The Sapphire Crescent

CHAPTER FOUR

Grozier Talricci did not look pleased when Bartimus arrived in his employer's study. Two others were there, each of them looking equally grim. Junce Roundface was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs, a goblet of something chilled in his hand, his feet sprawled out in front of him, the heel of one boot resting atop the toe of the other. The Grozier's spy was staring down into the goblet in front of him, tracing his fingers through the beads of condensation forming on its outer surface.

The other man, Bartimus did not know so well. The wizard had only seen him once before, a priest of Waukeen. He stood in one corner of the study, staring out through the latticework of a vine-covered trellis that shaded the arched window from the mid-morning sun beyond. He had his arms folded across his chest, resting on his ample stomach, and he was drumming his fingers, each of which was adorned with a gaudy ring replete with gems of every hue.

Bartimus waited by the door, unwilling to break the silence that hung so thickly in the air. Grozier had sent for him, though the wizard did not know why. He began to worry that the anger in the room was going to be directed at him, and the longer he could stave that unpleasantness off, the better. So he leaned against the side of the arched doorway and waited.

"I would have thought that eliminating the evidence would have dissuaded him from pursuing this any further," Grozier said, moving to sit on the corner of his desk. "I would think that a mercenary officer, or better yet, a young merchant scion, would have better things to do with his time. You're certain you picked up on his intentions correctly?"

"My divination functioned as it should have," the priest said, turning away from the window and looking directly at Grozier. "He was angry and determined to keep digging when he left the station house. But you underestimate his priorities. He has no duties, no responsibilities, in his house. He receives a monthly stipend to live on and spends his time wenching and fighting, like all men his age and in his circumstances do."

"Then why doesn't he go wench and fight," Grozier demanded, "instead of chasing ghosts that are better off left to drift away to nothingness?"

"In a way, this is his fight," the other merchant said. "He's made it his."

"Huh," Grozier grunted, seemingly unsatisfied with that answer.

"What he needs," Junce said, not moving nor looking up at either of the other two participants in the conversation, "Is a distraction. Something else to keep him busy."

"Or maybe a warning," Grozier muttered.

"No, your skulking man is right," the priest said. "A distraction would be best. It is more subtle than a direct warning, less likely to awaken his suspicion further." The Waukeenar was smiling, Bartimus saw, and had begun to rub his hands together as he spoke. "It has to be something suitably interesting to him, though. Something more interesting than playing at investigating this niggling crime before him."

"You have an idea already?" Grozier asked, looking expectantly at the merchant-priest.

"Yes. Remember what I said he likes?"

"Wenching and fighting?"

"Precisely. I'm sure we can arrange it so that he has ample opportunity for both."

"That's going to be interesting to try to pull off," Grozier said with a derisive snort. "He may already have some companionship of his own."

"A young man his age and temperament is always interested in a little more," the priest replied.

"What about his uncle?" Junce said, rising to his feet. "Didn't you say the mercenary was also planning to speak to him, drag him into this?"

"Kovrim Lazelle can be easily dealt with," replied the priest. "I will see to it personally. Do not involve yourself in the temple's side of things. Our connection to your financial endeavors must remain invisible."

"As you wish," Grozier said. "We'll keep on as before and leave these other matters up to you."

"Excellent," the priest said. He turned to go. "Are we still meeting in two days' time?" he asked at the doorway out of the study.

"Yes," Grozier replied. "The usual place and time."

The priest nodded and departed without even acknowledging Bartimus's presence. Grozier, however, did.

"Bartimus, stop lurking over there and come sit down."

The wizard bobbed his head obsequiously and entered the rest of the way into the study.

"As you no doubt heard," Grozier continued, "our young mercenary is being quite persistent. I'm concerned about what he might yet find "

"I arranged it so that there would be nothing for him to find, as you and I decided," Bartimus said quickly, worried again that his employer was going to blame him for some shortcoming. "I can't imagine what else he could do."

Grozier snorted.

"Tell him what you and the priest discovered," the merchant said, looking at Junce. The rogue chuckled.

