The Queen's Necklace (26 page)

Wilrowan was not inclined to allow it, his sense of humor slightly impaired under the circumstances. With an impatient gesture, he picked up the report again, read it all the way through, then went over it a second time. More than ever, he suspected a connection between his duel with Macquay and the disappearance of the Goblin artifact.

Looking up from the paper, Will cleared his throat. “Speaking of my quarrel with Rufus Macquay—would it be possible for me to
question a few of your men? The recruits who arrested me? They may know something of his intentions.”

“Macquay's intentions appear obvious enough, and hardly seem important now. However, I will send for the men in question. If you'll go about your mysterious business for the next few hours, and come back in the afternoon, you can speak to them then.”

Will spent the rest of the morning prowling the streets of Hawkesbridge, trying to make sense of Lili's visit to the Leviathan. But the truth was: it
made
no sense. Absurd to suppose that if Lili had gone there to meet a man she would take Allora with her; equally ridiculous to suppose that a woman so fastidious would select the Leviathan for a romantic tryst. But if her visit to Hawkesbridge were perfectly innocent, then why not write to tell him she was coming, why keep it all a secret afterwards?

Will moved through the city—past the taverns, brothels, and almshouses of Black Nag Alley down by the Zule—past the thriving little shops of Whey Street and Bedstraw Lane—then uphill to the fashionable district around Tooley Square, with its wide clean streets and tall stone mansions struggling to remove themselves, by their reckless piling of story on story, above the damps and foul odors of the river.

He clenched his hands into tight fists, remembering that Macquay and Dionee had both seemed to warn him of—something, he was not Sure what. Dionee had admitted she was only speculating, but Macquay had claimed some particular knowledge—and was it only coincidence that placed Sir Rufus and Lili both at the Leviathan the night he was murdered? Had she been there often before? Had Macquay seen her?

But
Lili
at a clandestine meeting with another man? Will felt a pain stab at his belly. A fine fool he would look playing the injured
husband. A fine fool he was
going
to look when he hunted the other man down and slowly strangled the life right out of him.

Will shook a fist at the lowering sky; he raged and paced. But if Lili had fallen in love with somebody else, why go to such lengths to disguise it? They had made a most damnable bargain between them, and
he
had been enjoying the immunity it provided for years and years. Will stopped breathing quite so hard. The truth was, it was
all
completely unlike her: the place, the motive, the secrecy. Lili's image rose up in his mind to refute these sordid speculations: cool, ladylike, serene. If he could not trust her, then who in all this wicked world
could
he trust?

He marched into Marzden's sanctum in the mid-afternoon, still in an evil temper, and was greeted by the unwelcome intelligence that only one of the offending guardsmen was available to speak to him. The others have all disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” said Wilrowan, raising his eyebrows. It seemed to him that a great many things and people were disappearing lately. Or else turning up where they had no business to be. “Have you reason to suspect foul play?”

“No, why should I? What puzzles me is how such a promising young fellow as Nat Dagget fell in with that lot to begin with. But perhaps you can get more out of him than I did. You will find him waiting for you in the room at the end of the hall.”

Will declared himself very much obliged, and leaving the Lord Lieutenant to his reports, bowed himself out of the room.

Shortly thereafter, he confronted Corporal Dagget, whom he immediately recognized as the sturdy youth who had appeared so cool-headed during his arrest. The corporal was not nearly so collected now. Seeing how uneasy he was, as he clicked his heels and stood at stiff attention, Wilrowan might have shown some pity—but on a day so full of disturbing revelations, Will was ready to take his revenge where and how he could.

Without any preamble, he began to fire questions. “Perhaps you will explain to me why your friends left Hawkesbridge so very suddenly?”

“Sir,” said the youth, swallowing hard. “Captain Blackheart, there was nothing wonderful about that. They were all of them reluctant recruits, already singled out as potential trouble-makers, not any of them looking forward to long careers in the City Guard. And finding themselves in possession of ready money—”

“Ready money? So you
were
bribed?”

