The Culprit's Identity
Randal, the mage in the red robe, picked his way through the cave with care. A ball of fire drifted ahead of his staff, shouldering the dark aside.
Before long he came upon a bronze door washed in a bluish glow. He worked the knocker clenched in the jaws of a carved dragon's head.
Thud. Thud.
The heavy sound rolled outward, and the door opened.
Creeeak.
Randal drew a long breath and stepped through. He passed down a corridor lit by mana lamps and came out before the altar. On the dais behind it sat an old man with long white hair, his eyes only half open.
Randal bowed with care and knelt before the altar.
"The investigation party out of the kingdom is stirring the case up again."
"Was the matter not finished?"
"They want to determine which of the dead suspects was the culprit. They are suspicious of Alex as well."
The old man clicked his tongue.
"The kingdom's fools, spending their strength on a thing already done."
"What shall we do?"
"Leave them."
"And if they try to fix the crime on Alex?"
"How is the boy's talent?"
"At his present stage he lags well behind, though there is an outside chance, so I would not care to say anything certain."
"The seed-attribute judgment?"
"His house is funding the tests, but they are still failures."
"Are they?"
Randal had the distinct feeling that the elder was pleased by the failure. It was strange enough to stir his suspicion, but he let none of it show.
"Yes. As you well know, Elder, a seed that falls outside the six attributes—water, fire, wind, earth, metal, and wood—is difficult to identify. If we could only learn the attribute of his seed, his realm would climb at a tremendous—"
The old man cut him off.
"You want the Tower to bear the cost of the judgment?"
"Alex was the first of his cohort to sense mana. Taking that into account, I believe he is well worth considering."
"Fairness must be considered too. Support only Alex, and the complaints will be considerable."
"Discontent among the lower ranks can simply be pressed down."
"I will see to Alex myself."
"Yes."
The old man let a moment pass, then answered the question Randal had put to him a little earlier.
"I would prefer that Alex not die."
The meaning was plain enough. Even if the boy were revealed as the culprit, he was to be shielded.
Randal bowed his head.
"I will follow Elder Richard's command."
Bianca went into the room where Mark had lived and wept. Watching her cry, Chris turned the sight over.
She cries at the slightest thing. Is she simply that tenderhearted?
"You feel things deeply."
Bianca wiped her eyes.
"Dust got in my eye."
The knights searched the rooms one by one. The cleaning was already finished, and nothing suspicious came to light. When they reached Chris's room, John tipped his head toward the left corner of the ceiling.
"You kept silver coins up here?"
"Yes."
From the rooms they moved on to the parlor. The carpet had never been replaced, and the scorch marks were still there. Bianca stared at them in silence. Chris was sure she would cry again, but she didn't. She only bit down hard on her lip.
They looked the parlor over, rested a little, and went outside to search the places where the candidates had mostly sat in meditation. Yan watched Chris throwing himself into the work and regarded him with open puzzlement.
"Your hands must be freezing, and still you work like that. This isn't even your affair."
"It would be better if we could name the culprit."
Nothing of note turned up there either.
"Right. Now we go to the village."
Chris pointed at the sky, plainly reluctant.
"A great deal of time has passed. The sun will be down before long."
"His Majesty is waiting in anxious concern for the result. We have no time to waste."
Once the king was invoked, there was nothing left to say.
John spoke.
"You know the road from Lion Pavilion to Stratton better than any of us. Lead the way."
Chris nodded without protest.
"Yes."
He stepped out ahead and asked,
"You have passage tokens, I trust?"
"We do."
They were knights, and skilled at governing their bodies. They walked the snowy road at a quick pace, and not one of them fell—armor and all.
Chris was in the lightest, easiest clothes of the company, and still he went down three times. Once he even rolled. Only then did the knights slow their step.
When they had gone some way, Yan halted and drew out his passage token.
"Something's catching at me. Is this the Tower's boundary?"
Chris produced his own and nodded. It was a new one, issued at the smithy.
"Yes. That's right."
"I see. There's a ward up."
"This is a ward?"
"It is."
Michael added an explanation.
"Nothing grand. A very simple sort, that only reports when a person has passed through."
"The first time I crossed the boundary, I felt a threat as if I were about to die."
"It only lays a sensation like killing intent on you, by way of warning. The faint of heart sometimes drop dead of a stopped heart, but most people take no harm."
Every one of them crossed the ward.
John came up beside Chris.
"If there hadn't been a passage-token record that day, you would have been the one most suspected."
Chris started.
"Me?"
"You're slave-born. An easy place to hang a suspicion."
Night came down while they were still on the road to the village.
"If we investigate and then turn back, it'll be far too late."
Bianca answered him.
"We can stay the night in the village."
At the village entrance Buzz stood guard with two of his fellows. Michael called him aside and spoke with him. It looked very much as if he were checking Chris's alibi. Chris watched the pair from a distance, and he did not like the feeling.
A little later they entered the village. Yan pointed to the fountain at the center of the square.
"You must be worn out from walking in the snow. Sit over there and rest."
