The Dagger of Trust Page 7

  Still the students said nothing to each other. Gideon was in the lead, so without comment he bent low and shifted a pile of shoeboxes, kicking at one part of the exposed wall. The wall slid aside, revealing a descent much like the one in Antique Musicology.

  Once the door was closed behind them, one of the students said, "Any ideas?"

  "No," said Gideon.

  "We'd best keep quiet," said the third.

  So they did. Gideon suggested they simultaneously give the passphrase of the week, so they chorused their opinion of the crab catch and the guards let them through, evident tension in the sentinels' voices as the students were directed to the Scar Chamber.

  The Chamber's door was already open, and the Mistress of Stillness and Motion, looking tired and shocked but determined to palliate the damage done to the students' anonymity, handed each arrival a black hooded cloak.

  The Chamber was still filled with mannequins (although the decor had shifted from Cheliax to a bazaar in Qadira) and was again illuminated by faux moonlight. As such, it was difficult to determine the true number of students. Filling the chamber came a voice Gideon had never before heard underground.

  "Headmaster Xeritian is dead," said the diva Aurestia, illuminated by a sudden circle of silver light. "He was murdered last night. As his Left Hand, I must now reveal myself and take command of the Shadow School." She paused a moment, to let the gasp subside. Gideon noted that aside from a few oaths, the future Lion Blades kept their silence. He was equally speechless.

  "I had no wish to claim this post, as I enjoy my duties in the daylight. But now the diva will fall ill and the spy will awaken. My first order of business is not pretty. The assassin must be caught, and his or her masters exposed. As such, this is no longer truly a school, but a front in the twilight battle between Taldor and its enemies."

  Despite the shock, Gideon's mind was already racing. He wished he could see the expressions around him. The only people unhooded and in the light were the key faculty. The Master of Steel and Sinew, whom Gideon knew to be Xeritian's Right Hand (Gideon had never heard of a Left Hand) stood beside Aurestia. The Mistress of Lies and Memory and the Master of Charm and Disguise each stood to one side of the pair. The Mistress of Stillness and Motion remained near the door. Their faces were all impassive. Only Aurestia showed real emotion.

  "This is no doubt hard to accept. It is for us as well. Xeritian was like a father to many. He loved his nation and he loved this school."

  Gideon's eyes searched the room. He could make out more details now, but the hoods hid most faces. Minor faculty, and the alumni who sometimes assisted at the school, must also be present in their own black cloaks. Had Gideon planned this meeting, he'd have had them here early, in key positions, armed, spells ready. He might even have a few mannequins replaced with people dressed and painted to resemble mannequins.

  He inched away from his nearest, unbreathing neighbors.

  "The killer will be found," Aurestia declared. "It's only a matter of time. You've experienced but a fraction of our capabilities."

  The passion in her voice was real, Gideon realized. But it was also theater. Because the assassin might very well be in this room. If the killer was a student, this meeting might trigger panic. Gideon wished he'd been able to prepare his own spells.

  The lights were dim as a crescent moon. Suddenly they flared bright as noonday in the Osirian desert.

  "You!" shouted Aurestia.

  Gideon was dazzled, shaken, his heart skipping a beat. When he could see again, he beheld Aurestia pointing at a shaking student.

  "No, no! I didn't, I—"

  Shocked, Gideon recognized Viridia's voice.

  Figures in black dragged the struggling young woman out the door.

  "Time will tell if she acted alone, or as part of a conspiracy," Aurestia said. "For now, you are dismissed to the rooms where you first met your cells. Keep your hoods on. Later you will be allowed to return to the Rhapsodic College, but remember that the investigation continues. If you try to leave the college grounds, you will be observed."

  Not looking at anybody, Gideon traveled to his "home room," his thoughts swirling like dead leaves. It couldn't be. Viridia was hot-tempered, and perhaps in her past lay reasons to hate the elite of Taldor. But he knew she loved the school.

  There was nobody he recognized in his assigned chamber. He didn't dare call out to see if Ozrif was among the hooded figures.

  "Gull," came a voice from the far side of the room. "Come."

