INVESTIGATIONS
Remy was in a much dourer mood by the time he returned to Kinaiya Lodge. Elke waited for him, nearly unrecognizable from her usual dress with her blacksmith’s apron and her hair carefully coiled up under a foreman’s cap.
“You are not to say a word,” she said placidly, handing him a cup of strong coffee when he looked to argue. “I’m here because I have need of your forge, for both your benefit and mine. Perhaps we can have a quiet dinner together later.” She spotted the satchel. “Your first official day as part of the dræfendgemot, and I see they’ve already given you most of the work.”
“Are you aware of the preachers going about the city, shouting sermons to anyone who’ll listen?”
“One nearly caused a riot a few weeks ago. I believe that was when word of the mutations first spread about. They claimed that Astonbury had been responsible, said he’d been carting in corpses for dark rituals. As you can imagine, the lord high steward put a stop to it quickly.” She frowned. “Did something happen?”
He decided not to alarm her. “Best you get people to keep an eye on them. They may know more about what’s happening than they let on.” A drop of truth in a goblet of lies. The preachers had made the rest of it up, but they’d known about Astonbury’s corpses, somehow. “The forge is yours. Right now, I need to get to work.” The bag felt heavy in his hands.
“You’d best give me the clothes you intend to bring along while you’re at it,” Elke said. “Heap them up on your bed.”
“I’m not asking you to wash them for—”
“Of course not, you beautiful dunce. If I’ll be fine-tuning your weapons, I may as well make some modification to your garb. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I won’t be hammering steel into your well-trimmed coats. I’ve always said that you rely far too much on Breaker. Knives saved you inside the Archives. Spread them out a little more, keep them closer to your skin. All I’ll be requiring is a needle and some strong thread.”
Finally, Remy cracked a smile. “You really are worried, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. Incidentally, before you bury your sweet head into those reports, I’ll be taking Breaker. Time to iron out what dents I can find before you go and mess it up further.”
IT WAS the knock on the door hours later that broke Remy’s concentration. He squinted out the window; it had been gray and foggy when he’d first begun his reading, and it was still gray and foggy, but now with even less light to see through. The tiny clock on his dresser proclaimed it to be an hour after dinner should have been taken.
It shouldn’t have taken this long, but he was pleased at what he’d accomplished so far. He’d marked off areas in the map where sightings had been reported, used it to determine other vulnerable places, villages that needed better protection. Elke had offered to help—he would have been done hours ago if she had—but Remy had been stubborn about doing it on his own. He couldn’t rely on her forever.
“Remy,” Elke’s voice came through the door, slightly uncertain. “You have visitors.”
She didn’t need to tell him the specifics, because Remy already knew it would be Xiaodan before he’d stepped foot outside his room. That Malekh was with her was the surprise, the noble eyeing his admittedly semi-dusty surroundings with a faint whiff of disapproval. The man had breezed through the Archives’ mortuary with no issues despite the revolting smell and even more revolting lack of ventilation, and yet chose to find fault with his lodge. The easy answer was that Malekh was still, in his very passive-aggressive way, trying to goad him into irritability. Unfortunately, it was working.
Xiaodan was on the sofa, a cup of coffee already in her hands. She took no sips from it, only looking intent on using the beverage to warm her hands. She smiled at him, looking worn out as she always did after burning things to a crisp, but otherwise still alert. She was unsettlingly attractive as always, dressed in a simple green qipao that showed far too much leg and heavy riding boots that stopped at her knees.
Malekh had declined his sitting privileges. He remained motionless at one corner, though his eyes were everywhere, taking in the lodge’s furnishings. He was wrapped in black from the neck down to his footwear, but despite the shapeless mass he presented, somehow still looked elegant.
“I thought I’d let you know how the investigation into Astonbury’s murder has been going,” Xiaodan began pleasantly. “Among a few other things that Zidan feels you ought to know before tomorrow.”
Remy’s eyes shot toward Malekh, who, apparently oblivious to what his fiancée had just said, was inspecting his walls with a faintly condescending air.
“Before we begin, I trust that what I’m about to say next does not leave this room?” Xiaodan raised an eyebrow at Elke.
Elke sat up straighter. “I understand that you have many reasons to doubt me, Lady Song. Anyone from the Fifth Court deserves such suspicion. But Remy saved me. I escaped the massacre you and your fiancé wrought at our keep. I spent the next several years half-dying everywhere I went and would have eventually perished had Remy not taken me in.”
