A Little Taste of Poison (19 page)

“Fine,” he said flatly. “No more questions.”

*  *  *

“She might as well have threatened me,” Esmond told Isaveth the next afternoon. “No, what am I saying? She
did
threaten me.”

They were standing just inside the bell tower, chill seeping through the stones around them. Isaveth cast a longing glance at the landing, but Esmond, still warm in his woolen greatcoat and striped Tarreton-blue-and-white scarf, didn't notice. He thumped the banister irritably as he went on. “As if it wasn't enough for Eryx to own half the servants already, now he's got my sister protecting him as well.”

“Do you think she knows you're still investigating?”

“Well, if she does, she can't prove it. I haven't questioned anyone in the house since . . . but then, I didn't need to.” He pulled a list from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are all the people the servants saw going in or out of the gaming room that night.”

The list was longer than Isaveth had expected, but that wasn't all that surprised her. “J. J. Wregget?”

“Wregget's wife is a friend of my mother's, so they stopped by to greet him. They left the door open, and
the maid heard everything they said—nothing suspicious there.”

That was a relief. It would be horrible to think that Wregget might only have offered Isaveth a scholarship because he was secretly working for Eryx. “Eagle mask,” she read. “Wasn't that Eulalie's father?”

“Ah. I thought it might be.” Esmond pulled a stub of lead-point from his pocket and scribbled the name out. “Never mind.”

Isaveth didn't have to ask why. Deputy Fairpont was still an outsider and a relative newcomer, with a strong reputation for integrity. He might have come to report to Lord Arvis, but surely not to murder him. “Wolf couple?” she asked.

“One of the maids saw a man and a woman going to visit him halfway through the evening. She couldn't describe their faces because of the masks, but the man was slim and dark-haired and the woman was fair.”

Perhaps theirs were the voices Isaveth had heard on her way to the garden. And if it was the same couple she'd seen with Eryx later, they hadn't been too pleased with how the conversation turned out. Yet they hadn't been the only ones to visit Lord Arvis before his attack. . . .

“Delicia Ghataj? What was she doing there?”

“I don't know, but according to the maid Father sent
to fetch her, she didn't stay long.” His expression turned pensive. “I wonder what he said to her. I danced with her after she got back, and I could tell she wasn't happy.”

Isaveth could have slapped herself. She'd forgotten to tell him. “I have an idea,” she said, and went on to relate the argument she'd overheard between Civilla and Eryx in the conservatory.

“So that's why you asked me about charm-swearing,” remarked Esmond. “Well, it's nice to know Cilla can stand up to Eryx when she wants to.” He made a face. “She just won't do it for me, apparently.”

Isaveth had no answer for that. It seemed impossible that two people raised in the same house could be such strangers to one another, but perhaps that was what happened when you lived in a mansion instead of a cottage.

“Do you think it's important, though?” she asked. “After all that fuss Eryx made over Delicia, it seems odd he'd give her up so easily. Unless he already knew your father didn't approve.”

“Or she'd already served her purpose. You don't see Eryx's name anywhere on that list, do you? Of course not: He'd want to keep his distance from the actual murder to avoid suspicion. Just like he did with Master Orien.”

The thought of Eryx wooing Delicia to poison the
Sagelord for him, only to abandon her as soon as the deed was done, made Isaveth feel queasy. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and gave a reluctant nod.

“It's all guesswork at the moment, though,” Esmond said. “I'm still waiting for those test results. In the meantime—” He clapped his gloved hands together. “We have some charms to make.”

Isaveth cast a dubious glance around the tower, and Esmond laughed—the first real laugh she had heard from him in a long time. “Not here! I mean in the charmery. I'll go and get everything ready, you wait a bit and follow. I'm sure the way's clear by now.”

True, they'd stood here long enough that most of the other students had left the grounds, and many of the masters would be on their way home as well. But if anyone spotted the two of them, separately or together . . .

Esmond backed toward the door, tossing his scarf over his shoulder. “Come on. It'll be an adventure.”

