The Innocent Mage (22 page)

It took a moment, but Gar finally looked up. T promise I’ll try,’ he said, with a faint smile. ‘But that’s as far as I go.’

Their discussion of the next week’s calendar took the rest of the day. Gar had meetings scheduled with the Sheepgrowers’ Association, the Miners’ Guild, the Bakers’ Guild, the Vintners and more. Asher’s head whirled. He didn’t have hardly a clue what any of them did or what they their problems were. So Gar had to give him a quick history of each guild, who their meisters or mistresses were, what they wanted, who they were feuding with and how each out impacted on all the others. By the end of it he wasn’t sine whether he was horrified at all the things he was going to have to learn or impressed by the fact that Gar knew them so well already. Most of the ideas he’d already come up witl had to be thrown overboard, which meant he’d have to come up with some new ones, quick smart.

He started to think that at fifty trins a week, he’d bt underpaid.

Dusk was fast approaching by the time they finished. Groaning, Asher slumped against his chair-back and rubbed his eyes. ‘Don’t reckon I can see how you been managin’on your own. Did the king have all this claptrap to go on with as well as his WeatherWorkin’?’

Just as slumped, Gar nodded. ‘A lot of it, which is whyl stepped in. Of course since I made myself available for consultation and assistance the workload has gradually become heavier and heavier. Hence you.’

Asher grinned. ‘No good deed goes unpunished, eh?’ ‘Something like that.’ Gar fought a yawn, and lost. ‘I hope you’re not too alarmed. Most problems can be solved by sitting down and talking them through. A lot of the time people just like to know they’ve been listened to. Once you’re familiar with who’s who we can —’ A knock at the door interrupted him. It was young Remy, carrying a note. ‘Yes?’

Remy bowed. “Scuse me, Your Highness, but this just come from the palace.’

Gar took the note and dismissed the lad with a nod. He read it and sighed. Timon Spake has been delivered to the guardhouse. There’s to be a preliminary enquiry before the Privy Council in the morning.’

Asher sat up. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means he’ll be asked formally, under oath, if he’s guilty of the crime. If he says no we proceed to a full and . public trial’

‘And if he says yes?’

Gar’s expression was bleak. His fingers worried at the note and his gaze was distant. ‘Then he’ll not see another sunrise.’

‘That fast?’ said Asher, surprised.

‘There’s nothing to be gained by prolonging the agony. Asher, I want you to do something for me. Go down to the guardhouse and make sure this Timon Spake is well situated. He must be decently housed and fed and not subjected to unnecessary restraint. At this moment he’s only accused, not convicted, but the crime is so heinous I fear for his safety.’

Asher stared. ‘In the guardhouse?’

‘Captain Orrick is an honourable man and an excellent officer,’ Gar said carefully. ‘But feelings will be running high. I want it made clear to him and his subordinates that regardless of personal outrage and the severity of the accused’s crime, we mustn’t run ahead of the verdict.’

Slumping again, Asher swallowed a groan. ‘You want me to go right now?’

‘Yes.’ Gar reached across the desk and pulled paper and pen towards him. As he scrawled a quick note he said, ‘I can’t go myself, for obvious reasons. As my assistant, however, you’ll be speaking with my full authority.’ Finished with his writing, he folded the note and held it out. ‘Give this to Orrick. It’ll ensure his complete cooperation.’

Asher took the note and studied it. ‘Only if he believes it’s come from you. What if he accuses me of makin’ it up or somethin’? Decides I’m in cahoots with this Timon Spake? He might, seein’ as how he’s so diligent and he don’t know me from a hole in the ground. I mean, he knows someone called Asher’s your new assistant, but he don’t know for sure that’s me.’

Gar frowned, took the note back again and headed for the door. Asher scrambled after him and they hurried downstairs to Darran’s office.

‘Your Highness?’ the ole crow squawked as marched in. ‘Is something wrong?’

As Gar sealed the note with crimson wax and his house ring into it he said to Darran, ‘You’ll need to send messengers out at once cancelling all my appointments for tomorrow.’

‘Yes, Your Highness,’ Darran said faintly. ‘May I ask, Your Highness, what reason I should —’

‘No,’ said Gar. Ignoring Darran’s offended shock and Willer’s fish-faced goggling, he handed the sealed note to Asher. ‘Be thorough but don’t linger. Report to me the minute you return to the Tower.’

