Treachery's Tools (27 page)

“Nor I you,” replied Alyna as she sat down, “although I should have realized it, given your daughter's beauty and abilities.”

Alastar seated himself without speaking.

“You're most kind, Maitre Alyna.”

“Not kind. Accurate.”

“What information do you seek? I presume that is why you're here.”

“It is,” began Alastar. “I don't know if you've heard, but a junior imager was shot with a poisoned bullet yesterday. He died almost immediately from the poison, most likely a mixture of bleufleur and another substance that causes convulsions. The wound was little more than superficial. A number of shots were fired, and all the bullets were poisoned.” That was strictly speculation on Alastar's part.

“And?”

“While I understand that you do not deal in such substances, you would have the greatest breadth of knowledge as to who might or whose facilities might have the capability of casting or forging the hollow bullets and making larger quantities of such poisons.” What Alastar wasn't saying, but what would certainly be obvious to the factoria, was that if no one in the factoring community happened to be making the bullets, whoever it might be was likely a High Holder.

“I could scarcely speak to the matter of weapons. In fact, the only factor I know who has any familiarity with those is Vaschet. Poisons? Every factor in L'Excelsis likely has substances that could poison someone in some fashion.”

“That is doubtless true,” replied Alyna, after a glance from Alastar. “Most of those substances would not kill someone in moments without any odor and in such small amounts that they could be carried by a bullet.”

“That is, as you say, true enough, but the most effective poisons are those gathered from herbs and plants, although I have heard that the skins of certain frogs from Otelyrn contain a deadly venom. Very few factors have lands vast enough to gather the herbs and plants sufficient for the quantities of poison necessary for scores of bullets, let alone hundreds. While the root of a single bleufleur contains enough poison to kill a man, I do not know of anyone foolish enough to grow scores of them. It takes the pits of about thirty wild apricots to make a fatal dose of pitricin, but that is for a liquid that can be placed in food. I understand that it is not nearly so effective if applied in other ways, and the amount required would be much greater…” After another half quint, Kathila paused, then concluded, “I trust you can see why I believe it unlikely that any factor in L'Excelsis would be involved in creating poison bullets.”

“What about smallholders outside L'Excelsis?” asked Alastar. “They would have access to the plants.”

“They could certainly make pitricin or bleufleur, but bleufleur in particular is dangerous to handle in large quantities. Spilling the liquid on an arm could kill a smallholder. Only someone with access to land and a special factorage…”

“That's not quite an accusation of High Holders,” suggested Alastar, his voice lightly humorous.

“You asked, Maitre. I have answered as honestly as I know how. Do you disagree?”

“You do make a case for a greater probability that the poisoned bullets came from a High Holder, but at the moment, it only appears that it is more likely.”

“In time, Maitre, a succession of likelihoods becomes a certainty.”

“You have been most helpful,” Alyna said warmly, glancing to Alastar.

“Most helpful,” he agreed, easing the wooden box from his jacket pocket and extending it across the desk.

Kathila took the box. “Might I open it now?”

“I hope you would.”

The factoria eased off the wooden top. Alastar could see the slight widening of her eyes before she said, “They're magnificent … and the design…”

“Alyna created the design. They're pure silver.”

Kathila inclined her head slightly. “Thank you. I may just keep these, at least for a time.” After a pause, she added, “There is not a factor in L'Excelsis who has not said that you are a man of your word. This is a splendid example of that.” Her voice darkened as she went on. “I fear that too many High Holders do not understand that, and we all will suffer.”

“I hope not,” replied Alastar.

“One can always hope, while continuing to prepare for the failure of those hopes.” Another silence followed. “Is there anything else?”

“I think not.” Alastar rose, as did Alyna. “We thank you for your time and knowledge.”

“And I, for your word, and the silver that supports it.”

Neither Alastar nor Alyna spoke until they were mounted and headed north on the West River Road.

“She knows more than enough to poison most of L'Excelsis,” Alastar declared wryly. “She's not someone we need as an enemy.”