"We followed Vambran Matrell today after he went to the watch headquarters to meet with Captain Leguay," Junce explained, flopping down onto the chair once more. "When she didn't give him any satisfaction, he left in a huff. The priest read his thoughts and discovered that Vambran seems to think he has a way of finding our phony watchmen. He seemed to have some notion of tracking down a dagger."

Bartimus frowned.

"Of course, I suppose that's possible, assuming that he knows of a particular dagger to track. Certainly, there are ways to do it, both arcane methods and divine incantations," he said. "But that wasn't something I would assume he had the capability to utilize, since first and foremost, he would need this dagger to be familiar, and secondly-"

"Enough," Grozier interrupted wearily. "I don't care how likely it is that he can do it. The fact is, he seems confident that he can. In those situations, I tend to trust that he knows what he's talking-er, rather, thinking-about. The question we should be asking ourselves is, what do we do about it? I don't intend to let the fate of all my planning rest in his hands," the merchant said, nodding toward the door where the priest had departed. "Trusting in the possibility of simply distracting him is a little too chancy for my tastes."

"I can get over to Dressus's place and figure out what dagger we might be talking about," Junce volunteered. "I can go ditch it somewhere harmless." Then the spy began to smile. "Or, better yet, I can go slip it somewhere rather dangerous, and let him wander into a little trap."

"Ordinarily, I'd say absolutely," Grozier said, motioning for Junce to hold off. "But in this case, I don't want to take any chances. I think it's time we got Vambran Matrell out of the middle of this entirely."

"You want me to kill him?" Junce asked, his eyes glittering. When Grozier nodded, the assassin said, "I think I know just the group to help me do it."

"Then take care of it," Grozier replied, smiling coldly.

After Junce departed, Grozier turned back to his house wizard and said, "There's a possibility that our friend Junce will fail. Vambran Matrell has proven to be rather resourceful. If that's the case again, it might not be such a bad thing for our pest to find Dressus and the others."

"Pardon?" Bartimus asked, confused. "I thought we didn't want him to learn anything from them."

Grozier sighed and said, "Right. I don't. However, I think Dressus and his rowdies have begun to outlive their usefulness. Even if we managed to get rid of the dagger, nothing says Vambran Matrell doesn't have other methods of finding them. I'd rather not take that chance " the merchant said pointedly, looking at his employee.

"Ah," Bartimus said, "so we'll let him find them, but it will be too late."

"And I hope too late for him, too," Grozier added. "I knew I could count on you to solve this problem for me."

"Me?" Bartimus yelped, taking a step back. "I can't-oh, wait. You want something else." He began to think about his repertoire of magic. "There are a number of different things I might try. Let's see," he said, beginning to mentally tick off possibilities. "I could-"

"I don't want the details," Grozier said impatiently. "Just come up with something suitably nasty that's certain to deal with everyone." The merchant was nodding then, a pleased look on his face. "Yes. If our nosy little mercenary lieutenant slips through Junce's ambush and still wants to track down his favorite dagger, we'll just let him. That should solve our problems just fine."

As usual, the Temple of Waukeen in Arrabar was bustling with activity when Vambran arrived. The building itself soared from the middle of a vast open lawn, a great rounded structure capped by a massive dome and surrounded by various towers that were all topped with sweeping, majestic spires, each one taller than the next and reaching skyward. All of their various surfaces were etched in gold inlay and precious gems, some of the stones large enough to glitter brightly even when viewed from several blocks away. No expense had ever been spared in the construction of the temple, and its expansion continued even then, as more and more space was needed to house the new priests who pledged their lives to the Merchant's Friend each day.

Vambran bypassed all of it with barely a glance, for he had seen it many times before, and truly, such a display of wealth did not impart the same impression upon him that it would most others. Still, he was surprised by the amount of new construction going up on the grounds. He gazed at the scaffolding where another wing was being built, the walls already halfway up and the skeletal ribs of the interior floors being put into place. Soon enough, the outer shell would be complete, and workers would plaster and paint those walls, embedding more gold and gems into the surface as they finished.