‘Aye, sir,’ said Asher, and tucked the note into his pocket. ‘What d’you want me to do if I find —’

‘Whatever you deem appropriate,’ said Gar. ‘Bearing in mind I shall have to answer for it to the Privy Council.’

‘Aye, sir,’ said Asher, glumly, and withdrew. Not even the look on ole Darran’s face had the power to cheer him up, Damn. If this was what bein’ Assistant Olken Administrator were all about, then he was definitely underpaid.

The last person Dathne expected to see come riding down the High Street from the direction of the palace was Asher. But there he was, scowling and unimpressed on top of his precious silver Cygnet, making his way through the crowd in the City’s central square. When he saw the milling, muttering Olken as they bumped and gathered around Supplicant’s Fountain and stared across the square at the guardhouse entrance, his scowl melted into dismay, then returned more ferociously than ever. She saw his lips move and imagined the cursing.

She didn’t blame him; she felt like cursing, too.

Pushing her way through the bodies she called his name and waved. ‘Asher! Asher!’

Startled,, he drew rein and stared down at her as she reached him. ‘Dathne? What are you doin’ out here?’

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ she said.

He nudged his horse sideways until they were pressed ink and knee against the Golden Cockerel Hotel’s front i wall. ‘Official business. Now what’s all this rabblerousin’ : about?’ He leaned over Cygnet’s wither as she crowded close and lowered his voice. ‘You got any idea what’s amiss?’

She nodded, one hand steady against the grey colt’s warm, sleek shoulder. ‘I know exactly what’s amiss. And so does everybody else here. With or without an official announcement from the palace, by this time tomorrow I expect every man, woman and child in the City will know.’

‘That some fool’s got caught messin’ about with —’ Stiff-faced with angry surprise, Asher glanced at the mob and reconsidered. ‘How did you find out? The king only got word this mornin’.’

‘And Timon Spake was taken yesterday afternoon,’ she replied, shrugging. ‘Enough people here have family in Basingdown, Asher. The dressmaker two doors down from my shop has a sister there. Are you forgetting messenger |pigeons? It only takes one or two, and after that it’s running feet and gabbling tongues. Did you really think you’d keep something like this a secret?’

Asher frowned. ‘The king did.’

‘The king was wrong then, wasn’t he?’ She glanced over her shoulder. Moment by moment the crowd was growing, and as it grew the muttering swelled to an ominous rumble. ‘1 don’t like the look of this.’

‘You and me both,’ said Asher with another worried look at the gathered Olken. ‘What are they all doin’ here? What do they want?’

She shrugged. ‘Reassurance. Revenge. The last time this happened a lot of innocent people were hurt. That’s not been forgotten. I think the Olken of Doranen want to make it perfectly clear from the outset where their loyalties lie.’

shivered. ‘I’d say if Spake walked out here now they’d tear him limb from limb.’ Another shiver. ‘This is goingi get ugly.’

Even as she spoke, a stream of guards flowed out of tit guardhouse, each one armed with a long pike and a she truncheon. They took up positions along the front of ttt guardhouse railings and planted the butts of their beside them. Their faces were grim. All around the square and along the City streets glimfire flickered into life inside the public lanterns that sat atop light-poles, dangled from gates and shopfronts and hung suspended from wires ov street corners. The light threw long shadows, painting t world with danger.

Asher was staring at the thickening crowd. ‘Wonder ii the king knows about this?’

‘If he doesn’t, he soon will,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’

‘Gar sent me. He be worried about this man Spake, Wants to make sure he ain’t gettin’ treated unfairly in there,1 He nodded at the guardhouse. ‘Reckon he wants to be mort worried about this mob out here. Dath, I got to get goin’, You should go too, back home. Might not be safe out here much longer if these folk take it into their heads to get rambunctious.’

Dathne nodded, her mind racing. Asher was going into the guardhouse? To see Spake? Perfect. Here was a gift unlooked for. A way to salvage this sorry situation. To save her life’s work and a kingdom besides from the folly of one heedless idiot. She put her hand on his knee. ‘Asher, let me go with you.’

Dragging his frowning gaze away from the crowd, hi laughed. ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I mean it. I need to get in there. I must see this Timor Spake.’

‘Why?’

Because I have to stop his mouth before he talks or then won’t be enough empty cells in all of Dorana to hold victims of his arrogance. ‘Because he’s by way of being family,’ she said with all the wide-eyed sincerity she could summon. ‘Only indirectly, a cousin of a cousin of a cousin.

