A Business of Ferrets (Bharaghlafi Book 1) (19 page)

Chapter Twenty—Disaster

Owl choked and spluttered back to consciousness through the slap of cold water. He lay sprawled on the stone floor of one of the upper galleries. Elkhar loomed above him, empty bowl in his hand and retribution in his eyes. Cithanekh knelt protectively beside him; and Myncerre observed.

"Now," Elkhar growled. "An explanation."

Owl floundered helplessly, baffled. "What am I supposed to explain?" he asked meekly. Nausea writhed in his belly.

The bodyguard's words were clipped with sarcasm. "You might begin by explaining how you learned that your friend Kitten is in trouble, and how you are able to describe so accurately the place she is being held."

Memory and fear returned. Owl fought drowning terror, fought to
think
, to come up with an explanation to satisfy Elkhar; but no inventiveness answered his need. To buy time, he sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands. When he dropped his hands he was caught, like a bird before a snake, by the murderous look on Elkhar's face. "I just
know
," Owl gasped, desperate. "We're that close: I just know."

"You
just knew
about the room with the barred window and the man in the green and silver livery?" Elkhar asked, scathing. "You must do better than that, Owl."

"What will you do with Kitten?"

Elkhar's smile was unpleasant. "You'd be better served to ask what I intend to do with you. Owl,
I want an explanation
."

The boy swallowed hard against his rising gorge; there seemed no choice but the truth. "I have Sight Gifts, Elkhar. Visions just—come over me, sometimes. About people I care for. I can't control it; it just happens. I saw Kitten in my mind, and I knew she was in trouble."

Elkhar studied Owl silently, then he turned to Cithanekh. "Have you anything to add? Did you know about these visions?"

"Yes," Cithanekh said calmly. "Owl's had these attacks before; they are very disorienting."

Elkhar looked from one to the other, his eyes narrowing. "Somehow, I don't think you're being entirely honest with me." He twisted Owl's wrist painfully. "
Are you?
"

"Ow! Yes! I've told you the whole!"

Elkhar levered Owl to his feet by the tortured wrist. "Now why don't I believe you?" he purred as the boy paled.

Owl's gut rebelled. In surprise, Elkhar released him; Owl collapsed to his knees as he retched. The bodyguard grabbed a generous fistful of Owl's hair and dragged him upright.

"What did you see, Owl, that night you were so sick; the night Cyffe was killed?
What did you see?
Tell me!
What?
"

Owl struggled with his fuddled mind; the whole story would never do. "My— my brother," he began; he remembered Ferret's advice: mislead with truth. "My brother dead of too much Dream's Ease." His eyes filled with tears. "I don't want it to be true."

"And is it?" Elkhar asked, cold.

"
I don't know
," Owl wailed. "How could I know for sure? Nobody passes me messages."

Elkhar frowned at Myncerre. "Well?"

She shrugged. "Do you suppose this Kitten would know whether Owl's brother were alive or dead?"

"What good would that do, knowing?" Elkhar demanded.

Myncerre replied with the toneless care of one explaining the obvious to the obtuse. "Judging from Owl's information about Kitten, his visions are accurate. If Kitten confirms the brother's death, it might be an indication that the boy has told the truth."

Elkhar's shuttered face revealed none of his thoughts. Finally, he turned to Owl. "Shall we go see Kitten?" He propelled Owl along. Cithanekh and Myncerre fell in behind him. The bodyguard took them through a concealed door which opened on a narrow passage; it was inadequately lit by oil lamps in metal brackets fastened to the cool, stone walls. Though Elkhar's painful grip disturbed Owl's concentration, the boy was vaguely aware of a number of branching corridors and a long, uneven flight of descending steps, before they finally paused in front of an iron bound door. Elkhar rapped: a distinctive rhythmic pattern. He was answered, after a few moments, by the rasp of a drawn bolt. The door was hauled open by the green and silver liveried servant of Owl's vision.

"The girl?" Elkhar asked.