The corporal nodded miserably. “Sir, I was about to say. A—a gentleman asked us to watch the duel and interfere at need, and afterwards I learned that a considerable sum of money
had
changed hands. That made me wonder if his request was really so innocent as it seemed at first, but of course, by then, it was already too late.”

Will was quick to pick up on his slight hesitation. “You paused before you said the word
gentleman
. Why was that?”

“He had the air of a gentleman, sir, and his appearance was respectable. But I began to think afterwards there was something queer about him, some—some subtle deformity, and that far from being a gentleman, he wasn't a Man at all. But there was a lady with him, a little, plump woman with very white hands and a soft voice, and she was
entirely
genteel.”

Will paced a circle around the room, absorbing this information. The woman, whoever she was, did not interest him much, but the possible involvement of a Goblin did. He remembered the Wryneck that Blaise had seen at the duel. Of course, the whole idea of using such a creature in a scheme like this one was utterly fantastic—he had never met a Goblin yet who was not bound and determined to stay on the right side of the law. But supposing that you caught one in some slight misdemeanor, threatened him with prosecution which they all seemed to fear—say that you even waved a flame under his nose to frighten him further? It was likely under those circumstances
the Goblin would do anything you asked. And even if he lost his nerve and tried to betray you later, who would take the word of a Goblin over that of a Man?

“And did this—person—or the lady with him, indicate why they were arranging matters in that particular curious fashion?”

Corporal Dagget hesitated. “Yes, sir,” he answered at last. “The—the person said it was a duel between Sir Rufus Macquay and a man he had privately determined was a danger to the Crown, a man Sir Rufus and the king were unwilling to bring openly to account.”

“And
I
was that man?” Will ground his teeth at such boundless effrontery. “And when you and your friends arrived at the duel, did I strike you as such a desperate character?”

“Captain Blackheart, you did. If you will pardon my saying so, when I first caught sight of you, you had the look of a man who was capable of anything. Neither I nor my friends had any idea we were doing something wrong.” He gave Will a pleading look. “Though the circumstances were slightly irregular, we sincerely believed we were serving the Crown.”

But that was too much for Wilrowan. “And do you imagine the Crown of Mountfalcon is in the habit of conducting its business in that disgraceful fashion? Duels tainted with magic. Goblins bribing guardsmen. A citizen of Hawkesbridge being hauled off to Whitcomb Gaol on trumped-up charges. What the custom may be in other places I can't say, but I assure you that neither King Rodaric nor any of his agents would ever stoop so low. And if you truly believe anything of the sort, I'd think you would be ashamed to wear that uniform!”

The young guardsman cringed visibly. All this time, he had been standing at rigid attention, not altering his stance by so much as a finger; now some of that tension relaxed—not as though he were relieved, but as if the courage had all drained out of him. “No doubt you are right: I don't deserve to wear these colors. Which more than
likely I won't, as soon as you tell Lord Marzden everything I've told you.”

Will would have liked nothing more than to tell Marzden. Were he in the Lord Lieutenant's place, not content with stripping the youth of his rank and scarlet uniform, it was altogether likely he would have sent the boy on his way with some stripes on his back as well. But then a dim memory surfaced, a fleeting glimpse of himself when he was much the same age as young Dagget and in serious trouble of his own. It did nothing to appease Will's wrath, but it suddenly made him feel weary, jaded, and old.

With a frustrated gesture, Wilrowan took another turn around the room. “You are perhaps aware that I was at one time an officer in the City Guard?”

“Captain Blackheart,” the young man said earnestly, “I think that everyone in Hawkesbridge must be aware of your illustrious career. If my friends and I had believed for one moment that you were who you said you were, we would never—”

“Yes, quite so,” said Will, clearing his throat. “My illustrious career.” It had at least been recklessly heroic, which accounted in part for his later promotion to the Queen's Guard.

“I did not, however, begin that career in any admirable fashion. I had just been expelled from the university, was reluctant to go home and face my father, when Lord Marzden, who had reason to—to know my name and know something about me, decided to give me a chance at redemption, and offered me a commission. A commission I immediately put in peril, that I ought to have lost ten times over, had Marzden not been patient with me. Eventually, I rewarded his somewhat misplaced faith, if not by entirely mending my ways, at least by those distinguished actions you alluded to just now.”

