Vengeance

CHAPTER 92

Lord Ricinus swayed on his feet while the chancellor praised his staggering gift of the Third Army, studiously avoiding mention of his personal attributes or character. The Honouring medal was fixed to Lord Ricinus’s chest, the official artist completed his sketches and the chancellor beckoned Rix forward.

‘Would you unveil your portrait, Lord Rixium?’

Lady Ricinus was glowing now. This night was the culmination of two decades’ dreams and schemes and, despite several scares and stumbles, it was going well.

The crated portrait rested on a wooden frame behind them, high enough for the audience to see it over the heads of the dignitaries. Lady Ricinus drew Rix’s ancient blade and handed it to him, hilt first.

As he rose, pain speared through his skull and he stumbled, for his head felt worse than when he had roused on the tower roof. The audience must have thought he was tipsy but everyone smiled indulgently — he was soon to be the lord of a house of the First Circle, after all, and many of them had daughters.

With the titane blade Rix cut the sealing wax and the bonding cords, and lifted the front of the box away. Behind it, the portrait was concealed by grey silk.

‘With a flourish,’ said Lady Ricinus.

Rix forced himself to bow to his father, his mother and the chancellor. He took hold of one end of the silk and turned to the assembled nobility.

‘Father,’ he began, choking on his own hypocrisy. ‘Father, with this portrait I reveal the true man behind the mask. With all — with all my art I honour you …’

With a single heave, he tore the silk away to expose the portrait he never wanted to see again.

The nobles stared, open-mouthed.

Lady Ricinus throttled a gasp.

Lord Ricinus’s red eyes bulged. Bubbles popped from his nostrils and he let out the squeal of a pig being slaughtered.

The chancellor smiled.

Rix spun around, focused on the image and it was as though he had been smashed in the face with it. His knees buckled. It wasn’t the portrait; the crate held his frenzied depiction of the murder in the cellar. How had it ended up here?

His blood froze — had he, in a drunken rage after he’d seen the killers’ faces, swapped this painting for his father’s portrait? Did he secretly long to destroy the family and the house without which he was nothing? But why do it this way? Why not accuse them openly? Was he such a coward? Rix could not believe that, even blind drunk, he could have committed such a betrayal. Nonetheless, shame scalded him.

A clamour broke out at the front, a hundred people talking at once. Those at the back, too far away to see clearly, were whispering and crying to their neighbours, desperate to hear the scandal. From the corner of one eye Rix saw Tobry urging Tali towards the door, but she stood firm. She had waited ten years to see the killers’ faces.

‘What is this?’ said the chancellor in a low voice, beckoning the justiciar and the high constable behind his back.

‘The stupid boy has crated up the wrong painting.’ Lady Ricinus, as always, was the first to recover her poise. ‘It’s one of his nightmares; he’s always painting them. I’ll have the portrait brought down immediately.’ She gestured to her attendants. ‘Take this to the furnaces.’ Then, to the chancellor, ‘I told you he’s not fit to be lord — ’

‘Be silent!’ said the chancellor, silkily. ‘Rixium Ricinus, did you paint this abomination?’

Rix’s throat was so dry he could barely croak. ‘Yes, Chancellor.’

‘When?’

‘Last night, after I finished the portrait of Father.’

‘Then why is this picture here in its place?’

‘I can’t say,’ Rix gasped. The room was boiling, his head whirling, the air almost too thick to breathe. ‘I–I was drunk. After I saw what I’d painted, I went to the top of my tower — to jump! — but I fell and knocked myself out. It appears I lay there unconscious all day.’

‘Why have you portrayed your mother and father, whom any dutiful son would honour, as vile murderers?’

The truth was screaming at Rix but he could not utter it. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘Really?’ The chancellor’s voice went low and deadly. He gestured to the right side of the painting. ‘And what is this black object in your mother’s golden tongs?’

‘Don’t know,’ Rix lied. ‘It … just came to me.’

The chancellor’s eyes glowed. He had his teeth in Lady Ricinus’s throat and, whatever explanations she put up, he would never let go.

‘Chief Magian,’ said the chancellor, ‘would you come here?’

The dumpy little man hurried across, examined the object in question, then straightened up, his mouth curling in disgust. ‘I believe it is an ebony pearl, Lord Chancellor.’

‘For the benefit of Lord Rixium and our noble audience, what is an ebony pearl?’

‘A nuclix. A sorcerous talisman of prodigious power. A forbidden object, my lord.’

‘Forbidden?’ said the chancellor.

‘Indeed. I have never seen one. It is rumoured that there are only four in existence, that only five can exist.’

‘And these would have a high value?’

‘Beyond price,’ said the chief magian.

