“Not at all. I’ve spent a fair bit of time with her, and she’s generally a decent person. She had her rough times at first, learning to rule while Marc was off fighting, but she made it through.” Kay shook his head. “Some lines, though, even the nicest people shouldn’t cross.”
I waited, but he offered no additional explanation. Finally I said, “You’re not going to take these off me, are you?”
“I’m deciding. You make a better culprit than the queen, at least for public consumption.”
“I can see that. But why would the queen even want to kill one of her own bodyguards? Especially at a banquet where everyone was watching?”
He gnawed his lip again before finally saying, “You broke professional silence for me, guess I can do the same for you. You ever heard of Elliot Spears?”
He was the best of the Double Tarn knights, legendary for both his battle skills and chiseled good looks. He wasn’t a native of Grand Bruan, but had come to the island to join Drake’s campaign back when the young king was first crowned and became, by all accounts, Drake’s closest friend. “Sure. Who hasn’t?”
“That’s true. He’s our best and bravest. And he’s the king’s best friend.” He fell silent and looked at the floor.
“But?” I prompted.
“Well, he hasn’t been around much since peace broke out. Most of the knights believe the reason is that Elliot and Jennifer were… well, jousting in private behind Marc’s back. Rumors that the queen made secret visits to his castle, and so on.”
“Ah. So is Spears here?”
“Elliot? Nah. He spends most of his time at his own place. They say it’s because the queen broke his heart when she wouldn’t leave Marc for him.” Kay scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “And that’s a kind of motive, I suppose. I mean, if Jennifer wanted to assert herself, remind the knights that she as well as Marc held the power of life or death over them…” Kay spread his hands in a shrug.
When he offered nothing else, I asked, “So am I free to go?” Again I held up my wrists.
Kay’s eyes narrowed. “You know… you seem to know a lot about this kind of thing. Motives, behavior, that stuff. As you can probably tell, I really don’t. I just kill people trying to kill me and train other people to do the same thing.”
I just looked at him.
He continued, “If you’re as smart as you act like you are, you ought to be able to smoke out the real killer before dinner gets cold.”
“So you think I’m innocent?”
He grinned, but only so a professional observer would notice it. “This is a small island; I went to school with Lady Astamore back when she was simply Fiona. Never met a sweeter soul. If she trusts you, that’s a pretty good reference for me.” Then the smile faded. “But of course, I’ve only got your word for it. So until I can verify it…”
He produced a key from a pocket. “I have a feeling you’re innocent. Of course, I also had a feeling that my wife would keep her figure. I was wrong about that.” He inserted the key not into the manacles, but into the flat disk between them. Instantly more chain unrolled, putting enough slack between the cuffs so that I could spread my arms wide. He locked the disk again, pocketed the key, and patted my cheek. “So until I’m more certain about you, those stay on.”
“I’ll keep my figure, I promise.”
He laughed. “I’m sure someone somewhere is pleased to know that.”
I looked down at my wrists. The weight of the chain and disk, which now hung past my knees, were not encouraging. “All right, then, let’s get to work. A murder goes stale faster than a wife’s good nature.”
“True words indeed,” Kay said, and opened the door.
FOUR
I followed Kay back to the banquet hall. The disk in the middle of the manacle chain tapped my shins as I walked, so I held it in my left hand.
The Knights of the Double Tarn had sealed the room, allowing no one in or out without Kay’s permission. They’d used the graduating class of Nodlon Grange as the muscle for this, so the newly minted soldiers, anxious to impress these legendary veterans, stood at rigid attention before all the exits and made no eye contact with their muttering, frilly charges.
It occurred to me that creating a new generation of Double Tarn knights might be one of Marcus Drake’s few tactical errors. Train a man to do something, and he’ll find a reason to do it, especially if you’ve trained him to kill. Peace meant these new warriors had no battles to fight, so what would they do with their new skills?
The rich folks, hemmed in and unaccustomed to hearing the word no, milled about in little knots concentrated around the big central table. Oblivious to the idea that something else might be poisoned, they’d made a serious dent in the victuals and a good start on the bar. When I entered the room behind Kay, though, the conversations trailed off and every well-painted eye fell on me.
Sam Patrice lay where he’d fallen, and the odor from his poisoned body had grown stronger. Chairs from the big table formed a respectful circle around him so no one could disturb the body. Someone had draped a lavish tablecloth over him, and only his rigid hand protruded from beneath it. The blueish fingers still marked the shape of the lethal apple. Where the fabric rested on his face, a stain from the bloody spittle had already soaked through.
Kay bellowed, “Officers!” as soon as we came through the door. Seven knights quickly appeared and formed a double-tiered circle around us, a practiced move designed for both protection and to prevent eavesdropping during battle briefings.
“This man is Edward LaCrosse,” Kay said with a nod to me. “He’ll be assisting me. If he asks you a question or gives you an order, it’s the same as me doing it.”
“If he’s such an expert,” one asked, “why is he in cuffs?”
“Insurance,” Kay said. “His authority still stands.”
“Exactly what is he an expert in?” Thomas Gillian asked. He had the kind of eyes that methodically swept over you, cataloging and analyzing as they went.
“Investigating murders,” Kay said.
“The ones he committed?” a tall man with red hair snorted.
“We don’t know that,” Kay said. “He has an alibi, and as long as it holds up, I’m satisfied with it. But I haven’t had time to check it out. That’s why he’s restrained.”
A slender man with a long, drooping mustache said, “The guests sure think he’s guilty.”
“The guests also think they’re the whole reason the world exists,” Kay said. “Neither one is true. Mr. LaCrosse is a professional, just like we are. And hear this: Mr. LaCrosse better stay healthy, or I know some knights who won’t. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir!” they barked in unison.
Kay turned to me. “The show’s all yours. What do we do?”
I was rarely the shortest man in any group, but I was here, and it felt odd, as if I were the new kid in a tough school. “Gentlemen, I appreciate that you’ve lost a friend here today. I wish there was more time to mourn him, but right now, the longer we let things sit, the better chance the real murderer has of getting away. Has anyone left the room since this happened?”
“The queen retired to her quarters with her women,” the red-haired man said. “The only guest who’s left the room is you, sir, and the soldiers involved in guarding you. The other guests and all the servants have been kept here. The perimeter is secure. Sir,” he added, with a glance toward Kay.
“Well…,” began another knight, scarred from a burn across his chin.
“Well, what?” Kay demanded, then suddenly answered his own question. “Agravaine,” he spat.
“Yeah,” the burned knight said. “He took it on himself to question the serving girl who delivered the apples.”
“And he took Vince and Aidan with him,” Gillian added.
“Of course he did,” Kay snarled. “And none of you brave warriors stood up to him?” They all looked down or away, like guilty schoolboys, except for Gillian, whose expression remained neutral. “I ought to put the lot of you on report. You can be sure the king will hear about this.”