The Queen's Necklace (38 page)

As Dagget appeared to be in reasonably good hands, Will turned to the two watchmen. “I'll want you both to assist in the search of a house on the next street. I doubt there is anyone there—but it's just possible, in their haste to be gone, they left something of interest behind.”

After half an hour, the search turned up nothing more revealing than some clothes, some broken crockery, and some scattered household goods—nothing, that is, until one of the watchmen crouched down to look under a table in one of the bedchambers and discovered, much to his surprise, an odd-looking map nailed to the underside. Detaching the parchment carefully, for it was crumbling at the edges, he brought it to Will.

Wilrowan inspected the map with growing interest. That someone had gone to so much trouble to conceal it was naturally suggestive. The question was: How long had it been there? It was very old and extremely brittle; it was possible, therefore, that the map had been nailed to the bottom of the table months, even years ago, and that neither the Goblin nor his confederates knew anything about it. But Will thought otherwise.

The map was largely scribbled over with unfamiliar symbols done in brown ink, and the names of several countries had either been underlined or circled in red. Underlined were Rijxland, Lichtenwald, Catwitsen, Finghyll, and Château-Rouge. Circled were Herndyke, Nordfjall, Mountfalcon, Kjellmark, Winterscar, Tölmarch, and Tholia.

Looking over the map, he noticed that Nordfjall and Mountfalcon had
both
been marked with a red circle. Did this indicate a connection between them? After all, it had been Thaddeus Vault, the archduke's ambassador, who had encouraged Dionee—

But no, Will suddenly recalled, Lord Vault had not asked to
see
the Jewel, he had only asked
about
it. It was Rufus Macquay who had done all the rest.

A whole new story began to take shape in Wilrowan's mind. He had wondered at one point if all was well elsewhere, and suppose it was not? Suppose—suppose that a Jewel was missing in Nordfjall, too. That the archduke, suspecting a widespread plot, wanting to know how far the trouble had spread, assigned such men as Thaddeus Vault to find that out? Suppose that the ambassador had only meant to learn if the Chaos Machine was still where it ought to be in Rodaric's treasure room? In that case, it was easy to imagine the Nordfjaller's horror at the embassy fête, when he learned that Dionee had taken the Jewel from its place of safety and—

Will shook his head, brought this train of speculation to a sudden halt. He had been building an elaborate edifice of suppositions on a somewhat doubtful foundation. It would be up to the king to pursue these questions, as it would also be up to Rodaric (and the Malachim professors) to examine the map for clues.

Rolling the parchment up in a tight cylinder, Will slipped it inside his waistcoat for safe-keeping, and went back to the shop where he had left Corporal Dagget.

But Dagget was now in the hands of the surgeon. Rather than distract the doctor at his work, Will decided it was time to examine the body of the Goblin. Taking up a lighted candle, he knelt on the floor beside the corpse, lifted the sheet which covered the face—and experienced a profound shock.

This was not the Wryneck the corporal had identified, the one they had both seen entering the cottage. In the ill-lit street, it had not been possible to tell the difference, but here in the lighted shop, it was all too evident:
that
Goblin had not been scarred as this fellow was from cheekbone to chin, with a long white line, slightly jagged across the jaw.

Was this even a Goblin? He remembered that someone once told him it was very difficult to kill a Goblin by shooting or stabbing him. You had to strike again and again, or else hit the spine, or else shatter one of the brittle bones, which might then do additional damage.

Will felt a sinking sensation in the region of his stomach. Having been so far mistaken, might he also have contributed to the death of an innocent decoy? Of course, there had been the angular figure, the odd way of walking. Will remembered, too, how the skin had been cold when the body was still only moments dead. Feeling behind the neck for some sign of a hump, he was dismayed to find none. But raising an arm and flexing the wrist and elbow, he was struck by the way that both joints moved. Could this be the body of a Grant?

