A House Divided (Astoran Asunder, book 1) (12 page)

"Not even Captain Stowley?" he asked, evaluating her.

"Not even Captain Stowley," she confirmed. "I assume it goes without saying that I'm asking you not to speak to Officer Burl about this either."

"I give you my word."

"One last thing," she said as she stood. "After Lach was sedated and I went into the sitting room with the Elders, Elder Borean gave me this to dry my tears. I noticed it smelled strange, but I didn't think much of it at the time."

His eyes followed as she tugged a pouch from the pocket at her hip, and it made her fingers tremble. She handed it to him and watched as he opened it, pulling out Elder Borean's handkerchief. Raising it to his nose, he sniffed it, his eyes widening.

"It smells like the substance Advisor Stowley used to commit suicide."

She might have been tired before, but now Cianne was exhausted. "I suspected as much."

Chapter 12

True to his word, the next day Kila said nothing to Burl of his meeting with Cianne Wyland. Even had Miss Wyland not extracted the promise from him, he wouldn't have said anything. The handkerchief could connect Elder Borean to the incident at the Stowley manor, or it could not. Either way, Kila didn't trust Burl with such information. If Toran Stowley's death hadn't been a suicide, if someone had, in fact, killed him and staged it to make it look like a suicide, Kila couldn't trust that they'd done it without assistance. The Elders would have known that Burl would arrive at the scene, but they couldn't have trusted that she would be the sole Enforcement officer to arrive.

He mentally went over the scene in Toran Stowley's study again. He had thought things seemed very neat there, but he couldn't allow himself to pursue that train of thought without solid proof. Determining that the evidence didn't fit based on his personal view of what a suicide scene looked like was a real, dangerous possibility for him.

Curiosity ate at him. He was certain his conversation with Miss Wyland had barely scratched the surface, and he wondered what more she had to tell him.

For the time being, he had decided to also withhold the information from Chief Flim. Yes, Miss Wyland had asked him not to tell anyone, but perhaps she didn't know that there were Enforcers who were skeptical about what was going on in the Houses. Chief Flim could be a valuable ally, but he would wait to establish a connection between her and Miss Wyland until he had a better idea of what was going on.

Exactly how many sides was he playing, he wondered. Enforcement had been his life, necessitating subterfuge from time to time, so he didn't feel guilty about keeping things from his chief or from the House, but he did feel guilty about keeping them from Miss Wyland. He didn't know why. Perhaps it was because he sensed she might see it as a betrayal if she found out. Perhaps it was because she seemed desperate to believe that someone could be working
with
her instead of alongside her. What she had said of her relationship with the captain, of the interplay between her father, Moiria Stowley, and the Elders, indicated that the poor woman was surrounded by machinations and searching for someone she could trust not to manipulate her.

Is she at that? Or are you being taken in by her? You think members of the Houses are incapable of forming their own agendas, agendas that might not mesh with those of the rest of the House?

The doubt chafed at him. He remembered those earnest eyes, that lovely face, her delicate form. But he also remembered the fluid grace of her movements, the skill with which she'd produced the dagger. He'd been expecting the move, but he had been impressed nonetheless. Testing her would be the wise thing to do, perhaps even asking her to practice with him as she once had. She might only have perfected the first form, but even executing that with the level of skill she'd displayed would have taken a great deal of practice. When coupled with her skill at sneaking up on him, leaping from the wall and down to his garden without making a noise, he felt it was safe to assume that Miss Wyland had plenty of useful skills. The question was, were they truly a secret from the rest of the House as she had claimed, or were they solely a secret from select members of the House? After all, what she had told him of the good captain suggested the man would be willing to do just about anything for her.

Kila would have to observe her. She wanted to meet with him again to give him more information about the House, and he would encourage that. Spending time with her would help him draw a conclusion about her motives, and it would give him a chance to match what she told him against what he was able to observe himself and gather from his work with Burl.

"An Movis, with me," Burl said, crooking her finger at him.

"The Healers have a report for us?" he asked.

"Yes, then we're scheduled to meet with the Elders and the Stowley family at the enclave."

"Will the Stowley family be up to speaking with us?"

She cast a sidelong glance his way, and he thought he might have detected a hint of approval at his delicacy with regard to the family. "They'll have to be. Word about the advisor's death won't stay secret for long, and the Elders will want to ensure that no misinformation is spread about."

It was a rather ridiculous statement. She knew as well as Kila that it wouldn't matter how carefully the House managed the message. Rumors could and would spread throughout the city. If the situation were remotely like the chief had suggested, the rumors were likely to be of the vicious variety. Kila didn't place much stock in rumors as a general rule, but he would keep an ear to the ground. Something of use might find its way into the grapevine.

"Officer Burl, Officer an Movis," the chief said, inclining her head at them as she fell into step beside them. Burl's mouth turned down at the corners, but she could hardly protest. Given the sensitive nature of the incident and Stowley's high-ranking status, it would have been odd for the chief not to be involved in their inquiry.

"Chief Flim, Officers Burl and an Movis," the Chief Anatomical Examiner greeted them, nodding. He looked weary, and Kila suspected he'd been there the whole night conducting his examination.

"Good morning, Maxim," the chief replied. "What do you have for us?"

"I'm ruling it a death by suicide," the examiner said, not wasting any time. "I found no signs of trauma or struggle, nor any injuries inconsistent with the minor abrasions the victim would have suffered as a result of his fall. Death was caused by sophoria overdose. The internal examination provided evidence consistent with this diagnosis, and the Apothecist confirms that the vial contained sophoria."