He frowned sternly at the younger man. “I don't mean to excuse your behavior, which has been truly reprehensible. And if one of my own men at the palace had done anything half so bad, you may believe
he would have suffered for it. But the City Guard is—an organization where young men sometimes learn from their mistakes—where silk purses are not infrequently produced from sows' ears—and for that reason, I'm not altogether certain I wish to acquaint Lord Marzden with the full extent of your transgressions.”

“You are very good, Captain Blackheart. But I intend to do that myself, just as soon as he is willing to see me.”

“Very well. But I hold my tongue and give you the opportunity to make your confession—which
may
spare you the worst of Marzden's displeasure—on one condition only.”

The corporal assumed once more a painfully stiff position. “I am aware, sir, that I owe you a great deal more than my confession. If there is anything I can do to right myself—”

“I am going to give you that opportunity as well, though I doubt you will thank me for it afterward,” said Will, with a militant gleam in his eye. “Because every single hour you are not on duty—every single minute of the day that you can snatch—you are going to be searching this city, street by street, house by house, and if it should prove necessary, inch by inch, for the creature who paid you and your friends that bribe, and the woman who was with him.”

Will left Marzden's headquarters in no better temper than he had arrived. Nearly two miles lay between him and the Volary, and the activities of the last three days, as he slouched from tavern to tavern gathering information, were beginning to tell on him. He had hardly paused for sleep or for rest during the last thirty-six hours, and during that time had consumed very little food and a great deal more bad liquor than he was accustomed to drink.

Looking up at the sky, he saw that the weather was threatening. There was a yellow glare in the east, and the air felt heavy with the promise of snow. Yet, exhausted as he was, Will knew there was not a coachman or a chair-bearer in the city who would accept a fare
from such a dirty and disreputable figure. Accordingly, he set off on foot.

Two blocks later, he turned down a dark, seedy-looking alley which stank like a sewer, but appeared to offer a shortcut home. His mind still very much on the problem of the missing Jewel, he failed to notice how closely he was being followed. When he finally did hear stealthy footsteps almost at his back, he was surprised to realize he had been so careless.

He had barely enough time to draw a pistol out of his pocket, at the same time cocking it, before a rough hand clapped him on the shoulder. As quick as thought, Will half turned, leveled the long silver barrel of the pistol, and pulled the trigger. There was a flash and a loud explosion, and the hard hand on his shoulder suddenly lost its grip. His assailant doubled over, then went down in a kneeling position on the ground, a bloody hole the size of a fist in the middle of his stomach.

Catching sight of a movement at the edge of his vision, Will dodged just in time to avoid the full force of a blow that might otherwise have shattered his skull. The oak truncheon glanced off the side of his head, clipping his shoulder as it passed. The shock was tremendous. Reeling forward, Will saw steaks of light before his eyes. Then he was down in the mud and the slush, wrestling with a man very much larger and heavier than he was.

A pair of strong hands closed around his throat with bruising force; two large thumbs began to press on his windpipe. “You'll be dead in a minute, you don't lie still,” said a harsh voice in his ear.

Will did not lie still; he continued to struggle. The world had dwindled to a wavering circle of light around the big man's heavy face when, inexplicably, the ruffian cried out, went limp, and relaxed his grip.

Lying there dazed and ill, it took Will several moments to recognize that what was pinning him down to that cold patch of ground
was no living man but the crushing weight of a very large corpse. When this fact finally penetrated, he rolled the body off, and somehow managed to push himself up on both elbows.

As the mists cleared, Will realized that he was
still
not alone. A tall figure, standing about ten feet away, came slowly into focus. It was an exceedingly slim and straight figure in the maroon velvet and gold facings of the King's Guard, and it was engaged in the process of fastidiously cleaning the blood off a silver-hilted rapier with what appeared to be a fine lawn handkerchief.