The doorman gestured upward. Elkhar dragged Owl up a flight of stairs, trailing Cithanekh and Myncerre. He unlocked a door and thrust Owl inside, abruptly releasing his arm; the boy staggered as Kitten flung herself at him.

"Owl! Owl!" Her voice was frantic with tears. "Make them let me go!" Then she noted his bruised face. "Oh, Owl!"

Elkhar shoved Owl down on the bed while he seated Kitten at the table. "Answer some questions, Kitten," he ordered.

She gulped and nodded.

"Tell me everything you can about Owl's brother."

"Zhazher?" she asked, baffled.

"Is that his name?"

She nodded. "He sold Owl into slavery for a lot of money and some Dream's Ease. He—he—Owl, I'm sorry: Zhazher's dead. He took too much of the drug, right after you disappeared. Ferret and I found him."

Owl covered his face with his hands; the loss was still fresh enough that the tears were real. Cithanekh perched beside Owl, patting his shoulder consolingly. Elkhar looked from the boy to Kitten and back.

"Kitten," he said. "I asked you earlier about my sister Cyffe's death. Why don't you tell me the truth, now? What do you know of her murderers?"

"Naught," Kitten protested. "I told you: I never met your sister."

Elkhar drew his jeweled dagger and began meditatively to pare his nails with it as he leaned against the bedstead. "So you never met Cyffe; I suppose that
could
be true. And perhaps you didn't know her name. Nonetheless, I'd wager you
have
met her murderers—or is a murder such a common thing to your friend Ferret that she wouldn't mention it to you?"

He studied her narrowly, and she swallowed hard. "Ferret had naught to do with it!" she snapped.

"Are you
sure?
And are you sure that's what you should say? House Azhere questioned your Ferret, you know—and then, they sent what was left of her to House Ghytteve."

Secure in the knowledge that Ferret had escaped, Kitten managed a challenging tone. "If that's true, then why bother with me at all?"

Elkhar buffed his trimmed nails on his tunic then admired them. "It's common practice, in interrogations, to verify information through a second source."

Owl stirred uneasily; Cithanekh's hand tightened warningly on his shoulder. The silence was charged.

"But I dinna know aught," Kitten said.

Quick as a pickpocket, Elkhar seized Owl, laying his dagger against the boy's throat. "Then make something up," he advised, "or I'll kill him."

As Kitten hesitated, Elkhar changed the angle of the blade, and a thin line of scarlet beaded Owl's throat. He was intent as a bloodhound, suspicious; and Kitten teetered on the brink of a chasm full of damaging admissions.

"
Stop it
, Elkhar," Cithanekh cut in, forestalling Kitten's panicked revelations. "You know you can't really hurt him—the Lady would flay you. And as for Ferret, Rhydev didn't hurt her very badly and I let her go. They're just
children
."

Elkhar released Owl; his narrowed eyes pinned Kitten. "You aren't surprised; you knew she was free. How?"

"She came back to the Trollop. I didn't see her; but Donkey said she was safe."

"Yes." Watching even more intently, Elkhar said with ominous clarity, "The Lady's puppy let Ferret go."

Kitten's face showed an instant's recognition at the name; her eyes darted to the young lord's face, before she thought to turn her expression to a puzzled frown. "The Lady's puppy? What an odd thing to call someone."

Owl wanted to slump in despair; he could almost hear fragments of conjecture meshing in Elkhar's brain.

"Odd, indeed," Elkhar purred. "And memorable. Where did you hear it before, Kitten?"

Kitten tried an airy laugh. "I dinna know what you mean."

"I think you do," he contradicted, softly. "Tell me."

With all his heart, Owl willed her to deny all knowledge, to stick to her pretended ignorance; he realized that if she changed her story
now
, Elkhar would push her on all her answers.

Kitten licked her lips, nervously. Elkhar's menace was like a sharp taste. He shifted toward her, toying meaningly with his dagger. "I dinna know," she squeaked.

