Conspiracy of Silence
Get out!” Djukan raged. “Get out before I throw you out!”
Obadon rose from the chair in the captain’s cabin, his jaw set and fire flashing in his eyes. He turned his muscular back on the Kyree prince, who was seated on the opposite side of the table, and stalked to the door, his head bent forward to avoid the low ceiling. He forcefully pulled the door open and stepped out between the two Kyree warriors standing guard.
The door slammed loudly shut behind him.
“Not a word!” Djukan bellowed. “Not a single word!”
“That’s three now,” Sargo said. He sat at the end of the table, parchment splayed out before him, quill in hand, inkpot nearby. So far, the parchment contained the names of only the five faeries on board. “The last said less than the previous two put together.”
“And the first two said nothing at all.” Djukan rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Bachas leaned languidly against the corner of the room, his arms folded casually across his broad, powerful chest. “Aye, it’s hard to make any headway when you’re becalmed. There be a definite lack of wind in this room.”
“Damn him!” Djukan slammed his fist forcefully against the heavy tabletop. “Damn him and all the faeries with him!”
“Well . . . maybe here be just a little squall,” the Mantacorian captain purred.
Djukan’s face soured at the remark. “I suppose you have a better idea?”
“Nay, Master Djukan, I have only my humble advice to give; the faeries are long known to my people. We’ve dealt with them and fought with them and sometimes done both at once. They’re an odd lot, to be sure, and arrogant beyond all reason. For a lot who cannot lie they are damnably difficult to get to tell the truth.”
Djukan set both his elbows on the table and pressed his throbbing forehead against his hands. It had all seemed too simple to him and should have been the shortest inquest ever conducted into a murder. He had a set of suspects, none of whom could tell a lie. All he needed to do was bring them into a room, confront each of them individually until he found the one who either confessed to the deed or, knowing faeries, just refused to answer.
Yet thus far he had called in Gosrivar, Valthesh, and Obadon, each in turn to sit before him and answer his questions. Each in turn had been shocked when confronted with the facts as he knew them and then each had gone silent. Gosrivar said that he did not kill Ularis but then went immediately silent afterward. Valthesh allowed that she had known Ularis but would say nothing beyond that. Obadon was the worst of the lot, sitting in the chair for a full two hours and refusing to answer even the most mundane questions put to him.
“There’s nothing left for us to do but press on,” Sargo said, leaning back in his chair, his wings drooping dejectedly to either side.
Djukan rubbed his hands across his tired face, trying to press some enthusiasm into his features. “Who is next?”
“Shaeonyn, I believe,” Sargo replied, referring to his short list.
“Dwynwyn’s apprentice?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Well, this should be entertaining,” Djukan said as he yawned, stretching his arms over his head and shivering his wings to relieve the strain. “Very well, show her in.”
The guard opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.
“Do you think she’ll confess?” Bachas smiled.
Djukan chuckled darkly. “I had no idea you Mantacorians could be so droll.”
Shaeonyn stepped through the doorway, her bright golden hair in perfect coiffure as it framed the elegant dark features of her face. “Lord Djukan, how may this humble Sharajin be of service to you?”
“Mistress Shaeonyn.” Djukan’s words were perfunctory. “I regret to inform you that Ularis, a faery ambassador of this mission, was found murdered shortly before our ship sailed. The purpose of our inquiry is to ask—”
“If I may ask,” Shaeonyn interrupted. “How was the deed done?”
Djukan’s eyebrows arched upward. “A single thrust of a blade to the heart. It entered just beneath the front of the ribs and—”
“Was this a very thin blade?”
Djukan kept his eyes on the faery standing before him, though he could hear the sound of Sargo’s quill scratching furiously next to him. “Yes, Shaeonyn. May I ask how you would know—”
The Sharajin nodded solemnly. “You have been bringing each of the faeries on our expedition into this room throughout the day. I suspect you have questions you would like to ask me; questions you have been asking the other Fae before me. May I also suggest that you have had little fortune in getting any answers from any of them on this or any other subject? Am I correct in such assumptions?”
Djukan leaned back. “Any assistance you can be in this matter—”
“May I sit?”
Djukan gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the table. Shaeonyn sat, arranging her robes around her, then clasping her hands in her lap.
“The knife was most likely a krisheen—an assassin’s weapon not uncommon among the Fae,” Shaeonyn said, concern furrowing her brow. “And you suspect one of the faeries accompanying us on this mission to be such an assassin?”
Djukan leaned forward. “I have a few questions—”
“I should be delighted to answer any of your questions that I can.”
“Are you an assassin?”
“No, I am not.”
“Did you cause the death of Ularis?”
“No, I did not.”
Djukan glanced at Bachas. The Mantacorian nodded approvingly.
“Do you know who might have—”
“Forgive me, Lord Djukan,” Shaeonyn spoke through a slight smile. “I must ask: are these the questions you put to the other Fae?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“And what kind of responses did you get to your questions?”
