A Pocket Full of Murder (27 page)

Esmond went still, as though she'd surprised him. Then he reached over and took Isaveth's hand, his long fingers curling warm about her own. They sat in silence, not looking at each other, as the cab sped toward Rollingdale.

I
T WAS STRANGE
getting out of the cab with Esmond—who looked very much the young noble, despite his grime-streaked clothes—and walking back to the Sagelord's mansion. All Isaveth's instincts urged her to stay low and creep through the shadows as before, but Esmond strode purposefully up the drive as though he had nothing to hide. Which it turned out he didn't, since the house was empty of all but a few servants.

“Some sort of fund-raising event for the hospital,” he explained as he led her up the steps. “I pretended to have one of my beastly headaches so they had no choice but to leave me behind. I knew Eryx had told the servants to watch me, so I locked myself in, dug up a spare charm-case he didn't know I had, and floated out the window. I doubt anyone even knows I'm gone.”

Esmond slipped the signet ring from his finger and
pressed it to the door, which promptly clicked open. With a wary glance back at the driveway, Isaveth followed him in.

The entry hall was cool and quiet, the chandelier dimmed to twilight gray. Isaveth slipped off her shoes, seeing that Esmond was already carrying his, and the two of them padded up the staircase to the upper level.

When they reached the landing, Esmond caught Isaveth and drew her back. A maid in house uniform stood at the far end of the hallway, peering into the gilt-framed mirror. She smoothed her apron, tucked a strand of her brown hair back beneath her cap, then took up a stance against the wall, watching at the final door.

“I knew it!” whispered Esmond, so close his lips tickled Isaveth's ear. “Wait here a minute. I'll deal with this.” He pulled his charm-case from his pocket, tweezed out a strip of coppery metal, and set off boldly down the corridor.

“Good evening,” he sang, and the maid jumped to attention. Isaveth ducked back around the corner as Esmond continued in the same blithe, even silly tone:

“Did Eryx ask you to keep an eye on me? That was thoughtful of him. But then, my brother's always looking out for other people. Your name's Ellice, isn't it?”

“Y-yes, milord.”

“I thought so. Lovely name, Ellice. Do you like it here? It's a bit nicer than the college, isn't it?”

“I— I—”

“You used to clean Master Orien's office, am I right? It must have been a nasty shock for you, finding his body and then having to tell the Lawkeepers about it. I'd think that would make anyone want to disappear. Especially once Eryx was kind enough to pay you a visit and invite you to work for us instead.”

With every word his voice grew fainter. Isaveth didn't dare look, but she could picture him approaching the maid step by step, smiling innocently all the while. “You'd do anything for my brother, wouldn't you? Or at least you'd do anything not to lose your job here. Trouble is, I fear Eryx won't be too pleased when he finds out you let me escape. Unless we give him a reason to believe it wasn't your fault.”

“I c-can't think what you m-mean, milord.”

“That's all right, I'm going to explain. See this bit of the floor outside my bedroom, where it's nice hard marble? I'm going to drop this sleeping-charm onto it, right where it would be if I'd slipped it under the door. Now imagine what you might do if you heard me making escaping sorts of noises inside and you had no idea the charm was there. It's an easy trick to fall for; might happen to
anyone. Eryx can hardly blame you, and I won't say a word. Does that sound fair?”

The maid let out a whimper. Then came an agonizing twenty seconds of silence, followed by the muffled thump of a body hitting the carpet.

“All clear,” called Esmond, and Isaveth hurried to help him drag the unconscious maid out of sight.

“When did you work all that out?” she whispered as the two of them searched her pockets.

“I should have guessed a lot earlier, if I hadn't been so busy running around with you.” Esmond walked back to Eryx's study and crouched, squinting at the door. “I didn't even know we had a new maid until a few days ago. But once I found out she'd been hired two days after Orien's murder, it wasn't hard to guess why.”

“You mean she saw something that could prove Eryx did it?” Like walking in on him poking about the masters' wardrobe, perhaps—although in that case, he'd have had to bribe the porter and anyone else who might have seen him in the college too. . . .

