Chapter 66

 

At noon the following day, a long-overdue enquiry was held into the murder of Derry, the master tanner’s daughter. Rhia appreciated the speed of its convening and even more, its discretion. It was held in a lesser chamber, off the main Council hall.

The presiding magistrate was an elderly viscount from House Abenar, chosen for his relatively low rank – hence lack of agenda – and for his House’s reputation for solid neutrality. The Church sent an observer, as was their right; even more unusually, the duke himself was present.

Derry’s father was invited but chose not to attend. Representatives from House Harlyn, House Escar and House Callorn were required to attend. In the former case, this meant Rhia, given Etyan’s link to the incident. The other two Houses both sent their heads. Rhia wondered how much they knew. All three of them swore, on copies of the Book of Separation, to tell the full and accurate truth. Although the wrath of the First was not a major consideration, Rhia had no intention of lying – whatever the cost.

No one else was permitted in the chamber. This did not stop dozens of courtiers and nobles from packing the hall itself, awaiting news.

Outside, the rain abated after falling through the night, washing filth from the streets and leaving humidity and fecundity in its wake.

After the oaths and a brief preamble, Viscount Abenar described the finding of the girl’s body by one of the dyers, the militia’s response, and what little the original investigation had revealed about Derry’s death. Then he asked, “Do any of those present have anything they wish to add to these known facts?”

Rhia looked at the two counts; they did not look at her. No one spoke. Tell the truth about Derry’s death, yes; offer her brother up to the wolves, no. Rhia said nothing.

Francin stood. “I have some additional information, Viscount.”

 

“A whore, perhaps?”

Dej stood, shaking off Etyan’s hand. The huge room was packed with overdressed people, sitting in huddles and groups on the wooden benches, whispering and staring at other huddles and groups. Their own small group consisted of the two of them and the two able servants from Rhia’s household. Dej hadn’t been sure about coming, but Etyan was expected to, and she had no intention of letting him out of her sight.

Now she strode over to the woman who’d spoken, a pinch-faced matron with a ridiculous bunch of feathers stuck to the side of her head, and said loudly enough to be heard over the surrounding murmurs, “I’m sorry, Mam, but my race, being inferior, doesn’t have such good hearing as you shadow-dwellers. Could you repeat what you just said about me, for everyone’s benefit?”

Perhaps the woman would. Perhaps everyone would laugh when she did. If that happened Dej would laugh too, harder than anyone. She and Etyan had, after all, spent much of the previous night fucking. Despite her memories of Cal, it was what she wanted. What he wanted too. She now knew what all the fuss was about.

The woman drew a sharp breath, but said nothing. She went white, and raised her fan to cover her face.

Dej grinned, turned on her heel, and walked back to her lover. Etyan looked as shocked as everyone else, until she caught his eye. Then he smiled.

As she sat down the small door to the side chamber opened. The whispers became louder, surprise going round the room. Etyan had said these things took time but Rhia and the nobles hadn’t been in there for very long at all.

 

Francin cleared his throat, an unnecessary gesture considering he already had the full attention of everyone in the Council hall. “Dear friends and fellow nobles, we have, I am glad to say, finally got to the bottom of an unfortunate incident in the lower city.”

Not exactly, thought Rhia, keeping her expression fixed as she stood, with the two counts, behind Francin.

“I am gratified to see such interest being taken in the untimely death of one of our common citizens.” Rhia suspected that, had she been able to see his face, the duke would be wearing his best apparently vacuous smile, the one that had fooled many a foreign diplomat and insulted many a courtier, “A death, sad to say, which was the result of murder.”

A predictable susurrus went round the hall. Rumour would abound amongst the Houses, though the girl’s life and death were of far less interest than the potential involvement of their fellow nobles.

“The act was carried out by low criminal types. These men have now been brought to justice.”

Thanks to Dej. The surviving, wounded mercenary had been taken to the palace, where he had enjoyed the ministrations of the duke’s inquisitors throughout the night, finally confessing that he and his companions had put the knife to poor Derry. He would be dead by now.

“However, it appears the thugs were hired on the orders of two young scions of noble houses, House Callorn and House Escar. Their intention was to blame the murder on the head of a third house, House Harlyn. Sadly, Lord Harlyn, being an impressionable young man, did not come to me at once with his concerns, but chose instead to run away. Had his sister not bravely insisted on fetching him home, his guilt might have been presumed in his absence.”

An interesting twist on the truth, but from Francin she expected nothing less.

“Our esteemed judge-viscount, on hearing these facts, did not insist on custodial or corporal punishment for the nobles involved, a lenient judgment we should all be thankful for.” Because, the duke did not say, being noble will only save your neck up to a point. “However, both guilty Houses are to pay fines: five hundred marks each to the girl’s family, and two thousand marks apiece to House Harlyn.”

Rhia was tempted to request the entire fine be paid to the girl’s family. A month ago she might have. But leaving aside the consequences of suddenly making an ordinary craftsman rich beyond reason, the other Houses would be insulted by this gesture. She would instead ask Markave, when he recovered, about non-Church-affiliated charities in the lower city to which anonymous donations might be made.

Francin concluded, “I leave it up to the heads of House Escar and House Callorn what punishment, if any, they choose to visit upon their errant sons.”

None, Rhia suspected, given the two boys had acted with the sanction of their elders, possibly even at their suggestion. The unseemly haste with which House Callorn put their marriage proposal to her confirmed that; no doubt they would have preferred Etyan tried, disgraced and punished, but they had been desperate enough to settle for self-exile. And then there was Alharet’s involvement.

Oh yes, Alharet.

“The matter is now closed.” With that, the duke swept down the stairs to cross the hall, scattering courtiers.

And that would be that, publicly. Francin had told her the hearing would “resolve what can be resolved whilst minimizing disruption”. The guilty parties would get off lightly. All of them, including Etyan. Even in private Francin had not mentioned the full extent of the girl’s ordeal.

Etyan and Dej were holding hands now, oblivious of the looks that got them. Did this skykin girl, who obviously loved her brother, need to know what he had done that night, what he was capable of? Should I tell her? How would she react? No: I can’t face it. Not right now.

No mention was made of the impersonation of militiamen by the hired criminals. Their orders had been to make sure Lord Harlyn’s side of the story remained unheard after his unexpected return from Zekt; once Rhia went to see the duke they had tried to take Etyan from the house. Had they succeeded that would have been the last anyone saw of him; perhaps they would have made his death look like suicide or perhaps he would just have disappeared without trace. When Rhia had asked the duke who had given them their orders, he had told her, in a typically patronizing tone, that as such matters were handled by intermediaries there was no way to know for sure. Rhia resisted the temptation to ask how, if this was the case, he could be sure the young Lords of Houses Callorn and Escar were ultimately to blame, but she knew better.

The exit from the hall was a disorganized scrum. Rhia stuck close to Etyan and Dej. When their path brought them close to members of House Callorn, Rhia spotted a half-bowed head amongst the Callorn nobles. “Lord Mercal?” she called.

The viscount turned, surprised. Rhia probably should not be doing this in public, but he too had been badly used. “I am sorry, but I do not think I can accept your kind offer of marriage, under the circumstances.”

He nodded his over-heavy head. “I u-understand, Countess.”

He looked so miserable that she did not add the obvious addendum; that it would never have worked anyway.