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

could not have known he would be drunk and thus vulnerable, but his admiration for her had been obvious. If Coeccias had commented on it, she must have noticed it, and Kansallus had said that she was used to being sought after. What if Lons had sent her there? If he had, it put the guilt firmly on his shoulders.

"Gods," he groaned, "I've been so stupid."

There was nothing for it, though, . but to go on trying to clear the actor. Rora might have come to him on her own, unsure of her brother's innocence but determined to protect him in her own way. Again, the possibilities were enormous, and a hundred lines of thought stretched away into uselessness. He and Coeccias had settled, however reluctantly, on an explanation that now seemed simple-minded.

Looking up, he saw that his feet and his musing had carried him to the street where his lodgings were. He stopped uncertainly at the corner and gazed with mild distaste at the high, dark house and the tiny window that fronted his garret. He thought how much better it would have been if he had gone to Tarquin's the night before. Remembering the house, he remembered Fanuilh. He had given no thought to feeding the little creature and, feeling guilty, headed for the stables.

The mass of new and complicated questions weighed heavily on him as he rode, and he attempted to sort it out by going over the information he had, and poking holes in it.

The mystery woman was still looking for poison, and Viyescu somehow connected it with Tarquin's death, and was frightened about something. Lons had not tried to escape, but his sister had tried to turn suspicion from him. The decanter, his treasured decanter with the crossed-out label, suddenly seemed a clue again, unreadable but nonetheless a clue. And the illusion spell Tarquin had marked in his book might hold significance. Marcius had done nothing, but Liam would not dismiss him. Despite his inactivity, he might still fit into the puzzle's unexpectedly wider dimensions.

All he needed was a way to fit everything together. His mind revolted at the new complexity, somehow feeling that simpler explanations were better. Still, he juggled the pieces around, hoping for a way to clear his conscience.

He saw the mounting clouds from the beach, and put Diamond in the shed. The wind had picked up, scouring the beach with cold, stinging sand. He let himself into the house.

I did not think you would come.

Liam waited until he was in the workroom before answering.

"I almost forgot. I've been busy."

I know. Fanuilh's flat cat's eyes and toneless thought stung more than the wind-flung sand. Sleeping with the dancer was not wise.

"It was the cider," Liam muttered abashedly, unable to meet the dragon's gaze. "Are you hungry?"

Yes.

He hurried out to the kitchen and fixed his thoughts on the oven. When the raw meat was ready, he brought it back and laid it silently on the worktable.

Coeccias thinks the player killed Master Tanaquil, Fanuilh thought after several large mouthfuls. It moved more easily, and Liam wondered how long it would take to recover completely.But you do not think so. Your thoughts are scattered on the subject.

"That's because I'm not sure now why I think he didn't do it," Liam admitted. He went to the second worktable and picked up the empty beaker with its obliterated label. "I don't think Lons is the sort who would kill, but now I have to wonder if I think that because of Lady Necquer, and because of Rora. That's why my thoughts are scattered. If you'd let me tell you things," he said more strongly, "instead of picking them out of my head at random, this might be easier."

Even as he spoke, he knew it was foolish. The dragon would know—because he knew—that his thoughts would be scattered whether or not it invaded them. Fanuilh let it pass, putting all its attention to the meat.

Staring at the beaker, Liam suddenly struck his forehead with his free hand and cursed. It was such a simple question, but he had never thought to ask it.

"Fanuilh, when did you first see this decanter?"

Master Tanaquil had it for many years.

"No, I mean, when did . you first notice it here, on the table? Empty?"

The morning after Master Tanaquil removed the Teeth.

"The morning after the woman visited him."

Yes.

Liam set the decanter down on the worktable and went to the book of spells on the lectern. It was still open to the spell that had caused the Teeth to vanish, and he ran his finger along, looking for a list of ingredients.

Symbol components, appeared the thought in his head, and he looked over at the dragon, which had its back to him and was busy gnawing bones.

"What?"

They are not called ingredients; they are called symbol components, and there is no list. Where they appear in the text, they are underscored.

Shrugging at the unresponsive scaled back, Liam rechecked the spell, and saw that the dragon was right. After the initial abstract paragraphs came the actual instructions, and several words were underlined: pitch, purified water, a white-hot brazier of coals, and others, some of which he could not identify. But there was no listing for virgin's blood. Disappointed, he scanned the spell again and found nothing, then flipped through the book to the illusion spell.

There, to his relief, the words "an ounce of virgin's blood" were underlined. He barked a triumphant laugh that brought Fanuilh's head around.

What have you found?

"Well," he said, repressing his grin and going over the words of the spell, "virgin's blood is not called for in the vanishing spell, but it is in the one for invisibility. And since the decanter wasn't on the table until after the woman came, we can reasonably suppose that she requested the spelt"

That does not necessarily follow.

"Not necessarily, no, but for the sake of argument—"

It might have been for Marcius.

"Yes, it might," Liam said impatiently, "but we're not going to work that idea just yet. We're