Hunting (36 page)

Right now, the necessary thing was
Decsel Pelandis. With him, perhaps this long hunt of false trails
and innocent blood would come to an end.

ooOoo

Farpatten demonstrated his efficiency,
reorganising his forces to leave the deconstruction adequately
guarded, and arranging for others to meet him in the Deirhoi
District and sweep down on the Pelandis estate. He was taking no
chances.

Ash, keyed up for battle, found herself
instead standing with Lauren Carlyon, listening to a highly
confused family trying to satisfy the small army which had come
knocking at their door. No, they knew nothing of any property in
the Rockways, or of a Landhold Dunn. The Decsel was at Rimmary, the
Pelandis' Decselry, and had been since the previous autumn. No,
they had no objection to the Guard questioning other members of the
household, if that's what it took to clear them of whatever
accusation had been laid.

"If this is just another false trail, I
think I might start shouting," Ash murmured, drifting back into the
entry hall with Lauren.

"This Dunn woman may have lied. Or been
lied to. If Ryle and Keskedin are lying, then questioning the
household will expose the truth." He glanced back to where the
extensive Pelandis family stood clustered protectively together
before the mass of Guard and Watch. "They do appear very
convincingly confused."

"Though you notice a lot of them also
seem to be ill? And look at Thornaster."

Her Aremish Visel stood to one side,
brows drawn together as he listened, as if he were trying to hear
something over the conversation before him. While the Guard began
rounding up all the occupants of the sprawling manor estate – not a
small task given the multiple outbuildings and several towers – he
joined Ash and Lauren and said, "Let's look around."

"You can feel him?"

"I feel something. But I've been
sporadically feeling taint all over the city. If he's here, getting
closer should be enough."

They toured the manor's lowest floor,
and then decided on a quick walk among the outbuildings before
tackling the convoluted upper floors.

"No, I don't want to go in! I just want
to talk to whoever's in charge."

"That's Garet Pelandis," Lauren said,
and they crossed quickly to the estate's gate.

"Carlyon! Thank the Sun." The jittery
boy in the black and white tabard of Decsel Donderry pulled free of
the restraining grip of a Watchman. "Come out here where we can't
be seen."

"My orders–" the Watchman began, but
accepted a belaying gesture, instead sending his partner off with a
message for Farpatten.

Lauren followed the younger boy out
onto the street, despite the crowds of highly interested onlookers.
"Garet, are you – do you know where your father is?"

"Dead, I think. I can't be sure. I
haven't seen him in months." The boy's words were soft and rapid,
and he glanced constantly at the estate's gate. "So it wasn't me,
after all. I knew it. I knew it."

"Start from the beginning, Garet,"
Carlyon ordered crisply. "What's been happening here?"

"I can't be sure. They said I was
wrong. I've been serving Decsel Donderry as seruilis for two years,
and I'd check in on my free days, and for family things, but
everything seemed normal. It was only when I was given leave to
winter at Rimmary and...I'm sure my father wasn't there. Usually,
though it's difficult for him, he will host the midwinter feast. I
thought he must be worse, and I wanted to see him, but they'd turn
me around every time and it was never 'no', it was always 'not
right now' and then winter was over and I still hadn't seen him and
they all just go on as if everything's normal, and–"

"Take a breath, Garet." Carlyon rested
his hand on the boy's back and waited until he'd obeyed. "Is it
simply that you haven't seen your father, or have you noticed
anything specific?"

"Count the towers," the boy said. "Then
ask one of them how many towers the house has. They locked the door
and put a tapestry over it, and act like I'm mad for asking why.
The whole lot of them, there's something wrong with them."

The main building sported four towers.
Or three, according to every member of the Pelandis household
asked, even when brought to a newly-detapestried door and asked for
the key.

"There was a lot of kismollen growing
in that garden," Ash said, watching Farpatten's face as yet another
Pelandis failed to acknowledge the door even when he pointed
directly at it. "If someone's been dosing this entire household
since before last winter, then I'm not surprised they're sick. I'm
more surprised they're alive."