There was a feral gleam in his eye; all at once he looked more like Quiz the street-boy than the Sagelord's youngest son. Isaveth relaxed, and smiled.

“All right,” she said.

*  *  *

Isaveth waited in the bell tower, rubbing her arms and pacing, until she felt sure Esmond had reached the
charmery. Then she pulled her scarf up over her nose and slipped out after him.

Crossing the main drive and running down the steps to the valley made her feel horribly exposed, especially when she passed the Sporting Center and heard the thumps and squeaks of a ring-ball game echoing inside. But the doors stayed shut, so Isaveth pressed on.

When she reached the charmery, she found the front door locked. A quick scout around the building led her to a smaller entrance on the workshop side, where Esmond was waiting for her.

“I suppose you stole the key to this place too?” she asked, squeezing by as he held the door open. The doorway was narrow, and his breath stirred her hair as she passed. “Or did you pick the lock this time?”

“Neither. Master Orien gave me a key, back when he . . . when I was helping him.”

His voice wavered at the end of the sentence, and Isaveth was abruptly reminded what a dear friend Orien had been to Esmond. No wonder he found it so easy to believe that Eryx had poisoned their father, when he'd spent a lifetime watching his brother destroy everything he loved.

“Anyway,” Esmond went on, “I took a look at Eryx's sportster last night. He's got a warding-charm and a
sealing-charm on it, and probably another one of each on the case itself.” His mouth quirked ruefully. “It's under the passenger seat, by the way. The night Eryx drove you home, you were sitting on it.”

The irony of that, after he'd caught her and Esmond in his study searching for those very documents, must have kept Eryx amused for weeks. Isaveth entertained a brief fantasy of her younger self pulling the case out from under the seat and bashing the Lording over the head with it as she took off her hat and coat.

“A warding-charm and a sealing-charm,” she repeated. “So I need to find a spell that will counter both.”

“That's right. And if we make three or four of each kind of charm, you'll have plenty to practice on.” Esmond led her to the table where he'd laid out their ingredients, along with an assortment of tools and a heavy leather-bound book titled
A Master's Compendium of Sagery, Vol. III.

“Right, then,” Esmond continued, rolling up his shirt-sleeves. “We'll start with Sage Armus's Ward, then, since that's the one you set off when you touched the carriage.” He flicked the burner alight and handed Isaveth a pair of gloves to put on. “First you lay two strips of charm-silver crosswise, and twist the ends like this . . .”

Isaveth tweezed the strips into the earthenware bowl
and nudged them into position as Esmond propped the book up for her so she could read the instructions. One by one he passed her the ingredients she needed, explaining what the unfamiliar liquids were and how to dispense them, and showing her how to use a few tools she had never seen before.

“This is a tricky bit.” He stepped behind her, so close she could feel his warmth against her spine. “Do you mind if I help? Because if the timing isn't perfect we'll have to start over.” He reached around Isaveth and pinched a fleck of red jasper in the tweezers with one hand, then folded his other around the dropper she held in her right. “Steady . . . the stone goes first . . . wait for the flash . . . now!”

Heart galloping, Isaveth squeezed the bulb of the dropper. A hiss went up as the liquid touched the stone, and a thin, rising wail rang out before dying away. Giving her a quick squeeze of triumph, Esmond stepped aside as Isaveth tipped the charm out onto the anvil and folded the ends shut to make the spell complete.

“Brilliant,” Esmond pronounced, when he'd inspected it with his charm-glass. “Couldn't have done it better.”

Little tingles were still running up Isaveth's back. She had to flex her hands to stop them from trembling. “That wasn't too hard.”

“Not if you've
got the knack for it,” said Esmond, leaning both elbows on the table and grinning up at her. “Good thing you do.”

Isaveth drew a slow breath, willing her pulse to calm. “What next?”

“I'll let you make another one,” said Esmond, pulling a second burner toward him, “while I whip up a couple of sealing-charms.” He flicked three strips of charm-silver into his bowl and bent to work.