  He followed what he presumed was a staff member through a concealed door he'd never noticed before. It led into a short hallway with many branches. A maze within the maze of the school.

  The staffer opened another concealed door and nudged Gull through.

  Magical lights flashed to brightness. There stood Viridia, Sebastian beside her.

  "What?!"

  "Don't be alarmed," Sebastian said. "We're sure your colleague didn't kill Xeritian. At the hour established for his death, she was in a training exercise."

  "So they offered me the chance to try a little acting." Viridia looked not at all like someone facing a hangman's noose.

  "The dazzle," Gideon guessed. "When Aurestia called out ‘You!' That was to induce panic in the real killer."

  "It didn't work," Sebastian said, "or else the killer wasn't here. If he was, perhaps he's been lulled and will become careless."

  "What do we know?"

  "Headmaster Xeritian was seen entering his office late last night. There were two witnesses to this, suggesting innocence for each, although the possibility of a cabal remains."

  "Who were the witnesses?"

  "You don't need to know. I discovered the dead headmaster myself, with another faculty member at my side."

  "Who?"

  "You don't need to know that either."

  "I have the feeling we won't be knowing much." Viridia patted Gideon on the shoulder.

  "On the contrary," Sebastian said, "I'm telling you more than I should. We found Xeritian with dagger wounds in his back, and a cut throat. The weapon was left behind. A dagger of Qadiran make."

  "Dropped or placed?"

  "The headmaster was seated in his chair, the dagger upon his lap."

  Gideon winced at the image of the thoughtful man he'd spoken to yesterday afternoon, reduced to a ghoulish display. "The signature of Qadiran assassins."

  "Quite."

  "I hesitate to ask, but surely necromantic magic is called for. If only to pose questions to Xeritian?"

  Viridia made a warding sign against evil.

  Sebastian smiled sadly. "The corpse has indeed been disturbed with questions. Unfortunately, it can only speak knowledge Xeritian possessed while living. And it seems he didn't glimpse his killer."

  "That's something, though," Viridia said. "That he wasn't betrayed by someone he knew. That points to an outsider."

  "Perhaps," Sebastian answered. "But we only know for certain that he saw nothing."

  "There are more powerful magics," Gideon ventured. "Perhaps, with the Grand Prince's resources, and for someone important as Xeritian..."

  Sebastian shook his head. "In the larger scheme of things, I'm afraid, Xeritian was merely a bureaucrat, albeit a valued one. As far as the palace is concerned, dying violently is simply part of being a spy. Regardless, he stipulated in his will that he didn't wish to be magically drawn back from the grave."

  Gideon pounded the wall. "It's all so pointless."

  "I agree. Nothing was taken from the office, although there are signs various documents were read. Xeritian possessed very few secrets aside from the school's operation."

  "A statement, perhaps. Criminals and nations alike sometimes kill as a form of communication."

  "I'd like to cut the tongue out of whoever sent this message," said Viridia.

  Sebastian nodded as if mirroring just those thoughts. "That's the consensus. The questioning of staff and students is underway. But the investigation of our defenses is just a
s urgent. I think it likely the school will be closed, perhaps permanently."

  "Would we be transferred?"

  "I don't know. That depends on the nature of the threat."

  "The fog..." Viridia said, looking at Gideon.

  "Yes?" said Sebastian.

  "The manifestation our cell witnessed yesterday," Gideon said. "It's too large a coincidence. A distraction, perhaps—something to draw attention away from an assassin."

  "Perhaps. Which brings me to you, Gideon. You'll answer questions about this fog, and about your last conversation with Xeritian."

  "Is Gideon a suspect?" Viridia asked.

  "No more than anyone on site. I was among the first to be interrogated. We all have reasons to be questioned. Your friend Ozrif, for example, is unfortunately the only Keleshite in the school."

  "Stop right there!" Viridia snapped. "No one's going to foist blame onto Ozrif. As if Katapesh were the same as Qadira!"

  "And perhaps," Gideon said, "someone wanted to suggest such blame by using a Qadiran dagger."

