Cicerius is far from soothed. With the situation being as it is in Turai, it’s hard to know who he can trust. He’d like to get the Civil Guard to discreetly investigate but many of the guards are in the pay of either the Brotherhood or their rivals the Society of Friends, and those that aren’t might well be supporters of the Populares.
“I’d say it’s safest to tell no one.”
“And trust you to fix everything?”
“No. Trust me to find out the truth, then get Tilupasis to fix everything. She’s an efficient woman. You think I could have some more wine before I set off? It’s cold out there.”
“Get drunk on your own time,” says Cicerius, with feeling.
I set off, leaving a highly agitated Deputy Consul behind me. I’m none too calm myself. Cicerius might have been right about calling the guards straight away. But my intuition told me to move the body and I’ve lived on my intuition for a long time now. I ride towards Truth is Beauty Lane, home of the Sorcerers. The wind pierces my cloak like a series of sharp knives. I can’t ever remember being so cold. I’d never have taken the damned case if I’d known it was going to involve so much outdoor activity.
Lights are burning in Lisutaris’s villa, and despite the lateness of the hour a servant takes my horse for stabling while another leads me inside. The house reeks of thazis. I’m starting to object to the aroma. I find the Mistress of the Sky sitting at her water pipe in the company of Makri and Princess Direeva. The walls are hung with Elvish tapestries of green and gold, and numerous well-tended plants surround the large windows that look out over the gardens. It’s a beautiful room, decorated by one of the fashionable designers now found necessary by Turai’s upper classes. Warm too, though there is no fire. Such is the ingenuity of Turai’s architects that large villas now have systems for leading hot air through pipes under the floors to warm the houses. Unlike the frozen masses in Twelve Seas, the wealthy of Turai never have to shiver.
No torches burn on the walls. The bright illumination in the room is provided entirely by Lisutaris’s illuminated staff, which rests in a corner, bathing the room in light.
Makri has removed her armour to display the man’s tunic she generally wears. Princess Direeva’s tunic and leggings are somewhat similar and it makes for an odd contrast with Lisutaris’s flowing robes.
“How was the Deputy Consul?” asks the Sorcerer.
“He regrets nominating you for the post. And Makri, I wouldn’t count on his help for getting into the university.”
Makri’s face falls. She has a serious ambition to enter the Imperial University, and without some unusually powerful assistance that will never happen. Seeing her disappointed face, I’m oddly pleased. Revenge for all the trouble she’s been causing me recently.
Lisutaris motions towards the water pipe.
“Do you never do anything else?” I say, angrily.
“As you wish,” says Lisutaris.
“I wasn’t refusing. I just wondered if you never did anything else.”
I take a long pull at the pipe. The thazis is so strong that I’m obliged to sit down. I do feel calmer.
“You are just in time,” announces the Sorcerer. “We have the hiding spell ready. Before using it I shall look for the killer.”
Beside her is a golden saucer full of kuriya. In this dark liquid, an experienced practitioner can sometimes read the secrets of the past. It’s a difficult art. I’ve occasionally gleaned secrets from the kuriya but my success rate is low. However, my powers are as nothing compared to Lisutaris’s, and I’m optimistic that we may well learn the truth.
Before using kuriya I’d have to spend a long time getting myself in to the correct state of mind. Lisutaris is far beyond this. With no preparation, not even a deep breath, she waves her hand over the saucer. The room immediately goes cooler and the black liquid starts to glow. We crane our necks to see the picture that begins to form.
It’s a picture of my office. Very clear. You can see yesterday’s dirty plates lying on the table. As the picture spreads to fill the saucer I observe Makri and Direeva lying unconscious on the floor. Darius Cloud Walker is nearby, also comatose. Lisutaris doesn’t seem to be around. The door opens and she enters. She treads softly through the room and bends down over Makri. She reaches down and comes up with a knife. And then she pounces on Darius and sticks the knife in his back. Next, she disappears from the room, leaving the Sorcerer bleeding to death.
The picture fades. I look around at my companions. All three of them are struck dumb. Lisutaris looks like she’s just encountered the darkest demon of hell.
“Well, that seems fairly unequivocal,” I say. “No room for argument there. So what are we going to do now? And why the hell did you have to stab him with Makri’s knife? If you hated the man that much, couldn’t you just have blasted him with a spell?”
The Mistress of the Sky is still unable to speak. She stares at the now dark liquid, unblinking, horrified.
“Snap out of it,” I tell her. “And get busy with the hiding spell. You better make it good, because if anyone ever needed a hiding spell, it’s you.”
[Contents]
Chapter Nine
I awake feeling unusually comfortable, and very warm. I realise I’m not at home. I’m in a guest room at Lisutaris’s villa. Lisutaris the killer. I’d never have picked her for a murderer. There’s a bronze statue by the window. My clothes are draped over it. I get out of bed and get dressed. Outside the room a servant asks me if I’d like breakfast.
“I’ll take a beer and whatever you got on a plate. Is Lisutaris up yet?”
She isn’t. Downstairs I pick up my beer, and some roasted fowl from a selection of silver platters in the dining room, and finish them off quickly. I’m not planning on hanging around. Unfortunately, before I can make my exit Lisutaris appears, a small stick of thazis in her hand. She doesn’t look like she’s slept well.
“I didn’t kill him,” she says.
She said that last night as well.
I don’t reply.
“Don’t you believe me?”
“No.”
“Someone faked that magical picture.”
I continue not to believe her. It looked pretty damn convincing to me and it would stand up in court.
“I’m telling you, someone faked it.”
“No one could fake that.”
“I thought you always supported your clients.”
“I do. That’s why I haven’t turned you over to the Guard.”
“But you don’t believe I’m innocent?”
“No.”
Makri enters the breakfast chamber.
“What’s going on?”
“Thraxas believes I killed Darius Cloud Walker. He’s unhappy to be stuck with a murderer for a client.”
“Lisutaris isn’t a murderer,” says Makri. “You have to help.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
We stare at each other in silence. The Mistress of the Sky inhales from her thazis stick.
“Those pictures were good,” she says. “Even with all my power I couldn’t prove they were faked. They’ll fool other Sorcerers.”
“There’s no reason to think they were faked,” I point out, harshly. “And even if they were, what happened to the real past? A Sorcerer can hide the past but no one can erase it. You looked in the kuriya ten times or more and you couldn’t find the real events. Or what you say are the real events. So we’re talking two major discrepancies here, neither of which can be done by sorcery. One, erasing reality, and two, faking a new reality. Temporarily hiding the past is one thing, but erasing and faking can’t be done. You know that better than me. Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”