Moth and Spark (8 page)

He raised his eyebrows. “How would you know a thing like that?”

She hesitated. “My father studied it.”

“And who is your father to know himself?”

“A doctor. Hyrne Warin.”

He looked at her with more interest. “What brings you here?”

“Summer court. Lady Cina invited me. She’s married to my brother.”

He gave a little grunt of acknowledgment, perhaps remembering the marriage, and went on. “What makes you think it was blood-dust?”

“The blood,” she said. “He was entirely white, but he had started hemorrhaging beneath the skin. I expect you’ll find the bruises. And he was delirious. He thought I was someone else. I think he was going into shock. Blood-dust is the only thing I know of that makes all those at once. Except for the red plague.” Crisp, collected. She was not going to tell anyone how the man had looked at her, the raw need on his face. That she was going to remember the rest of her life.

He did not try to convince her she had not seen it. “I’ll have to look under a glass,” he said, “but I’ll assume you’re right for the moment. If it were red plague someone else would be dead already. Did any of the blood get on you?”

She gestured to the cut skirt. “Not on my skin.”

“Did you wash?”

“Yes. And I told the guards not to touch it.”

“Did you say what it was?”

“Of course not,” she replied, somewhat indignantly. “I said it was sepsis or contagion. There had to be a reason for them to stay away that they would believe.”

“You don’t say a word to anyone, hear me?”

“I’m not a fool.”

“I expect you’re not. But I have to warn you anyway.” He put one hand on the back of an elegant chair with an elaborately embroidered cushion. “There’s no one else who will need to ask you, no one else you need to tell. I’ll take care of that. Your work is to forget about it all.”

“What if I’m wrong?”

“If you’re wrong I’ll let you know, but you still can’t let loose you even suspected it. There aren’t many people who know about blood-dust, and you keep it that way. You’re lucky you have the right background; anyone else who knew what you know would be under arrest by now.”

Tam had known it would not be prudent to speak her guess, but he was coming down on her as though it were a state secret. Perhaps it was. She let herself imagine what would happen if it were generally known that the Sarians had such a poison. “I understand,” she said. She was still so very calm. “Who was he?”

“Cade. The likely heir to a very minor barony.” He lifted his hand. “I
must see to him. The guards will want to ask you some questions. Don’t tell them anything about the blood-dust either. Not even if they ask directly. Wait here.”

She nodded. There were no other options. Blood, moths, pain. It would have been better to go with Cina.

If he had been poisoned, had he been one of the men in the courtyard last night? Or had they been the poisoners? Why her, what made him die in her presence? It was nothing, all a tissue of spider-threads that reason would rip apart in seconds. Cade was dead and the mechanics of death would run their course. A funeral in a few days and then memory of him would fade away from all but the few who had actually loved him.

She waited. There was nothing in the room to occupy herself with. A few common sparrows picked at the ground in the garden, but nothing else moved. It began to rain again. She wanted to change her clothes. She would not think about the moths or the moving blood.

She was beginning to think they had forgotten about her and was working up the courage to go interrupt when a soldier came in. He was not a guard; he had to have some officer’s rank, although he was too young for it to be very high. The glance he gave was followed by a stare, broken before it became rude.

He asked her a few ordinary questions, which she answered honestly. She expected him to go on and repeat the questions the doctor had asked her.

He did not. He said, “Did you know Lord Cade?”

“No.”

“Had you ever seen him before?”

She thought about it. “If I have I don’t remember. There are so many people here.”

“Do you have any idea why he would be murdered?”

“How could I have an idea of that if I had no idea who he was?” she replied, perhaps too sarcastically. He stared at her in an unfriendly way, then continued.

“Do any of your friends know him?”

“I don’t know.” This was beginning to feel like an interrogation. “If there is any connection between me and Lord Cade other than the chance that I saw him die, I don’t know it.”

“You said he died of poison.”

She folded her arms. “Blood poison. Sepsis. Or contagion. I explained this. I am a doctor’s daughter. I have seen people die before. Sometimes the infection or disease is carried in the blood. It could be anything. Red plague, jungle fever. Do I need to find myself an advocate?”