"Can they be treated?" Lauren
asked.

"Genevieve's Herbal only mentions a
fatal level of toxicity." Ash brushed her hand against
Thornaster's. "But it wasn't kismollen he used on Telat, so maybe
he's able to control them without it. He's up there, isn't he?"

"Yes." Thornaster stopped staring at
the ceiling. "It may be wise to avoid meeting his eyes. Let's do
this, Captain."

While the door was broken down, they
discussed the ground ahead, and the merits of speed over caution.
Garet, though he'd refused to come into the building, had described
a wide, square tower topped by a comfortable bedroom. Thornaster,
with the partial protection of his blood, would take lead,
bracketed by Guardsmen furnished with crossbows and strict orders
to fire at the first sign of sudden frosts. And to keep their eyes
on the Cold Man's feet. Farpatten, Ash and Lauren would follow the
initial rush.

The need to better understand the
cellar in the Rockways – and some consideration for the process of
law – meant they would try talking first. Remembering all too well
the filigree of frost spreading over the coach's interior, Ash shut
down how she felt about this confrontation, and concentrated on
keeping herself alert for any sign of danger.

No traps, no resistance, just terse
words from those ahead of her. The door at the top of the stair was
closed but not locked, and Ash was close enough behind to be able
to see inside when Thornaster opened it.

Her first impression was of light,
pouring through windows formed from many panes of glass. A small
bed and a desk were the main items of furniture, and the only
occupant of the room sat in a high-backed chair by one of the
windows. Unmistakably of the Pelandis family, he looked completely
relaxed, one foot neatly crossed over the other, and a glass in his
hand.

"No need to stand on ceremony. Come
right in."

Something about the amused voice struck
Ash in a way she didn't expect, and she had to stop herself from
backing a step. Light and pleasant, it wasn't familiar, but it set
her heart racing.

"How may I help you Sers?"

"Decsel Pelandis?" Farpatten asked.

"So it would seem. And let me see, you
three are obviously part of the Rhoi's collection of babysitters,
and the rangy fellow in the dress would be his Aremish nanny. Who's
that behind you? Lauren, lad! What are you doing running around
with this collection of jackanapes?"

Lauren, rather naturally startled,
paused then said firmly: "A young girl asked me to make certain
that the one she calls the Cold Man could never capture her
again."

"Skirt-chasing, are you? Well, I
suppose you're an age for it. So that's what happened to that
little piece. A waste. She would have done a great deal for my
cause; the power simply roiled off her."

Attempting to regain some control of
the conversation, Farpatten said: "You do not deny, then, that you
have committed treason against the Rhoi, and heretical acts which
have cost the lives of Montmothian citizens?"

"Heretical acts? For that I would need
to concede that Astenar has some right to dictate how we live. All
life on Luin owes its existence to Karaelsur. I'm not afraid to
serve the true Sun."

"You've broken Luin's laws, as well,"
Thornaster said. "And whatever you thought to gain from Karaelsur,
it is Astenar and Luin you will face."

Decsel Pelandis laughed, and Ash
shivered all the way from shoulders to gut. She didn't know the
voice, but that triumphant, gloating amusement? That was
unmistakeable.

"Rest assured, damnation holds no
horrors for me! I'm no puling tot, too afraid to sample the pudding
for fear of a hiding. I live on my own terms."

"And died on them." Ash, though nearly
a decade's worth of nightmares had risen to thicken her words,
still managed to say: "This isn't Decsel Pelandis. It's Eward
Carlyon."

Lauren flinched, while the seated man
stared at her with a kind of delighted surprise. "Who is that back
there? Step forward."

Never more inclined to turn tail and
run, Ash palmed her knife and moved just enough that Thornaster no
longer blocked her.

"What will it take to kill you
properly?"

"If it isn't the stalwart defender!
Another who got away. How obliging of you to present yourself, my
dear."

"Are you sure there's any point trying
to question him?" Ash asked flatly.

Again that laughter, grating every
nerve. "Is that what you're doing? I thought it was a little light
chatter before someone dies. Lauren, lad, you go downstairs now.
I'll take care of business here, and then we can talk."