‘How far beyond price?’

‘A single ebony pearl would be worth as much as this palace and everything in it.’

A stir ran through the audience.

‘This palace, which House Ricinus bought for cash a hundred years ago,’ said the chancellor. ‘Tell us more.’

‘With two such pearls, even a minor magian’s powers would exceed my own. With four, all the magians of Hightspall together. If one man should also get the fifth, the master pearl — ’

‘If you’ve never seen one, how do you know about them?’

‘From a parchment written by an obscure magian half a century ago.’

‘And they’re only known from this source?

‘Yes.’

‘Where do they come from?’

‘It’s said they’re cultured within the heads of Pale girls and grown there over many years, before harvesting after the girl comes of age.’

Rix’s mouth went dry. This was a deadly moment. If the chancellor saw a connection between the one and the master pearl, he would not scruple to cut it out of Tali.

The chancellor’s disgust was unfeigned. ‘Cultured? In the heads of living girls?’

‘Just so.’

‘To harvest a pearl, would it be necessary to kill the girl?’

‘Ebony pearls must be extracted while the host is alive, then stored in her warm, uncongealed blood for several days. After her head has been cut open and the pearl gouged out, and enough blood taken, how could she survive?’

‘And this is what Lady Ricinus is doing in the portrait? Extracting such a pearl and killing the young woman who was the host?’

‘There can be no doubt,’ said the chief magian.

‘Justiciar, High Constable,’ called the chancellor, ‘would you come forward and inspect the evidence? You too, Abbess, if you please.’

They approached.

‘It’s just a stupid painting,’ cried Lady Ricinus. ‘The fantasy of a sick boy. He’s addled, everyone knows that. He has been ever since — ’

‘Ever since he was ten!’ cried a high voice from the crowd. ‘When he witnessed this murder — the murder of my mother — and it nearly drove him insane.’

‘Mouse Lady?’ said the chancellor, smiling grimly. ‘State your name.’

Sweat was pouring down Rix’s face. If the chancellor didn’t know about her pearl yet, he soon would. Tali, run for your life.

But Tali wasn’t going anywhere. She wrenched off her mask and climbed onto the stage. She was the smallest person there, and her left knee was trembling beneath her gown, but she was not going to be robbed of this moment.

‘My name is Tali vi Torgrist,’ she said with quiet dignity. ‘I am the last survivor of the ancient, noble House vi Torgrist, and that woman is my mother, Iusia. I was there. I witnessed the murder. That’s me when I was eight.’ She pointed to the little girl.

Her bosom heaved. ‘I name Lord and Lady Ricinus the killers, and I demand justice in my mother’s name, and in — ’

Rix put on a frenzied fit of coughing that almost made him throw up, and she broke off. He was terrified that she was going to list her other murdered ancestors. If she did, the chancellor, and many others, would jump to the obvious conclusion — that she also hosted a pearl.

Tali stood alone, surrounded by enemies, and Rix’s heart went out to her.

‘You are the escaped Pale,’ said the chancellor.

‘You know I am. We talked in your palace just days ago — about honour and betrayal, among other matters.’

Lady Ricinus’s head shot around. She stared at her husband, her lips moving.

‘Shut your face, woman,’ growled Lord Ricinus.

‘Can you prove your identity, girl?’ said the justiciar.

‘The mark of my noble house is on me.’ Tali drew up her sleeve.

Those people close enough to see the slave mark gasped and drew away, scowling and muttering.

‘The symbol was burnt into my shoulder as a child with this, the family seal of House vi Torgrist.’ Tali held it up on its chain.

The justiciar, a tall, cadaverous woman with eyebrows like mouse skins, inspected the seal and nodded. ‘I recognise it.’

‘I can also recite the names of every one of my ancestors — ’

‘Not now,’ the justiciar said hastily. ‘Please continue, Lady vi Torgrist.’

At the acknowledgement, Tali’s back straightened and her feet almost left the floor. She wiped her eyes and went on.

‘We Pale are accused of betraying our country,’ Tali said in a ringing voice. ‘And willingly serving the enemy. That is a vicious lie!’

‘How dare you?’ cried a jowly, bejewelled woman from the crowd. ‘Chancellor, this cannot be tolerated.’

He waved her to silence, savagely.

‘My people were given up to the enemy as children,’ Tali said, her blue eyes burning into the jowled woman until she had to hang her head. ‘One hundred and forty-four of the noblest children in the land, given as hostages, and meant to be ransomed, but Hightspall never came. Why did Hightspall abandon its own children to the enemy?’

‘Important questions,’ said the justiciar, ‘but this is not the forum for them. Lord Ricinus, Lady Ricinus, you have been accused of a terrible crime. How do you plead?’

