A Little Knowledge (13 page)

“Marie, it smells dreadful,” he said without looking up. “Have you found something…”

He stopped when he saw that it wasn’t the maid.

“Oh…dear…” he muttered, stepping away from the bag as if that could somehow distance himself from the crime, too.

Voices in the hallway pulled his eyes from Max to the door. “I insist,” a male voice, rather effete, rose above the butler’s protestations. Max recognised the Master of Ceremonies before he saw him, having spied on his conversation with Ekstrand weeks before the Sorcerer died.

“Oh dear, dear me.” Oliver took out a handkerchief and tried to wipe away the sweat on his face before Lavandula entered in a burst of perfume, powder, and pale blue silk.

“Oliver, my dear boy, I do hope I’m not interrupting something? Ah! Maximilian, of the Bath Chapter, a delight to see you again my dear chap, it’s been
an age.
”

Oliver bowed deeply, his eyes flitting between the most powerful man in Aquae Sulis and the large leather bag. “I…perhaps this isn’t…I don’t wish to be rude, but…”

“I just happened to be passing when my driver spotted Maximilian heading towards the house. I say, shouldn’t someone be doing something with that child, wherever it is? It is rather noisy.”

“The maid is getting something for it,” Oliver stammered. “Perhaps we could retire to the drawing room to…” He trailed off as Max headed towards the bag and looked inside.

The smell was pungent and the baby was red in the face but otherwise unharmed. Max turned to Oliver.

“You’re in possession of an illegally acquired child, an innocent you kidnapped from Royal Victoria Park less than one hour ago. Oliver Mascula-Peonia, in accordance with the Split Worlds Treaty and with the sanction of the Sorcerer Guardian of the Kingdom of Wessex, I’m taking you into custody.” He thought it best to keep his arrest speech the same as it always had been. If he said anything different, they’d know something had happened to Ekstrand.

Oliver’s flushed face suddenly took on a greenish tinge and he slapped his hand over his mouth.

“Maximilian,” Lavandula began in a voice normally reserved for those with emotions to sway. “I’m sure there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. Oliver is a good boy and there must be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Isn’t that so, Oliver?”

Oliver nodded and belched into his hand, now very pale.

“I have ample evidence to present to his Patroon and will press for his expulsion from Nether Society,” Max said.

“Oliver is a close friend of the Duke of Londinium.”

“That makes no difference to his guilt.”

“And the Duchess of Londinium is my favourite niece,” Lavandula continued. “It would be rather uncomfortable for me to have to explain that I didn’t intervene.”

“You don’t have the right to intervene, or to interfere,” Max said. “The Peonia has violated the terms of the Treaty and will be punished accordingly.”

The Peonia darted over to a large vase in the corner and vomited into it. Lavandula slipped a lace handkerchief from an inside pocket of his jacket and held it over his nose. “Perhaps it would be better to discuss this somewhere quieter that doesn’t contain anything…recently expelled.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” Max took two steps towards Oliver before the young man vomited again.

“Look at the boy. Does this suggest a cold, calculating individual, capable of kidnapping? Or does his reaction speak of someone who has been terribly manipulated?”

“Irrelevant.”

Lavandula touched his arm though Max had no idea why—the Master of Ceremonies would know that he was immune to Charms, thanks to his dislocated soul. “You said you’re here with the sanction of the Sorcerer Guardian of Wessex. Ekkie and I have been friends for a long time and I need to speak with you about him.”

The maid entered after a brief knock on the door, carrying a bowl of water and some towels. “I’ve come to change the baby’s nappy,” she said with a timid glance that flickered across the three of them. She settled upon looking to Lavandula for permission to continue, who nodded to her.

“Now, you’ll surely want to take a clean, quiet baby away with you, so why not step outside with me whilst it’s seen to?” Lavandula continued. “Oliver gives his word that he and the baby won’t go anywhere, don’t you, dear boy?”

“Yes,” Oliver croaked. “I give my word.”

The mention of Ekstrand was a potential problem, so Max acquiesced. He also wanted to determine whether Lavandula was the one who put Oliver up to stealing the child. If the Peonia was desperate enough to attempt escape the gargoyle would warn him.

The staff cleared the hallway as the door was opened and Max knew they’d all been listening in. Lavandula suspected the same and steered him towards a drawing room.