The words
red plague
caught his attention. His eyes widened. “Red plague?”

“Probably not. But your doctor can decide that.” She would scare him into leaving her alone.

He looked at her with rather more respect and said, “If it was murder and there is a trial you will have to testify. Don’t leave without telling us. You can go on, then.”

Not the polite dismissal it should have been, but she did not care. In her room she undressed and left the ruined clothing on the floor. She hurried into the bathroom, where she ran blessedly hot water and scrubbed her entire body. She washed her hands four times before they felt clean again.

She put on a clean dress and bundled up the other into a neat ball, washed her hands once more, then rang for a servant. A chambermaid or two was always about. She gave directions to burn the clothing, repeated it firmly to the astonished girl, then sat on the windowseat and thought. She left the window open even though it was chilly.

If the courtiers ever found out that she saw Cade die, no matter the cause, she would be surrounded by the horrified curious. She was certain the doctor would not talk. The guards might, but most of them did not even know her name. Probably it would all fade away, especially if Cade really was as unimportant as the doctor had made him seem. But it might be just as well to vanish somewhere for the rest of the morning.

Tam made her way to the library, chose a book, and settled herself in a comfortable chair in the corner by the tall windows. Rain left soft grey trickles on the glass and dimmed the garden beyond. The lit glowlamps—so many of them!—were set to a lower brightness, making the room feel cozy and warm.
Anyone else who knew what you know would be under arrest by now
. Her eyes traveled down the page but she read nothing. The book was a popular novel, replete with betrayal, ghosts, and a crumbling tower overlooking a black and rocky sea. She forced herself through two
chapters, then gave up. If she was thinking so much about the Sarians, she might as well read about them.

She went back to the bookshelves. The library was well organized, but it took a while to find anything about Sarium. Even then, there were only a few books. One was titled
Beyond the Black Peaks
, which sounded promising. As she started to carefully remove it from the shelf, she was distracted by the one next to it.
Magicks and Alchymies of the Distant Easte
. There was a subtitle:
Being a Collection of the Barbarous Spells and Curses Practiced by the Eastern Peoples, With Special Attention to Charms and Potions of Love and of Hatred.
If anything merited the word
tome
, this did. It looked more likely to have something about blood-dust in it than the other book.

You fool, she thought as she carried the book to a table. If she was found reading it now, it would not look good. Better than before the murder, she told herself.

The table of contents was frustratingly detailed and disorganized.
Of the uses of henbane. A cure for warts. To renew a lost love. Phases of the moon and their influence on healing spells.
Apparently the Sarians were as full of supernatural nonsense as the Caithenian peasants. She began turning pages. The type was small and cramped, and the pages were old and crumbling a bit. No one had read it for years and years. Even if there was a formula for blood-dust in it, it would be impossible to find without removing the book and reading for hours, which certainly had not happened recently. She sneezed.

That sufficiently tried her patience for her to return it to the shelf. Little flakes of paper clung to her dress. If she kept reading she was going to have to change her clothes again. Books were not the answer today. She would come back tomorrow if the rain kept up.

There was a large mosaic map of the Narrow Sea and the countries surrounding it on one wall. Tam stood in front of it and looked at the blue sea south of Caithen. Her father knew about the blood-dust because he had been in Sarium, and the doctor knew because the king’s spies and scouts knew. But how had it come to Caithenor, to be slipped into the food or drink of an ordinary courtier? The reason he was killed did not puzzle her unduly; people had their secrets. He had crossed someone in love or money. A Sarian poison was a different mystery.

She touched Dele on the map. It was Caithen’s only real port. There
were small bays between it and the university city of Liden to the west. Liden saw some traffic, but not much. Farther on, where the Narrow Sea opened to the Great Sea, the Caithenian coast was rocky cliffs. On the Great Sea side, the western side, the cliffs grew steeper and more rugged the farther north one went. Village fishermen and smugglers were the only men to put in at those rocky beaches.