Djukan blinked, and then leaned back as he considered for a moment his answer.
“Silence, of course,” Shaeonyn answered for him, nodding gravely. “I have seen this before, Lord Djukan. It is a difficult thing, even among the Fae, to discover the truth. The faery cannot lie but there are ways to hide the truth; even ways to answer your questions in such a way that the truth remains hidden. The easiest and most sinister way is to enter into a conspiracy of silence.”
“A conspiracy of silence?” Sargo looked up from his writing. “What does that mean?”
“I heard tales of this up in Leotine,” Bachas interjected. “Seems some Qestardis faery was running from one of these assassin blokes. The way he told it, if a group of faeries all got together and gave the assassin just a part of what he needed for the job, then no one of them could have been responsible for the fellow’s death. You could ask each of them all day if they killed the bug and they’d tell you flat out no.”
“Because no one of them was responsible for the deed,” Shaeonyn finished. “I believe what you have encountered is a Fae conspiracy of silence—the agreement between two or more individuals to kill another Fae. If this is the case, then the assassin remains among us and threatens each of us as well as this mission, whose importance demands that it must not fail. Moreover, the conspirators are also likely among us as well.”
“We’ve questioned three of the faeries thus far and each of them has gone silent,” Djukan mused. “So they’re all in on this.”
“No, that is not true,” Shaeonyn said.
“But you just said—”
“Silence in a Fae does not necessarily mean they are complicit in murder.” Shaeonyn gazed thoughtfully out the windows and over the sea beyond. “They may have other secrets which they are merely protecting and suspect that your questions may delve into subjects they do not wish revealed. It would be difficult to discover the truth without considerable effort and time. Unfortunately, your assassin may strike again before you discover the truth. No, we must assume any of the Fae who are silent are hiding something from us and are complicit until we know otherwise.”
“What do you mean, ‘us’?” Djukan eyed the Sharajin with suspicion.
“The Kyree, the crew of the Brethain, and myself,” Shaeonyn answered. “Our goals are not the same, but they are in support of each other. I wish to know what the fall of your nation has to do with the living dead; you want to know if your nation can be reclaimed, and Captain Bachas—well, perhaps it is best to characterize his interest as a matter of commerce.”
Bachas spoke up. “This is a fine cargo I’ve brought aboard. What do you suggest we do?”
“I would leave that to your decision,” Shaeonyn replied calmly. “Whatever you decide must be done soon, before this person or persons can strike again.”
“We still have one interview after this,” Sargo said to Djukan. “Perhaps we should hear what Aislynn has to say.”
“Of course,” Shaeonyn added. “But may I suggest to you that if Aislynn, too, holds her silence your problem would be all the more acute.”
“Aislynn?” Djukan scoffed. “I’ve known her nearly my entire life. She’s no assassin.”
“As you wish,” Shaeonyn demurred. “But might I suggest that it is an axiom of the faeries that the best assassin lives closest to the heart. If she holds her silence, you must consider her.”
“If she is part of this,” Sargo said thoughtfully, “then we really do have a problem.”
“Those pearls again?” Djukan asked.
“Sire, if she is part of this,” Sargo replied, “there aren’t enough Kyree on twenty ships that could stop her.”
“That makes no sense.” Djukan shook his head. “If that were the case, she could take us all right now.”
“No, not until she achieved her objective,” Shaeonyn said. “She would wait until then—which makes it all the more imperative that we strike against this conspiracy before it is allowed to strike us.”
“Even if that were true,” Sargo said, “those pearls that guard her are more than a match for the rest of us.”
“I can deal with those pearls,” Shaeonyn offered, “if you will give me the aid I ask for in doing so. Once that threat is neutralized, you should easily be able to deal with the rest of the conspiracy.”
“Only if Aislynn has anything to hide,” Djukan said flatly.
“Only should Aislynn hold her silence, of course.”
Djukan stood up to look out the windows at the aft end of the compartment. The waves receded, a jumble of foam tumbling behind the ship. Their convolutions were ever changing and unpredictable; their complexity was wonderful to look at. Yet through them the ship cut the straight line of its course. He wished his own course were so obvious to him.
“Why do you not hold silence, Shaeonyn?” Djukan asked at last.
“Because I need your help, Djukan of the Kyree. I shall stay here as long as required and answer whatever questions you put to me until you are satisfied.”
“Why?”
“Because regardless of who this assassin is, I suspect that their next target will be both you and me.”
Night was falling when Aislynn saw Shaeonyn step out of the aft cabin and up toward her on the mid-deck. The horizon had settled into a gentle pink haze in the distance behind them.
“Mistress Shaeonyn,” Aislynn said, rushing up to her as best her newly acquired sea legs would allow. “What is going on?”
Shaeonyn was about to speak when a Kyree guard called out from the cabin door. “Mistress Aislynn, come!”
Aislynn took a step aft but Shaeonyn caught her arm, holding her just long enough to speak.
“Whatever you do,” she whispered into Aislynn’s ear, “hold your silence!”