Elkhar landed on her like a diving hawk; he splayed her left hand against the table, pinning her little finger just above the knuckle with his dagger. "Think again," he whispered.

"I dinna—" The blade bit; they all heard it snick into the table in the instant before Kitten screamed. Owl buried his face in Cithanekh's chest while the young lord held him tightly.

"Pay attention," Elkhar advised. His voice cut off Kitten's shrieks; she subsided to gulping sobs as his knife moved to herring finger. "Who killed Cyffe Ghytteve?"

"Sharkbait."

"Who is Sharkbait?" Elkhar demanded.

"A—a longshoreman."

Elkhar and Myncerre exchanged speculative glances. Despair seethed in Owl's stomach. "Why did this Sharkbait kill Cyffe?"

"I dinna know!" Kitten wailed.

"Why?" He bore down slightly.

"I dinna know, I dinna know, I dinna—" Kitten's frantic denials peaked in a scream as the blade snicked through. Owl and Cithanekh clung to each other in horror.

"Why did Sharkbait kill Cyffe?" The dagger moved to the next finger.

"She knew him," Kitten gasped. "And she was trying to take him prisoner."

Elkhar frowned. "How did she know him?"

"He used to spend time at the Palace."

"With whom?"

"How would I know?" Kitten cried.

"Think fast," he warned, pressing. "With whom?"

Resistance left her. "House Ykhave," she said dully.

Myncerre's eyebrows arched in surprise; Elkhar nodded with grim satisfaction. "Antryn," they said, together. Cithanekh shut his eyes in pain.

"So explain," Elkhar instructed. "What is Antryn Anzhibhar-Ykhave to you and your Slum-rat friends."

"I dinna understand," Kitten told him, flat. "He's just Sharkbait. He helped us find out what happened to Owl; but he wouldn't do anything else. He said he didn't want to get mixed up in the Council Houses' endless intrigue."

"He's mixed up now," Elkhar retorted, vicious. "I'll kill him for this."

"You'll
try
," Cithanekh said, cold. "Cyffe was faster than you, Elkhar; and this Sharkbait is no child for you to terrorize."

For an instant, it seemed that Cithanekh's words would goad Elkhar to violence; but instead, he turned to the steward. "Take the puppy and the brat away. I have more answers to extract from our little Kitten before the Lady comes."

Myncerre moved to comply. Owl got up shakily, leaning on his friend's steadying arm. "Kitten," he whispered, pleading.

"Dinna leave me!
Owl!
" Terror rasped in her voice.

"
Kitten!
" he wailed. Myncerre took the boy by the arm and propelled him to the door. He flailed uselessly against her. "Kitten! Let me help her. Let me go!
Kitten!
"

Myncerre and Cithanekh herded him inexorably away. They were in the secret passage, probably half-way back to the Ghytteve apartments, when another wave of visions took Owl. Brutal images swept him like flotsam in a mill race; he clung to Cithanekh, weeping hysterically.

"He's going to
kill
her.
He's going to kill her!
Hurt her, and then kill her. Oh,
Kitten!
" Owl turned to the steward, then, struggling for calm. "Oh, please.
Please
, Myncerre. Stop him. Please. You must."

She studied him silently. As if eluding her conscious control, one hand reached toward him; but the hand dropped, like an abandoned tool, before she touched him. "Did your visions say that I
could?
" she asked.

Though Owl sensed some momentous resolve lurking in her, the import she gave his words bound him to truth. "No."

For an instant, Myncerre's face melted to apology, before it hardened to aloofness. "Lady."

"What's all this?" the Lady asked. With a finger cold as a talon she tilted Owl's face to the inadequate light. "Tears?"

"I'm sick," Owl told her. "No doubt Elkhar will explain."

The Lady's lips quirked. "No doubt he will. Put the boy to bed," she added crisply, "and one of you stay with him until I come."

Cithanekh stayed with Owl. For a long while, Owl stared at the ceiling in silence. Finally, he turned to his friend.

"I don't want to sleep," he whispered.