Now that she'd gotten over her initial nervousness, Isaveth found she liked making magic with Esmond. Even though they were both concentrating too hard to talk, there was something companionable about it. Isaveth tweaked and twisted, layering the charm-silver with the other ingredients until she was ready to perform the maneuver Esmond had shown her. Stone first, flash, then the drop of liquid—yes!

Absorbed in their spell-crafting, neither of them heard the door to the workroom open. Not until a foot tapped pointedly behind them did Isaveth realize that they were not alone. Heart plummeting, she spun around to find Spellmistress Anandri standing behind her.

“So,” she said. Her cool gaze flicked to Esmond, then back to Isaveth. “This is unfortunate. Miss Breck, come with me.”

D
RY-MOUTHED WITH APPREHENSION
, Isaveth followed Mistress Anandri into the adjoining classroom. The spellmistress shut the door, then asked, “Did Mistress Corto give you permission to come here?”

There was no use lying: It would be all too easy for the woman to check her story. “No, Mistress,” said Isaveth miserably.

“Does she know that Esmond Lilord has been tutoring you in Sagery?”

Isaveth shook her head.

Mistress Anandri's face hardened. “Then why would you do such a foolish, reckless thing? Do you realize that working in the charmery after school without a master present is grounds for expulsion?”

Isaveth's stomach felt like it was being squeezed through a wringer. She fumbled for a chair and sank into it.

“Esmond
may be safe from the consequences of his actions, but you are not. However eager you may be to learn Sagery, Miss Breck, and no matter how willing he might be to help you, there is no excuse for doing what you have done. Do you understand me?”

So it was over. She had risked everything, and what did she have to show for it? Nothing but the four meager test charms she'd scraped into her pocket and the brief warmth of Esmond's touch on her hand—a reassurance that meant nothing, now. Had he really believed she could walk away from this just because he could? She should have known better than to trust her safety to a noble, however charming or well-intentioned; she should have realized she couldn't be friends with Esmond without paying a bitter price for it.

“Yes, Mistress,” she whispered.

“Good,” said Mistress Anandri. “Then you will not do it again.” She pulled out the chair behind Mistress Corto's desk and sat down, adding in a milder tone, “Thank the All-One that I was the first master Meggery found when she came to report you. If it had been anyone else, you would be explaining yourself to the governor right now.”

Isaveth's heart skipped a beat. “Mistress?” she said uncertainly.

“Meggery saw you coming out of the bell tower.” The woman's
dark eyes met hers, grave but no longer angry. “Still, that is a minor offense compared to being caught in the charmery, and no reason to expel you. I told Meggery I would make sure you received a proper punishment, and I will. Do not be so careless again.”

Faint with relief, Isaveth slumped in her seat. “I thought you hated me,” she said—and then it hit her. “You just thanked . . . you're
Moshite
?”

“Privately, yes,” said Mistress Anandri. “I have been for several years.” Her dark brows crooked together. “What made you think I hated you?”

“Because you were so cold to me when I was in your class. I thought—” Isaveth rubbed a hand across her face. “I thought I must have done something to offend you.”

“Ah, yes.” The spellmistress sounded pensive. “I can see how that must have appeared. But it was not you I was angry with that day. You should have been in Mistress Corto's class from the start, but your schedule was altered. Someone hoped to stop you from learning Sagery.”

“They can't have hoped very hard, though. They must have known you'd spot the mistake.”

“And that,” said Mistress Anandri, “was the other reason I had to be cautious. I had already explained to the other masters that a mutual acquaintance had spoken highly of your skill at Common Magic, and that I had
seen enough proof to think you worth mentioning to Mister Wregget. But that was as much partiality as I could give you.”

She did not explain further, but Isaveth understood. If she showed too much warmth to Isaveth in front of the other students, it could be dangerous for both of them. Especially once it came out that Isaveth was Moshite.

“By rights, I ought to report this to Governor Buldage,” the older woman mused. “Especially since it was Meggery who spotted you coming here. If I say nothing, I put my own position in jeopardy.”

Isaveth's breath caught.