Sophoria was a common enough plant extract that was often used to treat severe and persistent headaches. They would have to look into the advisor's health, but Kila was certain they would find that Stowley had suffered from headaches and had been advised by his personal Healer to use sophoria to relieve his symptoms.

That does nothing to support murder suspicions, but, then, poisoning the man with a drug he was known to have used would also be a clever way to cover up the crime.

"Thank you, Maxim," the chief said. He grunted and didn't bother hiding his yawn. "Go home and get some sleep."

Krozemund waved a hand at them as he disappeared into his office, and the chief led them to the stairs.

"We'd best get to the enclave," she said. "We can wrap this up by this afternoon, leave the House in peace."

"The Elders will appreciate that," Burl said.

"Terrible business," the chief commented.

They didn't say anything more as they took a carriage to the enclave. Burl appeared satisfied with the information they'd received. Kila couldn't tell how the chief felt about it, but she hadn't tried anything even as small as catching his eye, so she was either satisfied that this was a suicide or she was keeping her doubts to herself.

A gray drizzle had descended on the city, as if even the skies were mourning Toran Stowley's passing. For all Kila knew, they were. "Borne in by the waters and borne out by the waters," was a famous Seafarer expression, and perhaps the only people whose faith for the Lord of Water was as devout as that of the Seafarers' was the Agromancers'. Both groups lived, died, prospered, or failed at the whim of Cearus, so it was not inconceivable that Cearus himself might be mourning the passing of one of his most faithful.

The cobbles were slick with rain, and it was slow going through the streets. They reached the enclave without incident, and the stone façades that had struck Kila with their gracious beauty the day before were now rendered somber. Rain was no deterrent to House Staerleigh, a good number of whose members spent most of their time in some degree of dampness, so the weather alone wouldn't have kept them indoors. Judging by the drawn curtains, the empty streets, and the strange quiet of the enclave, it would seem that word was already out.

They arrived at the Stowley manor and were admitted by a butler. Several people sat in the drawing room, the widow amongst them, but Captain Stowley was nowhere in sight.

"Chief Flim, Officers," Moiria said. She appeared more composed and alert than she had the previous night, though her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, her face and lips colorless. She wore a green gown so dark it was almost black, without any adornment, making the pallor of her skin stand out in stark relief. Her hair was in a severe knot, pulled so tightly against her head that it tugged at the skin of her temples.

"Might we speak in private?" the chief asked her.

Moiria nodded and excused herself from the others in the sitting room, leading them deeper into the house, into a small library.

"I appreciate your discretion," she said as she closed the doors behind them. "They're all members of my family and Toran's, but I should prefer to break the news to them myself."

The chief nodded. Hearing about a loved one's suicide from a family member or friend was difficult enough, let alone hearing it from an Enforcer.

"We're sorry to trouble you," the chief said. "We need to ask you a few more questions so we can complete our report. The inquiry will be closed later this afternoon, your husband's death having been definitively ruled a suicide."

Moiria's composure rippled, her face crumbling. "How am I to feel about such news? Is it possible to be relieved that a loved one died by their own hand rather than by that of another?"

"I wish I could answer that for you, Advisor Stowley," the chief said gently.

"Advisor, did your husband have any illnesses or other chronic conditions?" Burl asked.

"He began suffering from headaches a few years back. His Healer said they were brought on by stress and overwork, and that there was nothing physically wrong with him. She suggested he use sophoria to ease the effects whenever he found the headaches debilitating. Our Apothecist made the powder for him. I know that's what he took to— I recognized the vial."

"We're very sorry," Burl said.

Taking a shuddering breath, Moiria nodded. "I hope he finds in Cearus's embrace the peace he sought. Will my husband's remains be returned to us soon, so that we might bury him?"

"I've made arrangements for him to be returned in a few hours' time," the chief said.

"Thank you."

"Please give our condolences to Captain Stowley as well," Burl said.

"Thank you, I shall," Moiria said, with a tremulous smile. "I'm afraid he's indisposed at the moment."

"We shan't trouble you further," the chief said.

"I'll show you out."

Back in the carriage, the chief said, "Burl, I won't assign you and an Movis any new cases for the next few days, in case House Staerleigh should have need of you."

"Yes, Chief," Burl said, nodding.

The chief left them at the station doors, and Kila trailed Burl back to their desks. "Anything in particular you need me to do?" he asked her.

"No. I'll handle the report. You should take the time to continue to familiarize yourself with House Staerleigh and our current cases."

Summarily dismissed. Burl's wanting to handle the report didn't surprise him. No doubt she would see to it that the wording was done so delicately as not to offend House Staerleigh in any way. Still, he would have to make a point to get his hands on it, to go over everything in minute detail, try to determine if anything stood out.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Kila remained at his desk after Burl left, scheming to devise a way he might get hold of the report without Burl's hearing about it. Try as he might, he came up with nothing and reluctantly left an hour later.

Turned out he needn't have bothered. He was about to head down his street when someone hissed at him from an alleyway. Glancing about to ensure no one was watching, he slipped into its shadows.

"Chief Flim," he said, surprised. He'd expected to see Miss Wyland.

"The report on Stowley's suicide," the chief said, handing him a leather pouch speckled with rain.

"Any reason I should be suspicious?"

"Not as far as I can tell," she said, frowning. "Keep your eyes open, though, Kila. Things will be shifting in Staerleigh, and until we see where the pieces fall, we won't have much to go on. Stay as close to Burl as you can."

"Will do. Anything else I ought to be aware of?"