The Last Page (60 page)

Sena reached the end of the hall and turned the corner, listening for noise. It took her by surprise when, without warning, an iron grip seized her by the elbow just above the joint.

The pressure was exquisite, focused and educated with regards to specific points of pain. She dropped the coffer with a tumultuous clatter and tried unsuccessfully to whirl.

Whoever it was had an expert grasp. He had her by the thumb and elbow now, tugging on her opposing digit in directions it was not meant to bend.

“Move and I’ll break your arm.”

Sena whimpered under the brute force.

Mr. Vhortghast stepped out from the shadow.

“My lady,” he said with a perfectly courtly tone. He did not remove his hands. “What oh what are you doing?”

“Why don’t you ask the High King?” she spat.

He released her. “Theft is still punishable by removal of the hands,” said Mr. Vhortghast.

“Fuck off, you whey-faced freak.”

“Tut. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.” His voice was smooth as cream but he glowered at her. “We’ll resolve this in the morning.” He moved to pick up the fallen box.

“Resolve it now,” Sena demanded.

Zane Vhortghast rolled his eyes. “You mean to tell me the king is still awake and that I should disturb him in his room?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you to do.”

The spymaster scoffed.

“Or you can have it your way,” Sena fired, “and I’ll be sure to let him know what happened. He’s expecting that box.”

Zane’s face was taciturn and tranquil. But his pause told Sena he was considering. He wasn’t stupid. He knew she slept with his employer.

“You’re remarkable, aren’t you? Very well, I’ll accompany you to his majesty’s room.”

“Let me carry the box,” she said.

He thrust it at her.

Sena took it with a sneer.

They walked in silence, passing guards who didn’t dare glance sideways at the unlikely couple. When they reached the room currently servicing the High King, a small unit of guards saluted Zane.

Zane raised his hand to knock. Sena smirked and simply walked in.

Caliph pulled on a robe when he saw the spymaster. His eyes absorbed everything in an instant: the coffer in Sena’s hands, the tension in her face and Zane Vhortghast trying to look nonchalant.

“Hello, Zane.” Then he turned to Sena and nodded at the box. “What’s this? What did you find?”

“David Thacker,” her voice was soft, “I’m sorry, Caliph. He’s . . .” She handed him the box and the skeleton key to open it.

After he had gone through every article, Caliph pushed the container aside, feeling sick. He handed the key to Zane who was still patiently waiting to hear what was going on.

“That opens the sewer grates unless I’m sorely mistaken.”

Zane took the key and frowned. “You’re suggesting the assailants came from the sewers?”

Caliph nodded.

“Impossible. The castle sewers are independent of the city sewers. The only way into them that doesn’t drain out of the castle is by a main line that’s locked and regularly patrolled. We’ve had no disturbances. It’s impossible that . . .” His mouth stopped working as he began to ponder more creative ways.

There were certain prisoners in West Gate with tattoos identical to those found on the bodies tonight who had been caught trying to steal heavy machinery. The Cro
state Brickyard had filed a report. All of it began to form a fuzzy picture in his mind.

“Impossible?” asked Caliph. “Let me tell you what’s impossible. I have forty-two dead men and women. Forty-two grieving families I have to
address tomorrow without any excuse for our incompetence. Now I swear—” His voice began to rise.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” Mr. Vhortghast crooned. “I’ll have a thorough inspection of the sewers completed before dawn.”

“Arrest David Thacker.” Caliph seemed to collapse as he said it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, utterly bereft.

“Right away, your majesty. On what charge?”

Caliph waved faintly at the coffer. “Qaam-dihet for now. Maybe treason later. And find out who Peter Lark is. I want to know what this letter is about.”

“I will conduct the interrogation myself, your majesty.”

Zane Vhortghast left the room.

Sena felt dirty. She had never actually used her skills in this way. Pår
n and får
n were innocuous choices compared to sentencing a man to death. And death, she felt certain, was what David Thacker would get.

The basics of interrogation were simple. The first was to capitalize on the stress of capture or, in this case, arrest.

David Thacker was thrown headlong into a filthy concrete cell. He hurt his shoulder as he tried to break his fall. Zane Vhortghast watched from a dark room behind a pane of glass while three men roughed him up. They shone lights in his eyes. Then they introduced him to the first of many stress positions.

David Thacker kneeled on a cement floor, ankles crossed, hands behind his neck, a sandbag on his head.

Zane Vhortghast entered the room.

“Do you own a key to the grates in the east garden?” asked Zane.

David was already crying.

“No.”

“This isn’t yours?” Zane held up the key from David’s box.

“No. It must have been planted.”

“Planted? How do you know where I found it?”

“I don’t.” David sobbed. His face was awash and gleaming with snot and tears under the lights. “I just assumed you must have gotten it from somewhere.”

Zane ignored the useless statement.

“Do you use qaam-dihet?”

“No. Only sometimes.” Under the lamplight, David’s sleeves had fallen down. His arms were crosshatched with an ugly pastiche of scars.

“Who is Peter Lark?”

David froze with fear. “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.” The other men in the room took notes while Zane asked the questions.

“Obviously he knows you. There was a letter in your box. Did he tell you to unlock the sewer grates?”

“I told you, it’s not my key.”

“So it’s his key, and you just agreed to unlock the grates for him?”

“No. Peter Lark’s got nothing to do with the sewer grates. That’s something totally different.”

Zane smiled at the sweet sound of truth.

“Really, what does Peter Lark have to do with?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. I never saw him but once and he wore some disguise.”

“Who did you open the sewer grates for?”

“Fuck off!”

But the spymaster knew that David’s knees were already aching and his arms had gone numb. He was patient. “Who did you open the sewer grates for?”

It was to be a long night of games at which David Thacker could not win.

Roric Feldman was a traitor. That was the news Caliph heard on the first morning of the new month.

A hawk had come streaking into the spires of Isca Castle like a stiletto. Its dark streamlined form shot out of a blinding dawn.

General Yrisl was the first to read the note, which he then took directly to the king.

Messieurs,

Our boundaries remain ominously intact. The enemy refuses to cross the White Leech River. It remains a cold glittering line between the loyalists and the dissenters. Unfortunately, the mountains now belong to Saergaeth Brindlestr
m.

Regretfully, it is my duty to inform you that Kennan Keep, governed by Lord Roric J. Feldman, has sided with the enemy. There is neither time nor space for me to detail his treachery here. Suffice to say, Forgin’s Keep remains our last position in the Greencap Mountains.

I respectfully request that you muster a legion as our front grows. I will position one army at Coldwell and the other at Borgoth’s Noose with the hope that we maintain our hold on Menin’s Pass.

Else when winter comes we find ourselves cut off from the outside world.

Yours Sincerely,
Mortiman Tentil
Prince of Tentinil

Caliph sank into his chair.

“Can we spare two armies?”

Yrisl shook his head. “Tentinil already has five thousand active duty spread along the front. Even if the prince calls for a muster and adds his to
ours we’ll wind up with a thin legion. Two armies of about four and a half thousand men.”

“Remind me what we’re up against.”

The general leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging limply toward the floor.

“The whole north is with him. That means Mort
rm and Gadramere and a total of about seventeen thousand infantry compared to our fourteen. We have eleven light and seven heavy war engines to spread across six thousand square miles—all the heavies are still in Isca. Meanwhile, they have all their engines at the front. Something like eight heavy and a dozen light minus what we guess they lost at Fallow Down. All of that wouldn’t be half-bad if their zeppelins didn’t outnumber ours by more than three to one. And as you know, that’s Saergaeth’s game.