An Apprentice Without Magic, page 20
part #2 of Magic Missing Series
“Happy is protected from you,” Polite said. “No matter what I say, you won’t be able to touch him.”
Dickey nodded. “We know that. He’s leaving you to hang, though. Does that justify the loyalty you’ve shown the Lieutenant?”
The sergeant didn’t appear to hear Dickey, but Sam could see a tinge of excitement in Dickey’s normally taciturn face.
“We can always take this before the judge with a witness,” the other snoop said. “It’s your choice.”
“I want to see the offer in writing,” Polite said.
“No problem.” Dickey nodded to Sam.
Sam didn’t think he’d be using his notebook, but he flipped to a blank page. “What do I write?”
Dickey recited the terms he had just given to Polite. Sam gave the book to Dickey to read. He scrawled the note and ripped the page out of the notebook.
“Here, signed by me, Captain Nail of the Royal Constabulary.”
The guard sergeant gave Dickey an angry look. “I know who you are, Nail.” He looked the paper over. “I can keep this?”
Dickey nodded and looked at Sam. “Make a duplicate for us.”
Sam complied.
Sergeant Polite sighed and laid the offer letter on the table and then placed both hands face down on the table.
“I killed them both. Poisoned them actually. Got them drunk. It was quite easy to do with men I used to call my mates. Mates!” Polite snorted. “They turned on me just as they did Lieutenant Happy, just because we took a little here and a little there. You’d think we robbed the Royal Mint. There’s not a guard that doesn’t pocket an entry fee from time to time.”
Sam could see the man had built a case of righteous indignation. He had probably done so long before they brought him in for questioning.
“Is that why Happy got one of them demoted?”
Polite nodded with a grim smile. “They thought they could rat out on their superior. Fat chance. Happy is Captain Fork’s personal servant, just as I am Lieutenant Happy’s.” He snorted again. “Or was, anyway.”
Dickey’s eyebrows rose. “So you accept our offer.”
“I’ve already sung the song, haven’t I?”
“You have, indeed,” Dickey said. “What kinds of things does Captain Fork have Happy do?”
“The lieutenant doesn’t get his hands dirty. That’s what I do. He applies pressure to people.”
“Threatens them with what?”
“Exposure,” Polite said. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
“I think we will have Constable Apprentice Smith take your statement and have you sign it, and we will get this little mess behind us.”
“Little mess? My life is ruined.”
“What about your associates?” Dickey said.
Sergeant Polite sneered. “They got what they deserved.”
“Go ahead, Sam. Write something up as if it were a report.”
Sam did as Dickey said, and after Sergeant Polite signed his confession, they called in constables to take Polite away. After the murderer left, Dickey read Sam’s report. “You didn’t put in the thing about Captain Fork?”
“Should I have?” Sam asked. “My question is, who does Fork personally serve, Minister Bolt?”
Dickey nodded gravely. “You did the right thing. Not pretty, is it? This isn’t the first time we’ve caught a string of servants all the way to the higher reaches of the nobility. We can only go so far.”
Sam agreed. He had seen Issak Bolt in action, and it frustrated him. “Are we in any danger?”
Dickey shook his head. “Not if we don’t press things.”
“So the fake pink pollen was probably Fork’s idea, through Happy, to Sergeant Polite?”
“That is how I see it. We won’t prosecute Fork, but we will bring up Happy’s name at the trial, just as you wrote. It won’t get him hanged, but there will be a few in the Royal Guard who will never trust Happy. That will be as good as we can get in this.”
“But wouldn’t Fork be able to protect Happy from bribery charges? Why did he have to resort to murder?”
“Two sergeants can’t be ignored in the City Guard. Fork doesn’t run the Guard, and Bolt can’t act so obviously,” Dickey said.
Sam didn’t like the way events had transpired. Even though they had caught two murderers who killed three people, they had made no progress with Millie Canker’s death. The question remained, who killed her? Polite didn’t bring up her death, at all.
~
As winter began to increase its hold in Baskin, no more guards were murdered, and the thefts seemed to stop with Millie Canker’s murder. Sam realized that the constables did not solve every crime. The pink pollen thefts remained a mystery, and her file was moved from the active cases to the inactive.
Sam continued his court language classes, and Tru’s work began to be noticed, keeping his brother busy. They saw little of each other at home but kept in contact at Antina’s workshops.
The ice merchant had been hanged by the neck until dead, and Sergeant Polite was currently serving his eighteen-year sentence in a prison closer to the southern border of Toraltia. Lieutenant Happy had been censured and demoted but continued to work as a sergeant in the Royal Guard.
Dickey Nail had kept Sam busy with reports of a myriad of minor investigations. The new year had come and gone. Sam kept up with his sword work, but the change in weather seemed to affect the intensity of everyone practicing, including him.
He was just finishing a report when Dickey Nail walked in with a paper in his hand.
“Another jewel theft,” Dickey said. “We are going to visit another noble house.”
Sam quickly completed a report on a suspected gang pickpocket network and grabbed his coat and wand. They emerged into a slurry of ice and rain. Sam jammed a wide-brimmed hat on his head, while Dickey quickly produced a pollen umbrella. Dickey’s rendition of an umbrella wasn’t pretty, but it was effective.