“You knowingly helped a vampire?” Xiaodan asked, startled.
“I wasn’t very bright as a youth, either,” Remy said. “Children like to take in strays, but even then, I wanted to be different. She’d been in no shape to attack me, even if she wanted to.”
“He found me shelter,” Elke continued, “sent to the butcher for all the cow’s blood I could drink—it no doubt contributed to the rumors that he was a cambion himself in later years. He’s like a younger brother to me. I will protect him with my life if necessary.”
The women traded glances. Xiaodan nodded. “As to the murder, well… they’ve run out of suspects, so I insisted they question the witnesses again. Did you know that the butler has been missing since yesterday?”
“Butler?” Remy asked, temporarily at a loss.
“Astonbury’s valet, Wellsmith. No one’s seen him since the day before last. It’s the general belief that he’s fled to the countryside, fearful that he would be blamed for his master’s death. My specific belief, on the other hand, is that he was paid to leave without anyone else knowing—or that he’s been killed to prevent him from saying what he did know.”
Remy swung his sights from Malekh back to her, like the world’s fastest pendulum. “What makes you think he even knows anything?”
“He’s the only person we’ve found who could swear to the suspect’s description. Didn’t you find anything wrong with his account of that night?”
Remy shook his head.
Little puffs of air accompanied Xiaodan’s laughter. “He described you perfectly. Dark skin, average height, black eyes—down to the scar on his arm, like yours. There aren’t all that many dark-skinned, black-haired young men of average height and Tithian ancestry in the city to begin with, but to have another one with the exact same wound? Wellsmith went out of his way to implicate you.”
“But I’ve never even met him.”
“Someone could have paid him to lie,” Malekh said from the shadows. “Wellsmith had served Astonbury for many years, long before the duke assumed the high stewardship. I thought it might be blackmail, but as far as I can see, the valet led a fairly blameless life. Then I realized that while we were so intent on finding the man Wellsmith had described, we were quite lapse at describing Wellsmith instead.”
Xiaodan smacked the table with glee. Remy, slower to the challenge, stared blankly at them.
“The staff at the Archives all described Wellsmith the same way,” Malekh explained. “Thin, lanky build, pale, a forgettable face, spectacles. Even Feiron admitted that he found him easy to overlook.”
Remy finally understood. “Are you saying Wellsmith himself was an impostor?”
“The investigators certainly didn’t know him by face, and he’d distanced himself enough from the rest of the staff that the other servants would never look at him twice.” Xiaodan dug into her pocket and, with a victorious air, produced the familiar wrecked pair of glasses she had taken off one of the creatures in the Archives. “I kept a tally of bodies within the laboratory. Twenty-four in total, including the ones they tried to hide from us.” She paused again, eyes dancing. “I burned twenty-five bodies today. The servants may have ignored Wellsmith for the most part, but they did recognize his spectacles.”
“So he was already dead in the mortuary,” Remy echoed, mind ablaze by this new development. “For how long?”
“Far more than several days. All while someone claiming to be Wellsmith had been answering Feiron’s questions,” Malekh said. “The swelling can cover a lot of the decomposition on the infected, but there’s only so many days’ worth of decay you can ignore. By the time Astonbury’s murder was discovered, his valet had been dead for even longer. If Feiron still thinks he’ll be getting the late duke’s position, he’ll have a difficult time trying to explain how he questioned one of the murderers and then let him go. Someone knew enough about the Archives to store Wellsmith’s body there.”
“That is sound investigative work,” Elke said.
“All Zidan’s fault, I’m afraid. My fiancé fancies himself a detective. He’s even rather good at it.” Xiaodan looked pleased, grinning at Remy like she was expecting him to applaud her on Malekh’s behalf. Elke took the bait and clapped cheerfully.
“It’s the most logical conclusion,” the lord said, with little trace of modesty. “It explains most things about the case, though not all of it. Who impersonated the butler? And why? Who stands to benefit from Astonbury’s death?”
“My father, for one,” Remy said laconically. “Although, as they’ve been feuding long before I was born, I don’t see why he would suddenly choose to kill him off now. He’s too sickly to take advantage of it. And not many people in Elouve would be willing to risk murder for a Pendergast.”
“Something to cross off his list before he dies, if he’s as petty as you say?” Xiaodan frowned. “Do you know of any allies Lord Pendergast might have had within the Archives?”