Chris did as he was told. He sat by the fountain and watched the knights making the rounds of the shops that ringed the square. They went into the restaurant, into Stan General Store, and into Donna's magic shop as well. Chris's face grew steadily darker. It nagged at him more than he cared to admit.
The questioning took some five hours. The night was late and many shops had already shut, but the knights hammered on the doors as if they meant to break them, and forced them open all the same.
Chris was cold, and he was hungry. When he reckoned it quietly, more than fourteen hours had passed since breakfast.
"Ugh. It's freezing."
He jogged around the square to get some warmth back into him. He had just finished a circuit when Bianca called.
"We've taken an inn. Come on."
Merchants hoping to trade with the Tower came through often, so Stratton had no shortage of inns. They took rooms at the one that looked the finest of the lot. The hour was too late for a proper meal. Bread and stew were all there was.
They ate quickly and scattered to their rooms. Chris was given one of his own. Dead tired, he washed only his feet, lay down on the bed, and was asleep before he knew it.
He slept late, which was not like him. Body and mind alike seemed to have been worn thin. Chris washed in a hurry and dressed.
The knights had already finished their meal and were waiting on him.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. Eat."
"No. I'm all right."
Chris took up two baguettes.
"I can eat on the way."
"Then we set out."
He walked along, tearing at the bread with his teeth. Crisp at the crust and moist within, it was good. They passed Lion Pavilion at a quick pace and went on to the VIP Guest Pavilion.
They had only just arrived and were catching their breath when Carl came in. That much time had slipped away already.
Carl looked at Chris.
"Have you been eating bread?"
"How did you know?"
"Magic, of course."
Chris thought for a moment, then laughed.
"People often have bread with breakfast, so you took a guess."
"No. You ate a baguette."
Getting even the kind right was uncanny. Chris's eyes went wide.
"Is it really magic? What sort?"
"A secret."
Winds a man up and then leaves him hanging.
Chris was grumbling to himself when Bianca brushed at his jacket. Crumbs that had clung to the cloth while he walked along tearing at the baguette pattered to the floor.
"Ah."
It was not magic. It was not anything at all. Carl had seen the baguette crumbs on his clothes and guessed. Abashed, Chris cleared his throat to no purpose, and Carl laughed out loud.
A little later the knights, the mages, and the attendants gathered in the sitting room.
Carl stepped forward and opened.
"We may as well begin with the moment I met Smith that day. I was on the road when he sprang out of nowhere and told me a man had died at Lion Pavilion. I asked who supervised the place. Mage David, he said. I sent David a voice transmission to that effect. At the time, to be honest, I hardly cared. What did it matter if a single apprentice died? I sent the message and meant to go on my way, but Smith clung to me."
"I asked him what he wanted. Come to Lion Pavilion, he said. I told him David would go. He kept on regardless. By then I was irritated. Who died, I asked, that you're raising this much noise? The prince is dead, he told me. Murdered. A prince was not a thing I could ignore—and murder, on top of it. So I sent David another transmission and followed Smith to Lion Pavilion."
From there he told how he had driven the apprentices into the parlor and searched the place. When the account reached the moment Chris came into the room, Yan cut in.
"Why did Chris come upstairs? And alone, at that?"
Carl clicked his tongue.
"He needed to relieve himself... He came up to ask permission for it. The habit of begging leave from a slave overseer for every little thing, coming out of him. Slave mentality. Slave mentality."
"I see."
When Yan looked at him, Chris flushed.
"Nothing suspicious turned up in the search. After that the mages arrived..."
This time it was Bianca who cut him off.
"Finding something suspicious in a search matters. But there are times when you ought to treat it as just as important that a thing which absolutely ought to be there never appears."
Carl's face hardened.
"And what is this thing that absolutely ought to appear?"
Bianca did not answer. With the unpleasant sense of something caught between his teeth, Carl took up his statement again.
This time no one stopped him. When he had finished, he asked for water and drank.
Bianca asked,
"Who was the mage that saved Alex?"
"I said as much yesterday. I don't know."
"Could it have been Elder Perez?"
"It would not have been Elder Perez."
"Why do you think so?"
"If he had meant to keep Alex alive from the start, he would not have ordered every suspect killed."
"Mage Carl, who do you believe the culprit is?"
"I don't know."
"Is there no one you suspect?"
"I turned it over last night... I don't know."
"Isn't that because you left Alex out?"
Carl's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Yesterday you told us to beware the monsters. To live with our eyes shut and our ears covered. A high-ranking mage is the one who took Alex away. So you struck Alex off the list of suspects before you ever thought about it, didn't you? Because a high-ranking mage frightens you?"
Carl turned the question back on her.
"Do you suspect Alex?"
"A little."
To Chris, it did not look like a little.
Even if they name the culprit, can they actually punish him? If the Tower chooses to shield the man, it will be difficult.
Yan abruptly flung a question at Chris.
"Who do you find most suspicious?"
"I don't know."
"You must have thoughts of your own. Don't leave anyone out. Say what you think."
"..."
Yan's voice rose.