The name read:
VYKTOR D’BANQUE D’OUESTAN
880 AVENUE D’THEATRE
L’EXCELSIS
“What did he want from you?” I studied it for a moment, then handed the card back.
“He didn’t seem to want anything. He gave me his card and said that if I had any troubles or questions regarding transactions or transfers that I should let him know immediately. We never have had those problems.”
“When did he give you the card?”
“Sometime in Harvest, late Agostos, as I recall.”
I asked more questions about the Banque D’Ouestan, but Tolsynn didn’t know any more. So I changed the subject. “I’d like to know if you observed anything else about Kearyk. I’ve seen a miniature of him, and he seemed extraordinarily handsome.”
“More like…” Tolsynn paused, then said, “almost pretty. He was always well-dressed. I once asked him if he spent all his earnings on clothes. He laughed. He said he didn’t have to.”
“What did you think of that?”
“I wondered for a time, and I watched. But several times he was picked up by someone in a stylish carriage. More than several times.”
“Did you notice anything about the carriage?”
“No. Just that it was black with brass trim. Very conservative. With two matched grays.”
“Did you see who was inside?”
Tolsynn shook his head.
“I take it Kearyk had a fine hand, his writing, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Did he draw?”
“How would I…” He broke off. “Come to think of it, I did see a few…well…doodles…on a scrap of paper once. Very graceful…very fine.”
“Graceful enough that he could have forged the entire ledger sheet with the off-entry in it?”
“I suppose. I hadn’t thought of it. He seemed so gentle and kind. Why would he have done that for such a small sum…comparatively, that is?”
I didn’t have an answer for that question, although I was beginning to get a glimmer of one. “I have no idea.” I laughed softly. “That’s why I had to come back to talk to you. This branch doesn’t handle the Civic Patrol accounts, I take it?”
“No…those are all at Council Square.”
“Did you know Captain Bolyet? He was a friend of mine…a good officer.”
Tolsynn nodded. “I met him a few times…and, of course, his widow. It was an accident, I heard.”
“One of those freak things that you never think can happen. Any patroller thinks he might be shot at, or attacked, or even have trouble with a runaway hauler’s team…but to get hit by a loose crane? Even Subcommander Cydarth found that hard to believe.”
“He said something like that.”
“He’s been a client for a long time, I imagine.”
“Longer than I’ve been director here.”
“I wonder if he’d know this Vyktor D’Banque D’Ouestan. I’d heard he or his wife had relatives there.” I shook my head. “Probably not. When you hear that someone’s from someplace or has relatives there, you always think that they’ll know people you do, and usually they don’t.”
Tolsynn nodded. “He’s never said anything about that, but we’ve not passed more than a few words ever.” He paused and looked at the door. “Is there anything else?”
“Not at the moment. Thank you.” I stood.
After I left the banque, I instructed Desalyt to take me to the Plaza D’Nord. Despite the fact that chalkers worked in places where there were pedestrians, it took nearly a glass for us to find Lacques. He was a block down from the Plaza, on the corner of Milner Lane and Saenhelyn Road, and he looked to have just started a small wall painting on a narrow stretch of stone between a cafe that looked to be closed and a millinery shop.
I had the coach stop a few yards back and then got out and walked toward the chalker.
He turned and said, “It’s not finished…sir.” For a street artist, he was well-turned out, with dark trousers and polished boots, and even a red cravat.
“Lacques, you might remember that we talked about Kearyk several weeks ago.”
“I told you everything I knew…sir.”
“No. You told me the truth about everything I asked. I’ve been thinking. That chalk you did, the one of the half-man, half-woman. That was Kearyk, in a way, wasn’t it?”
The chalker didn’t answer for a moment. Then he smiled crookedly. “Yes. Kearyk had that handsome angelic look, but sometimes he could be a manipulative bitch. He could be so sweet and dear…and then…other times…” Lacques shook his head.
“You don’t happen to have a black coach with brass trim, do you?”
“A chalker? With a coach?”
There was an edge to his voice, and I pressed. “But you know who it was, don’t you?”
“I don’t know his name. Kearyk never said. He told me I didn’t own him. I only saw him once, from a distance. He had to be a wealthy swell, but not what you’d expect. Clothes like a High Holder, but dark, and his hair was cut short-like yours.”
“Did you see what color his hair was?”
“A mixture of red and silver gray, I thought. He was years older than me. But he had golds, and Kearyk loved golds and clothes.”
“Kearyk received clothes from this…friend?”
“I don’t know where else he would have gotten them.” Lacques’s voice turned bitter. “I’m the one who taught him how to dress and present himself. He was turned down for several clerkships until I showed him what to wear.”
“Why didn’t you become a guild artist?”
“It’s not a matter of talent. You have to have golds to get a master to take you…or have them take a special interest in you, and…I didn’t have the golds, and I was never handsome enough.” He shrugged. “I manage to get by, what with the art and being a server a few places.”
“Did Kearyk ever say anything about his friend?”
“No. I asked, but he said he was just a friend. He was lying, and he knew that I knew that, but if I’d pressed it, he would have left.”
“He didn’t say anything at all about him?”
“Just that he knew all the people in the salons, like Madame D’Shendael and Madame D’Almeida. Kearyk liked to think he could have conversed with them. He’d go to the bookshops and read her books a chapter at a time.”
“That was all?”
“You think this swell had something to do with his death?”
“I don’t know.” I thought that he did, but I didn’t know.
“But…why? I can’t believe that Kearyk was anything but…a plaything to a swell like that. I even told him so.”
“What did he say?”
“He just said that it wasn’t like that at all, and he enjoyed the culture. He said if I asked more, he’d leave. I didn’t.”
I spent another quint with Lacques. I didn’t learn much more, but I’d learned more than enough to end up even more puzzled about why matters were turning out as they seemed to be.
By the time I returned to Imagisle, I had enough time to check with Schorzat and Kahlasa, and to write down the name and address of Vyktor D’Banque D’Ouestan. Neither Schorzat nor Kahlasa had anything new to report, and Maitre Dyana wasn’t looking for me. So I went over to the dining hall, which contained noticeably fewer junior imagers, unsurprisingly. I sat between Chassendri and Isola.
I’d barely taken a sip of tea before Ferlyn immediately asked, “Most honored Maitre Rhennthyl, might you be able to explain where so many of the juniors have gone?”
“I could. They’ve been sent on a journey. They’re currently somewhere on the ironway.”
“Would it be too much to ask where they are going and why?”
I smiled. “In fact, for the moment, it would be.”
“Could you give Ferlyn some idea?” asked Chassendri.
She was really suggesting that he’d continue to press unless I gave a better answer, because, after her work with Dartazn, she certainly had some ideas about what we had planned for them to do, if not where and how.
“I think it’s fair to say that we’re trying to come up with a way to stop all the Ferran attacks and explosions here in Solidar.” I immediately took a mouthful of the fowl and rice casserole, because I was hungry and because I wanted to slow down the questioning.