Mastiff: The Legend of Beka Cooper #3, page 5
“The day is trickling away,” Tunstall said politely. “We would like to get to work, lady mage.”
“Oh, of course,” Mistress Orielle replied. “Where would you like to start?”
“The nursery,” Tunstall and Master Farmer said at the same time. Tunstall glared at the mage, but Master Farmer only gave Tunstall a bland, dozy smile. Mistress Orielle tucked her arm through Master Farmer’s and pulled him along, explaining that there would be little to see. The fire had started in the nursery from what her spells had told her.
I wanted to tell Tunstall to back off of Master Farmer, but I was distracted by looking for Pounce. He’d vanished somewhere before I could introduce him to Mistress Orielle. I knew he would be all right. A cat who roamed the stars would hardly lose me here. Still, he sometimes chose to get into mischief that I had to handle later. I liked to have him under my eye.
The damage from the fire got worse as we climbed the stairs and entered what Mistress Orielle said was the north wing. The roof there was burned away, as were parts of the inner and outer walls and chunks of the floors. Finally we had to stop. All that lay before us was a gaping hole from roof to cellar where the north wing had collapsed. I took out my mirror. Magic like cobwebs glowed in the shadows. It was this that held what remained of the floors and the walls. I put the mirror away. It was almost more frightening to see how scant the protective magic was than to know the wing itself was close to coming down.
“Her Majesty said the body of the prince’s mage was found in the nursery,” Tunstall remarked, staring down into the mass of charred beams and flagstones. “Is it still there?”
Mistress Orielle fluttered. “Well, no,” she explained in reply to Tunstall’s question. “All of the bodies, including Fea’s, were brought out right away. Fea of Seabeth,” she added, as if that helped us any.
“So there are no dead actually here,” Tunstall said.
“We could hardly leave them in the cellar. We were searching for His Highness,” Mistress Orielle said, lips trembling.
It was my turn to move in. “Tunstall, she’s been through a bad time,” I scolded, keeping my voice soft. Tunstall and I worked this manner of questioning all of the time. I took her by the arm and gently turned her away from the men. Achoo did her part by looking sad as she nudged Mistress Orielle’s elbow in a comforting way. “Do any of his belongings remain down there, Mistress Orielle?” I asked, trying to speak as if we’d been educated at the same school. “Could you tell if they were taken, or destroyed in the fire?”
“Oh, no, they were burned as far as I could tell,” she said. “The gold rattle from Prince Baird, the crystal orb from my lady of Cavall—or was it my lady of Coa’s Wood?—all of the expensive things were taken, but his clothespresses burned, and his everyday toys.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t understand how this could happen,” she said as she took out a better handkerchief than I could offer. “This place has been magicked and remagicked against all kinds of disaster. The Chancellor of Mages renewed the spells before Her Majesty brought Prince Gareth here at the beginning of May!”
Master Farmer had taken a lens that hung on a chain around his neck and was using it to view the ruins. “I hope you didn’t pay him good coin,” he said. “Or even bad coin.”
“What do you mean?” Mistress Orielle asked sharply.
Master Farmer tucked the lens inside the front of his tunic. Gone was his foolery when he spoke. “The spells all around us are shredded, Mistress Clavynger—apply your own spell if you doubt me. If the Lord Chancellor did anything while he was here, it was damage, not strengthening. If the attackers came up from the seacoast, it was because he destroyed the concealment spells on the cliffs, the paths, and the gates.”
She stared at him, jaw agape. Was she vexed because he had dared to criticize a mage of much higher rank? Or did she see, as I had, that he’d just accused the realm’s chief mage of the worst kind of treason? Master Farmer shrugged. “It stands to reason you have secret paths down to the beaches,” he said. “Why have a seaside palace if you never go down to bathe?”
“Blessed mother defend us, the king must be told!” Mistress Orielle turned and raced down the hall.
“Since you’ve put the cat in with the pigeons, you’d best go explain to Their Majesties how it got there,” Tunstall told Master Farmer. “We’re not speaking for you. We didn’t say that their big mage left them open to murder. For all you know, she’s going to say that you’re a fool and don’t belong in this Hunt.”