The lieutenant stepped inside the main entrance. In addition to the scores of worshippers who had come to pray for a boon before their day's business dealings, numerous priests moved through the spacious sanctuary, their robes, miters, and scarlet cloaks glittering with precious gems, gold, and even divine light, the result of magical orisons placed upon them. The effect was designed to bedazzle all who looked upon the holy men's and women's dress. More of the precious jewels and metals covered nearly every surface of the interior of the temple, the only exceptions being the broad arched openings that served as windows and doors, the tapestries that hung on the walls-though those were more often than not woven with thread-of-gold and had tiny gems stitched into their images like elaborate stained-glass windows-and any surfaces where adherents would need to walk. As a faith designed to pay homage to wealth, the temple presented the right message to its people.

Rather than moving into the main sanctuary, Vambran turned to move down a hall, heading deeper into the interior of the temple, up into some of the spires of the structure where many of the various offices were housed. Even as he walked, though, Vambran nodded in satisfaction that even on the day after a festival that ran long into the night-or even into the small hours of the morning, in some quarters-the devotion to the goddess of trade, coin, and wealth was strong.

Vambran passed beyond all of that and wound his way into the halls where the business of the church was handled, where the priests responsible for all the various financial activities worked. He sought the offices of his superior, Kovrim Lazelle, who was in charge of many of the business-related activities of the Sapphire Crescent. Vambran and Kovrim would spend the morning together going over the business details and financial documentation of the lieutenant's company's most recent excursion, to Aglarond and Sembia. Vambran was certain Kovrim already knew that Lady's Favor was in port. In fact, the older priest had most likely already ordered its cargo unloaded. Once he and Vambran went over the manifests together, the goods would be put up for sale in temple-owned shops and stalls throughout the city and in the bazaar. Vambran's visit promised to be filled with tedious but necessary paperwork, but he was looking forward to the day nonetheless. Uncle Kovrim was also family, the lieutenant's mother's brother.

The lieutenant climbed a circling staircase that spiraled just inside the main outer wall of one of the towers, rising a couple of levels and passing narrow, arched windows on occasion. When he reached a landing that let out into a large, open rotunda, he stepped off the stairs. There, the temple was airy and bright, exposed to the outside through numerous additional arched openings set high in the dome overhead. The indirect light of the morning sun shining through those windows was further enhanced as it reflected off the gold leaf of the ceiling. As was common in the architecture of Arrabar, a fountain bubbled in the middle of the rotunda, and all around the perimeter of the chamber, doorways led into offices.

Vambran turned to one side and passed through an arched opening, moving not into an office but out onto a bridge that spanned the distance between the tower he had ascended and a second one next to it. The walkway was not long, and the protective walls along either side of it not so high that Vambran couldn't see some of the city from the vantage point if he wished to, but it would require squeezing between the various clay pots that were set at regular intervals along the span and filled to overflowing with blossoming greenery. Instead, the lieutenant simply enjoyed the warming sun that shone down and moved on into the next tower.

Inside that second tower, Vambran made his way up another rounded flight of stairs and into a similar rotunda. From there, he was before the doorway that led into his uncle's office chambers. Sticking his head inside, Vambran could see that Kovrim Lazelle was not in, though the mess of parchments scattered across the desktop told the lieutenant that his uncle was around somewhere. He went inside, stepping past the desk and the shelves filled with scroll cases and wood-bound books and through another arched opening to a balcony beyond. A brightly colored bird, mostly greens and blues, was sitting atop a wooden stand. It cocked its head sideways and squawked once as the lieutenant appeared.

Vambran smiled and lifted a bit of hard bread out of a bowl.

"Hello, Mackey," he said, holding the nibble out for the creature, which was perhaps a foot tall.

"Hello," the bird mimicked.

Mackey eyed the bit of food and darted its head forward and snatched the bite out of the man's hand, eating it in a single swallow.