Calling for a pair of scissors, Will snipped off a lock of dry, straw-colored hair, and held it next to the flame of his candle. It caught instantly, literally disappearing in a flash of smoke and fire. So perhaps the ball
had
hit the spine. His question answered, he prudently removed the uncovered candlestick to a safer distance.

Will stripped off the sheet and made a swift but thorough search of the Goblin's clothing. Nothing of significance turned up, unless one counted a watch, a key, a pewter snuffbox, a handful of brass coins, and a red cotton handkerchief. Will deposited them all in an inner pocket of his coat. Though of little apparent worth, he would take them to Rodaric and the two professors.

By now, the surgeon had finished with Dagget. When Will approached him, he had already washed and dried his hands, and was just slipping back into his coat.

“The wound is very deep and there was a dangerous loss of blood. While there is no fever yet, if one should develop—” The doctor shrugged, indicating that the outcome was out of his hands. “For now, you should put him to bed and keep him very warm. If he survives the night, I'll visit him again in the morning.”

Will cursed softly under his breath. Somewhere he had made a mistake, had allowed himself and Dagget to be noticed by the Goblin and his confederates, and instead of suffering for that mistake himself, it was the corporal who had paid the price. “His name is Nathaniel Dagget. His family live somewhere nearby.”

“He has already been recognized.” The surgeon picked up a bamboo cane and a soft hat. “As I am slightly acquainted with the father, I am now on my way to acquaint him with his son's misfortune.”

He was turning to go but Wilrowan stopped him. “Is he awake? Am I allowed to speak with him?”

The doctor subjected him to a long speculative look before he replied. Will was suddenly aware that his coat was dirty, his garments askew, and there was a great deal of blood both Human and Goblin on his hands. In spite of this, the surgeon nodded. “He is sometimes conscious, sometimes not. You may speak to him briefly, providing you do not say anything likely to disturb him.”

“Thank you,” said Will, humbly. “I think he will want to hear what I have to tell him.”

He found Dagget lying with his eyes open and his face white and strained. “Captain—Blackheart.” The words came faintly. “Did—did the Wryneck—escape us?”

Will bent down and spoke very quietly and calmly in the young man's ear. “You are not to concern yourself about any of that. I have matters very well in hand.” He drew out the warrant, held it up so the youth could see both the signature and the big wax seal. No matter what Rodaric had to say about maintaining secrecy, Will would be
damned
if he allowed this boy to suffer, and perhaps to die, believing he had sacrificed himself for nothing.

He lowered his voice further, so that only Dagget could hear him. “You have aided me in a very vital and secret matter, and have rendered your country a very signal service. When I return to
Hawkesbridge, I am going to call on the Lord Lieutenant and instruct him to expunge all mention of our misunderstanding last winter from your record.”

Dagget tried to smile. “You are very good. I'm afraid I—wasn't—cooperative. I should have—trusted you, sir.”

Will shook his head. “Your doubts and your questions were understandable. I commend you for being so cautious.” Continuing to look down on that pale suffering face, he could not help offering a further word of comfort. “You are going to make a very fine officer. And in a few more years, if you decide you would like to serve in one of our elite companies, we'll see what might be done about obtaining you a commission.”

T
hough Will spent a long, anxious night on the corporal's behalf, by the time the surgeon stopped in the next morning, the patient looked like he would survive. It was with a sense of relief that Wilrowan left Dagget in the capable hands of the mother and sister who had arrived with the dawn, and set about organizing a search of the town, the valley, and the surrounding mountains. He still hoped to pick up the trail of the surviving Goblin and his confederates.

But two days later, Will was forced to admit that those he was hunting had disappeared without a trace. Moreover, there was still the matter of the map, which ought to be taken to Hawkesbridge as swiftly as possible. Leaving the local constabulary to continue the search, he made arrangements for the return of the hired chaise, bought himself a horse, and left Chetterly during the night.

He arrived in Hawkesbridge after a swift and exhausting journey and went straight to the palace, where he turned over his findings to the king. Then he was free for the first time in many weeks to devote himself to his own business.

