Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor and the Case of the Seven Dwarves (17 page)

Tonight, Moravia had nothing but eyes for the viscount and she absentmindedly nodded at my greeting. Her obvious enthrallment caused Morgana to smile. I was glad the witch's daughter appeared amused and not annoyed by Moravia's interest in one of her escorts.

We were pushed along by other arriving guests and found ourselves drifting to the far side of the room. The room hummed like a hive. Small islands of guests quieted as we passed. The whispering began again when they thought we were out of ear reach. I could pick a few words amongst the conversations and a good many of them were the repeated name of my female companion. The women were snatching side-glances at Morgana; then would often turn and frown as they noticed their own male companions gazing admiringly at the infamous witch's daughter.

Morgana walked as if oblivious to the stares and whispers of the other guests, nodding when greeted and smiling at more distant eye contacts.

"You are the star of the ball," I observed when we paused along side a banquet board overburdened with a feast of aromatic meats, sweet puddings, breads, pastries, peacock-tongue pies, and spiced vegetables. A roasted ostrich dominated as the centerpiece.

I waved a finger at a passing servant and drew three glasses of a light wine from the silver platter. I quickly offered one each to Morgana and Mika. Though I am used to wading through a raucous crowd at the King's Wart Inn without ever spilling a drop of ale, I felt unsteady tonight and feared the social blunder of drenching one of the finely dressed gentlemen or ladies milling about us. I was trying to relax and enjoy the evening, but I could not unknot the tension in my shoulders and neck.

I looked about. Were there assassins even now hungrily eying their intended victim? How did I appear to them? Some bumbling private inquisitor in a monkey suit--an easy target who had only by witless luck escaped an earlier attack? Were they even now silently pondering how to spend their wages--dreaming about an Ezkmuja gutting knife or a new pair of toe screws?

Fingers lightly brushed the back of my hand and I jerked around to see Morgana with a slight smile on her lips. I unwilling smiled back, trying to discover a hint of derision in her look. What was her game? I fought to remember that the sweet maiden next to me was the same mocking woman of the Coal Diggers Tavern and the daughter of a notorious witch.

"You seem truant, Jak. Is my company that tedious? A damsel could almost feel slighted."

"I believe one could never be bored with your company, Morgana," I answered honestly. "It is just that having an unknown number of Reverian Assassins after one tends to make one anxious. I am funny that way."

"Oh, them. Worry not for the evening. Do you think Mummsie would let anyone spoil my night out? She is very protective, you know."

I tried reading her face for jest, but Morgana seemed very matter-of-fact about a maternal protection that included shielding against Reverian Assassins.

Private inquisitors are always blasé, I reminded myself. "That must make your many boyfriends nervous."

"Who says I have many boyfriends?"

I put on my best ingratiating royal court face. "One as beautiful as you must have suitors swarming about like bees around a honeysuckle."

"You believe yourself to be humoring me, Master Jak, but actually, having Morganna for a mother does hamper my social life. Most men find themselves suddenly timorous when contemplating courting a witch's daughter. Even the bravest quake at meeting my mother. There are others who fear I may also harbor some of her natural talents--though my mother sadly wishes it were so."

"I will tell you this," she said and leaned to speak into my ear as to be heard over the loud hum of the banquet hall. "I really did not expect you to accept my request."

"I hope I did not ruin your evening with Mika because of my unexpected assent."

"In no way," she answered simply.

I took her arm to guide her to the banquet board. I am used to being snubbed amongst gentry and moneyed, but this was the first time it was more from fear than contempt.

I now noticed the greetings were forced. The men could not help but be attracted to the comely young woman and follow her with their eyes, but they turned away when meeting her gaze. The women, always ready to shun with relish anyone thought to be of an inferior class or of whom they were jealous, were still not about to offend Morganna's offspring. They greeted her with forced smiles. The throng parted before us like waves before the prow of a frigate under full sail.

"Do you perceive what I mean," Morgana spoke as if reading my current observations. For the first time I was actually ready to believe that the maiden besides me was more than just a spoiled witch's daughter bent on making me out a fool.

I sighed. Maybe I did not have to worry about assassins this evening. But I now might be even more in danger--escorting a damsel who I could not even look at without feeling a wrench in my chest--which had nothing to do with fear. But just how protective and all-seeing was her mother--and how did the witch feel about suitors? I felt sudden empathy for those Morgana had condemned as fainthearted.

I balanced both our dishes as we left the feastboard and set off to find a place to ourselves. It was something I wanted to do, even without the nervous glances of those fearing we would join their tables. I found us a cozy corner spot near a trio playing formal chamber music.

On opposite corners of the room could be seen jugglers and a puppet stage. At the fourth corner was a troupe of opossums dressed in tutus and blond wigs and trained to swing from miniature trapezes by their tails.

The Baron and Baroness had gone all out. Even this tucked away seating had a floral arrangement made of rare Venus mousetraps that would snap up any table scraps tossed in their general direction.