Vambran smiled and ruffled the gorgeous bird's head feathers gently, then turned toward the balcony. Trellises formed a see-through wall, set where the railing kept occupants from falling to the ground four stories below. Tendrils of climbing vines covered the wooden frames, dappling and diffusing the majority of the light. Still, there was a narrow opening between the trellises, and Vambran moved there and leaned forward on his forearms to have a gaze outward.

Kovrim's office faced west, toward the harbor, so at the moment the sun was on the opposite side of the tower, keeping the near side in shade. In the afternoon, when the day was at its hottest, the sun would normally shine directly onto the balcony and into the priest's office, making it stifling. The trellises were a necessary relief from the afternoon heat. Still, on that morning, like every morning, the view from such a vantage was wonderful. Vambran could see the open expanse of the lawns below, green and lush, with a number of priests and visitors strolling in small groups or alone. Others had found a shady spot, either on stone benches or on the grass itself, beneath any of a number of large shadowtops that grew throughout the property.

Out beyond the temple grounds was the city, sloping gently down toward the harbor, where Vambran could clearly see the piers jutting out from the quay and the various ships currently in port. He spotted Lady's Favor in the same spot where he'd left her the previous night and noted that she rode high in the water. Her cargo had indeed been unloaded and she was waiting for a new one. In fact, as Vambran squinted, he could see swarms of men just beginning to shift crates around so that cranes could hoist them off the pier and down into her holds. The lieutenant estimated that she would be departing before nightfall. He felt a small pang of regret that he would not be going with her.

"Vambran!" Kovrim's voice boomed from behind, and the lieutenant spun to see his uncle walking into the office, a sheaf of parchment and a hunk of sealing wax in his hands. "Hello, nephew," the priest said, smiling broadly and dumping his work onto the desk so that he could properly greet his visitor.

"Hello, Uncle Kovrim," Vambran replied, smiling himself and crossing the distance between them to give his relative a hearty hug.

"It's great to see you home," Kovrim said, slapping Vambran on the shoulder before stepping back to look at his nephew. His face went from a smile to mild shock. "What's this on your forehead?'' he asked, genuinely surprised.

"I've been studying with one of my men," Vambran explained, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Not a whole lot, just enough to pick up a few tricks. I find them useful on the battlefield."

"I see," Kovrim said, tilting his head to one side, as though considering what he thought of the revelation. "The Lady's divine grace isn't suitable?" he asked.

Vambran frowned, trying to figure out a way to explain it.

"It's not that," he said, "I'm still very attentive to my holy studies. But there are some things I'm finding out work better this way."

Kovrim broke into another big grin.

"Well, then, good for you I'd rather see you prepared for anything, you know. So, your trip went well, I gather," he said, gesturing toward a narrow, high-back chair in front of his desk.

"Absolutely," Vambran replied as he sat, relieved at his uncle's apparent approval. "Nothing at all like the last time," he said, grinning and remembering the skirmish he and his company had engaged in during the previous trip.

A local dispute had a horde of guildsmen up in arms in Procampur, and they had tried to blockade the ship to prevent it from offloading its goods. It hadn't been much of a fight, though relations with that particular guild were substantially cooler than they had been. The temple in Arrabar had already dispatched an envoy to Procampur in order to try to smooth things over.

"Well, that's good to hear, though I already knew it," Kovrim said with a laugh, gesturing at the pile of work on his desk. "There was a nice stack of new reports waiting for me when I arrived this morning. Another smoothly run business operation ready to be put to bed, thanks to you."

Vambran only smiled and said nothing.

"So, how's my sister?" Kovrim asked, leaning back in his chair. "How is everyone over at House Matrell?"

Vambran tried not to grimace.

"Mother's fine, as always," he answered, trying to keep his voice light. "She still spends most of her day helping Grandmother Hetta, who's still going strong. And Em's growing like a weed," he added with a laugh.

"I'll bet," Kovrim said, chuckling along with his nephew. "Well, I'm looking forward to visiting for Em's birthday in a few days. It'll give me a chance to catch up with the family. And I know Ladara will be happy to see me."

"Yes," Vambran said. "Mother will certainly like that, and everyone would enjoy your company. Just don't show up without a big, expensive present for Em, or she'll never let you hear the end of it."

