A Pocket Full of Murder (28 page)

Isaveth pressed her hands to her mouth, aghast. Was Esmond right? Had framing Papa really been Eryx's plan from the start?

“Your spies had told you that Breck was a member of the Workers' Club, and that he blamed Orien for the loss of his fortunes. And since Rennick despised Breck already, that made him all the more willing to carry out your plan.” Esmond leaned back in his chair. “Have I forgotten anything?”

It was agony to watch him act casual when his emotions must be running as high as Isaveth's own. But it was even more difficult to look at Eryx, who was regarding Esmond with a mixture of sorrow and an almost tender pity.

“I almost wish I could say no,” he said. “I can see this fantasy means a great deal to you. However, you've overlooked a rather important point. You keep insisting an affinity-charm was used to kill Master Orien. But it couldn't have been this Rennick fellow who put the charm in his robe, since the records show Rennick's first and only visit to the governor's office was on the day of
the murder. And it couldn't have been me, because I was nowhere near the college that week—in fact, I was quite publicly elsewhere the entire time. So if neither Rennick nor myself had any opportunity to plant the charm on Master Orien before he died . . .” He spread his hands. “How could either one of us have killed him?”

Esmond made no answer. His face turned pale, then red, then white again, until Eryx said gently, “I've done my best to be patient with you. But I'm afraid all this has only confirmed my fears. Your mind is unbalanced, Esmond. You need help.”

He sounded so apologetic, so genuinely concerned. If Isaveth hadn't known that he'd lied to her, she might have been tempted to believe him. How could they make him give up Rennick's confession if he wouldn't admit he'd had any part in the crime?

“I had your room guarded only because I couldn't be here to look out for you,” Eryx continued in the same compassionate tone. “I was afraid you might do something rash if you were left alone, and I was right. Don't you think it's time you stopped pretending, Esmond? Master Orien is dead because Urias Breck killed him. No matter how you feel about Breck's daughter, that's the truth of it.”

Esmond said nothing. His head was down, his eyes on the carpet; he looked utterly defeated. Isaveth shifted
her weight from one aching leg to the other, her brain working at furious speed. If neither Eryx nor Rennick had had the opportunity to plant the tablets on Orien, then who . . . ?

The answer came to her then, so quick and sure it left her breathless. She'd nearly lost faith, but her instincts had been right all along.

She didn't realize she'd gasped aloud until Eryx started to his feet. His gaze swept over the bookcase . . . and locked, unblinking, on the crack in its mirrored door.

Isaveth's skin broke out in turkey-flesh. She had no idea what Eryx would do to her, but the set of his jaw warned her there could be no more hiding now. She sent up a silent prayer to the All-One, and stepped out of the alcove.

“I know how you killed Master Orien,” she said, forcing herself to look straight into Eryx Lording's face. “You didn't just use Tomias Rennick. Master Buldage was working for you as well.”

I
T WAS A BOLD ACCUSATION
, and Isaveth could only hope she'd guessed right. But the spasm of anger that crossed Eryx Lording's face reassured her. Quickly she stepped around him and moved to join Esmond as she went on.

“Ellice caught Buldage slipping the tablets into Orien's robe, didn't she, the night before the murder? She may not have realized what he was doing, or known enough to tell the Lawkeepers. Still, you couldn't afford to let anyone else question her, so you coaxed her to come and work for you instead.”

Eryx's dark brows lifted. “Good evening, Miss Breck. I wondered if you might be joining us.”

Even now he refused to give up the role he'd been playing: the honest young politician with a dream of equality and prosperity for all, plagued by two foolish
children inexplicably bent on ruining his good name. The hypocrisy was maddening, but it was also reassuring. If Eryx did anything to harm her, he'd be admitting that Esmond was right about him.

What if Isaveth played along, then, instead of arguing? Eryx was so good at flattering others, perhaps he wasn't entirely immune to flattery himself.

“I think you do care about the people of Tarreton,” said Isaveth, clasping her hands behind her back so they wouldn't tremble. “Even if you think they can't rule themselves as well as you can rule them. And I'm sure you couldn't bring yourself to murder anyone, especially a man who'd taught you since you were a child, unless you believed it was the only way to save the city.”

