nowhere, do you hear, until we get satisfaction! We represent the will and the wishes of all the Olken guilds and we demand —’

‘You ain’t in the right place to be demandin’ nowt!’ said Asher. ‘Who do you think you are, eh, come bargin’ into the City guardhouse, blusterin’ and bossin’ Captain Orrick, here, who’s doin’ the job your taxes pay him for. The job His Majesty King Borne told him to do just this mornin’.l: Privy Council. Where I heard him with my own ears.’

Dathne, smothering a smile, thought Norwich Portet was going to fall to the floor in a foaming, spluttering heap. All around him his fellow guild meisters and mistresses gasped and protested and waved their fists. Asher, b him, was supremely unimpressed.

Norwich Porter said, incredulous, ‘You dare — you dare — by what right do you stand there and insult —’

‘What insult? I’m just tellin’ you what’s what.’

‘No, sir,’ Porter retorted. ‘I shall tell you what’s what.lt is rumoured that Captain Orrick has in custody a vile, treacherous, evil law-breaker. We will have him brought to justice! We will see him for ourselves! We —’