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“Left him blind and helpless as a swaddled infant.” Anger sharpened my voice. “That was the first of their offences against the Name and they’ve earned our enmity thrice over since. The Sieur D’Olbriot wouldn’t be dealing with wizards otherwise.”
“D’Alse
“I’ll buy wine for your whole Cohort if you find me some cutpurse with the boy’s blood on his cuffs,” I assured him.
“It’ll empty your purse,” Triss warned me with a grin.
“Coin well spent,” I replied. “Of course it could be happenstance, I know that. It’s Festival after all, there’s always trouble in the lower city, and it wouldn’t be the first time vermin climbed higher.” And the way Casuel’s luck ran, my mother would say he’d get hit by a bowl if it was raining soup. “Does the knife give some hint?”
Triss drew a blade from his belt with a private smile.
“So do you owe Zelet or is he buying the wine tonight?” I turned the cheap blade in my hands, feeling a peculiar frisson at the dark lines of Temar’s blood caught in the binding of the handle.
“I said you’d want to see it,” admitted Triss. “Zelet called no wager.”
“Let me guess, half the Festival hawkers are selling these?” If this were a puppetry tale, I thought ruefully, the blade would be unique to the knifeman and some i
“Three peddlers out of five.” Triss shrugged. “I expect we could find whatever back-alley smithy is knocking out that particular style by the barrel full, but we’d learn no more than that.”
“Of course,” I said lightly, handing the useless blade back.
“I’ll send word if I hear anything, but frankly I doubt there’ll be news.” Triss pursed his lips.
“You and me both.” I nodded ruefully.
“Keep your eyes and ears open, though. Let me know if you learn anything.” Proven Triss got to his feet and I followed him out of the little bower. “We’ll catch the cur if we’ve a scent to follow, and I take it very personally when a guest of my Sieur can’t walk hereabouts in safety.”
“You and me both,” I repeated curtly.
Movement by the residence caught my eye and I saw a blanket-covered litter being gently carried down the steps.
“Permit me to take my leave, Proven Triss?” I said formally.
Triss nodded and turned towards the gatehouse. Avila was walking beside the litter and beckoned to me. “On the other side, if you please, Ryshad.”
I helped steady the burden as Tor Kanselin’s servants and D’Olbriot’s footmen eased the unconscious Temar inside the wide-bodied coach. His face was white as bone in the dim interior and I saw an angry bruise at the edge of a poultice strapped to his temple.
I turned to Avila. “Is he going to be all right?” I asked with a qualm at his stillness.
“He sleeps deep in the shades, by grace of Arimelin’s Artifice,” said Avila calmly. “That will do much to restore him. Tor Kanselin’s surgeon knows his herbs well enough, so I have everything I need for the night.”
“You’ll be sitting with him?” I’d been wondering if I should do that; head injuries can turn nasty in a hurry.
Avila nodded. “So you can find out who did this,” she ordered sternly.
“Casuel thinks it must be the Elietimm,” I said, still looking at Temar.
“Just because the master mage is one part flash and nine parts foolish, do not assume he must be wrong,” Avila commented brusquely.
“True enough.” And if the wizard were right he wouldn’t let me or anyone else forget it this side of the Otherworld.
“Ryshad!” I turned to see Esquire Camarl standing by the door at the top of the steps. He summoned me with a snap of his fingers.
“Esquire.” I bowed as I arrived on the step below him.
“Where were you, Ryshad?” he demanded without preamble.
I hesitated. “Temar wanted me to make some enquiries around the Houses he thinks may have these artefacts he’s searching for. We thought it would save time if I made a start while he was here.”
“D’Olbriot holds your oath, Ryshad, not D’Alse
“He should have been safe here. Tor Kanselin’s men are on a par with our own,” I said before realising I was sounding like Casuel trying to excuse himself. I shut my mouth.
“He was hardly safe outside, was he?” snapped Esquire Camarl.
“No.” I admitted with honest regret. “Your pardon, Esquire. I was at fault.”
“There’s more than enough blame to go round, Ryshad. I shouldn’t have spent so much time listening to Iria
“Esquire.” I waited a moment before speaking again, trying to strike that fine line between dutiful respect and the assertion that would get me my own way. “But we have no sworn men who know anything about the Elietimm. Surely the most important thing now is to look for any trace of them in the city? I’m the only man you can send to do that.”
Camarl looked at me with narrowed eyes. “I suppose that’s true enough. But if you get any sniff of them, you come back and rouse the entire barracks, do you hear?”
“I won’t take any Elietimm on without a full Cohort at my back, on Aiten’s oath,” I promised him.
Camarl smiled sadly. “You learned that lesson the hard way, didn’t you? He was a good man, Aiten, too good to lose to those bastards, and the same is true for you, Ryshad. Be careful.”
“I will,” I assured him. “Do you want me to report to you as soon as I get back?”
“Whatever the chime,” Camarl confirmed. “Wake me if you need to.”
“Watch your back,” Stolley called as I passed him on my way through the gatehouse. I spared him a wave and broke into a jog trot, ignoring the protests of my weary feet. If anyone in the lower city had the answers, I’d take them on the point of my sword if need be.
CHAPTER THREE
Preface to the Chronicle of the House,
As Given by Sieur Loedain D’Olbriot,
Winter Solstice of the 50th Year of
Bezaemar the Ca
It has fallen to few Sieurs of this House to record any Emperor completing a second full generation on the throne, but I find myself thus honoured. Indeed, as I look over the Imperial Rote, I see we have been blessed with more long-lived rulers over the last handful of generations than at any time since the Chaos. The world is a very different place since the days of Decabral, when the Eager, the Nervous and the Merciful all died by the sword. I wonder if Bezaemar the Ca
As Tormalin fares, naturally so does D’Olbriot. How stands Tormalin at the end of so momentous a year? I can declare without hesitation that concord extends clear across the traditional domains of our Old Empire. We are seen again as the natural leaders of all lands bordered by mountains, forest and sea. Even the distant kingdom of Solura bows to our supremacy. Tormalin culture reaches once more to the very gates of Selerima. Our fashions are worn as far afield as the streets of Col, and learning from the antiquarian scholarship of Vanam enriches our libraries, restoring much that was lost in the Chaos. With accredited ambassadors in every Dukedom of Lescar and sitting as honoured observers in the Caladhrian Parliament, we are no longer at risk of unheeded anger boiling up into unexpected attack. Gold once spent like water to service the cohorts and galleys that guarded borders and coasts now enriches our dwellings with paintings and sculpture, ceramics and furniture. As noble wealth supports our craftsmen, so our traders carry their goods ever further along the peaceable high roads, even to the Great Forest and beyond. Long seasons of patient negotiation mean the Archipelago is no longer a source of fear and danger but a ready supplier of muslins for the poor and silks for the wealthy.