They both laughed.

"Well, are you ready to settle these accounts?" Kovrim asked, rising from his chair to grab a large, leather-bound ledger from a shelf behind his desk. "We can get these books in order and go have a bite to eat."

Vambran let the smile fade from his face.

"Uncle Kovrim, I have a problem," he said. "I need your advice."

Kovrim grew serious as well and sat back down.

"Certainly, Vambran, whatever I can do to help."

Vambran sighed, unsure how to explain things.

"Last night," he finally began, "On the way home from the docks, there was a killing."

Kovrim grunted, shaking his head in sorrow, but gestured for the lieutenant to continue.

"City guards accosted and 'dealt with' a pair of common folk in an alley near our estate. They claimed that the two victims were falsely marking themselves thrice."

"Oh? Haven't seen that in quite a long time."

"Exactly," Vambran said, leaning forward. "It struck me as odd, too. But besides that, these city watchmen just didn't seem quite right to me. They didn't really understand procedure, and they were downright surly toward Em and me."

"I see. Were you wearing your marks last night, too?" Kovrim asked, pointing toward Vambran's forehead.

Vambran nodded and said, "Yes, and of course they behaved rather poorly about it, too. Very accusatory, not surprisingly. But it was more than that. Even after I demonstrated my talents, they were downright rude, at least until a second squad of guards arrived."

"So what are you concerned about?" Kovrim asked, scratching at his balding pate. "Did something happen?"

"Not as such," Vambran replied. "But I decided to draw out the sergeant's surface thoughts, to see what he was really about, and what I read was unsettling. I just don't think they were actually watchmen. He seemed very worried about someone finding out what had happened last night."

"I see. So, what did you do about it?"

"Well, Em was there, and I didn't want a skirmish breaking out, so I just kept quiet. The second squad was led by a captain, and she certainly seemed to know what she was doing. They gathered the bodies and told me to report this morning for a debriefing. I was actually looking forward to it, because I wanted to see what came of the communing with the dead."

"And?"

"Last night, two Waukeenar priests showed up unannounced and ordered the bodies burned, due to magical plague."

Uncle Kovrim's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh, really?" he said. "I haven't heard a thing about the plague breaking loose anytime recently."

"I figured you would be the one to know, if anyone did," Vambran said. "I think the magic plague is just a ruse. Someone is hiding something, and I'm worried about the implications that these two priests are involved in it."

"Yes," Kovrim said absently, scratching at his head again, deep in thought. "That doesn't sound good."

"I mean, it may be nothing, but a moment or two conversing with the spirits of the slain couple could have cleared it all right up."

"Yes, it could have. So, did you voice your doubts to this captain?"

"I did. She was not interested in listening to me. Claimed to have put a couple of her men on it, and that was that."

"And you're not satisfied with her efforts."

Vambran was silent for a long time. Finally, he looked his uncle squarely in the eye.

"You know what's troubling me," he said at last.

Kovrim nodded slowly and said, "You can't keep blaming yourself for that, Vambran. You were just a boy."

"You know that doesn't make it feel any better. It haunts you just as much as it still troubles me."

"That's different. I was an adult, I should have known better than to have given you that crossbow. If I hadn't-"

"So neither of us can forgive ourselves so easily. The fact remains that all I can think about is what Rodolpho's family must have thought when they heard the news and afterward. Bewildered, wondering why someone would assass-" Vambran clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to continue that thought. "Anyway, now, I see it happening all over again. I can't help but wonder how the families of these two are feeling, thinking their dead kin were criminals. It's not right."

"I understand your passion for this, Vambran, I really do. But I'm not sure you can do anything about it. I wish there were; maybe we'd both feel better afterward."

"There's something else," Vambran said, unwilling to let it go. "Em thinks she recognized the woman, though she can't remember from where. And," he added, wondering if his uncle would approve of what he was about to suggest, "the suspicious guards kept something of Em's, a dagger I'd given her and which they confiscated last night. I think I can track them down if I needed to."

"Hmm," Kovrim said, nodding. "You could tell the watch captain this, lead her to the men."