“Mayhap that fancy education in Carthak and the City of the Gods needs some additions. A class for not killing folk, and another on holding to your vows.” Master Farmer shook his head and followed Mistress Orielle.
It takes a real sack to accuse a great lord and mage before another great mage, don’t you think? I heard Pounce ask. He walked toward us over the gap, balancing easily on a charred beam.
“If he did, hestaka,” Tunstall replied, “why didn’t he also say Ironwood and Orielle should have seen the damage themselves? It’s one thing to accuse a cove who’s far off, and another to rightly say the mages nearby were too smug or too lazy to do their proper work.”
Tunstall was in his crotchety mood when it came to the new mage. I knew it would do no good to remain and let him continue to find fault. He would come to like or simply to work with the new mage when he felt like it. “Well, I’m off to find the laundry, if it isn’t under all that,” I said to him, pointing to the two-story hole. My heart was pounding. I feared that somewhere in all this charred wood and ashy cloth there was a dead four-year-old lad with reddish-brown curls, and Achoo and I might find him, once we had sommat to give Achoo the scent. Then I would have to tell that beautiful girl that her baby was gone, and my king that he was childless again. When I thought of all the prayers that had gone up from the entire realm, begging for an heir of our king and queen, it made me want to weep. Everyone liked the king’s brother and former heir, Prince Baird, well enough, but he was childless himself, and cared little for government.
“Then let’s find the laundry,” Tunstall said. “Mayhap after, we’ll eye the dead and see if the raiders took off with anyone. I wouldn’t mind a look at the bodies of any raiders, myself.”
We walked back into the more solid section of the palace, checking each room we passed for someone who could tell us where we might find the laundry. At last we nearabout ran into a maid with both arms full of sheets. She gave me instructions while Tunstall took her sheets so he could carry them for her.
“I don’t suppose a sharp mot like you would know where they’ve been laying out the dead?” he asked her as they wandered down the hall. He turned his head and gave me a nod. He’d catch up with me.
I nodded and told Achoo, “Tumit.” Split up, Tunstall and I could learn more after we’d dallied so long with folk who didn’t seem to know that time was the main point in matters like these. The longer we spent bowing or listening to royalty or the likes of an Orielle, the colder the trail got. I tried to do my figuring as Achoo and I ran down a narrow servant’s stair in part of the building that had escaped the fire. Her Majesty said the king’s party had left Blue Harbor at about midnight. Even if they’d kept a good pace, and the absence of the guards at the main gate had spurred them on, they would have reached here after one—call it two of the clock. How far the raiders would get depended on whether they had fled by ship or by land. I don’t know what His Majesty or my lord thought we could do if they’d taken ship. The Rats could be on their way to Carthak.
And why the secrecy? I wondered as we reached the basement level. I turned right, as the maid had directed me, following the lingering scent of soapy steam. Why had the king not summoned the navy right off, and the army? Why were all the fine mages of the chancellery not having their own little peregrine voyages right now, ready to put their fancy training and tools into the search? I knew there’d been a lot of angry mages when the king proposed that they be licensed and taxed like ordinary folk, but surely all of the palace mages weren’t rotten.
The laundry was far bigger even than the one at Provost’s House. It was a downhearted place, with no maids at work, beating shirts and tunics, dying new batches of clothes, telling jokes and gossiping above the noise of it all. Achoo and I walked in, looking at indoor lines hung with drying clothes and the baskets of dry stuff, waiting for hot irons. The fires were out, their fuel all burned to ashes. When I dipped my hand into the water tubs, I found them all cold. Several times I had to walk around puddles of blood. Either the raiders had killed anyone here and dragged them out, or those collecting the dead had taken them away.
“Black God take you gentle,” I whispered, in case their ghosts were lingering. “Find the Peaceful Realms and rest.” The more death I know, the more I feel like I must say something, working for the Black God as I do. I wondered if there were pigeons outside who might be carrying any ghosts. If there were, the ghosts might tell me of how the attack had unfolded.