Eryx didn't reply. He studied Isaveth with a faint crease between his brows, as though everything about her puzzled him.

“I don't know if Rennick killed himself or not,” Isaveth went on resolutely, “but he's dead now, so he can't betray you. And Buldage can't turn against you without ruining himself. I know the truth, but nobody's going to believe me. All I want is to save my papa, and you're the only one who can do that now.”

She looked up at the Lording, tears shining in her eyes. “Please, milord. I promise I won't tell Papa what
you did. I won't tell anyone. Just save him, and I'll be grateful to you forever.”

Eryx cleared his throat. “This is rather awkward,” he said. “I'm not quite sure how to reply. Even if I agreed that your conclusions are accurate—which I couldn't possibly do, of course—I'm not sure I can trust my brother to take the same, shall we say, generous view of the matter. . . .”

“Oh, shut up, Eryx,” said Esmond bitterly. “Do you really think I'd tear our whole family apart and let Isaveth's father hang just to spite you?” He stood up, pulled a scrap of black cloth from his pocket, and flung it onto the table between them. “There's the cloth I cut from Orien's robe, with the charm-silver on it. Now turn Rennick's confession over to the Lawkeepers, and let Isaveth's father go.”

Isaveth held her breath, afraid to interrupt, as Eryx's gaze flicked to Esmond. “That's quite a sacrifice, little brother. After all, with me disgraced you'd be a step closer to becoming Sagelord.”

“Only if I assassinated Civilla first,” retorted Esmond. “And unlike some of us, I have no interest in killing people. Or ruling the city, either.”

“Perhaps,” said Eryx. “But as you're so convinced that I killed Master Orien, having a dead workman charged with his murder is bound to be painful for you. It might even seem that you'd failed to avenge him.”

Esmond's throat bobbed as he swallowed. “It doesn't matter,” he said huskily.

“No?” Eryx glanced at Isaveth. “Or maybe you've found something that matters even more to you. Enough that you'd do anything to make her happy.”

If she thought she'd seen Esmond red before, it was nothing compared with now. “Eryx—”

“Don't worry, brother, I'm sure she's conscious of the honor you do her.” His tone was kindly, even sympathetic. “Still, even if Miss Breck shares your feelings, I'm sure she's sensible enough to realize that nothing can ever come of it.”

A tingling flush spread through Isaveth, starting from her fingers and toes and burning up through her stomach. She'd begged Eryx to do the right thing by her father, and she still hoped that he would. But he was enjoying this—enjoying the power she'd given him, and using it to torment Esmond.

“Don't,” she blurted out. “You've already won, can't you see?”

“Have I?” Eryx's gaze remained on his brother. “I believe there's one thing we still have to negotiate. Roll down your sleeve, Esmond.”

Esmond flinched as though his brother had jabbed him. Then he unrolled his shirtsleeve and took off the
charm-band he'd been hiding. “Fine,” he said sullenly. “Take it. Probably nobody at the station was listening anyway.”

“Do you really think it would make a difference if they were?” asked Eryx. “The walls of this study are shield-charmed, so no signal can travel in or out. You can't listen to a crystal set in here, let alone send a message. Still, I admire your ingenuity.” He took the bracelet from Esmond's hand and tucked it inside his jacket.

“Now that's settled,” he continued briskly, “it's time we finished this. Miss Breck, it's possible Mister Rennick left some kind of confession. It could be that his wife kept it hidden from the Lawkeepers, to spare their daughter the shame of knowing her father was a murderer. But if she knew it could save an innocent man . . . well, perhaps that might persuade her to turn it over.”

Isaveth felt as though a millstone had been lifted from her shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered, but Esmond held up a hand.

“Eryx,” he said coldly, “you can do better than that. How does she know this isn't just another of your pretty promises? I think it would be best if you got into that
very fast
spell-carriage of yours and drove over to see Missus Rennick right now. I'm sure it won't take you more than a few minutes.”

Eryx's eyes narrowed, and Isaveth feared he would refuse. But at last he said, “Very well. As long as both of you sit down in those armchairs and stay here until I return.”

“Our solemn word on it,” said Esmond. He walked to the farthest chair and plopped down, leaving Isaveth to take the other. “See? Nice, obedient children. Now you can lock us in and go.”

