Legends of the Riftwar (71 page)

‘And if I don't get an answer right now, the note that I've left–never mind with whom–will be put in the hands of the Swordmaster, a few days from now. Then he'll be asking you the same question. Unless…'

‘Unless?'

‘Unless you explain to me, right now, why. The “how” part is easy, and I should have seen it before. A guard falling asleep on watch? A reliable man, up until the night before last. And then he suddenly fell asleep on watch. Very convenient.

‘A strange coincidence. Unless, of course, his food was drugged, as was the bottle of wine, which explains how you were able to slice their throats without waking them. A fine kitchen knife, well-sharpened, as all good kitchen knives should be, left their room on a covered tray, with you, after you brought it in on a covered tray, to slice their throats while they lay drugged. It wouldn't be at all strange for the housecarl to be washing a knife down in the kitchen, would it?' Pirojil nodded. ‘I think your daughter helped.'

‘She doesn't know anything about it. Please don't bring her into this. It's not–'

‘It's not right? You mean, in the sense that slitting two people's throats isn't right? Or–'

‘He treated her like a plaything,' Ereven said, with no change in his inflection. A lifetime of keeping his expression and tone
under control hadn't abandoned him, even now. ‘He lured her into his bed, and made all sorts of promises to her–it's not totally unknown for a noble to take a common wife, and a gentleman who sires a bastard acknowledges him.'

‘But Baron Morray didn't do that.'

‘No, he didn't. He lied to her and she thought he loved her. She was a good girl, and had never known a man before the Baron. I hoped to marry her to the son of Grigsby, the grain merchant. He's a man of means and his son will take over the business one day. But a “kitchen wench” with the bastard of a noble in her arms? My girl thought herself in love with Morray, but he said nothing to her as her belly swelled with his baby, sir. I think…' his voice faltered. After a moment he carried on: ‘Then to marry a woman who carries his baby–it's no secret that Mondegreen was ill and his lady was with Morray many times.' Ereven's voice turned bitter. ‘What sort of man would deny his own? Not admit he fathered my daughter's child, and then let another man claim a second child with the woman he was to wed? He and Lady Mondegreen were evil.'

Pirojil nodded. ‘And this was your last chance to punish them for that, eh? Verheyen wouldn't have him as Bursar, and wouldn't want his fingers on the Purse in advance of coming into the earldom. Morray and Lady Mondegreen were going away to become a country baron and lady and do their best never to set foot in LaMut again, for fear that Verheyen might think they were gathering support against him, no matter what Morray had sworn.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Pirojil nodded. ‘That drug that you put in the wine, and the food. Do you have more of it?'

Ereven hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes, sir.'

‘Then I've a suggestion. It won't save you, but…'

‘But my daughter?'

Pirojil nodded. ‘I'll leave her out of this, if you'll take yourself out of it. Swallow all of that drug that you have, and if you think that may not be enough to kill you for certain, find something else that will, and swallow it, too. Wash it down with a bottle of the Earl's finest wine–but before you do that, write a note saying that it was you who drugged Erlic's food–you can say that you did it at Verheyen's behest, if you'd like, but if you say that you did it at
mine
,' he added quickly, ‘all of it will come out, you can count on that.
All
of it–about how your daughter prevailed upon you to murder the father of her baby.'

‘But she
didn't
. She doesn't even
know
.'

‘So what? The daughter of a self-confessed murderer's word against that of the captain who solved the riddle of who killed Mondegreen and Morray? Who will the Earl believe? They
might
wait until the child is born before they hang your daughter. Make your choice, housecarl. But make it now, and make it wisely. You won't have another opportunity.'

The impassive expression was back on Ereven's face. ‘Your offer is acceptable, Captain.' He nodded, once. Then, for a moment, just a moment, the mask dropped from his face. ‘You can have my blood on your hands, too, to go along with Baron Verheyen's.'

Pirojil shrugged. ‘I've had a lot of blood on my hands, Ereven. I'm used to it.'

Ereven wasn't the only one who could control his expression, after all.

Pirojil could try to justify it to himself. After all, despite the peace they had made Verheyen was Morray's enemy, and Baron Morray would not have minded at all Verheyen being dead, and never becoming the Earl of LaMut. He could blame Steven Argent for putting him in a situation that was more than he had been able to manage. Pirojil was a soldier, dammit, and not some sort of constable, nor judge.

But that wouldn't work. And if there was a way to put blood
back in a dead body, Pirojil would have used it many times before.

However, Erlic's blood was still in his body, and at least Pirojil could limit the damage.

Ereven nodded. ‘I'll see to it directly, sir. And if you'll promise to put in a good word for my daughter, I'll say that it was Verheyen.'

Pirojil shook his head. ‘No promises. If I come back this way–unlikely, but you never know–I'll look in on her, though. That's the best I can do.'

‘It's good enough, sir.' Ereven drew himself up straight. ‘If there's nothing more…'

‘No. There's nothing more.'

‘Then I've got some writing to do, and a bottle of wine to find with which to wash down the powder, and I'd best be getting to it before you change your mind.'

‘Yes,' Pirojil said.

The housecarl turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Pirojil turned and walked away.

He had a great deal to do and wanted it done before they found the housecarl's body and the note. If Durine's description of the–whatever he called them, the snowshoes–was correct, they would take some getting used to as they made their way out of LaMut. And given the realization that a perfectly innocent baron–or at least as innocent as any baron could be given their nature–had died needlessly, Pirojil would rather not be around for the incessant chatter about the murders that was certain to be the table-talk of every noble in the duchy for weeks to come. He would prefer to be remembered as ‘that really hideous captain' than have too many people recall his name. Even if no one ever discovered the truth, Verheyen had friends who would think it some sort of justice to see Pirojil vanish.

Pirojil wanted to vanish from LaMut, but on his own terms,
and he wanted to find himself somewhere warm, but not in a funeral pyre.

They should be on their way, the five of them, as soon as possible. As he hurried down a corridor and climbed the stairs, Pirojil stole a look out of a window over the City of LaMut. Not a bad place as cities go. He'd been in far worse and few better. The sun was getting ready to rise, and the city was coming to life. Then he turned to leave the room, wondering absently how many other things they had got wrong. Not that it mattered. In a few years everything would be forgotten with a new earl in LaMut and Vandros in Yabon.

The one question that nagged at him a bit was how that firedrake, Fantus, had continually managed to get into the Swordmaster's office. There had to be a secret passage somewhere in this castle that even the housecarl didn't know of. Still, life was full of unsolved mysteries and as such went, that was a minor one.

Pirojil glanced out of the window at the new day, glad he was alive to enjoy it.

And somewhere, outside, a dog was barking.

 

To my readers:

Without your enthusiasm I'd be selling cars for a living.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Raymond E. Feist

To Jan…and to Ray, Will, and Joel: the only guys who could have brought this off.

S.M. Stirling