My steps and Achoo’s claws echoed on the stone floors. I looked at the baskets, wondering where I could start, when I saw the second laundry room, connected to the big one. The baskets in there held clothes that were finer than these by far.
This other room was smaller, but better equipped. The flatirons were polished smooth to leave no marks on fine linen, lace, or silk. The starches were the finest ground possible, for a queen’s delicate skin, and the soap was filled with expensive scent.
I saw a pair of good-sized baskets. One held small pressed tunics neatly folded and ready for transport upstairs. The other held tunics streaked with berry traces, hose stained with mud, and loincloths marked by a child who was still learning to master the chamber pot. That touched me. I remember one time when my brother Nilo got lost at Provost’s House, just after we’d moved there. He’d cried himself into hiccups in one of the cellars, thinking he’d never see any of us again. The poor little prince must be so frightened, out there with strangers. He’d been surrounded by them that loved him all his life.
When I knelt by the basket of dirty laundry, Achoo plunged her nose into it. She began to sneeze right away, having gotten the prince’s scent full on. I moved the basket away before she could sneeze into it. If things got ugly, other scent hounds might need these dirty clothes.
A basket was too unwieldy. I looked around and spotted a laundry bag. I slid it over one end of the basket and tilted it so the clothes fell inside. I kept two dirty loincloths, sliding them in a leather outer pocket on my shoulder pack. Then I tied off the top of the bag. Now the scent-rich clothes would be protected from my smell. If we did not find His Highness dead somewhere close, more scent hound teams, the veteran teams, would be placed on this Hunt. They would need these garments.
I looked around this smaller laundry room. Pounce had returned. He sat on the edge of one of the tubs, staring back at me. Achoo was at my feet, whining because I had taken the strong smells away.
“Where have you been?” I asked Pounce, though this wasn’t the idea that was chief of those in my brain.
Pounce answered my spoken question anyway. Out and about.
I barely attended to that. Instead I spoke the thing that had been itching at my brain for some time. The itch had gotten almost unbearable since Master Farmer said what he had about the protection spells.
“It was an inside job, wasn’t it?” I asked Pounce. “It’s not just a matter of the magic being shredded to bits, like Master Farmer said. That hill below the gardens is steep. Then we have two outer walls and cliffs down to the sea, as well as those dead soldiers we saw in the garden. For raiders to get by all that, someone helped the kidnappers. Someone opened gates and told them where to find the hidden trails and the prince.”
Is that what you think? he asked. Pounce hardly ever tells me things, even when he knows them. He says he doesn’t want me to depend on him. Since the last time I expected him to warn me of danger and I got my head cracked instead, I don’t argue.
“What I think is that if someone got the jump on our little prince last night, they might well try again, on Their Majesties. It’s not enough to take the heir. Her Majesty’s young, and it’s plain they’re still in love. Mayhap she’s not gotten pregnant again yet because she wanted to spend time with the prince. The first thing they ought to do is get about the business of more heirs, unless their enemies stop them.”
Pounce looked up at the ceiling. Let someone else protect them. You’re needed to Hunt for the prince, he said. We’re needed.
I lifted the bag in my arms and walked out through the bigger laundry room. “At least with this stuff Achoo and I have sommat to start with. It’s a grand life we have, when excitement comes from dirty loincloths,” I told Pounce.
As we climbed the stairs to the main floor, I heard shouting in the distance. I couldn’t be sure, but the loudest voice sounded like the king’s. When we rounded the turn and came in view of the top stair, there sat Mistress Orielle, weeping into her hands. Tunstall perched beside her, one arm around her shoulders. Master Farmer leaned against the wall behind them, his hands in his breeches pockets.
His face brightened when he saw me. “Is it washing day?” he asked. Tunstall shot him a glare, but Master Farmer didn’t seem to even notice it.
“Why is the king shouting?” I asked them. His Majesty’s voice came from down one of the halls.
Mistress Orielle found her handkerchief and blew her nose. “The Lord Chancellor of Mages was found at dawn in his office, murdered,” she said. “It’s disastrous at such a time.”
I stared at her. “How did you find out—oh. Magic.”