"I..." Lauren sucked in breath like he
was leaking.

The depth of his distress helped Ash
look at her own. She had not grown up idolising this man. He had
intended harm to her – and had succeeded insofar as making
absolutely clear how her parents valued her – but Ash had defeated
him once already. Strange how she'd always looked at it as running,
instead of winning.

Discovering that did not make her hand
shake any less.

"You're outnumbered," Thornaster said.
"Your plans exposed, your goals no longer possible. What remains is
the house in the Rockways, and your death. The question is only
with what level of dignity you face your end, and whether you are
willing to undo some of the damage."

This produced nothing but an
incredulous stare. The man treated the half-dozen people before him
as no threat at all.

"You've clearly been keeping bad
company, Lauren. Didn't I always tell you to question, not blindly
follow idiots? Be assured this is no end. Now, listen to your
father and go down."

Lauren straightened, becoming every
inch first seruilis once again, this time not as a mask, but a
declaration. "I don't know if the father I loved ever existed. But
if this has always been you, the truth of you, then I am not your
son. I never was."

"Go downstairs. You others, rid us of
our Aremish guest."

No change in tone, no visible effort,
but Lauren sheathed his sword and turned.

Thornaster knocked up the crossbow of
the Guard on his right, and then barrelled into Farpatten. The
third Guard released his bolt, which slashed across Farpatten's
arm. Ash, uncontrolled and apparently not considered a threat,
threw her knife. No hesitation, no qualms about taking this
life.

A man should not smile with a sliver of
metal projecting from his throat. He certainly should not look
elated. The only thing Ash had succeeded in doing was shutting him
up. Perhaps not such a small thing, since she guessed that it was
his voice, not his gaze, which allowed him to control others. It
was surely something he couldn't do to many over an extended
period, or he would not need the kismollen.

With no time to be outraged at the
failure of the enemy to die, Ash threw herself into the problem of
three very competent Guards trying to kill her husband. Leaping on
the back of the nearest, Ash locked her elbow around his neck. He
turned into the hold, and jabbed fingers toward her eyes, so she
tried to haul him off-balance instead, rapidly framing and
abandoning half a dozen plans to take down the three Guards without
seriously injuring them. The real problem was the frost beginning
to decorate the many-paned windows.

Since steel didn't work, she would see
how the 'Cold Man' dealt with being thrown off a tower.

More Guards were pounding up the stair,
which wouldn't necessarily help the situation. Ash managed to knock
hers down, and scrambled to her feet as Thornaster went down under
the combined weight of his. It would need to be a straight-out run,
no time for the Black Carlyon to react, and hope she had the
strength to send him over without going herself.

Everyone knew Estarrels could summon
fire. Or heat things until they burst into flame, according to
Thornaster, and perhaps he had been trying since Eward Carlyon had
sent his son away, fighting the Cold Man's stolen strength. In any
case, finally, fire overcame ice and the man in the chair became a
torch.

The Black Carlyon plucked the knife
from his – Pelandis' – throat, but did not seem able to properly
scream and made a thin wailing noise as he staggered to his feet,
took one faltering step, and then collapsed.

The Guards came back to themselves at
the same time, and Captain Farpatten immediately stopped trying to
wrest Thornaster's sword away from him, looked around, then
said:

"Someone get some water."

Chapter Thirty-Five

"You'd never done that to a living
person before, had you?"

"No. Though 'living' may not be the
right word." Thornaster opened a door at random and drew her into
what proved to be an enormous linen cupboard so he could squeeze
her breathless. "If Astenar is kind, I'll never need to again."

"Is he...properly dead now? As dead as
damned people usually are?"

"I'm not certain. I suspect that when
Eward Carlyon originally died, he had already gained a certain
measure of strength through serving Karaelsur, and that allowed him
to find and use Tranor Pelandis. There may even have been another
cellar, with a life or two he could use for sustenance. The
Godskeeps will advise on what to do here. Our problem is the
Rockways."