  Sebastian raised a hand. "I hear you. I'm merely pointing out that anyone might be a suspect. I myself am regularly in and out of Xeritian's office, and although I found the body, perhaps I arranged that, so you wouldn't suspect I'm the real killer. So, peace! I'd personally reject any suspicion of Ozrif as too obvious. Likewise, it's too obvious to suspect Gull—"

  "Erm, wha?"

  "—because he's Andoren, and was among the last to see Xeritian alive. But I'd bet he was too busy mooning over his lady friend."

  "Hey now."

  "I'll testify he's been mooning," said Viridia.

  "Thanks," Gideon said. "I think."

  "Anyway," Sebastian continued, "we must question. And even though you've got nothing to hide, Gull, I'd answer yours as fully as you can. Dominicus Rell is a tough interrogator."

  "Rell." He'd encountered the leader of the Lion Blades perhaps thrice to his knowledge. Each time the director had acknowledged Gideon with such a glance as a naturalist might fix upon a moth.

  "Rell's just a man, Gideon," said Viridia.

  "Would you say that to his face?"

  "You're worried," said Sebastian.

  "That's because I'm sane."

  They took Gideon to the Pindrop Room.

  It resembled an oversized version of the small practice rooms in the Rhapsodic College. The wooden walls and ceiling were cut into a multitude of interlocking segments, each with two parallel clefts. Beyond that was a layer of rare and highly sound-absorbent wood from Sargava. The chamber was insulated from outside noise, and the waves of air which carried sound within the room would mostly vanish into those spaces and the wood beyond, so there would be no echoes, no reverberation.

  Yet the room was by no means utterly silent. Gideon's bootsteps upon the stone floor came sharply to his ears. So, after a time, did his own heartbeat. When he scratched his nose, the friction was audible.

  In normal circumstances, the Pindrop Room trained students to truly listen. You would sit facing the wall while an instructor would cough, rustle, step on a twig, unsheathe a dagger, even drop the proverbial pin. But one time Gideon was instructed just to sit here, with the magical light-stones removed, and simply be alone with himself—no outside sound, no light.

  A student's ability to handle this environment was considered a mark of pride. Gideon thought he understood the message—a Lion Blade must often be alone, either skulking in the dark, or walled off from other people by a barrier of lies. Such an agent must be comfortable within his own skull.

  There were students who were pulled out of the room within minutes, bellowing and ranting. They never returned to the Shadow School.

  Gideon had coped for a formidable period. He had his full complement of inner demons, but he was familiar with them, and did not require constant distraction from them. But even so, he'd knocked on the wall after barely an hour.

  There was light this time, but now the two chairs in the room were facing each other. Gideon waited alone for a time, as expected, then eventually decided to take advantage of the acoustics. Soft as a whisper, he began to sing.

  O Brother Andoren, are you voting?

  O Brother Andoren, are you voting?

  You say the road is rough

  But freedom's feet are tough.

  O Brother Andoren, are you voting?

  O Brother—

  "I am not your brother."

  You could have heard a pin drop.

  Gideon rose to greet Dominicus Rell.

  Rell was a tall man of supposed Azlanti ancestry. There were many dwelling in the lands around the Inner Sea who claimed a connection with the lost, fabled realm of Azlant, but Rell was the first Gideon had met who seemed strange and impressive enough to make it credible. The man's eyes mixed red and blue and the hues between, and it was unclear from moment to moment which dominated. As Rell gestured for Gideon to sit, Gideon would have said yellow; but the stare Rell offered next seemed tilted to the blue.

  The door shut with a click. The silence seemed an age.

  Still the man stared.

  It was worse than suffering some bellowed accusation. That you could refute. But the eyes and the silence implied an infinity of guilt. Gideon found himself worried, not about having killed Xeritian, but about having spoken to Xeritian at all, about having shared confidences with his fellow students, about venturing off the college grounds, about being Andoren, about preferring folk music to opera.

  Indeed, much as the darkened Pindrop Room inspired hallucinations, Gideon's imagination began conjuring phantom crimes for himself. He was a plant from Andoran, his magical conditioning forcing him to forget. He was unknowingly possessed by a conjured devil from Cheliax. He was a mass murderer, the memory of his violent eruptions buried under a guilt as smothering as volcanic ash.

