“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?”
&n
bsp; “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.”
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.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
IT 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.