"I already offered. She still wasn't interested."

"A pity for her, but an opportunity for you." Kovrim leaned forward and gave a hard stare at his nephew. "I wish I could go with you, but these bones are getting a little too old for traipsing around the city in pursuit of criminals. I'll leave it to you. But if you do track on the dagger, you do not go alone, do you understand me?" Vambran nodded. "Take a couple more stout bodies with you. Someone you can trust."

Vambran nodded and said, "I think I know just the two."

"In the meantime," Kovrim replied, sitting back, "I'll help you any other way I can. I'll look into the two priests. If there's something going on that the temple's involved with, I'll find out what it is."

Vambran smiled.

"Thanks, Uncle Kovrim. I knew I could count on you."

The ride to the Pharaboldi estate was serene, if not terribly entertaining, inside the full coach. Emriana did her best not to fidget and complain, but she found the confines of her dress, the coach, and the company of her mother all to be very stifling. The vehicle made its way through the merchant's district of the city, the iron-rimmed wheels rolling loudly over the cobblestones and jostling the occupants incessantly. Emriana looked out the window, watching the hustle and bustle of the city flow past them while Ladara made small talk with Hetta and the attendants who had traveled with them that day.

Emriana tried to tune her mother out, completely disinterested in the latest gossip concerning the truly wealthy of Arrabar, the plots and intrigues they were involved with, and the speculation over what marriages might be occurring between Houses in the near future. She wished Jaleene were there to give her some companionship that would be more to her liking, but true to his word, Uncle Dregaul had ordered the handmaiden to remain behind to be disciplined. At least she wasn't going to be let go, for which Emriana could thank her grandmother. Hetta had revealed to the girl before they finished their breakfast that she had informed Dregaul he was not to relieve the handmaiden from her duties, but that he could make the threat to do so if it made him feel better.

Apparently, the man had taken his mother up on her suggestion. Though she would not be losing her confidante and friend, Emriana still felt no small amount of sympathy toward poor Jaleene over the day she was bound to have, being scolded by the master of the House.

"Em, I do hope you don't sulk like that when we arrive. It is so unbecoming," Ladara commented, drawing the girl out of her thoughts.

"What?" Emriana asked, blinking and looking up to see the entire entourage of women watching her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mother," the girl replied, trying to smile. She realized she must have been looking very morose, contemplating her maid's fate. "I will try."

It wasn't easy, putting on airs, but she did it because of what her grandmother had revealed to her that morning.

The sooner I start pretending to be what they want, the sooner they'll quit scrutinizing me so much, Emriana told herself.

"And do try to be pleasant to Denrick today," Ladara continued, which almost elicited a groan from the girl before she caught herself and nodded, smiling. "The last time you visited with him, you were less than polite, you know."

Emriana stole a quick glance at her grandmother, who raised her eyebrows slightly as if to say, Remember what I told you.

Turning back to her mother, Emriana smiled even wider and said, "I will do my best, Mother."

Ladara smiled, apparently genuinely relieved.

"Thank goodness. Maybe you're growing up after all." The woman pulled a fan out of her handbag and opened it, waving it rapidly back in forth in front of her. "Mercy, but it's already unbearably warm this morning," she said.

That's because we insist on wearing all these ridiculous clothes, Emriana thought, wanting to scream.

It wasn't quite highsun, and the air was already growing damp and heavy, though inside the coach, where they had shade, it wasn't so bad yet. Once they arrived at the Pharaboldi estate, Emriana knew that it would be blessedly cooler inside, where she was sure the house wizards would have woven a spell or two to keep the temperature pleasant.

As if on cue, the coach arrived at the front gates of the estate of House Pharaboldi, which swung wide to admit them entrance. The coach rolled through the high walls and up the lane toward the house proper, which sat upon a large and gently sloped hill, and Emriana began to stare out the window once more, watching the large trunks of the shadow tops, planted at regular intervals, drift by. Emriana spotted several peahens and a few peacocks strutting about in the shade of those trees. Beyond them, on the open lawn, horses grazed, a large herd of them, for horses were one of the prized possessions of the Pharaboldis.

