Fly Up into the Night Air (18 page)

* * *

Harte went from his father's office to the library, where a set of bound volumes was kept which documented the Kingdom of Newater's legal cases. He wanted to check on the precedents regarding indirect testimony. He worked there until late in the afternoon, reading and making notes until the setting sun turned the sky from white, to copper, to gray. Eventually, with his stomach threatening to digest itself, he gathered his books and papers and made his way to the side door that led from the library into a small garden used by advocates and judges between sessions. The garden was bordered by a hedge of buckthorn, but a gap permitted those familiar with the place to pass onto the street. It was dark in between the shrubs. Harte had to feel his way forward with one hand while he clutched his books and portfolio to his chest with the other.

When he stepped out onto the street, someone voiced a command. "Hold him." Hands grabbed his arms from either side and wrenched them back. His books and portfolio fell to the ground. A figure loomed in front. "You are a traitor to your class! Drop this case or you'll regret it." Before Harte could respond, the he was punched hard in the stomach. He bent over gasping only to receive a knee in the chin. "Take the portfolio." Harte collapsed to the ground, woozy from the strike on the chin and clutching his stomach. There he received another kick to the gut.

He stayed on the ground for some minutes after his assailants left, trying to regain his breath. Finally, he was able to unbend enough to gather his books and limp home.

Peli's Dreams

"You're lucky they didn't do worse," Griff said, watching Harte bend carefully to sit down at the table.

"It's bad enough, Griff. My belly will recover, but they have my case notes. Whoever knew to wait for me at that place will know what to do with them."

"Why didn't you send for me last night?"

"There was no point. I couldn't see anything. Whomever it was that gave the orders, it wasn't Brin or any of the men we've interviewed. I would have recognized their voices."

Harte contemplated the eggs and toast before him and wondered whether he could keep anything down. He looked up to discover Theo showing Peli into the solar. While less ragged than during his days on Dock Street, Peli was still an unusual sight at Walford House. Harte wondered how he had persuaded Theo to let him in. "Hello, Peli, have you come to beg breakfast, like our friend, Griff?"

"I'm no beggar."

"Oh dear! I'm sorry. Of course you are not. But you are welcome to join us, if you're hungry. You see, Griff does not hesitate. That is his third muffin."

"Does Sister Grace know you are out and about?" asked Griff.

"She's not my mother."

"No, she is not," said Harte. "Come, help yourself! I cannot eat while you fidget. Griff has come to tell me about the search of Greer House. Can your business wait until I have heard from him? He must be off to Watch House, shortly."

"I suppose," granted Peli.

"Thank you. Griff?"

Griff looked at Peli and raised his eyebrows. Harte nodded impatiently. "We did not find the cloak. Nor anything else of interest, really. We did take Mr. Greer's boots to examine--all of them." He grinned. "It will make any illegal expeditions outside his house that much more uncomfortable."

"Careful you do not exceed your authority. I have a higher power to whom I must answer," Harte said, nodding to the stairs leading up to his father's rooms. "I cannot say I am surprised you found nothing. It was unlikely he would have kept the cloak this far into the game."

"There was one little thing."

"You see, Peli, he toys with me even as I feed him." Harte turned his grin towards Peli and was startled to see the boy flinch.

Griff continued. "It seems that Brin did attempt to throw away the cloak during week of the beating, but it was retrieved by the housekeeper and placed in the old clothes hamper. A maid was dismissed in that same week. She left to return to her family in the country. As is the custom, she was allowed her choice of old clothing from the hamper--as severance. The housekeeper says that she might have taken the cloak, for it was gone when she checked the hamper for clothes to sell at market." He paused, glancing at Peli. "The servants were tight lipped about the reason for the maid's dismissal. However, I got the distinct impression she might have been with child. It would help explain why Brin is not well liked by the servants within that house."

"And why the servants are more forthcoming than they ought to be," said Harte, looking at the small silver bell that sat next to his tea pot. "It seems you must make a trip to the country, Griff."