“Ironwood spoke to the Corus palace when I told him what Farmer had seen,” Orielle told me. “Everything there is all upended.”
“He didn’t tell the palace folk what has happened here?” Tunstall asked, alarmed. So was I.
“No, of course not!” Orielle replied, outraged. “No word is to leave this place until decisions are made. His Majesty has placed Lord Gershom in charge of everything, and Lord Gershom has been … quite firm about that.”
“Everything? He hasn’t sent for the Knight Commander of the King’s Own? The Prime Minister?” Master Farmer asked. Tunstall glanced at me and raised his brows. This was a shocker. Why would His Majesty do such a thing? Then I had a thought. Mayhap the king already believed the raiders had inside help. Maybe he’s not trusting anyone at either palace just now, except my lord.
I knew Lord Gershom and the king were friends from the king’s wilder days. My lord had saved the king’s life on many an occasion, and he’d hidden many a mistress from the knowledge of Queen Alysy. Now I wondered what other things my lord might have done for him, that the king would place all responsibility for this mess as it stood in Lord Gershom’s hands.
Lady Orielle was clearing her throat to get my attention. “What did you find?” she asked me.
“His Highness’s dirty clothes. They’re important,” I told her when she frowned. “The scent hounds will need them. They must be kept separate and untouched.” I offered her the bag, but chose not to mention the two pieces I’d put in my shoulder pack. If the king didn’t trust the palace folk, neither would I. “This must be sealed and put aside, in case we don’t find the prince here.” Mistress Orielle flinched, but she took the bag from me. I looked at Tunstall. “Any word of the kidnappers?”
Tunstall leaned over, about to spit, then thought the better of it. He took his arm from Mistress Orielle’s shoulders instead. “None of them among the dead. Every body is someone known by the folk here. The melted ones were known by jewelry, amulets, and so on. They’ve not found any dead younger than twenty. And all the fairest young mots and coves are gone, too. Twenty-eight missing, total.”
Mistress Orielle buried her face in her hands. Tunstall looked at us, having said all he meant to say.
“Perhaps it’s time to let Achoo go to work?” Master Farmer asked. “Set her to track the prince, now that she has something to give her the scent?”
Mistress Orielle got to her feet with Tunstall’s help and let Pounce and me squeeze by as he climbed the last step to stand with Master Farmer. “I’ll take good care of the clothes, don’t you worry,” she told me, patting the bag. She looked beyond us. Master Ironwood was approaching. I’d thought he looked bad when he greeted my lord at the front door. Now he looked worse. “We have the prince’s dirty clothes to care for,” she told him.
“What do I care for dirty clothes, you idiot female?” he snapped at her as he passed us by. I bristled and stepped onto the ground floor. Achoo came with me, growling, her head down.
Mistress Orielle set her hand on my arm. “I’m used to it,” she said, her soft voice matter-of-fact. “It doesn’t bother me.”
I would have said, “It bothers me,” but it wasn’t my place. If this quiet little mot was the queen’s personal mage, she was far better able to defend herself than I could.
I knelt beside Achoo, telling her, “Mudah.” Achoo looked at me, as if to ask if I was sure, then relaxed. Master Ironwood was gone down the hall in any event. Tunstall and Master Farmer were waiting. I held a stained and smelly loincloth under Achoo’s nose. She gave it a good sniff before she began to sneeze. “Maji,” I said. Get to work. I looked around for Pounce, but he had disappeared again. I hoped he was going to drop a wall on Master Ironwood for his meanness, but knew it wasn’t likely. He would call it interference and tell me to drop the wall on the mage myself.
Off went Achoo. I cleared my thoughts and followed. In the years I have been running with her, I have found that I make my own contributions, keeping my eyes and ears open as I follow. Up the stairs she took me, stopping often to turn, sniffing. On she would go. I was fairly certain that she smelled the raiders as they carried the lad back along the hall from the nursery, but Achoo had to work in her own way. She could be chasing the prince as he came in from play, sweating and leaving his scent in the air where a hound with an uncanny nose would find it hours, even days, after. She had to breathe in all of the scents and then unravel them.
