Fanuilh by Daniel Hood (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📗

"I'll repeat it once more, churl: this is the appointed hour of my meeting, and I mean to have it!"

Liam's eyes narrowed, examining the angry man in detail. A perfectly drawn face, strong chin, nose just sharp enough, widely set, flashing eyes; broad chest, tall, well muscled. His voice echoed magnificently, eloquent and musical. A golden, leonine hero to Necquer's dark tradesman.

Now why would a woman like Poppae Necquer spend an afternoon with the likes of me, and then flee such a one as this? Liam wondered.

"Lares," he said, "the lady asked me to inform you that she is indisposed."

Both the servant and the handsome man turned to him.

"Aye, Sir Liam," the servant said gratefully, but the young man glared at him with deep hatred. Liam returned the stare impassively, and suddenly the other spun on his heel and marched out of the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.

In the moment of silence that followed, the two men shared a look—indifferent surprise for Liam, immense relief for the servant. Liam broke it first.

"I wonder, Lares, if you could find me a piece of oilcloth. I'm afraid the rain would do little good for my papers."

He indicated his books and maps with a small smile, and the old servant scurried off willingly to look.

Chapter 5

LIAM HURRIED HOME through the dark, slippery streets, and found his landlady waiting for him, wringing her hands anxiously. He was soaked to the skin and tried to ignore her, wanting nothing more than to go to his room and dry off.

"Oh, Master Liam," she exclaimed as he brushed past her, "the Aedile was here only an hour gone, conning about for you!"

"Was he," Liam said politely, heading for the stairs with a bright, empty smile.

"Think you it was about the wizard's death?"

That ground him to a halt, and he turned slowly.

"What?"

"I thought, you having passed more than the odd hour with him, that the Aedile might suspect you!" She mispronounced "Aedile" to rhyme with "ladle," but he did not correct her.

"Did he say that? And how did you know Tarquin was dead?"

The stem edge in his voice unnerved her, as though it had confirmed her fears. "No, not so I recall. He mere said he'd have words with you, but I thought that you knowing the wizard—" Liam cut her off.

"How did you hear that Tarquin was dead?"

"Well," she fretted, "I didn't exactly know to be. certain until the Aedile came, but's being bruited around the town by some. I heard from one who knows a member of the Guard."

Liam smiled grimly and started up the steps.

"But, Master Liam, what should I do if the Aedile comes again?" she called after him, and he laughed at her worry.

"Show him up," he called back, "and pronounce his title correctly!"

In his room he unwrapped his papers from the sheet of oilskin Lares had given him, and checked them carefully to see if they had gotten wet. When he was satisfied they had not been harmed, he changed to dry clothes, a far simpler tunic and long trousers of gray flannel. He draped his wet tunic over his chair and eyed his boots with displeasure. The punctures from Fanuilh's teeth had let water in, soaking his feet, and he put them aside, hoping they could be repaired. He slipped on a pair of low felt shoes and lay down on his pallet to think.

Coeccias had come looking for him, and if it wasn't already, the news of Tarquin's death would soon be common knowledge to those who cared to know.

The first could mean any of several things. Possibly there were some simple questions the Aedile had forgotten to ask him. More likely something had come up that had caused the man to suspect him anew, despite Mother Japh's judgement. Least likely, of course, was that the Aedile had decided to share whatever information he had. Liam frowned at the thought.

The fact that the death would soon be common knowledge meant he had been right to presume his investigation would become vastly more difficult. It also made Lady Necquer's uselessness more disappointing.

There was something desperate going on with her, concentrating her so completely on herself that she would have little interest in helping him. It revolved around the handsome young man, obviously, and Liam's visit and her insistence on it had been along the lines of a distraction from her greater problem. Or perhaps, he realized, as protection.

Whatever the reason, she was in no state of mind to involve herself seriously in the affairs of a dead wizard. Nonetheless, he found himself curious about her problem. What danger the young man presented Liam could not guess. If he was a lover, she had no reason to fear him. He could not threaten exposure, as Liam had known lovers to do, because it was clear from his behavior at the party that Master Necquer suspected something. It was equally clear that he did not blame his wife.

What, then, could be the problem?

Although he was partly aware that he had a more important riddle to unravel, he gave himself over for a while to considering the distraught young woman.

The heavy tread of boots on the stairs and Mistress Dorcas's voice interrupted him after a while. She spoke loudly, repeating "Aedile Coeccias" several times, and it was painfully obvious that she was trying to warn him. He got up quickly and surprised the Aedile by opening the door before Coeccias could knock.

"Rhenford!" he said, blinking his eyes. "It's well y'are in. I've been conning for you."

"So I've heard, Aedile. Please come in." He smiled over Coeccias's shoulder at his landlady, who was hovering nervously on the stairs and rolling her eyes. "Thank you for showing the Aedile up, Mistress Dorcas." He deliberately stressed the proper pronunciation.

"I'm afraid you've frightened my landlady, Aedile," he continued when he had shut the door firmly in her face. "She thinks you mean to arrest me for Master Tanaquil's murder."

Coeccias ran a scarred hand