“So what do we have in there?” Kawaguchi asked.
Bornholm was a good constable; she glanced over to him and got his nod before she started talking in front of us civilian types. Then she said, “Even with the spellchecker, this won’t be as easy as I’d like; on hallowed ground, sorcerous evidence has a way of evanescing in a hurry.” She turned her head in Brother Vahan’s direction. “The abbot here has a most holy establishment: good for his monks and a credit to him, but hard on the constabulary.”
“All right, I won’t expect you to hand me the case all sealed up with a papal chrysobull,” the legate said, “though I wouldn’t have been sorry if you did. Tell me what you know.”
“About what you’d expect in an arson case,” Bornholm said: “strong traces of salamander, rather weaker ones from the use of a blasting rod.”
“Uh-huh,” Kawaguchi said. “Any special characteristics of the salamander that would help us trace it back to a particular source on the Other Side?” Different rituals summon different strains of salamander; had this been one of the unusual ones, it could have told a lot about who called the creature to the monastery.
But the thaumatech shook her head. “As generic a spell as you can find. Ten thousand campers use it out in the woods every day to get their fires going. Of course, they tack a dismissal onto it, too, and that didn’t happen here. Just the opposite, in fact; it was encouraged. Same with the blasting rod: very ordinary magic.”
“Hellfire,” Kawaguchi said, which wasn’t literally true—salamanders are morally neutral creatures—but summed things up well enough.
Bornholm hesitated, then went on, “When I first set up, I thought something else might be there, too. I wanted to stake down the certain arson traces before anything else, though, and by the time I came back to the other, it was gone. Hallowed ground, like I said. I’ll take the rap for it—it was my choice.”
“That’s what free will is about,” Kawaguchi said. “You did what you thought was best. I presume you ordered the spirit to remember, not just analyze. We can do further evaluation later.”
“Certainly,” Bornholm answered, with a What do you think I am, an idiot? look tacked on for good measure. I didn’t blame her, not one bit. She added, “The trouble is, you can’t evaluate what just isn’t there.”
“I understand that.” Kawaguchi smacked right fist into left palm in frustration. I didn’t blame him, either. There was the spellchecker, with access and correlation capability on relations with the Other Side for everybody from Achaeans to Zulus and all stops in between, with hordes of microimps inside to do the thinking faster and more thoroughly than any mere man could manage—but, as the thaumatech had said, you can’t analyze what isn’t there.
“Legate!” The shout rang through the smoky night. Kawaguchi spun round (so did all of us, as a matter of fact). One of the guys from the sorce-and-rescue crew had emerged from the ruined scriptorium. His boots thumped on the pavement as he walked over to us. He was sooty and sweaty and looked about half beaten to death, but his eyes held triumph. “We made contact with that access spirit, Legate.”
“Good news!” Kawaguchi exclaimed. “That’s the first piece of good news I’ve heard tonight. What sort of shape is the spirit in?”
“I was just getting to that, Legate,” the sorce-and-rescue man said, and some of the sudden hopes I’d got up came crashing down again—he didn’t sound what you’d call upbeat. “The spirit’s here—it’s manifested enough so we can move it—but it’s not in good shape, not even slightly. Preliminary diagnosis is that whoever set the fire went after the poor creature on the Other Side, too.”
“Poor Erasmus,” Brother Vahan said, with as much concern as if he were talking about one of his monks.
“Erasmus? Oh,” the sorce-and-rescue man said; then: “I don’t think it’ll perish, but it’s had a rough time. Hard to characterize torments on the Other Side, but—did it used to manifest itself with its spectacles cracked?”
“No,” Brother Vahan said, and started to weep as if that was to him the crowning tragedy of all those which had befallen the Thomas Brothers monastery tonight. I remembered the fussy, precise spirit and the neat little pair of glasses it had worn. How could you crack lenses that weren’t really there? I suppose there are ways, but I got queasy thinking about them.
“We can run the spellchecker on this access spirit,” Thaumatech Bornholm said. “Maybe we’ll learn just what hit the monastery by finding out how the spirit was tormented.”
“For that matter, simple questioning may yield the same information,” said Kawaguchi, who sounded ready to start asking poor abused Erasmus questions right then and there if the sorce-and-rescue man would summon the spirit onto a ground-glass screen.
But the sorce-and-rescue man shook his head. “Nobody’s going to run a spellchecker on that spirit any time soon. Any sorcerous nudge right now, before it has a chance to regain some strength, and it’ll be gone for good. I’m not kidding—a sorcerous nudge right now will destroy, uh, Erasmus, and I’ll set that down on parchment. The same goes for interrogation. If that spirit were a material being, it would’ve gotten last rites. Because it’s not material, it has a better chance of recovering than thee or me, but I warn you: you’ll lose it if you push.”
“I shall pray for Erasmus’ recovery along with the recovery of my brethren who took hurt in the fire,” Brother Vahan said, “and for the souls of the brethren who lost their lives.” He spoke slowly and with great dignity, partly because he was that kind of man and partly to hold the tears back from his voice.
Judy stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He twitched a little; you could see how unused he was to having a woman touch him. But after a couple of seconds, he realized she meant only to comfort him. He eased, as much as you can when everything that matters to you is gone.
I wished I’d thought to make the gesture Judy had. I suspect the trouble is that I think too much. Judy felt what she ought to do and she did it. I’m not saying she doesn’t think—oh my, no. But it’s nice to be in touch with This Side and the Other Side of yourself, so to speak.
I turned to Legate Kawaguchi. “Do you need us for anything more here, sir?”
He shook his head. “No, you may go, Inspector Fisher. Thank you for your statement. I expect we will be in touch with each other about aspects of this matter of mutual concern.” I expected that, too. Then Kawaguchi unbent a little; maybe a human being really did lurk behind the constabulary uniform. “A pleasure also to meet your fiancÇe, Inspector. A pity to drag you out of doors at such an unholy hour, Mistress Adler, especially on dark, grim business like this.”
“I asked David to let me come along,” Judy said. “And you’re right—this business is dark and grim. If I can do anything to help you catch whoever did it, let me know. I’m no mage, but I’m an expert on sorcerous applications.”
“I shall bear that in mind,” Kawaguchi said, and sounded as if he meant it.
Judy and I ducked under the tape the constabulary had put around the Thomas Brothers monastery and walked back toward my carpet. The sun was just starting to paint the sky above the hills to the east with pink. I asked my watch what time it was and found out it was heading toward six. By my body, it could have been anywhere from midmorning to midnight.
We fastened our safety belts and headed back toward the freeway. A couple of minutes before we got there, Judy said, “I didn’t know I was your fiancÇe.”
“Huh?” I answered brilliantly.
“The way you introduced me to Legate Kawaguchi,” she said.
“Oh. That.” I’d just done it because it seemed the easiest way to explain what she was doing over at my place at two-something of a morning. I thought about it for a few seconds, then said, “Well, do you want to be?”