Chapter Twenty-Three
~
T hey hailed a hired carriage. Dickey tossed his umbrella into a pollen can for used pollen objects. It was already nearly filled with umbrellas in the early afternoon. The ride to the center of town seemed overlong, but they finally arrived at another noble’s mansion.
This one was average to Sam’s eye, but still bigger than the house Banna Plunk had in Mountain View. The walk to the servant’s entrance was familiar too, but this time Sam understood what people were saying. With more than three months of intense Vaarekian training, including speaking exclusively in court language now during his lessons with Antina Mulch, he felt more comfortable, even if Dickey told him to remain mute while they were inside the house.
“You are constables?” a black-garbed young woman said in excellent court language as she answered the door. Her posture was stiff, and her expression was severe, if not hostile.
“My apprentice and I are here to speak with the lady of the house.”
The woman looked indignant. “You will not! She will not sully herself by speaking to a commoner such as you, even though you speak well enough. I will tell you what you need to know.”
Dickey nodded and managed an uncharacteristic smile. “Certainly, ma’am. Will you let us in?”
The woman peered at Sam. “Why is he here, and why is he wearing those ridiculous spectacles?”
“He may not look it, but he is a pollen expert.”
Sam bowed and removed his spectacles, ostensibly to wipe off the precipitation. The woman had a touch of pollen work on her young face. This was no housekeeper. A servant couldn’t afford the deft touches that made a smooth face smoother. The woman was likely the lady of the house having some fun at Dickey’s expense.
She grunted and touched the back of her hair, as if checking for fallen strands. “Come with me.”
Sam pulled Dickey back a bit to whisper in his ear. He told him of the facial work. His partner merely nodded, but his face looked a bit grimmer after Sam delivered his information.
“This is the lady’s suite,” the woman said, throwing open the double doors in the corridor.
Dickey put his hand to his chin and said, “And it looks like a lady’s suite. It is a little garish for my taste, wouldn’t you agree?”
Sam had to repress a smile, since he wasn’t supposed to understand court language. The woman colored a bit.
“I suppose so. It isn’t a servant’s place to question the tastes of the lady of the house,” she said.
Sam’s composure was tested, but he managed to maintain a stony face by looking at a wall, not at the two other people in the room.
“So the jewels were stolen from this sitting room?”
The woman colored again. “In her sleeping room. That is where her jewels are kept.” She narrowed her eyes at Dickey.
“Then show us the way.”
“Into her most intimate room?” she said, losing a bit of her discipline.
“Yes. My pollen expert has to see where the jewels were kept.”
Her back stiffened a little as if she remembered what her role should be. “And why do you need a pollen expert?”
“There were traces of pollen left in the rooms in the other thefts. My apprentice is sensitive to pollen.”
The woman took a breath and smoothed the front of her dress. “I suppose so.”
Dickey turned to Sam. So far the entire conversation had been in court language, but he spoke in Toraltian. “Look for the pollen, Sam. The servant will point to where the jewels were kept. They are kept in that bedroom.” Dickey pointed to the sleeping quarters. “Do you understand?”
Sam nodded.
“You have told him?”
Dickey nodded. “You don’t speak Toraltian?” he asked.
The woman lifted her chin. “It is not necessary for servants to converse in anything else within the house.”
That was an admission of nobility if Sam had ever heard one, if she was telling the truth. He looked towards the bedroom.
The woman stood in front of the set of double doors leading to her ‘sleeping room’ and pointed.
Dickey went in, but Sam brushed against the woman as he passed. She let out a nearly inaudible gasp as he touched her. He smiled with her standing behind and entered.
Dickey went to a large dresser. A jewel box on top had all its drawers open.
“Here,” he said to Sam.
Sam looked through his spectacles and found a few traces of the pink pollen on the dresser. Then he got on his knees and found more strands. He pulled out tweezers and an envelope and collected all he could find. From what he could tell, this was another of the deer pollen thefts.
“Is there a convenience close by?” Dickey asked.
“Convenience?” The woman said not understanding Dickey’s use of the word.
“A place to relieve myself.”
“Oh. Down the hall and to your left. It is a door that looks like part of the wall, the only one on that side of the corridor.”
Sam played like he didn’t hear. He continued to collect strands and then looked at the remaining jewels with his normal vision.
A few were pollen made. The pieces looked like Antina Mulch’s designs. Sam lifted one from the box and showed it to the woman.
“Antina Mulch?”
“You know her?” the woman said.
Sam narrowed his eyes. “I don’t speak court language,” he said.
He had never come across a noble who couldn’t speak Toraltian or a servant either.
“You should,” the woman said.
Sam blinked. She spoke in Toraltian. “You speak my language.”
She lost all composure, putting both hands to her mouth. “I was doing so well.” The woman sat down on an ornate chair, something a servant would never do. “Yes, that is an Antina Mulch brooch. She makes the best, even if they are pooh-poohed by some of my friends.”
She raised her hands in exasperation and set them down on her thighs. “I made two mistakes in a row.”