This he was glad to do for the next several days, until the summons he expected from Rodaric finally arrived.

The king was alone in his panelled study, when Wilrowan marched in a little after noon, clicked his heels, and snapped one hand to his brow in a smart salute. In proper uniform, his red hair tied back in a neat military braid, Will carried a three-cornered hat tucked under one arm. Rodaric acknowledged his salute with an abstracted nod, then went back to studying the map, spread out on the desk in front of him.

Will remained standing at stiff attention until the King looked up again, and waved him toward a chair. “I have had some disturbing news.”

Very carefully placing his cockaded hat on a corner of the desk, Will took the seat indicated. “Nordfjall?” he asked.

The king nodded solemnly. “Yes. Taking into account your guesses based on the map, I immediately wrote to Thaddeus Vault. You can imagine my displeasure when he did not reply immediately. I was about to write again, changing my original invitation to a more peremptory command—when I received this most interesting letter.”

He reached into a pocket of his corded silk coat, drew out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Will. “Lord Vault wrote that
he
had something important to communicate to
me
, but had been waiting several months for the archduke's permission to share what he knew. The archduke's letter being delayed along the road by winter storms, it was only yesterday that he finally received it.”

Leaning back in his chair, Rodaric spread his hands, as though what followed must be obvious. “We were closeted together for about three hours. I'll spare you the preliminary courtesies that passed between us and tell you at once: the Jewel of Nordfjall is missing. It disappeared as the result of a plot of considerable artifice and ingenuity, but I will spare you those details, as well, and only tell you that all this occurred a full four months before the Chaos Ma
chine was taken. Having established that ordinary thieves were not responsible—fearing a plot of the sort that we fear also—the archduke put all his ambassadors secretly to work gathering information.”

“My guesses were good, then?” Having been too busy listening to examine the letter, Will now passed it back unread.

“Your guesses were extremely good. It all fell out very much as you thought: a well-meaning inquiry on the part of Lord Vault, and Macquay was there to take advantage of the situation.”

Rodaric sighed and shook his head. “It all sounds so fortuitous. How long Sir Rufus may have waited for just such an opportunity—what he and his confederates would have done to
create
such an opportunity, had Dionee proved wiser—we will never know. Unfortunately, she fell in with Macquay's plans all too easily.”

Pocketing the letter, Rodaric sat back again in his chair. “The day after the queen was robbed, Lord Vault wrote to Nordfjall. But the archduke's reply, so long delayed, contained rather more than Vault had expected. It conveyed information which takes on a truly
ominous
significance, in the light of what you brought back from Chetterly.”

There was a long pause, during which the king sat gazing down at the map again, apparently lost in thought. “And that would be—” Will prompted him.

Rodaric glanced up again. “The archduke knows for a fact that the Tholian Jewel is also missing. He has been in communication with King Alejandro. In addition, the Prince of Lichtenwald has closed his borders, and the northern region of Tölmarch has recently been swept by a series of natural disasters—the archduke conjectures that either the Jewels have been stolen from both of those places, or that some of the missing devices are passing through those countries, causing a serious disruption. Finally, he forwards disturbing if ambiguous news out of Rijxland and Winterscar.”

Unable to contain himself, Will sprang up from his seat. “But the names of all those places you mention have been circled or underlined on the map!”

Will eyed the parchment and its strange notations. Were
all
the countries indicated threatened? He thought the map must contain a great deal of vital information, if only they could find the way to decipher it.

“But a plot so vast—” His mind boggled at the very thought. In spite of everything, up until now he had only allowed himself to think in terms of two, perhaps three, neighboring realms. That there might be as many as a dozen involved— “The very idea is monstrous. But
whose
plot? Just who is it that entertains such obscene Ambitions? Are they Men or are they Goblins?”

“They appear to be both, but in the main they are Men. At least they were Men in Nordfjall and Tholia.” Under the circumstances, Rodaric sounded remarkably cool. Yet his face was white and a large vein was throbbing in his neck.