A Pocket Full of Murder (24 page)

“He . . . said no. And I . . .” Annagail sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I don't understand, Vettie.”

Isaveth exhaled a grateful, silent prayer. “I do,” she said, and went on to tell her sister everything she knew about truth-binding. When she had finished, Annagail looked as relieved as Isaveth felt.

“I had no idea it was so horrible,” she said. “I thought if he agreed, they'd know he was innocent, and I couldn't imagine why he'd rather go to trial than speak the truth.”

“Go to trial?” Isaveth sat up straighter. “They've fixed a date, then? When is it?”

Annagail brushed a knuckle across her cheekbone, wiping away the last of her tears. “It starts on Duesday. And oh, Vettie, I know it could be dangerous, but . . . I think I ought to go.”

Three days from now. That left Isaveth only two days to find Master Orien's murderer—and one of them was Templeday, when the trams stopped running and every business in the city was closed. Unless the Lawkeepers found Rennick quickly and forced him to confess, there was no chance of stopping her father's trial before it started. And once it began, Isaveth couldn't testify, or even sit in the audience, because children weren't permitted in court.

Of course Anna had to be there for Papa. She was the only one who could.

I
SAVETH WOKE THE NEXT MORNING
feeling like she'd been drugged—or knocked out with a sleep-wand, which was probably more accurate. She sat up, knuckling the crumbs from her eyes. The little room was flooded with sunlight, and both the mattress next to her and the bed across from it lay bare. Somehow her sisters had got up and sneaked off to temple without waking her.

Which meant Anna had gone with them. And judging by the emptiness of the bedpost, she'd taken Mama's prayer scarf as well. Isaveth didn't know whether that was a good sign or not, but her brain was too foggy to think about it. She clambered out of bed and went downstairs to have breakfast.

Once she'd eaten the porridge Annagail had left for her and bathed last night's grime from her body, Isaveth felt better. But when she remembered her conversation
with the Lording, the old hopelessness came flooding back. What could she do now? Without spare money for taxis to take her around the city, she was limited to the few places she could reach on foot. Besides, Eryx had forgotten to give back her satchel, so she didn't even have any spells left to protect herself.

She couldn't bear to leave Papa's fate in the hands of the Lawkeepers, especially after what she'd seen at Goodram's Wharf last night. But what choice did she have? Everything she'd learned about Master Orien's death had been cast into doubt, if not disproved altogether. And Quiz, with his bright mind and quicksilver tongue, his knowledge of Sagery and city politics, and his surprising talent (not so surprising now) for getting people to give him whatever he wanted, had vanished like a dream.

The thought of trying to prove Papa's innocence in just two days, with no one to help her and no evidence to support her claim, seemed so impossible that Isaveth was tempted to give up and admit defeat. But how could she? There had to be something she could do to help Papa, someone else she could talk to who might take an interest in his case. . . .

Su Amaraq! She'd told Isaveth to get in touch if she had any news to share. She'd also boasted that the
Trumpeter
had a reputation for telling the truth even when the other
news-rags didn't. What if Isaveth offered Su a first-person account of the events at Goodram's Wharf in exchange for help investigating Papa's case?

Isaveth was halfway to the door before she realized her plan had two flaws. First, it was Templeday, so the
Trumpeter
office would be closed. Second, and far more fatal, were the names of the people Eryx Lording had told about Master Orien's plan to support the Reps' Bill: Lady Marcham . . . and Lord Amaraq.

Whether the latter was Su's father, grandfather, or uncle, Isaveth couldn't tell. But as long as there was a chance Lord Amaraq had played a part in Master Orien's murder, there was also a chance that Su was protecting him.

Yet whom else could she turn to? Whom, in all this great city, could she trust?

Isaveth was still brooding over the problem as she rinsed and scrubbed the dress she'd worn last night, then headed outside to hang it on the line. Preoccupied, she scarcely noticed the shadow on the far side of the fence, until a hoarse voice whispered, “Isaveth!”

Isaveth dropped the clothespin, and caught the dress just in time. “Morra! I thought you'd been arrested!”