You know how it goes. I’ve never actually met him, but no matter how distant the connection he’s still family. If I could just see him, make sure he’s —’ ‘No, I said!’ snapped Asher. ‘I’ll tell you how he is, and you can tell whoever asks. But you ain’t comin’ into the guardhouse with me. If Gar —’ ‘I’m sure the prince wouldn’t mind. He knows me. And I won’t be a nuisance. I won’t even speak, I promise. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.’ She tried a winning, winsome smile.

‘Please, Asher? You wouldn’t even have this job if it wasn’t for me. A favour for a favour.’ ‘Dathne!’ Clearly her winning, winsome smile needed some work.

‘Look, you say you’re here to make sure this Spake is all right? Well, I can promise you he’s not. He’s in that guardhouse,

locked in a cell, probably terrified. Probably being fed on pig slops because he’ll have no friends in there. After what he’s done he’s got no friends anywhere. I could run back to my place, it won’t take long. I’ve sweet cakelets I baked just this morning. He’s welcome to them. And a book to take his mind off things. I’m sure the prince would approve of that, showing mercy to a condemned man. It’s why he’s sent you, isn’t it? I’d just be helping. Who could object?’

Asher let out an angry huff of air. Chewed at his lip and banged his fist on his thigh, thinking. ‘Run fast then,’ he said at last, grudgingly. ‘Ten minutes I’ll wait, and after that I’ll be goin’ in there without you.’

She bolted. The cakelets were on the kitchen windowsill; after setting three onto the benchtop she rummaged in the back of a cupboard. Found the small glass vial she was after and the thin hollow straw she needed. The sickly-sweet smell of tinctured draconis root made her blink. With the straw she cautiously sucked the poison out of the bottle, then dripped it with immense care into the heart of each cakelet.

It wasn’t murder. He was going to die anyway, so you couldn’t call it murder. And his silence, ensured, would save the lives of hundreds. Maybe thousands. Maybe everyone alive in the kingdom. Veira would be angry, but so long as the old woman was angry after the fact that didn’t mattet As Jervale’s Heir she had a duty to ensure the smooth passage of Prophecy … and she would do whatever she had to, no matter the cost.

She felt a brief, burning hatred for the man who was making her do this. Forcing her hand to take his life. Who had sworn the same oath she had, to silence, to the Circle, to death before betrayal …

The bastard should have killed himself.

When it was done she wrapped the cakelets in a clean tea towel, put them and a book into her string bag and bolted all the way back to Asher.

‘Just in bloody time,’ he muttered, eyeing the packed square uneasily. ‘Stick close now. I reckon this mob’s goin’ to start a riot any second.’

Fingers wrapped tight around his stirrup leather, holding hard against Cygnet’s trembling side, she pushed with him through the surging crowd. The air was thick with ugliness, with fear and fury. Looking around her she couldn’t see a single fair head anywhere, only dark ones. Only Olken. The press of bodies parted reluctantly, complaining, and they continued forward until a guard standing at the entrance to the guardhouse lowered his pike point-first and challenged them.

‘Let me pass,’ said Asher curtly. ‘I’m Asher, the Assistant Olken Administrator. I’ve come on the prince’s business.’

Dathne watched the guard’s tense gaze flicker over the expensive horse, its rider’s expensive clothes and lastly his face. The pike’s point dropped, fractionally. ‘The woman?’

‘Is with me. Now stand aside.’ Asher touched his spurs to Cygnet’s flanks. The horse snorted, ears pinned back, and danced a little.

‘Pass,’ said the guard, and stepped sideways.

Asher eased his hand on the reins and Cygnet jumped forward. ‘Easy, you ole fool.’ He glanced down. ‘You be all right there, Dathne?’

She took a deep breath. Her heart was booming and her mouth was dry. She could still smell the draconis. ‘I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?’

‘Aye. Let’s,’ said Asher, and together they walked through the gates of the Dorana City guardhouse.

Captain Orrick of the City Guard was a lean, hatchet-facet man of middle years who wore his plain crimson unifon like a second skin. His dark, silver-threaded hair was c even closer than Matt’s and his grey eyes were cool and calculating. He stood in front of the guardhouse lobby desk and twice read the note Asher handed him. Then he looked up,

‘I’d heard someone was appointed His Highness’s Assistant Administrator.’

‘Aye, well, that someone’d be me,’ said Asher.

‘So you say.’ Orrick considered him. ‘But we’ve not been formally introduced.’