“I doubt that,” said Esmond, peering into the keyhole, “or she wouldn't have been so quick to accept his offer. But Eryx doesn't like to take chances, and keeping Ellice close would keep her from talking to anyone who might cause trouble. Su Amaraq, for instance.”

“Su? But I thought—”

“Oh, she's as dazzled by Eryx as anyone else, at least for now. But she's clever and she's curious, and she's not afraid to ask pointed questions. I don't think it'll be much longer before she realizes something's not quite right with our hero the Lording and decides to look into it. Now, let's see. . . .”

Frowning in concentration, Esmond eased his charm-tweezers into the keyhole, held them still a moment, and drew his hand back again. “Done,” he said, turning the tweezers to show her the tiny crystal they held.

“What's that?”

“It's supposed to warn Eryx if his lock's being tampered with, but I'm pretty sure I managed not to set it off. Do you have any of that neevil paper about you?”

“I'm afraid not,” Isaveth said. “Eryx's guard took my satchel, and he never gave it back.”

“I'll bet I know where it is, then. But it'll have to wait.” Esmond took a dab of wax from his charm-case, laid the crystal in its center, and rolled it up. “That should do it. Where's that key ring we took from Ellice?”

As he eased the key into the lock, Isaveth braced herself, but the door opened without so much as a creak of protest. They stepped through, into the darkened study.

“That was a little too easy for my liking,” said Esmond, closing the door carefully behind them. “But we're here now, so we'd better get to work.” He turned, frowning at the bookcase. Then he wrapped a handkerchief around his fingers, stepped up to the mirrored panel in its center, and pressed it.

The mirror swung outward to reveal a hidden alcove, tall and deep as the bookshelf but stocked with liquor and glasses. Esmond stepped inside, tapped on all three walls, then backed out and shut the panel again. “Nothing in there but the obvious. I doubt Eryx would be unimaginative enough to hide a safe behind any of the paintings . . .”

“Apparently not,” said Isaveth, after a moment's search. “What about the books?”

“Even less imaginative,” said Esmond, “but I suppose there's no help for it.” He pulled a volume from the shelf, flipped it open, and put it back again. Isaveth moved to the far end and did likewise. By the time they met in the middle, it was clear that all the books were genuine.

“No space for a cupboard behind the shelves, either,” mused Esmond, “unless it's invisible and hangs over the lobby. The desk, then.”

Isaveth opened all the drawers, which had been left tauntingly unlocked and contained nothing out of the
ordinary, while Esmond crawled beneath to knock for hidden compartments—but of course there were none. Isaveth was peering into the potted plants, and Esmond had started rolling back the carpet, when the glass doorknob rattled and began to turn.

Esmond swore under his breath. Before Isaveth could protest, he opened the secret cupboard and bundled her into it, shutting the panel just as the lights came on and Eryx Lording strolled in.

“Hello, little brother,” he said mildly. “I see your headache's better. Have you found what you were looking for?”

Trapped in the narrow space, surrounded by bottles and glassware that might rattle at any moment, Isaveth stood motionless, afraid even to breathe. With the study fully lit she could see a little—very little—through the crack in the door. But that only meant Esmond hadn't shut it properly, and if Eryx turned . . .

Esmond must have realized his mistake as well, because he walked to the other side of the room, drawing Eryx's attention with him. “No, of course I didn't find anything to prove you killed Master Orien,” he said, tugging at his rolled-up shirtsleeve as though itching to pull it down. “Though you can't blame me for trying.”

“Can't I?” said Eryx. “For accusing me, your own brother, of a capital offense? For prying into matters that
are none of your business and putting the future of this city in jeopardy?” He shook his head. “I think I
can
blame you, Esmond. If you're too young to understand politics, you shouldn't meddle.”

“Oh, I understand
your
politics well enough. Peace and prosperity for everyone, eventually—so long as they keep trusting you to fix their problems, instead of doing anything to help themselves.” Esmond leaned on the back of the armchair, his half glass glittering coldly in the light. “That's why you came up with the Reps' Bill, isn't it? You knew the commoners hated Father for not listening to them, so you seized the chance to trick them into believing you were on their side.”

