Thaxton strolled on. "Be that as it may. There is another name in the Peele guest registry. And the name is one that hasn't been bandied about very much, if it was on the suspect list at all. Why do you think that is… Lord Arl?"
"Because there's nothing to connect me with the crime," Arl said mildly.
"Oh, but I beg to differ, my lord. You have a reputation as a competent magician."
"Hardly in Trent's league."
"No, but a good one. And you have been known to research in the library."
Arl laughed. "I must say, this is turning into quite a charming little witch hunt. Am I suspect merely because of my bookish ways? Have something against intellectuals, do you?"
"Very clever ploy, my lord, turning the tables like that. Admirable. But it so happens this matter has much to do with reading habits. You did a lot of browsing in the Closed Stacks, where the _eldritch and pernicious tomes,' as Osmirik likes to call them, are kept. Isn't that true?"
"As did Belgard, Trent at one time or another, and any number of other people. Dangerous books are fun, after all."
"Jolly good fun, but you happened to give close attention to a particular book of black magic, the ironically titled Flowers of Forgetfulness. It is in fact a book of spells to do people in, isn't it? A book of assassination spells."
"Never chanced across it, so I can't say."
"Never read it?"
"Can't say that I have."
"I see. Isn't it interesting, though, that this book contains a Flying Dagger spell that is similar in form to the Charmed Dart spell."
"Does it? How interesting indeed."
"Yes, quite. And one very amenable to adaptation. It could easily ― given that the practitioner was skillful enough ― easily be combined with the dart spell and made to work in the Garden aspect."
"Really."
"Yes. And the spell in the Flowers book explains another puzzling aspect of this case. Namely, who pulled the knife out and dropped it? The answer is: it pulled itself out. Would you like to know how, my lord?"
"I'll bite."
"Because the Flying Dagger spell is designed to return the dagger to the assailant after the deed is done. Neat trick, that. No murder weapon to trace. The dagger travels stealthily to the target, strikes, wiggles some to cause more damage ― twistin' the knife, don't you know ― yanks itself out, and returns as sneakily as it came. But in the viscount's case, that part of the trick didn't work, not completely. Your Highness, would you be good enough to explain to his lordship?"
"Certainly, Mr. Thaxton," Dorcas said. "When spells are combined, as they often are, there is always some difficulty with parts of the component spells canceling each other out. That is probably what happened in this case. The dagger succeeded in extricating itself from the body of the victim, but at that point the spell misfired, and the dagger fell to the ground, inert, the spirit freed from the task of returning it to the assailant."
Arl regarded Thaxton frostily. "Why did you think I wouldn't know about spell misfires?"
"I beg your pardon, my lord. Just trying to be thorough."
"In any event, it makes no difference," Arl said, "because I neither read the book nor cast the spell."
"Let's return to that in a minute, my lord. When I happened to find the dagger, just before I did, I almost ran into you. Could you have been looking for it?"
"Hardly."
"You thought the spell had failed when you didn't get the knife back. It should have dropped harmlessly at your feet. Even though the dagger could not easily be traced, you would have felt safer finding it before the invisibility part of the spell failed as well. Isn't that right?"
"No."
"But you were unable to find it. It was invisible. You couldn't understand what happened at first. In fact, when you followed Oren out, you were wondering if the spell had worked at all, weren't you?"
"I was leaving the party. That's all."
"You saw Oren get up and leave, and you couldn't see the dagger or what it had done, so, beside yourself with anxiety and curiosity, you followed your brother and discovered me with him in the alcove. You knew you had succeeded, but you still didn't understand about the dagger not being in him. At some point you must have realized that the knife had worked its way out but dropped, and when I nearly bumped into you, you were searching for it. And would have found it, were it not for the bad luck of my seeing it first. Perhaps you did see it first, but decided not to be the one to turn it up. Does any of this strike your fancy, my lord?"
"None of it. None of it's true."
"Then why, my lord, did you touch your brother on the back?"
"When?"
"Why, shortly before the dagger struck."
"I don't remember."
"Lady Rilma remembers it quite distinctly."
"She's balmy. Always has been."
"I believe her. And you also touched Princess Dorcas on the back, shortly before you let a second dagger fly, at her. Is that not correct, my lord?"
"No! It's a lie!"
Thaxton turned to Dorcas. "Your Highness, have you any objection to swearing before a court of law that Lord Arl touched you on the back shortly before Count Damik was murdered?"
"None whatsoever," Dorcas answered. "It would only be the truth."
"_Laying the touch,'" Thaxton said. "Part of the spell. Part of the killing spell. I have the feeling that Lord Belgard's spell is a tad more sophisticated. No need for the touch. Different targeting apparatus entirely. Right, my lord?"
"Entirely!" Belgard answered.
"Yes. Yours, Lord Arl, was a bit technologically backward, taken from a very old book. Your spell was effective up to a radius of no more than fifty yards. But in the Garden aspect that wasn't a problem. Plenty of hiding places. In the lilacs on the other side of the pond, for instance."
"A lie. Lies! Fabrications!"
"Anyway," Thaxton went on, "you tried to murder the princess for the simple reason that she knew that you were the murderer. We won't go into how she knew. Let's say she had a strong suspicion, which you knew about. You had to eliminate her, but, again bad luck. Damik just happened to walk behind her at the crucial instant, and he took the knife. He was a friend of yours, too."
"Yes, he was."
"And you killed him ― quite accidental, this killing."
"You're insane. Tyrene, I've had enough of this!"
"Let's get back to the book for a moment. You were less adept than Belgard magically, but quite the cagey plotter. Belgard took his books out on loan. You didn't. You didn't want anything in the library records. So you did all your reading in the library."
"To coin a phrase, so what?"
"But the books were in the closed stacks, and to get to them you had to fill out a call-slip, including the title, author, and call number. We have such a call-slip for the Flowers book, in your handwriting."
"Nonsense. I throw those things away. They come back with the book. They're not kept."
"True. But you slipped up. You used one as a bookmark and left it in the book when it was returned. We have it, my lord."
"Which proves nothing! You have nothing but circumstantial evidence! This is an outrage and I won't tolerate it a moment longer."
"But there's a witness."
"What?" Arl's voice went cold. "What did you say?"
"An eyewitness… or in this case an earwitness, who, among the lilacs and forsythia, heard you chant, _I bid thee fly, and strike where I laid my touch,' the exact incantation of the Charmed Dart spell. It was a young servant who was in there sneaking a smoke. Naturally, the boy didn't make his presence known. He was, as my American friends put it, goofing off. When you left the lilac grove, the boy saw you. He has so testified."