The older girl gave a wan smile. “I can't talk long,” she said. “Mam's that upset just now. But yes, the Keepers
took me and Seward like all the rest. Only, the cells at the station were full, so they shoved us girls and a few of the younger lads into a little room and kept us under guard for half the night. Then they let us go with a warning.”

No wonder Morra looked so exhausted. “What about your brother?” asked Isaveth. “Did they release him too?”

“Not yet, but we're hoping.” Morra sighed. “Fear there's not much chance for Alban and the other leaders, though. They'll end up in Dern Valley, like as not.”

“So that's the end of the Workers' Club,” murmured Isaveth, but Morra shook her head with a vigor that took her by surprise.

“We're not giving up,” she said. “It may look bad for us right now, but we've still got allies on the council, and the Reps' Bill isn't defeated yet.”

“It isn't? When's the vote?”

“Tomorrow night. We may have lost Master Orien, Sages comfort him. But we've still got the Lording on our side.”

Once, any mention of Eryx would have made Isaveth's stomach tingle with excitement. Now she felt nothing but a dull ache. “Of course,” she said, trying to echo Morra's confidence. “Anyway, I'm glad you're home now. I'm only sorry I was off chasing Rennick and didn't get back to the wharf until it was too late.”

“That's right! I'd forgotten all that, what with everything else going on.” Morra clutched the top of the fence. “Did you catch him? What did he say?”

She sounded so eager, Isaveth felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps she wasn't alone after all. “We did,” she began, “but—”

The Caverlys' back door crashed open, and Missus Caverly stalked onto the step. “You get inside this minute!” she snapped at Morra. “Haven't you brought enough grief on this family already?”

Morra turned crimson, and her mouth opened as though to snap back. But no words came out, and after a few seconds she deflated.

“Sorry, Mam,” she mumbled. Then she turned away from Isaveth and slunk into the house.

*  *  *

On Mendday morning Annagail went to work at the college—bare necked as usual, but she hadn't returned the prayer scarf to Isaveth, either. She seemed calmer now, as though she'd let go of the doubts and worries that had been troubling her. Isaveth could only wish she felt half so confident.

“Is Quiz coming today?” Mimmi asked as the three younger sisters left the house. “I want another ride on his cycle.”

Isaveth had been dreading this moment, but she knew it had to come sometime. She started to explain that Quiz had left the city, never to return. But then she spotted Loyal Kercher glowering at her from his front step, his sneer even more malicious than usual, and thought better of it.

“I'm sure he'll be back soon,” she said, loud enough for Loyal to hear. The last thing she needed was for him to get cocky in Quiz's absence. “Now you two hurry off to Aunt Sal's. I've got some errands to run.”

That much, at least, wasn't a lie. Annagail had given Isaveth a little money to buy groceries and other essentials—including the morning edition of the
Trumpeter
, which they hoped would tell them more about Papa's case. A brisk walk brought Isaveth to the local market, where she paid five cits for the paper, practically snatched it from the grocer's hand, and sat down at once to read it.

The leading story was indeed about Papa's trial, but to Isaveth's disappointment, it told her nothing that she didn't already know. She was about to turn the page when another headline caught her eye.

HEXTER BULDAGE APPOINTED GOVERNOR.

Her gaze drifted to the picture below, which showed the master standing at the entrance to Founders' Hall, holding his wand of office and looking modestly smug
about his good fortune. It was much as Isaveth had expected, except for one detail.

Buldage had the wrong face.

Instead of the little bearded master who'd been so angry to find Isaveth looking at the wardrobe, this was his tall, gray-eyed companion, the one who seemed to have nothing to hide. In fact, he'd even opened the wardrobe door so she could look in. Isaveth stared at the new governor's picture, her heart sinking lower with every beat.

She'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. Again.

With a rush of anger Isaveth slapped the news-rag closed, but then a thought struck her. Shouldn't there be something about the incident at Goodram's Wharf? She opened the paper and scanned it until she spotted a small article in the local section.

DISSENTERS' RALLY ENDS IN ARRESTS.