"You are very quiet, Master Jak," Morgana observed after several minutes of silence as we ate. "Are you one of those who can only savor one pleasure at a time, either food or conversation?"

I was actually thinking about Frost Ivory and feeling guilty. I should at this instance be working on her case. My only solace was that Frost Ivory apparently would not know if I took a day or month to solve her plight. There were of course the dwarves to think about and their apparent goblin allies.

"I can be of help," Morgana added before I could reply to her last comment. "I have always been intrigued with private inquisitors."

"Everyone thinks my work is so romantic or exciting," I automatically repeated what I have told a number of would-be private inquisitors. "In fact, it is tedious and boring."

Morgana stopped her wine glass halfway to her lips and cocked her head, giving me a wry smile. "Let us consider that. In the last few days you have been attacked by Reverian Assassins and giant wolf spiders; traversed ancient, unknown caverns; faced Blackwatch Goblins; been hired to free a beautiful maiden from a spell; and am now with a woman of extraordinary beauty and wit."

"Yes, if you are going to put it that way, it does sound intriguing on the face of it. But constant adventure can get old. Once you have faced death a dozen times, it is no more enthralling than washing socks," I answered modestly then cocked my head. "How did you know all that?"

"Your friend, Sergey, seems to think it is all very exciting. He cannot wait to publish it."

"Like all hack scribes, he likes to embellish." I was not giving my usual witty rejoinders. Morgana was watching me with hands clasped beneath her chin and elbows on the table. I found myself just wanting to regard her pursed lips and heart-shaped face.

Out of this fog came the first clear notion I'd had for the evening. I tried pushing it away, but it tenuously clung to my thoughts. Why couldn't Morgana help? I would hesitate to place any other maiden at risk because of my task, but she was the daughter of a notorious witch who could even protect her across town from Reverian Assassins.

"What can I do?" she asked excitedly.

"Do you read minds?" I asked. It was not the first time she had seemed to catch my thoughts.

"No, just your face. For a hardened private inquisitor, you are very evident in your feelings. But I like that about you."

"That I am shallow?"

"That too. Just hush and tell me what you want me to do."

"If I am so obvious, you should be able to read my face."

She squinted her eyes and cocked her head for a minute, giving me time to gaze back at her. "You want me to go in disguise and delve into Frost Ivory's background. And one of the reasons you find me attractive is that I remind you of a secret girlfriend named Whilmia from when you were eight years old."

I drew in a breath and fought to keep my jaw from dropping. "How did you all know that?"

"As with a stage illusionist, a private inquisitor seldom reveals her methods. Let us just say that I observe obvious signs an untrained eye will miss."

Was she able to hear thoughts? Had Morgana inherited some of her mother's powers? She easily read the apprehension I was feeling and relented.

"If I was to begin searching for why such a curse was placed on a client, I would try to first identify all possible enemies. That would mean investigating her life before she came to live with the dwarves. Was she hiding from someone? Why else would she live with seven coal dwarves? And being a maiden, I can ask questions without provoking as much suspicion as a man."

Morgana sat back smugly and again clasped her hands. "As you see, once explained, my deductions suddenly plunge from the realm of wonder to a more mundane plane."

"But how did you know about that secret girl friend named Whilmia?"

"Just a lucky guess."

I eyed her suspiciously for a minute before speaking. "I was also thinking I would not have to worry about you getting hurt with a witch mother who is always watching over you."

"That is not quite true," Morgana answered and reached out to pat my hand. "Mummsie cannot be shielding me constantly. It would take up all her time and energy. She is only warding tonight because she knew I would be out with a notorious private inquisitor under a death threat from Reverian Assassins. Things like that tend to bring out the maternal instincts in her. She is funny that way."

"Excuse me. I hate to break up such a charming scene, but I believe I will be leaving the party early." It was Mika.

I looked up guiltily. I had totally forgotten him. "Mika, I am sorry, I feel--"

"Don't worry on my account," he laughed and nodded in the direction of several young men appearing too nervous to approach our table. "I would have been over here with you, but I met some interesting fellows and have accepted an invitation to visit the local taverns."

"How will you get home? I am afraid I am to blame for you not arriving in your own carriage."

"Don't worry. I am sure one of my new friends will find me a conveyance. It was nice meeting you, Master Jak, and I believe I will be sending some business your way shortly."

On that mysterious note, the viscount bowed to Morgana and turned to make his way to the waiting group.

"At least the Baron's son, Runuld, is not among them. I would hate to think of Mika associating with that scoundrel."

"I think Mika is capable of taking care of himself," said Morgana as she turned back to me. "Now, let us discuss tomorrow's plans."

"Wait. Those were my thoughts before hearing you are not always under your mother's charm. And what is she going to think, you hanging around with a notorious ferret?"

"That is private inquisitor," Morgana corrected me. "I believe she will be happy to have me out from underfoot. We have been seeing way too much of each other since our move to Duburoake."

"It is hard to imagine the two of you even running into each other in that monstrous place, let alone getting underfoot." I almost shuddered thinking about any temple of Dorga and the dark dungeons they must all possess.