“You just discovered that, dearest?”

“Let's just call this morning confirmation, both of her abilities and the fact that she has nothing to do with it.”

“She has the abilities, regardless of what she said, but I would agree with you. No matter what she conveys to Thelia, she would do nothing that might harm her.”

“Assuming she is correct, and I'm assuming that,” said Alastar, “that only narrows those with the ability and proximity to half the High Holders in and around L'Excelsis.”

“Half? Because the other half aren't competent enough or don't have lands near enough or any real factorages?”

“It might be a bit more or less.”

“Likely less.”

“Make certain your shields are strong,” Alastar said as they continued north toward the south bridge. “If anyone is likely to shoot, it will be when we're near the bridge.”

“Do you think they will?”

“Whether they do or not will reveal something.”

“Whether the clouds cover the sun or not reveals something.”

“If the shooter is present and after senior imagers, he will shoot. If he does not shoot, why then, he is either not present or looking for more vulnerable imagers as targets.”

While Alastar could not help but feeling tense and very much like a target, the remainder of their return to the Collegium was uneventful, and he was back in his study at a quint past ninth glass.

Just after midday, as Alastar was wondering if it might be safe to leave the heat of the administration building, since it was end-day once the bells struck noon on Samedi, Belsior, the duty maitre for Samedi, rushed into the study. “Maitre! Someone's shot at juniors by the Bridge of Desires!” Then he turned and ran from the study.

Alastar followed at a run, if not at the headlong sprint exhibited by the younger maitre. Despite his regular morning runs and the exercise sessions added by Akoryt, he was breathing hard and sweat was running off his forehead and into his eyes when he reached the grassy swale between the causeway leading to the bridge and the raised stone walk that ran just behind the west riverwall.

A student imager lay sprawled on his back on the grass just below the stone walk. He did not move, and his eyes were open. An imager third—Glaesyn, Alastar recognized belatedly—was sitting on a stone bench, with a female student imager holding something against his shoulder.

Belsior was talking to the two at the bench. “… was he hit…”

As soon as Alastar reached Glaesyn and the two others, he immediately demanded. “Show me the wound.”

Orlana, the student third, answered, “I'm trying to stop the bleeding.”

“That can wait for a moment.” Alastar gently but quickly moved Orlana's hand and the cloth—likely her scarf—and studied the wound. The shell wasn't visible, but there wasn't that much blood …
Last time you waited.
“This could hurt.” He concentrated.

Glaesyn shuddered and uttered a low, “Oooo.”

A bloody lump appeared on the stone pavement.

“Don't touch it!” snapped Alastar. “Orlana and I will get Glaesyn to the infirmary. Belsior … get all the juniors and anyone else away from the riverwalls. Get anyone you can to help. Find a maitre to man the sentry box until I can get back. Oh … use oilcloth or a lot of fabric to pick up that bullet and have someone bring it to Maitre Gaellen. And send someone to find Maitres Akoryt and Cyran. Have them meet me at the infirmary.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Alastar helped Glaesyn to his feet, he caught sight of the student sprawled on the grass on his back, an expression of shock or surprise frozen on his dead face. He recognized Lyam, a second, a good solid student. Then he turned to Orlana. “You can press that scarf against the wound again.”

With Orlana on one side and Alastar on the other, they managed to walk Glaesyn to the infirmary, although his steps were uncoordinated, almost shambling.

Gaellen was waiting.

“I imaged the bullet out. Belsior or someone will be bringing that. I might have done some damage, but I tried to keep the imaging to the area around the bullet.”

“They kept shooting…” mumbled Glaesyn. “Two of them … couldn't hold full shields … then they were gone…”

“How many shots?” asked Alastar.

“Nine or ten,” said Orlana. “Maybe more.”

“Enough,” said Gaellen. “Get him into surgery.”

Alastar and Orlana guided Glaesyn the few yards to the surgery.

