Triss and Zelet looked steadily at the mage without answering.
“I’ll see you back at the D’Olbriot residence, Chosen Tathel.” With a tide of colour rising from his collar, Casuel got to his feet. “I expect your full report since I have a duty to keep the Archmage informed.”
Triss nodded to Zelet. “Get Master Devoir a carriage. If there are knives with a purpose out there, I don’t want a second D’Olbriot guest stabbed on my watch.”
I stood too, ready to be dismissed, but Proven Triss waved me back into my seat as Zelet escorted Casuel away. “I’m not asking you to break confidences, but there are all manner of rumours about this supposed colony D’Alsennin’s from. Are we really supposed to believe enchantments held this people in sleep over countless generations after some unholy magic wrecked their hopes in Nemith’s day? But there’s no question the Archmage took an interest last year, and D’Olbriot’s had mages like your friend there in his confidence ever since. Now I’m a rational man; I don’t believe a tenth of what I hear, but there’s no denying the truth of magic. I’ll hunt thieves and bandits from one side of the Empire to the other, but I won’t send my men up against fire called to melt the flesh from an honest man’s bones. If D’Olbriot chooses to, that’s for him to justify to his oath-bound.”
“The Elietimm have a style of magic all their own.” I picked my words carefully, thinking rational probably described Proven Triss’s philosophy as well as his character. “It’s not fire and lightning but tangling the wits inside your head. But wise women among the colonists can match it; one’s here with D’Alsennin, the Demoiselle Tor Arrial. She’s been using her skills to heal his wounds.” If Avila could demonstrably cure illness and mend injury, the sooner we’d persuade men like Triss that Artifice wasn’t some dark enchantment to be either feared or banished. I looked him in the eye. “If it was Elietimm did this, we can use mages and Artifice both to draw their teeth without any of yours or D’Olbriot’s risking their neck.”
“If they’re in the city at all,” commented Triss.
“Do you recall Esquire Robel D’Olbriot being attacked the year before last?” I said slowly. “That was the work of those whore-begotten Elietimm.”
Triss scowled. “I heard they didn’t even kill him cleanly.”
“Left him blind and helpless as a swaddled infant.” Anger sharpened my voice. “That was the first of their offences against the Name and they’ve earned our enmity thrice over since. The Sieur D’Olbriot wouldn’t be dealing with wizards otherwise.”
“D’Alsennin wasn’t carrying a purse,” mused Triss. “The knife could just have been spite because there wasn’t any coin.”
“I’ll buy wine for your whole Cohort if you find me some cutpurse with the boy’s blood on his cuffs,” I assured him.
“It’ll empty your purse,” Triss warned me with a grin.
“Coin well spent,” I replied. “Of course it could be happenstance, I know that. It’s Festival after all, there’s always trouble in the lower city, and it wouldn’t be the first time vermin climbed higher.” And the way Casuel’s luck ran, my mother would say he’d get hit by a bowl if it was raining soup. “Does the knife give some hint?”
Triss drew a blade from his belt with a private smile.
“So do you owe Zelet or is he buying the wine tonight?” I turned the cheap blade in my hands, feeling a peculiar frisson at the dark lines of Temar’s blood caught in the binding of the handle.
“I said you’d want to see it,” admitted Triss. “Zelet called no wager.”
“Let me guess, half the Festival hawkers are selling these?” If this were a puppetry tale, I thought ruefully, the blade would be unique to the knifeman and some innocent bystander would helpfully recall seeing him with it. But real life is never that straightforward.
“Three peddlers out of five.” Triss shrugged. “I expect we could find whatever back-alley smithy is knocking out that particular style by the barrel full, but we’d learn no more than that.”
“Of course,” I said lightly, handing the useless blade back.
“I’ll send word if I hear anything, but frankly I doubt there’ll be news.” Triss pursed his lips.
“You and me both.” I nodded ruefully.
“Keep your eyes and ears open, though. Let me know if you learn anything.” Proven Triss got to his feet and I followed him out of the little bower. “We’ll catch the cur if we’ve a scent to follow, and I take it very personally when a guest of my Sieur can’t walk hereabouts in safety.”
“You and me both,” I repeated curtly.
Movement by the residence caught my eye and I saw a blanket-covered litter being gently carried down the steps.
“Permit me to take my leave, Proven Triss?” I said formally.
Triss nodded and turned towards the gatehouse. Avila was walking beside the litter and beckoned to me. “On the other side, if you please, Ryshad.”
I helped steady the burden as Tor Kanselin’s servants and D’Olbriot’s footmen eased the unconscious Temar inside the wide-bodied coach. His face was white as bone in the dim interior and I saw an angry bruise at the edge of a poultice strapped to his temple.
I turned to Avila. “Is he going to be all right?” I asked with a qualm at his stillness.
“He sleeps deep in the shades, by grace of Arimelin’s Artifice,” said Avila calmly. “That will do much to restore him. Tor Kanselin’s surgeon knows his herbs well enough, so I have everything I need for the night.”
“You’ll be sitting with him?” I’d been wondering if I should do that; head injuries can turn nasty in a hurry.
Avila nodded. “So you can find out who did this,” she ordered sternly.
“Casuel thinks it must be the Elietimm,” I said, still looking at Temar.
“Just because the master mage is one part flash and nine parts foolish, do not assume he must be wrong,” Avila commented brusquely.
“True enough.” And if the wizard were right he wouldn’t let me or anyone else forget it this side of the Otherworld.
“Ryshad!” I turned to see Esquire Camarl standing by the door at the top of the steps. He summoned me with a snap of his fingers.
“Esquire.” I bowed as I arrived on the step below him.
“Where were you, Ryshad?” he demanded without preamble.
I hesitated. “Temar wanted me to make some enquiries around the Houses he thinks may have these artefacts he’s searching for. We thought it would save time if I made a start while he was here.”
“D’Olbriot holds your oath, Ryshad, not D’Alsennin.” There was an edge to Camarl’s voice. “Your place was at his side.”
“He should have been safe here. Tor Kanselin’s men are on a par with our own,” I said before realising I was sounding like Casuel trying to excuse himself. I shut my mouth.
“He was hardly safe outside, was he?” snapped Esquire Camarl.
“No.” I admitted with honest regret. “Your pardon, Esquire. I was at fault.”
“There’s more than enough blame to go round, Ryshad. I shouldn’t have spent so much time listening to Irianne’s plans for her wedding dress.” Camarl sighed and his face relaxed a little. “And Temar needs to understand the dignity of his rank these days, that he can’t just go wandering around like some junior son of a cadet line. He should’ve taken a carriage or at least requested a proper escort.” He raised a reprimanding finger at me. “And you need to understand chosen duties a bit better. I know you’re used to using your own initiative when the Sieur sends you on a task halfway across some backward province, but this is Toremal. You send sworn men out on errands, five at a time if you need to, and when they bring back the word you come to me with what I need to know. You’re an upper servant now, and it’s time you acted like one.”
“Esquire.” I waited a moment before speaking again, trying to strike that fine line between dutiful respect and the assertion that would get me my own way. “But we have no sworn men who know anything about the Elietimm. Surely the most important thing now is to look for any trace of them in the city? I’m the only man you can send to do that.”