It described how the Lawkeepers had broken up an illegal political meeting on Fastday night and taken its leaders into custody. But within a few lines it became obvious that the writer was reporting only one side of the story, because the arrested men and women were described as criminals with a history of violent and lawless behavior, and there was a vivid account of how the Lawkeepers had been “forced” to use shields and
clouters against the “angry mob” who rushed to attack them.

Disgusted, Isaveth wadded up the
Trumpeter
and shoved it down the side of her basket. Anna could look at it later, but Isaveth never wanted to read that lying rag again.

*  *  *

When she returned to Cabbage Street, Loyal Kercher was lounging on his steps again, as though he hadn't moved since she left. But there was something odd about his expression: not surly as before, but gloating and even triumphant. Still, Isaveth had too much else on her mind to bother about it—until she got inside and found Mimmi huddled at the foot of the staircase, weeping.

“What happened?” Isaveth dropped to her knees and seized her little sister by the shoulders. “Where's Lilet?”

Mimmi hiccuped. “At Aunt Sal's. Only, Pem wanted to play dollies, so I ran home to fetch mine, and on the way . . .” Tears welled up again, streaking her dirty face. “Loyal to-o-ok my sho-o-oes.”

“What?” Isaveth was appalled. Loyal might be a bully, but she'd never known him to attack someone as young as Mimmi. Much less steal something he had no use for. “Why?”

“He said . . . he said . . .” Mimmi sniffed hard. “I didn't . . . deserve them. Because Papa was . . . a murderer and you were . . . a dirty, tale-bearing . . .” She gulped. “I can't say it.”

“You don't have to,” Isaveth replied, hugging her. “Never mind, Mim. I'll make him give them back.” Even if she wasn't sure how, and was more than a little afraid to try.

“You can't,” Mimmi said miserably. “It's too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“I begged him to give them back. I begged a lot.” Mimmi wiped her eyes with the hem of her skirt. “I said I'd tell his mama. But he just laughed and told me to go ahead. Then he threw the shoes to his . . . his dog . . . and Bruiser . . .
ate
them. . . .” She hugged her knees to her chest, sobbing harder than ever.

Isaveth sat back slowly, staring at Mimmi. Then without a word she got up, walked straight out the door, and planted herself outside the Kerchers' cottage.

“Loyal!” she shouted.

He swaggered to meet her, his smirk more taunting than ever. “Bet you're sorry now,” he said.

“Sorry for what?” demanded Isaveth, and he scoffed.

“Like you don't know. You thought you were clever, didn't you? Trying to get our relief cut off, all 'cause you
were jealous we had a crystal set and you didn't. Guess you figured you could sit there and laugh while we were starving.” His lips twitched into a snarl. “Well, it didn't work. And now we're onto you, Moshie girl. We'll teach you not to muck with us.”

The anger drained out of Isaveth, leaving her chilled all over. “What are you talking about? I never—”

The cottage door banged, and Missus Kercher came flapping down the steps in her lounge-robe, like a great white bat. “You've some nerve, young miss,” she rasped, jabbing a finger at Isaveth. “You'd think a girl in your place should know better than to spite her neighbors, but by all the Sages, you're going to regret it.”

“I don't know what you mean!” Isaveth burst out. “I never told anyone about your crystal set!”

“Ha! Don't think you can play the innocent.” Missus Kercher folded her arms, the curl of her lips even uglier than Loyal's. “I caught your boyfriend with the patch peeping in my window, sure as daylight. And my Loyal says you've been running wild all over the city with him, causing no end of trouble. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

Esmond again. And to think she'd believed he couldn't hurt her any worse than he had already. But he'd ruined every part of her life without even knowing it.

“You're wrong,” Isaveth said hoarsely. “I would never.” Then, as Loyal stepped menacingly toward her, she turned and ran.

*  *  *

Dinner in the Breck household that evening was even more subdued than usual. Annagail was so distraught she forgot to say the blessing, and no one had the heart to remind her; Lilet kept muttering darkly and glaring at her plate; and Mimmi was still sniffling over her lost shoes—which Loyal had tossed onto the front step only an hour ago, chewed to sodden ribbons that no amount of boxboard or binding twine could repair. And since Annagail had thrown out the old pair, Mimmi now had nothing to wear on her feet at all.