Once Gaellen had Glaesyn on the table, Alastar guided Orlana back outside the infirmary and under the shade of the nearest tree. “Tell me everything you can remember.”

“We were walking along the riverwall path near the bridge,” said Orlana. “It's been so hot, and there's always a breeze on the west side of Imagisle, and the summer flowers haven't faded. I heard something—it was like a shot—and Maitre Akoryt had said that we needed to drop to the ground if we heard shots. I went down on my hands and knees. Lyam—he just laughed at first. Maybe he didn't hear the shots. Maybe he didn't know what they were … then one of them hit him. He said something like ‘I'm shot.' He was hit again … and he fell. He just lay there. Glaesyn was on bridge duty, and he came running out of the box. Whoever it was fired at him, and they kept shooting. Glaesyn jerked, like something hit his shields. Then he staggered down the slope and sat on the bench.… I called for help, and Thoms came running. I sent him for the duty maitre … and then I tried to stop the bleeding until you and Maitre Belsior came.”

“Is there anything else?”

“I … I don't think so.”

“If you remember anything, please let me know.”

“I will, sir.”

“Stay away from areas where you can be seen from the far banks of the river.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Orlana left, Alastar turned toward Thoms, whom he now recognized as the second who had been carrying the basket.

“I gave the basket that had the bullet to Osfuerk. He's Maitre Gaellen's assistant. I told him that the bullet might have poison in it.”

“Thank you, Thoms. I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Since he didn't see Akoryt or Cyran yet, Alastar walked back into the infirmary to see if Gaellen had done what he could for Glaesyn. He was afraid that he hadn't arrived soon enough and that his removal of the bullet had either been too late or too violent.

Pacing back and forth along the corridor several yards from the surgery, Alastar waited almost a quint before Gaellen emerged.

The healer looked at Alastar. “He might make it. He's not getting any weaker, and his breathing isn't getting worse. You did the right thing in imaging out the bullet. His shoulder is going to take a long time to heal, and he may have some trouble moving it as well as he could. Then again, he might not. He wouldn't be moving anything if you hadn't gotten it out. There was still poison in the shell.”

“Can you tell what it is?”

“It smells like bleufleur, but there's something else in it.”

“Did he say any more about the shooting?”

“He wanted you to know that one of the men was blond and he wore a brown shirt and trousers. The other man also wore brown. Both had rifles. They were on the knoll to the north of the bridge on the far side.”

And no one saw them until they started shooting?
“Thank you. Can he talk?”

“He was rambling for a bit, but that settled down. I'd let him rest for a time.”

“Then I'll be back later.”

Gaellen just nodded.

Since neither Cyran nor Akoryt had arrived, Alastar left the infirmary and started toward the administration building when he saw Alyna, accompanied by Lystara and Malyna, headed toward him. They met some twenty yards from the main door of the administration building.

“Someone was shot. Who?” asked Alyna.

“Secondus Lyam was killed. Glaesyn was wounded. I imaged the bullet out. Gaellen thinks his chances are good. The bullet was poisoned. It appeared that Lyam was struck twice and both bullets were poisoned. One of the shooters was probably the man who killed Harl.”

“Did you see him?” asked Malyna.

Alastar shook his head. “He was long gone by the time I got there. They shot from that knoll on the west side of the river north of the Bridge of Desires. I sent for Akoryt and Cyran, but I haven't seen either yet.”

“It is Samedi afternoon,” Alyna said, the tone of her voice between dry and sardonic. Then she smiled. “I'm glad you're fine. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just have Tiranya keep the young women away from the riverwalks and exposed places for now.”

“Every shot has been taken from the west bank of the Aluse,” Alyna pointed out. “That's likely because the shooters can get to hidden places more easily without being seen.”

“We can't count on them not sneaking into buildings on the east bank.”

“That could come next.” She nodded. “You have things to do. We can talk later.”

Alastar had just turned to make his way to the administration building when Akoryt hurried toward him. “Maitre! I just heard.… What about Glaesyn?”