But Dele, Dele was a huge city, three times or more the size of Caithenor, with ships constantly coming in or heading out. It was all trade with Argondy and Mycene now that Illyria and Liddea were cut off by Tyrekh. Or rather, that was all the legal trade and travel. It would be no great problem to get a small amount of deadly poison in through the custom-houses and tariff-stops with so much traffic. Her brother had told her of the maddening noise and crowds at the wharves. And the corruption. Anyone with enough money could do as he wished.

For that matter, it would not have been so difficult to come in by horse. The border between Caithen and Argondy was guarded, but travel between the two countries had never been much restricted. There were always men who dealt with the enemy, they would find their ways.

It bothered her, though, blood-dust in Caithen. In the palace. Someone with power had it. Her father had told her it was extremely difficult to make and that Tyrekh kept tight control over all of it. It was not used for killing rats. Had it come from a chain of common criminals, or had it been brought directly from Sarium and placed in a Caithenian lord’s hands? She told herself that it needn’t be any kind of treachery. Buying Sarian poison did not make anyone less loyal to Caithen than drinking Illyrian wine did. Evil men always were on the watch for weapons.

She did not convince herself. Oh, Tam, she thought, why are you puzzling over this? It’s not your affair.

It was certainly not the subject a young woman was supposed to think about, unless she was reading a novel like the one she had put down. Poisons, rivalries, and dark-robed sinister men were proper enough on the written page. If Cade had died in that sort of book it would have been because he stumbled on a dark and long-hidden secret, or drank from the forbidden flask. But what she considered now was politics, not fantasy. Not the province of a commoner, let alone a woman.

She smelled perfume. Sandalwood. It was too early in the day for
such a scent. She turned quickly and saw Alina walking toward her. Alina wore a lilac-colored dress that would have made anyone else with her fair skin and dark hair look pale and ill. On her, it looked splendid. She was a handsome girl with large brown eyes and an excellent figure. She wore tight low-necked gowns that were perfectly fashionable and not too indecent; they shouted confidently,
Look at me!
And men did. Tam was partly scornful, partly amused, and, she admitted to herself, a little jealous.

Alina said, “Oh, Tam, Tam, I hoped to find you here. The most dreadful thing has happened.”

“What?”

“Lord Cade is dead and they say it was poison,” Alina replied breathlessly. She was young, only seventeen. Old enough to marry, but not old enough to know anything about death. Then Tam remembered that the girl’s mother had died when she was a child, and she felt a little guilty for the thought.

She asked, “Poison? Who is Lord Cade?” The lie came smoothly.

“Nobody important, though he was rather handsome and rich. But it’s causing a terrible commotion. There are guards everywhere. They may even search the rooms.” Alina sounded more excited than concerned.

Tam thought a search unlikely. What would they expect to find? The poisoner would have more sense than to leave poison in his room. Or hers. Poison was said to be a woman’s weapon. Of course they might have to make a show of it.

“Did you know him well?” Tam asked.

“Yes. I didn’t care much for him. He was always showing off. What have you been looking at the map for? Don’t say you are thinking of leaving already.”

Sweetly said, but probably not meant at all. Tam replied, “Oh, no, I was just considering my brother’s ships.”

“Of course. Merchantmen, aren’t they? How many does he have?”

“I have no idea,” she answered. It was true, but not honest. “I can’t keep track of them all, though I do know the difference between a sloop and a brig.” Efan was nowhere near as wealthy as that implied, but it was none of Alina’s business. “Should I be worried about Lord Cade’s death?”

“No, no. But do come back with me, we girls should stick together.”

Tam thought Alina chatty, vain, and dull, which was a deadly combination, and would rather not have come, but there was no graceful way of declining. She took one last look at the map and followed Alina out. In the halls they went side by side, Tam listening to Alina talking. She murmured occasional responses, meaningless questions.

The blood-smell was strong again in her nostrils and on her tongue. The story was a simple collapse in the hallway, no mention of blood spewing over a woman’s skirt. The guards were well disciplined if that had not got out. Later, maybe. It was fortunate that she had been the only observer. If there had been more people, or a different person, the secret would not be kept. She hoped the maid did not say anything about the dress.