His face looked like a mask, but at least he was still listening. "Yes, but-"
"I know, I know, it's easier for me to say this, to think about it, because I wasn't the one who was wronged. Belton, your father is powerful, and powerful men have more than one enemy. It is possible that some other enemy did this -- even deliberately staged things to make it look as if the person you suspect did it, knowing that in seeking revenge on the so-called innocent, you'd get yourselves into even more trouble. Isn't it?"
He paled a little, and nodded. "But-"
"But assume you're right, and he did the dirty deed. Whether you fail or succeed in killing him, he wins."
Belton's mouth fell open in shock. "How can you say that?" he cried, his voice cracking.
She spread out her hands. "Simple, friend. Think it through. You can't prove that he did the thing, that's a given. So, if you succeed in killing him, since you are not going to take your revenge by hiring another assassin -- or if you are, you aren't going to be as practiced at it as he is -- you're going to get caught. Your family is disgraced, and you die as a murderer, executed, and your family is impoverished in paying the blood-debt to his. Or, if you fail, your family is disgraced, and you die at his hands, or the hands of his bodyguards, which amounts to the same thing. You're still dead, and he is still sitting fat and happy on his ill-gotten goods." She cocked her head to the side, and regarded his glazed eyes. "Doesn't seem like justice, does it? You've been wronged, and trying to make things right will only make them worse."
Slowly, he shook his head, and despair crept into his expression. "So what do I do?" he asked bitterly. "Let him go on gloating because he killed my cousin and got away with it?" The pain in his voice tore at her, but she knew that giving him sympathy at this moment would only allow him to wallow in feeling and keep him from thinking.
"Oh, absolutely not!" she replied. "But you have to have an eye to the long view. What's the goal?"
"Get him!" Belton replied passionately. "Make him pay!"
"Then plan," she said shortly. "Use your mind -- he's certainly using his against you, and that's the way you can catch him."
"Plan?" he repeated, as if the concept had never occurred to him. It probably hadn't. After all, he was a very young man, and young men tended to act rather than think.
"Planning -- that's what will get you what you want," she said firmly. "Every action you take must have sound planning behind it. You don't think that generals just charge out onto the field without first choosing their ground and scouring the enemy do you?"
"Well," he admitted. "No, I guess."
"This is war; think of it that way -- not in terms of a single confrontation, but as a campaign. You've got to get on your choice of ground, and you have to know exactly what you're up against." She was satisfied with his initial reaction. His face lost that tight, tense look.
"What do you mean?" he asked very slowly.
"First, you make absolutely certain that he really did order the murder, on purpose, with malicious intent." This was going remarkably well, perhaps because the wound was no longer fresh. That was all to the good, since it meant he could think as well as feel.
"How do I do that?" Belton asked, losing a little more of the despair.
"Depends on a lot of things, but remember that this is a campaign. Remember the end result that you want. Wouldn't it be best if you could turn this enemy over to the authorities?"
He sat and thought about that, and finally admitted, "Better, I guess. Not as -- as satisfying, but better."
"Then the easiest is to find a powerful enough mage to scry out the answer for you, and an honest enough one that he'll tell you the truth and not what you want to hear. That's expensive, but it's the cleanest -- and any mage in Rethwellan who learns the identity of a murderer is required by law to report it to the Justices." She nodded as he brightened. "This, of course, assumes he hasn't hired mages to cover his tracks, which he might have. A sufficiently powerful and persistent mage can untangle all that, of course, but again, it's expensive and time-consuming. And I would be very much surprised if your family wasn't already doing that."
Belton opened his mouth to protest, then stopped himself as something occurred to him. His brow creased in thought, and he finally admitted, "You're probably right. Father said the family was doing something, but he didn't say what."
"Then knowing your father, that's probably what's going on." Now she reached out to pat his hand. "Your father is a very intelligent man, and a very caring one. He's too intelligent not to take the most obvious route, and too caring to burden you with the knowledge of it until he knows whether or not it will work. Belton, you're supposed to be concentrating on your studies, not on family troubles!"
"How could I not?" he asked, unable to understand that.
She sighed. "Remember how earlier today I said that parents sometimes don't know what suits their child? Well, they often think that they can shelter their children from their own troubles. Parents can be incredibly short-sighted about their children -- and their children have to learn to forgive them for it."
He looked a little bewildered now, but he did accept that, and waited for her to go on.
"Now, there's another route you can take, which might not have occurred to him. Informants." She took another sip of her tea. "If this low-life has arranged for a murder, he had to go through intermediaries, and every intermediary is potentially someone who knows who ordered the killing. He probably has boasted of it to someone, or more than one, and those people know he ordered it. Nothing stays a secret forever, and money loosens even the most reluctant of tongues. So, if the mage doesn't work out, that's the next path to try. And your father has probably already planned that, as well. Ask him; I think he'll probably tell you."
"But what does that leave for me to do?" Belton asked, despair once again creeping into his voice.
"Ah, now that is a good question, and I have an answer for you, but it means being very patient, confiding in your father, and the two of you working together." Tarma was beginning to enjoy herself; it was a little like old times. "Your job will be to leam all you can from me, then return home and convince him that you have learned enough to become a partner in his plans."
"And? What can I do then? What if he doesn't have any plans?" Belton asked.
"Assuming he doesn't, I can tell you what I'd do. If I were doing this, I would then pretend to everyone else to have learned nothing," she told him, throwing out the idea that had come to her when he first revealed everything to her. "In fact, you should pretend to be a very typical young man of your set -- learn the silly sword-tricks and act the complete fop. Unless I miss my guess, you'll be such an obvious target that your enemy won't be able to resist going after you in order to harm your father even more."
Now Belton's eyes were truly shining with excitement. "And when he does -- it'll probably be another assassin, right?"
"Or an assassin in the guise of a street-robber or even someone who arranges for an insult one way or the other so that a duel can be set up between you," Tarma agreed. "And?"