‘Are you engaging in speculation, my Cantor?’
Estevar collapsed the spyglass and replaced it. ‘You heard the Wolf-King’s endless boasts. Half the time they made no sense. How would he have got twelve naked and supposedly stupefied knights on their saddles, never mind convinced their horses to ride down a winding road, along a treacherous causeway and all the way back to Someil without their riders falling off?’
Caeda’s storm-grey eyes were suddenly alight with excitement. ‘Of course! Strigan couldn’t do all that; he’s an idiot! And isn’t it odd that he so easily boughtourlies? Your gambit– the “Cressi Manoeuvre”–why didn’t he attack you later when we were in the dignitary’s suite at the top of the tower, or on the stairs? He saw how exhausted and in pain you were, yet he believed you every time you bluffed him.’
Estevar puffed himself up a bit. ‘I’m not entirely unskilled at—’
Caeda patted his chest absently. ‘Yes, dear Cantor, you’re very persuasive. You and this Sir Daven should consider putting on a travelling show together. But every time one of us made some inference or insinuation, Strigan went along with it, embellishing here and there. It’s almost as if he believed anything anyone told him.’
‘Saint Ethalia-who-shares-all-sorrows,’ Estevar swore, suddenly understanding why Caeda had been belabouring the point. ‘This also explains why the factions are so unquestioning, following whoever leads them– the poison in the wine has not simply inspired paranoia or fear, but it has rendered them highly suggestible. Clever, my girl. Damned clever!’
Caeda beamed at his praise. ‘What better way to make an entire abbey full of monks act like lunatics than to expose them to a drug that makes them believe almost any insane story you feed them?’
Estevar turned back to the water. Sir Daven’s rowboat, aided by the tides, was making good progress. Soon, there would be a reckoning.
‘Go now, Piccolo. I dislike giving orders, but if you are truly my assistant in this investigation, you will allow me to issue this one final command.’ Before she could protest, he patted his left side where his greatcoat covered his sword wound. ‘Do not fear for me. I am not quite so unprepared for this duel as I was my last.’
He thought she might argue, but the same keen perceptions that made her so quick a study in the art of investigation also told her when the debate was over.
Caeda walked back towards the rocks, where she could observe unseen what transpired next.
She was almost there when she stopped and turned to him. ‘Estevar?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Yes, Piccolo?’
‘Everything we’ve deduced about the margrave and his conspiracy to drive the monks mad so he’d have an excuse to conquer the island makes perfect sense, but how does any of it explain the creatures you saw? Could you have been drugged, too? Because if you hallucinated the demons, then our hypothesis about the margrave’s scheme would explain everything.’
If only that were so, Estevar thought, watching the little boat getting closer and preparing himself for what he must do next.By every saint living and dead, how I wish the truth were half so benign.
CHAPTER 36
CIVILITY
Sir Daven Colraig smiled as he stepped off the boat, sweeping his arms wide as if he and Estevar were two old friends reuniting after a long absence. The young knight’s lustrous blond hair was suitably wind-swept, the white and azure surcoat over his gleaming silver chainmail shirt favourably accented by the sunset behind him.
‘Estevar, so good to see you alive and well!’ he called, dragging his rowboat onto the shore.
‘I regret that I am less enthusiastic at our reunion,’ Estevar said, noting the absence of the longsword the knight had worn during their previous encounter. Arriving unarmed to a peace parley was standard diplomatic protocol, yet entirely suspicious in this particular case. ‘Your demeanour is considerably changed since our first encounter.’
Sir Daven gave an elaborate bow. ‘I was born in Jereste, a city famed for its actors. I was so good at pretending to be other people, I managed to get myself knighted!’ He laughed at his own joke. Leaning casually against the boat’s prow, he added, ‘Forgive my impertinent familiarity, Eminence. It’s only that I feel as if we are kindred souls, given our respective professions.’
‘You mean because I am a magistrate sworn to investigate wrongdoing in service of the law while you are a nobleman’s lackey who covers up his master’s crimes for personal reward?’
‘These days, I prefer the title sheriff outrider. But I’ve not rowed across that miserable, stomach-churning stretch of water to quibble with you.’ He glanced around at the beach. ‘What happened to that woman who was standing with you? The one in the white gown with the red hair? Damned rowboats work better when you’re going backwards, but I managed a glance at her and she struck me as quite lovely.’
‘There was no woman with me.’
A flash of irritation crossed Sir Daven’s handsome features. ‘I saw her in the spyglass from the other side of the causeway, and again while I was rowing here. Forgive me, Eminence, but this seems an odd thing to lie about.’
‘Then it is fortunate I have not lied to you.’
‘As you will, then, though I don’t know why you’re bothering to hide her. It’s you I’ve come to see anyway.’
‘Then perhaps you would like to get to the point of your visit?’
Sir Daven slapped his own forehead in feigned remembrance. ‘You know, you had me so flustered with this nonsensical denial about your lovely companion that I almost forgot why I’d come in the first place. A moment, if you please.’ He walked back around to the port side of the little rowboat and reached down beneath the seat. When he turned back, he was aiming a pair of flintlock pistols at Estevar’s chest. ‘Good news! I’ve come to rescue you from this foul island of madness.’
‘A kind gesture, but unnecessary.’