‘Not guilty,’ said Lady Ricinus. ‘And my lord pleads the same way.’

Rix looked around. Where was his father? At the back of the stage, where evidently he had secreted several flasks earlier. His head was tilted back and he was draining the dregs of a flask of brandy.

‘Lord Ricinus?’ said the justiciar. ‘How do you plead?’

Lord Ricinus turned to face him, drawing the bung from a second flask. ‘Pissed!’ he roared. ‘I plead pissed as a lord,’ and laughed like a hyena.

‘My son is insane,’ said Lady Ricinus with quiet venom. ‘He gets it from his father. And the evidence of a child witness is worthless. Children can be made to say anything, made to — ’

‘Made to do anything?’ said the justiciar.

‘The girl is a lying slut,’ cried Lady Ricinus.

‘Curb your viper’s tongue,’ said the justiciar, then turned to the gathering. ‘Can we rely on the evidence of a child who was only eight at the time, or on a picture painted by a man who admits he was blind drunk when he painted it?’

She turned to Tali. ‘Did you see the faces of the killers?’

‘Not clearly,’ said Tali. ‘They were masked.’

‘Masked?’ said the justiciar. ‘Then you have no evidence — ’

‘The woman stood on my mother as though she was rubbish! I heard her ribs break,’ Tali cried. ‘And Rix was there. I saw him.’

‘You saw Lord Rixium there? At the murder scene?’

‘He came out from behind the barrels after the killers went up the stairs. Rix was shaking and his clothes were covered in vomit. He went over to Mama — to my mother. He stared at the blood on his hands, then vomited all over his shoes. They had shiny buckles. He made a horrible moaning sound, like an animal in pain, and raced up the stairs.’

‘Lord Rixium?’ said the justiciar. ‘What do you remember of this?’

‘Nothing,’ said Rix.

‘And yet you painted it?’

‘Yes.’

‘This is a conspiracy,’ said Lady Ricinus. ‘She told him what to paint. They’re trying to cast me down and take my place.’

‘You confined Rix to his tower with guards on the door,’ said Tobry from the edge of the stage. ‘You searched his rooms three times, yet found no trace of her.’

‘Where is the cellar where the alleged murder took place?’ said the high constable.

‘I don’t know,’ said Rix. ‘I’ve no memory of ever having seen it.’

‘This story is a vicious fabrication,’ cried Lady Ricinus.

‘I know where the cellar should be,’ said Tali.

‘Where, Lady Tali?’ said the high constable, a pink-faced globe of a man no taller than her.

‘Below this palace. I smelled it the day I first entered Palace Ricinus, underground.’

‘You smelled it?’

‘I didn’t realise it at the time, though it made my hair stand up. Until I die, I’ll never forget the smell of the murder cellar.’

‘You say your mother was killed in this cellar, but how did she get there when no Pale can leave Cython?’

‘We were led there, underground, by a Cythonian traitor I called Tinyhead. Mama thought he was helping her to escape.’

‘An enemy traitor who, presumably, was paid by traitors to Hightspall,’ said the chancellor, eyeing Lord and Lady Ricinus malevolently.

There was a great stir at this. The palace’s master mapmaker was called and he listened to Tali’s description, marked the area on his maps, then shook his head. ‘I have mapped all the palace passages and know of no such cellar.’

‘That’s good enough for me,’ said the justiciar. ‘And therefore, without any corroborative evidence, I must dismiss — ’

‘It’s said that Axil Grandys frequented a deep chamber below his manor,’ said Hildy thoughtfully. ‘And carried out arcane experiments there. Indeed, that he was working in that chamber when he disappeared.’

The justiciar called for the palace historian.

‘There was such a chamber,’ she said, ‘though it is believed to have been a Cythonian temple, originally.’

‘What?’ cried the chancellor. ‘Why wasn’t it destroyed?’

‘Axil Grandys was the First Hero and the founder of Caulderon, and he ordered it kept. Previously, the Palace of the Kings of Cythe lay on this very spot, but Axil Grandys demolished it after their city was taken and built his own manor in the same place. No one knows why he kept the king’s temple.’

‘High Constable,’ said the justiciar, ‘take these maps and a dozen men with sledgehammers, and find this cellar. Chief Magian, go with them.’

They went out. Tobry came up to Rix, who slumped into a chair with his head in his hands. ‘Please tell me you didn’t switch the painting for the portrait.’

Even Rix’s best friend doubted him. For the first time in his life he was utterly alone.

‘Who else could have done it?’ he said, wanting to throw up. ‘But if I did, I have no memory of it.’