“You may not know this,” he said once they were in private once more. “I have no idea what he chooses to share with you—but Ekkie and I have had a special understanding for quite some time now. We usually take tea together twice a month, always on a Monday, and should we need to inform each other of anything out of the ordinary we write to each other.” Lavandula took a step closer and lowered his voice even further. “Ekkie didn’t keep our last appointment and the Way he created so that I may visit him discreetly has been closed for over a fortnight. I’ve sent three letters enquiring about his health and have received no reply. We have taken tea together for over two hundred years and he has never missed an appointment in all that time.”

Max considered potential responses. Telling Lavandula that the Sorcerer of Wessex was murdered would solve the problem of his curiosity, but would lead to too many new questions. He’d want to know who the replacement was and Rupert had made it very clear that he wanted to keep a low profile; otherwise, the Sorceress would probably come after him again. If Lavandula had any hint that things were in flux, without a reliable Bath Chapter, the innocents of Bath would be at terrible risk. Kidnappings would be just the start. If word got out that there was no one to hold them accountable to the Treaty, the parasites might even tell their patrons it was worth the risk to enter Mundanus via the Nether. Max, not the most imaginative of men, could only assume it would be chaos.

“Naturally I’m rather concerned about my sorcerous friend,” Lavandula continued. “If he is unwell I should dearly like to send a note, perhaps a gift—not that he would accept it, but the thought would be there. If he is going to be away for a prolonged period of time then we need to make alternative arrangements. I’m disappointed he didn’t feel the need to write to me before, if truth be told.”

Max didn’t want to be the one to make the policy decision on the fly. “I will pass on your message,” he said. It wasn’t a lie; he would just be passing the message on to another Sorcerer.

“I look forward to hearing from him soon. Now, regarding the Peonia boy. His family have fallen on hard times recently. Their standing in Aquae Sulis has suffered since the Rosa debacle, despite my nephew-in-law’s best efforts to protect them that night. Even though my sister publicly absolved them of guilt, they’ve been overlooked on many an invitation.” He leaned in close, conspiratorially holding the lace handkerchief to one side, as if they were standing together at the edge of a ballroom. “I understand the father has taken to drinking too much and the elder brother has washed his hands of them all. Doubtless Oliver acted out of desperation, perhaps hoping to elicit help directly from his patron if he brought her a gift.”

“The motive is irrelevant,” Max said. “He contravened the Treaty.”

“But minor contraventions happen all over Albion, and I’m sure that there are a few that are overlooked in favour of maintaining good relationships in the long term. If Ekkie were here he would agree with me. The baby can be returned and no further harm need be done. I will personally ensure that Oliver doesn’t do anything in Mundanus that would contravene anything other than the laws of fashion and you can escape the bother of taking him to the Patroon—who is a terribly boring man—and be home in time for dinner. I’m sure you can appreciate that as the Master of Ceremonies I have a great capacity for discretion. Not a soul would know.”

“I don’t share your interpretation of the Treaty, Mr Angustifolia-Lavandula. Harm has already been done, and your discretion doesn’t change the fact that the Peonia has committed a crime.”

“But it makes no sense! If you won’t show mercy to the boy, then please, as a gesture of goodwill and in acknowledgement of the good relations between myself and Ekkie, won’t you allow me just a few minutes—in your presence—with the boy to uncover who pressured him into this act?” When Max didn’t immediately reply, Lavandula took a step closer. “Surely it is in your interests that I be informed about the villains in our midst? You won’t be able to convict them with only the Peonia boy’s word against them. Allow me to learn their identity so that I may be able to keep a close eye on their behaviour henceforth. I’m sure Ekkie would be so relieved to hear you and I are helping each other to keep the mundanes safe.”

Max suspected Lavandula had another agenda—probably more than one—but he was right; if someone else was using the Peonia, it would be hard to get enough evidence to present to the relevant Patroon without help. With Cathy living in Londinium, he no longer had an Aquae Sulis resident to help him.

“We’ll speak to him first,” Max agreed. “Together.”

Lavandula left with a smile on his face, used to being the man everyone else in the room followed, and went back to the one in which they’d left Oliver Peonia. The maid was holding the baby now, rocking it to sleep in a clean makeshift towel nappy. The original and the vase with its malodorous contents had both been removed from the room. The Peonia was sitting at the dining room table, head in his hands, a glass of water next to him. When he looked up to see Max and Lavandula coming back in, he stood, still deathly pale.

“Now sit down, dear boy, and have some more water.” Lavandula looked at the maid. “Perhaps we could have tea?” She bobbed a curtsy and left with the baby. “The Arbiter and I have had a conversation, and we just have a few questions to ask you.”

