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

a laugh. "But I've enough sense to know you'd not. Y'are serious about it? Not merely dabbling to satisfy a scholar's curiosity?"

"Very serious." Liam began eating, cutting into the meat and vegetable pie, highly spiced as most food was in Southwark. He waited for the Aedile this time, who only spoke after he had gone through several bites of his own pie, and then only around a large mouthful.

"I know not why, but I'll warrant you mean it. Then if you'll not keep out of it, and are serious, and my position mearis I can't keep out of it, and must be serious, then sense says we work together."

It was what Liam had guessed, but he kept his satisfaction from his voice.

"That would seem to be a good idea."

"Good. Then lay out what you know, Rhenford." Liam eyed him with a half-smile. "How do I know you won't simply listen and then arrest me to keep me out of your way?"

"Truth, you don't," Coeccias said with a wolf's grin that looked far more natural than Liam's earlier one. He must have blanched, because the Aedile snorted and held out his hand, after wiping it on his black tunic. "Would my word suffice?"

"No, no, I'll trust you," Liam said hastily, and Coeccias withdrew his hand with another snort.

Without mentioning Fanuilh, he elaborated on the list the dragon had given him. He had thought it would be difficult to explain knowing so much about Tarquin's visitors, but the Aedile asked no questions, simply nodding as Liam ticked off each visitor and what he knew of them. Finally he came around to his interview with the druggist Viyescu, his imposture of a Hierarch, and what he had learned from it.

Coeccias listened in silence, working his way through his entire pie before Liam was finished. When he was done with the meal, he pushed the platter away and leaned back from the table with a sigh.

"Well, I'll admit you've a great deal more information than I. I did ill not to clap you in yesterday and examine you closer."

"So what do you know? Apart from the will, that is?"

"Only what you've told me, Rhenford. Truth, I knew little enough about the wizard."

"Nothing!" Liam exclaimed. "You know nothing? It looks like I've made a poor deal!"

"I, on the other hand, have made off surpassing well, wouldn't you say?"

Liam massaged his brow roughly, but he had to chuckle at the Aedile's sated-cat grin. "Well, then,..— he finally said, "the least you could do is try to live up to the bargain."

"It would seem fair," Coeccias grinned.

"What about the knife? You took it, I assume. Was there anything special about it?"

"Only that it was of the sort used by rude players, jugglers and the like. They come in pairs, and have uncommon broad hilts; in one of the pair, the blade retracts harmlessly. For death scenes and the like in entertainments."

"Well, then, that would point to the minstrel—" Liam began eagerly, but caught himself when Coeccias started to interrupt. "Or a clever man who wished to put the blame elsewhere."

"Y' are quick enough. A clever man who wished to point as far away from himself as possible. If he chose a player's knife, that would make him high-born, or at least rich. That would indicate the merchant you saw. And 'less I miss the mark, he would be Ancus Marcius. Oft he travels with the sort of rough boys you described, and is given to the sort of blustering you heard. When did you say he came to the beach?"

Fanuilh's memory had been good, but his sense of time was inexact; the only way to place the date of the merchant's visit was by the weather.

"A day or two after the last of the really fierce storms. I don't remember the day exactly; it was gray and overcast, but didn't rain all day."

Coeccias grumbled thoughtfully. "That would be just after Marcius lost his richest ship on the Teeth."

"The Teeth? You're thinking of Tarquin's model?"

"Truth, it struck me as an interesting plaything for a wizard. Perhaps he failed in some business of Marcius's. The merchant's not very forgiving, I've been told."

"Then maybe you ought to question him."

Frowning, the Aedile poked at the remains of his pie.

"Better ask the wind to stand still, or summon the stars to court, than question Marcius. He's high-placed and highhanded, and the offense he'd take would be worth my post. I'd rather you did it."

"Me? If you can't question him, how can I?"

"Make out you're a Hierarch again, or better yet, play the King of Taralon. He'd answer quick enough." Liam grimaced at this reminder of his play-acting with Viyescu, and Coeccias snorted a laugh before going on more seriously. "Best of all, Rhenford, go to him as a scholar seeking employment. Give him your various qualifications, and tell him your previous master, a certain wizard of much power, has been murdered. You seek a · new master of sufficient position to protect you from your farmer's enemies."

"And shock him with Tarquin's name so that he slips up?"

"That'd do."

"And then he has one of his guards knock me out and the next thing I know I find myself a galley slave on one of his ships."

"That'd not do, but if y'are careful, it shouldn't happen. Be meek and mild, innocent as a babe. If he's clever enough to've planted the player's blade, he'll never think a mere pen-nibbler could've found him out. Cleverness and pride go hand in hand."

"Your opinions on human nature pale before the thought of several years chained to a galley seat."

"If you don't return from his offices, I swear I'll personally search every one of his galleys before it leaves Southwark," Coeccias answered cheerfully.

Liam laughed ruefully.· "And offer me your best wishes for a pleasant journey, I'm sure. But that'll have to do, I suppose. I'll go see him tomorrow. What will you do?"

"Since you can't go after Viyescu anymore without full religious vestments, I'll search him out again,