“I’m not exactly privy to my father’s secrets, but I doubt that. There are factions within the Archives that would like to see Astonbury gone, but my father’s more despised than the lord high steward in certain circles. As far as most are concerned, he’s a relic with little influence in Alurian politics. The Marquess of Riones would be able to tell you about that more than I can.”
“And why is he despised?” Malekh asked suddenly. “Was it because of his past conduct as a Reaper, or is it because they, too, doubt your parentage?”
“Some believe me to be of vampire stock,” Remy said shortly, not prepared to extend the same patience to the noble as he had done Xiaodan. “But you seem knowledgeable enough about my family that you didn’t need to ask that.”
Malekh looked like he was about to say something else—but then, surprisingly, retreated. His eyes stole back toward the portrait of Remy’s mother. He frowned at something he saw there but otherwise remained silent.
“Astonbury’s zweihänder is missing,” Elke said, because of course she would know that somehow. “They’ve spent nearly two days searching. It was brought out to polish only once every month or so,” and here her lip curled in disgust at such lapses in maintenance, “but no one can swear as to who held it last.”
“It would be a rather large weapon to carry away,” Xiaodan noted. “And that would explain the need for one of the conspirators to escape through the window. Whatever secret exits there are in the Archives, it would be harder to hide the presence of such a sword from anyone passing them on the street. It’s likely a human and a vampire working together, isn’t it? One to leave undetected, the other familiar enough with the Archives and Astonbury’s arrangements to plan this and cover up their partner’s departure.”
“Even if you find out who’s responsible for the duke’s murder, do you think helping Aluria will change their minds about this alliance?” Remy crossed the room to stand before his mother’s painting, trying to shove down his anger. “Astonbury was at least willing to work with you, even if it was for his own gain. Many of those who opposed him adopted anti-vampire stances in protest. The duke’s successor will not likely treat you as kindly. Perhaps Feiron’s right—that you should find someone else to work with.”
“Someone,” Malekh asked shrewdly, “without the circumstances of their birth hanging over them that may jeopardize our work? Is that guilt I hear, Pendergast?”
Remy couldn’t answer.
“Armiger,” Xiaodan said. “I want peace with the humans just as much as you do. I meant what I said in Ophelia’s throne room. I believe you’re the best Aluria has to offer. I would not sabotage a treaty that would benefit your kingdom and mine on a whim.”
“What do you need me for, then, beyond a symbolic partnership?”
“We know little of Alurian customs, of Alurian sentiments,” Malekh said, surprising him once again. “We have, as you pointed out, a far more extensive knowledge of you and your family than we have let on. You are a known face among many villages, a far more welcome sight than you’ve been in Elouve. You have hunted these creatures to help them, and they know it. It would be easier to move about the region having you with us than without.”
“I thought you didn’t want me along,” Remy muttered.
“I never said that I didn’t want you.”
Remy stared at him, then looked away. “They tolerate me. There is a difference between that and being welcomed.”
“But he’s right, Remy,” Elke spoke up softly. “You know the way Alurian villages work. They do not. It would be easier to travel if you’re with them.”
Remy glared at her because he’d expected Elke, of all people, to at least take his side. “What would you need to visit the Alurian villages for anyway?” he asked. “I thought you both intended to ride straight for Qing-ye.”
“I did mention that we might take a few detours,” Xiaodan reminded him. “We keep informants in certain Alurian towns. We have investigated all that we can regarding Astonbury’s murder, and given present Elouvian sentiments, it would be prudent to withdraw and wait for public anger to die down. The Marquess of Riones should be in a better position to find out more about the case. I’ve just heard that he’s been promoted to lead investigator in Astonbury’s murder. I think we can trust him.”
She cleared her throat meaningfully. “I know I put you in a terrible position at Her Majesty’s court,” she said. “And that you might have been under some pressure there to accept my offer and save face. But here, we have laid down our cards and shown you our intentions, our plans. If you truly have no desire to travel with us, Remy, then only say the word, and we will leave you tomorrow as friends.”
Remy mulled over this new information, touched by her words. Even now, she was offering him a chance to bow out gracefully, to recuse himself from an undertaking of a much farther-reaching conspiracy than he could imagine.
His gaze flitted back to Malekh, who was still watching him. There was no mistaking Xiaodan’s wistfulness; she wanted him to accompany them. He could not say the same of her fiancé. Any journey with him along would not be a harmonious experience.
“I’ll go where you both go,” he found himself saying, feeling strangely at peace with the words.