  "Speak," Rell said.

  "What should I speak about?"

  "I think you know."

  "I've reported yesterday's activities—"

  "I would hear them directly."

  There was nothing for it but to proceed. Every attempt of Gideon's to make his voice sound calm, smooth, and cooperative resulted in his squeaking out rushed, anxious sentences. Rell's eyes seemed to conjure an invisible headsman at Gideon's side.

  "Did your friend Ozrif behave normally yesterday?" Rell interrupted.

  Gideon answered in the affirmative, still feeling the bruises from the Scar Chamber.

  "Describe these visions in the fog."

  Gideon saw no choice but to tell all. He hoped Rell wouldn't question him further about his childhood visit to Bellis, and was relieved when the director moved on.

  "What work did Tambour say he was doing?"

  Gideon explained about the ship's ledger and the Bellis Mead. Rell grunted.

  At one point, as Gideon was explaining his evening activities, Rell snapped, "I have seen snow before. You may leave that description out."

  Later still: "You are saying you fought this mysterious robber, but were forced to run. You, a Lion Blade trainee." His look was scathing.

  Gideon could only nod.

  "This ghost ship," Rell said when Gideon had finished, "did it hearken more to the Baldric production of 4671 or the Osbert interpretation of 4699?"

  Gideon blinked. "What?"

  "Come now. The Baldric production was by far the more elaborate, featuring titanic mock-ups of both Wanderloss and Demonwake. It toured much of the Inner Sea. Surely any version you saw in Andoran was based upon it. Yet if you've seen the opera in Taldor, probably it hearkened to the minimalist reinterpretation propounded by Osbert, where there were only rippling cloth backdrops to imply the setting."

  "I would say it was more like the Baldric production."

  "Ah. Precisely. Very well, Gull. Be assured what you've said stays with me alone. You may leave."

  "I may?"

  "Must I repeat myself even in the Pindrop Room?"

  "No. Thank you, Director."

  Gide
on departed in a daze. He barely remembered reaching his dormitory room in the sunlight of the Rhapsodic College. Leothric was fortunately away for puppetry exams. The room was filled with woodwork and stitchery, the remains of Leothric's projects.

  There was also Leothric's prized possession, an ancient fan depicting Osirion's pyramids, brought back from that land by one great-uncle or another. It seemed a flimsy thing of papyrus and cloth, but Gideon knew it could conjure up a gale-force wind. Leothric used it for dramatic effect in some performances. It was trusting of him to have it on display. Gideon wondered if Leothric would feel more secure if he knew about the Shadow School, or less.

  There came a knock, and he opened the door to find Ozrif and Viridia, both looking weary. Gideon cleared away puppet parts and closed the door. "I'm glad you're here. I take it we all survived."

  "Those eyes." Ozrif slumped down on a chair. Viridia and Gideon could only nod.

  "Did you have the sense he was just toying with you," Viridia asked, "at the end?"

  "Possibly," Gideon said. "He's quite deadpan."

  "Any sense of what he suspects?" Ozrif asked.

  "No," Gideon said, uncomfortably. Viridia shook her head, her gaze avoiding Ozrif. Gideon quickly went on, "But I'd guess Rell's using us not so much to ferret out the culprit as to paint a picture of events. He seems to have an eye for detail."

  "I was relieved to learn Viridia was part of a ruse," Ozrif said. "The only trouble is, that strikes me as a desperate move. The faculty are at a loss."

  "I think Xeritian knew something," Gideon said. "I think when I last saw him, he was off to visit someone elsewhere in the city. Or observe someone."

  "Or just go carousing," said Viridia. "He would do that. As the college groundskeeper."

  "It would serve many purposes," Ozrif mused. "Gathering information relevant to the school. Hearing rumors."

  "Keeping his skills sharp," Viridia answered.

  "Having a pint," Gideon said. To his friends' blank expressions, he said, "Well, sometimes mundane explanations are the best. But I'd still like to talk to anyone who might have seen him."