“Mistakes?” Sam asked. He looked away when he realized he had replied in court language to the lady’s comment.
“You know court language?” She laughed as her stern composure broke down. “Are we both frauds?”
“No,” Sam said. “We were both hiding in plain sight. Can you tell me about the theft?”
“Oh, that. My fiancé barged into my room last night. He spent the night passed out on the couch in the sitting room. He left before I awoke. I generally play with my jewels to get inspiration for what I will wear in the morning. There were only these.”
“Did your fiancé know which jewels were by Antina Mulch?”
“He did, since he bought them for me. We visited the shop a few times while we have been courting. There are some new designs, but they aren’t for sale yet.”
Sam got most of what she said since they conversed in court language. He wouldn’t mention that Tru, his brother, was the new designer.
“So the thief got past your fiancé?”
“And with me sleeping in the same room. It gave me shivers when I first realized it, but then it all seemed rather exciting.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “There isn’t a lord in the house?”
The woman pursed her lips. Now that she had dropped her stern facade, she was actually a pretty woman as far as Sam could tell. “My parents died before they could marry me off, and I’ve been very selective for a very long time,” she said, stiffening her back a bit.
Sam smiled. She reminded him of his sister, Addy when she tried to be high and mighty around him.
“It isn’t funny, I assure you,” the woman said coldly.
“You reminded me of my sister, just a little bit,” Sam said. “Did your fiancé come to your place after drinking? Is that what you said?”
“It is. He passed out, as I said.”
“Do you know where he does his drinking?” Sam asked.
“At his friend’s, most likely.”
“Does his friend have a name, and does your fiancé have a name?”
“Why do you ask?”
Sam took out his notebook and wrote out a few notes. “This is one of a number of thefts. They are mostly the same, and pink pollen has been found at the scene of the crime. I’m sure my partner, Captain Dickey Nail, would like to chat with him for a bit. Background, you know.”
“Of course,” the woman said. “My fiancé’s name is Gerrold Pincer, and his friend is Benjoy Fork.”
Sam took a deep breath. “Would that be Captain Benjoy Fork of the City Guard?”
The woman’s face brightened. “You know him?”
“Me? I’m just an apprentice,” Sam said. “I have met him though when I’ve been out and about with Captain Nail.”
She looked back at the door. “Your Captain Nail has been taking his time.”
Sam smiled. “Sometimes that happens.”
“Is he a noble? He speaks so well.”
“I’m not sure. He doesn’t act like a noble, but like a hard-working investigating constable,” Sam said. He suspected Dickey to be just outside the door.
The outer doors closed and Dickey walked into the bedroom. He cleared his throat. “I assume my apprentice has concluded his investigation?”
“He speaks a delightful version of court language,” the woman said. Her servant persona had been cast off. “I think you are done here.” She looked at Sam. “What is your name, young man?”
“Apprentice Constable Sam Smith.”
“A real smith?”
Sam nodded. “My father and brothers, and it goes back from there.”
“A craftsman lineage,” she said, condescension now creeping into her voice. “But you are more than a craftsman, I wager. Court language, a pollen expert, both at such a young age.”
“It is my fate.” Sam paused, not knowing how to address the woman.
“Oh, my name is Lady Keeta Grate. My friends call me Keet.” She looked at Dickey with something extra in her eyes. “Feel free to call on me again, Captain Nail. I’ll even let you and your partner through the front door. Now if you will follow me,” she said in court language, rising from her seat, “I will show you out,” she finished in accented Toraltian.
Sam looked around the large foyer on their way out the front door. It certainly matched the exterior of the mansion. He couldn’t see any pollen patches. She was well-off. They walked down the steps. Sam turned to look back at the house.
“Now that was interesting,” Sam said. “I thought our interview would be like every other. Do I have a lot to tell you!”
Dickey gave Sam his half-smile. “No, you don’t. I heard every word. You picked up court language better than I would have thought.”
“I didn’t understand every word she said, but I wrote down what I heard. Maybe we can go over my notes. I might have missed something.”
“Not much from what I heard. So, Captain Fork rears his head again, eh?”
“That can’t be coincidence,” Sam said. “And that might be additional evidence that Issak Bolt is involved.”
“We won’t be able to touch Minister Bolt, so we will have to be careful, but I think Chief Constable Bentwick will give us permission to talk to Gerrold Pincer. I want to verify that the Piper Club isn’t still in the picture.”
“What did you think of Keet?” Sam asked.
“Who?”
“Lady Keeta Grate. If I couldn’t ignore pollen, I would have been fooled by her performance. She’s not like other nobles,” Sam said.
“Sure she is,” Dickey said. “Don’t be fooled by a playful veneer. The woman wasn’t brought up speaking Toraltian. Didn’t you notice her accent?”
“I did, but I thought she was different from the other ladies we’ve interviewed. She didn’t quite talk down to us, and I thought she was friendly.”
Dickey grunted. “Let’s not talk about it.”
“No one else has offered to greet us at the front door.”
“Playful,” Dickey said. “We’ll probably show up at the main entrance, and she’ll have her servants tell us to use a side door.”
“Why don’t you like nobles?” Sam asked.