“I
am
on their side,” Eryx retorted. “I want what's best for the people of Tarreton, and the last thing we all need is a revolution. Father's dragged this city into the gutter; it's my responsibility to lift it out again. And you poking about in my study, looking for proof that I'm a monster, is
not helpful
, Esmond.”

Isaveth gave an involuntary shudder. Even in anger Eryx's tone remained pleasant, but now she could hear the teeth behind it.

“But you are a monster, aren't you?” said Esmond. “What else do you call someone who would turn a desperate man into a killer, send him to murder an old family
friend, and let a widower with four daughters hang for it?”

Eryx pinched the bridge of his nose. “I may regret this,” he said, “but it seems only fair to ask. Why would I do any of those things?”

“Because you want to become the greatest Sagelord in Tarreton's history,” said Esmond. “You're arrogant enough to think you can fix everything that's wrong with this city, but to do it, you need power. So of course you couldn't let Orien support the Reps' Bill, because if it passed, then you and Father would lose control over the council, and you'd have to get the commoners' approval to build this glorious future you keep talking about.” He paused, then added in a bitter undertone, “Besides, Orien was one of the few people who knew what a brute you can be.”

“So that's what this is about,” said Eryx, and now he sounded both weary and sad. “I told you it was an accident. I said I was sorry—truly, deeply sorry—and that I'd give my own eye to replace yours if I could. Everyone else believes me. Why can't you?”

“Oh, I don't know,” said Esmond with an ironic tilt of his head. “Maybe because I'm the one who lost the eye? And because it happened right after I refused to help you poison our father so you could become Sagelord in his place?”

Horror rippled through Isaveth, and she pressed her
lips tight to keep from crying out. She hugged herself and breathed shallowly, more frightened for Esmond and herself than ever. If Eryx had been willing to plot murder against his own father, what might he do to them?

“That was merely a bit of black humor.” Eryx made a dismissive gesture. “It had been a long day, and you know how exasperating Father can be. I spoke without thinking.”

“You never do anything without thinking. If Father's still alive, it's only because you've figured out how to get around him.” Esmond gripped the chair, flushed with rising anger. “What did you tell him? That it was too late to save his reputation, but not too late to keep his power? That it was all right for people to despise him, as long as they still loved you?”

“Without a Sagelord, Tarreton would fall into chaos,” Eryx told him patiently. “You know as well as I do that the common folk aren't ready to govern themselves.” He turned toward the bookshelf, and Isaveth shrank back in alarm. If he opened the panel . . .

Esmond stepped in front of him. “You won't be governing anyone soon if you keep drinking whenever things get tense. Or do you think Father started out
wanting
to ruin the city?”

Eryx stopped and stared at his brother, his brow
creased with pain. Then he walked to the armchair and sat down. “So first I was a murderer, and now I'm a drunkard? I knew you hated me, but I didn't realize you despised me as well.”

“Oh, please,” said Esmond scornfully. “You're not a victim—you never have been. Unlike that poor fool Tomias Rennick, whom you paid to kill Orien. And then had him murdered too, so there'd be no one to tell the Lawkeepers how you'd done it. Well, except maybe the Healer-General, but I'm guessing you bribed him to hide the evidence.”

He crossed the carpet and sat in the chair opposite Eryx, careful not to glance at the panel where Isaveth was hiding. “I suppose Orien being so busy with the new charmery was what gave you the idea to make it look like one of the workers had done it? And using an affinity-charm to set off the exploding-tablet would give it that touch of irony, not to mention keep you and your accomplice away from the scene of the crime. I imagine it was you who gave Rennick the charm and told him how to use it? Or did Hulton give him your orders instead?”

“This is ridiculous,” said Eryx. “You're overwrought—”

Esmond waved this aside. “It's all right, I was only curious. In any case, you promised Rennick you'd have Father recommend him for the charmery project, so he
wouldn't be tempted to doubt that he had a future. But you knew Master Orien wouldn't cooperate, since he was still hoping to rehire the man he'd picked for the job the first time: a Moshite named Urias Breck.”