"My saddlebags are already packed. I require only a horse."

Harte closed his eyes. "If I lend you one, you will feed it, won't you?"

"I'm sure my expense money will cover the cost adequately."

Harte sighed, dramatically. "Keep Peli company for a moment." He got slowly to his feet and went to speak to his family's head groom.

* * *

Harte rejoined Griff and Peli in time to hear Peli ask, "What did Harte's father look like when he asked to search Greer House?"

"Like he'd just found a turd on his boot," was Griff's laconic response.

"It's done. You may take Belle. She is steady in the snow." Harte handed Griff a small purse. "I expect her ribs to be well padded when you return."

Griff presented a formal salute and marched out whistling a well known gambling tune.

"See, Peli, what I am forced to deal with?" Harte could not suppress his fierce humor. If they were willing to threaten him, it was because they were afraid. "Thank you for waiting. How are things at the hospital?"

Peli shrugged. "All right, I guess."

Harte made an encouraging sound.

"I want to help you."

"Help me? I'm not quite sure I--"

"To put Brin Greer in gaol. There must be something I can do. You see, I swore an oath, when I heard Raf died."

Harte wondered again at the nature of Peli's relationship with Raf. "Perhaps it's my peculiar experience, but I'm inclined to view that kind of oath as something of a double-edged sword--as likely to leave you bleeding as your, ah, adversary. But I suppose that's moot."

"What do you mean, moot?"

"Water under the bridge." Harte examined Peli's narrow, spotted face and found his own determination echoed there. "So be it. You have sworn, so I suppose I shall have to find some way for you to help."

"Good." Peli's thin shoulders dropped a fraction.

"While I think about that, how did you sleep last night?"

Peli's gaze dropped, and he appeared to be memorizing the pattern in the floor tile. "Fine."

"You dreamt again, I gather. Come now. You need not be ashamed. Was it very interesting?"

"I don't like dreaming."

Harte waited.

"I couldn't breathe! I was choking. Sister Grace came to wake me, because I was making too much noise. Then I dreamt I was--" He made a motion with his hand. "Only I wasn't!"

"Oh my," said Harte mildly, keeping his face grave. "I have an idea. We need to visit the hospital to tell Sister Grace that you haven't been carried off by a vengeful bear. While we're there, I think we should ask if anyone was having trouble breathing last night."

* * *

The worn face of the Sisters of Mercy Hospital looked almost cheery in its coat of white snow as Harte and Peli make their way towards the entrance. But when they reached the lobby, a lone sister whom Harte had never met was halfheartedly sweeping the flagstones, in between frequent glances towards the back of the building. It was not hard to determine the reason for her distraction. A series of thin, howling cries echoed in the quiet building. As Peli and Harte hesitated, the cries seemed to come more frequently.

"Oh dear. You must think something awful is happening," said the sister. "It's not what it sounds like. Of course, if it were
that
it wouldn't be so terrible. Or at least I don't think it would be. I have no experience of such things. But its just that it sounds so painful. Even though it's perfectly natural. Sister Grace says--"

"Excuse me, Sister. Sorry to interrupt, but what exactly is going on back there?"

"I don't know, exactly, but Sister Grace says it's perfectly normal--"

"Normal? It sounds like a someone's having a baby."

"Well yes! Of course it does. But someone isn't quite the right word, I don't think--"

"Sister! Who is having a baby?"

"Well no one, really."

Harte's looked at Peli to see if he was finding this any more comprehensible. Unaccountably, the boy seemed quite unconcerned. "But why then--"

"If you would stop interrupting me, sir, I would tell you."

Harte took a long breath. "I crave your indulgence."

"It's the cat, you see. She's having kittens. We were really quite worried about her, because she wouldn't come out of the supply closet. Then she started that awful howling ..." She trailed off, probably because her audience was rapidly disappearing down the corridor.