*  *  *

“I can't believe you were wearing a charm-band that entire time,” said Isaveth when the Lording had gone. “Did you know he was going to walk in on us? Was that your plan to catch him all along?”

“For all the good it did,” said Esmond gloomily, but there was a wicked glint in his eye. He dragged his chair close to Isaveth's, wriggled to the edge of the seat, and leaned forward, beckoning her to do the same.

“We're not beaten yet,” he said so quietly she had to read his lips. “We might still be able to catch Eryx, if my plan worked.”

“What plan?” Isaveth whispered, and Esmond flashed a grin.

“That charm-band he took from me wasn't transmitting,” he said, “it was recording. Once I steal it back from him, we'll have proof of everything he said tonight. But that can wait. I won't do anything to put your father in danger.”

Relief warmed Isaveth all over. She'd hated to let Eryx get away with murder, even for Papa's sake—but if Esmond was right, she wouldn't have to. Of course, the Lording hadn't actually confessed to arranging Master Orien's murder, but the record of tonight's conversation ought to make his guilt plain enough.

“I don't know how to thank you,” she began, but Esmond shook his head.

“Don't. I'm still kicking myself for not figuring out it was Eryx from the start.” He gazed past her, his expression pensive. “I knew he was obsessed with becoming Sagelord and remaking Tarreton in his image. But even after what he did to my eye, I didn't think he'd really go so far. I kept thinking—hoping—it was somebody else.”

And with that the last speck of resentment Isaveth had felt against him faded away. She reached out and put her hand over his. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you earlier,” she said.

Esmond turned his palm over, fingers grasping hers. “Isaveth,” he said, “I know I'm not Quiz, not really. But even so . . .” He looked up into her face. “Do you think we could go on being friends? Because I would like that very much.”

“I . . . I don't know,” said Isaveth. “How can we, really? You're the Lilord, and I'm just a girl from Cabbage Street.”
And a Moshite girl, at that. Even if Esmond didn't care where Isaveth went to temple, his family and friends surely did.

“You're not
just
anything,” Esmond protested. “You're ten times more clever and interesting than the girls I go to school with—and the boys, too, for that matter. Besides, we make a good team. . . .” He stopped, his head snapping up. “Wait. I think that's Eryx coming back.”

“Already?” asked Isaveth. She'd thought the Lording would at least carry out the pretense of driving across the city, but it seemed he'd dropped even that.

Esmond got up, drawing Isaveth with him. “One last thing,” he said in a strangled tone. “Could I—would you mind if I kissed you?”

Isaveth's mouth dropped open. She stared at him, too astonished even to blush.

“Sorry.” He let go of her, ducking his head ruefully. “That was a stupid thing to say.”

“Not
stupid
,” said Isaveth, finding her voice with an effort. She felt as though the ceiling had fallen on her head. “It's just that I . . .”

She had no idea how to finish the sentence, but mercifully, she didn't have to. The door opened, and Eryx Lording stepped into the room.

“I trust this is what you were looking for,” he said, handing an envelope to Esmond, who opened it and scanned the contents before nodding agreement.

“Though if you don't mind,” he said coolly, tucking the envelope under his arm, “I'll deliver it to the Lawkeepers myself.”

“As you like,” said Eryx. “In any case, it's getting late, and the others will be back soon. I think it's time I took Miss Breck home, don't you? We wouldn't want to distress Mother.”

“No, of course not.” Esmond turned to Isaveth. “Don't worry, I'm sure my brother will see you safely back to Cabbage Street. Because it would distress Mother even more if I had to kill him.”

That startled a laugh out of Isaveth, but Eryx didn't smile—and neither did Esmond. He made a little bow over Isaveth's hand and walked out.

*  *  *

The Lording's open-topped sportster was the most elegant vehicle Isaveth had ever seen, let alone ridden in. Under any other circumstances, the buttery softness of the leather seat and the breeze tossing her hair would have delighted her. Yet she was all too conscious of Eryx's brooding presence at her side, the way his fingers clenched the steering yoke as they coasted through the
twinkling lamp-lights of Rollingdale toward the darker streets beyond.