Oliver sat down again, trembling. “Am I going to be thrown out of Society?”

“It depends upon what you tell us now,” Lavandula said.

Max pulled out a chair and sat down on Oliver’s left, Lavandula taking the seat to Oliver’s right. “It actually depends on my judgement, and as things stand you will be expelled from Society before the day is out.”

“I wasn’t going to keep him.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Max said. “You were planning to take the baby to your patron?”

“No. I was going to take him back to his mother. She won’t even notice he’s gone. She’s still at the park and thinks everything is fine.”

“So you admit you cast a Charm on an innocent in Mundanus.”

Oliver bit his lip and then nodded, too ashamed to look at either of them.

“But whatever possessed you, dear boy?” Lavandula asked. “Your family behaves impeccably, when they’re not being manipulated by those filthy Roses.”

“I…” His voice trailed off, his cheeks blazing red.

“Why take a child only to return it to the mother?” Max asked. “Did you plan to do something to it?”

“No!” Oliver seemed genuinely horrified. “I only had to prove I’d done it, and then I could take him back!”

“Who would require that proof?” Max asked.

Oliver looked down at his hands and then jumped when the tea was brought in.

“If you say nothing you cannot improve your situation,” Lavandula said once the servant had left. “It cannot get any worse. Better to tell us, dear boy. If you’re truthful, I may feel moved to defend you when you face your patroon.”

Oliver looked at him with shining eyes. “Would you really? Gosh, that would be so terribly decent of you.”

“Well, I have been known to be terribly decent from time to time.” Lavandula smiled. “I’ll be mother, shall I?” he said, waving a hand at the tea. He poured milk into three cups as Max stared at Oliver. As Lavandula tended to the teapot, Oliver seemed to come to some sort of decision.

“It’s part of an initiation,” he said finally. “I’m so dreadfully ashamed. Things have been rather difficult of late, what with the Rosas and mother being made ill with the shame of it, and father hasn’t been himself either. I set up some rather interesting investments in India whilst I was on the Grand Tour, and I got a letter last week informing me that the Prince of Rajkot has revoked all of my trade rights, effective immediately. My elder brother is in Jorvic and refuses to help, and I confess I was desperate for a change in fortune.” He accepted the tea offered to him and the cup rattled in its saucer. “Then two days ago I received a letter. It said that as a second son, I was invited to join a secret society, one established to help those of us often overlooked.”

Lavandula’s eyebrows shot so high the powder on his forehead creased. “A secret society for second sons? I’ve never heard of this.”

“Well…it’s a secret,” Oliver said.

“But I make it my business to know all the important secrets,” Lavandula replied. “This one has thus far eluded me. It must be newly established.”

“I beg your pardon, your Grace, but the letter said they’ve been established for over four hundred years. Of course,” Oliver added at Lavandula’s pursed lips, “it may be a lie.”

“This secret society told you to steal a baby?” Max asked.

“Not straight away. It said that if I was interested in knowing more, I had to leave a peony petal in my top hat when I went to the assembly rooms for cards. I did, thinking I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I thought, seeing as the reason for the invitation was simply the matter of my birth, I couldn’t possibly get it wrong.”

“Do you have the original letter?” Max asked.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr Arbiter, but the ink slipped off the page as soon as I read it. Dashed Secrecy Charm or some such.” Oliver frowned into his teacup.

“I take it you left the petal in your hat,” Lavandula prompted.

“I did, your Grace, and I played the most appalling cards all evening, I was so nervous. When I retrieved my hat at the end of the evening there was a note tucked inside the inner band. It said that only the most…” he looked up as he struggled to remember the wording, “…committed, trustworthy, courageous, and discreet of individuals are permitted to join the Second Sons. I must confess, I was rather disappointed. I’m trustworthy and I try my best to be discreet, but I wouldn’t dare call myself courageous. I’m not the likes of Will—I mean, his Grace the Duke of Londinium—and I couldn’t say that I’m committed, as I’ve never had cause to discover such a quality within myself.” He set the teacup and saucer down on the table, clasping his hands together over his knees. “The letter detailed three ways in which I could demonstrate some of the qualities required to gain an invitation to an initiation. I don’t recall the third, but the first was the…procurement of an item of lady’s underwear.” His cheeks flushed and his eyes darted to the Master of Ceremonies. “A specific lady’s item of underwear.”