"Peli, who was that woman?"

"That's Sister Gertrude. She's all right. She just gets muddled, when she's nervous. She's very fond of the cat, you see."

"I imagine Sister Grace set her to sweeping the lobby in order to get her out of her hair."

Peli grinned at Harte. "I expect so."

They reached a door at end of the hall. "Should we go in?"

"How bad could it be?" Peli opened the door. Ahead, steps led up to the second floor. To one side, there was a small closet door. Clustered around the opening were three sisters: Grace, Magda, and another, unknown to Harte. Sister Grace was on her knees, pushing a reed basket filled with rags into the closet. "Here kitty, kitty! I've a warm basket for you. Here kitty!" The only response from the closet was a loud howl. The unknown sister carried a bowl of milk, which she tried to put down in the closet just as Harte shut the hall door behind him. She started, dropped the bowl and kicked it into the closet. Sister Grace, trying to avoid the flying bowl and spilled milk, stood up suddenly and stepped backwards, hitting her head sharply on the angled door frame. "Crap!"

"Sister?" Harte said, astonished. The unseen cat howled.

"You have exquisite timing, Mr. Walford," said Sister Magda.

"Perhaps we should wait in your office, Sister Grace."

Sister Grace recovered quickly and closed the closet door. "Sister Magda, would you please check on the cat--" She paused while the cat howled again. "--in about a quarter bell? She appears inclined to solitude at the moment. We can restore the closet later. Sister Alma, please return to your ward. Mr. Walford, I see you have returned our missing Peli. Could I perhaps interest you in a cup of tea?" She jerked her wimple straight, as she led the way back to her office.

Settling down with a cup of tea, Sister Grace permitted herself a small sigh. "Now, what brings you here in the middle of the day, Mr. Walford?"

Harte resisted the temptation to smile. "I'm sorry to disturb you in the midst of--"

"Never mind." Sister Grace made a gesture that seemed to sweep all petty concerns aside. "I must complement you on your performance in the hearing. You struck a blow for justice."

"It was more a gentle tap on the doors of power. We shall have to see whether they open."

"When will you argue the case?"

"The clerk of court has not scheduled the case yet. Typically, it would be within four weeks of the preliminary hearing, but--"

"You did not come here to discuss the case."

Harte marveled at the woman's sensitivity. "No. Peli and I are exploring possible causes for his sleeping trouble. I wonder if you might help us to answer a question: was any patient having difficulty breathing last night?"

"There were two or three who were ill enough to cause respiratory distress. I would have to ask the ward nurses to find out if any were having particular difficulty."

"Would you do that for us?" Harte asked.

"I am inclined to ask the reason." Sister Grace paused. Neither Harte nor Peli were inclined to explain. "However, I see you are not ready to share." She looked at Peli. "Peli. I am glad that you have found, in Mr. Walford, someone you can trust to keep your secrets. I will not intrude. But I have a favor to ask of you. I know that I have no right to require it. Would you please tell me when you are going to visit Mr. Walford?" She tucked a gray strand back under her wimple. "I am an old woman, and I worry, perhaps unnecessarily. But it would be a kindness if I knew that you were safe."

Peli blushed and nodded. "I--all right."

"Thank you." She turned back to Harte. "I will consult with my ward nurses. Will you wait?"

"Thank you, but no. I have another task to accomplish today, and I must be on my way. Peli, I'm sorry, but I must leave you here for now. We can talk again tomorrow, if you will."

"But you said I could help."

"Yes I did, and I mean to find a way to keep that promise. However, I cannot take you with me today."

Peli indulged a heretofore undemonstrated interest in the contents Sister Grace's bookshelf. "I could follow you, whether you want me to or not."

"Peli. I have made a promise. Look at me. Do you believe me to be lying?"

Peli reluctantly met Harte's gaze. After a moment he dropped his eyes. "No. I don't."

"I shall see you tomorrow. You can tell me then what Sister Grace has found out."