Eventually, the coach pulled up to the front of the mansion, coming to a stop in the rounded drive that encircled a great fountain and accompanying flower-filled beds. The home itself was several stories tall, and all four sides were surrounded by open-air porches pierced by arched windows that looked out on the grounds. The whole thing had been painted a warm shade of tan, with burgundy and pale blue highlights accenting the whole.

Attendants stepped forward from the shade of the porch to open the doors of the coach and assist the women in stepping out. Ladara climbed out first, then turned to help Hetta, with Emriana following to ensure the older woman didn't teeter and fall. Once they were all safely on the graveled walk, they flipped open their parasols and strolled together up the steps, which were flanked on either side by great planters teeming with a variety of tropical blooms. At the top of the staircase, standing regally on the tiled front porch, Anista Pharaboldi waited on her guests with a proud smile upon her face. It was not the first time the Matrells had come calling, but it seemed like each time Emriana remembered visiting, the woman practically glowed with satisfaction at the appearance of her stately home.

"It's so nice of you to come visit us today," Anista called out as the Matrell women made their way to the porch. "Please, come inside where it's bearable."

With that, the Pharaboldi matriarch turned and marched through the great front doors into the cooler, darker interior. Emriana followed her grandmother and mother inside, letting her eyes adjust.

Like the Matrell estate, the Pharaboldi home was a spacious, open-air place, allowing cooling breezes to blow through and keeping the warmth of the subtropical sun at bay. Cool tiles covered every floor, and countless planters contained ferns, vines, and even small trees, all of which were allowed to climb columns and walls, or to hang from above, draping over the sides of planter boxes clinging to balconies or hanging baskets that dangled from exposed beams running the length of the larger rooms. Trellises were used instead of solid walls to separate spaces in many rooms, thickly covered with bougainvillea and philodendrons and half a dozen other kinds of growth.

The group was led into one such room, a large central chamber two stories in height and encircled by a balcony on the second floor. The ceiling high overhead was vaulted, and near the very center, a small cupola rose even higher, with arched windows set on each side to let in light. A pair of channels were set into the floor of the room, running in a weaving path from one side to the opposite, and water flowed into them from a stone-walled pond, making them small, slow-moving streams. The pond itself was fed from a miniature waterfall, tumbling down one wall of the room with a pleasant splashing sound. The indoor streams flowed to either side of an island in the center of the room, joining together again on the far side and disappearing beneath a wall. A pair of foot bridges passed over the natural barriers, and the whole length of the streams had more planters lining each bank, so that palm fronds and miniature willow trees leaned out over the sides and grew up to further divide the whole place.

"Please," Anista was saying as the procession followed her to the middle of the room, onto the island, where a large table and a set of chairs had been placed, "Find yourselves a seat. First, we will have tea and biscuit for a bit, and later, we can move to the dining room for a proper midday meal. Oh, I can't wait to catch up with you and find out what sorts of interesting things you Matrells are involved with."

Emriana found a seat at one end of the table, off by herself, and sat. A serving woman dressed in a crisp outfit appeared beside her, placing a delicate Calishite porcelain cup and saucer before her and filling it with rich, aromatic Amnian tea. A second dish containing thin wafers made of sweetened bread topped with whipped honey was set beside the tea, and the servant was gone, leaving Emriana to her own devices.

The girl spent a few moments just taking in the room, which, though it was no more opulent than the Matrell residence, was nonetheless impressive in its luxuriousness. Sitting where she was, Emriana could see down into the waterway that encircled the sitting area, and she spotted a school of brightly colored fish, red and blue and all feathery fins, swimming lazily about. On impulse, she broke off a bit of the sweetened bread and tossed it into the water. In the blink of an eye, the fish swarmed toward the bits of food, darting toward the surface and slipping away with the crumbs. Several of the creatures began to fight over the unexpected meal, and Emriana watched as they darted and ran, making ripples in the surface of the water.

"Oh, Em, you are a vision today," Anista said, her high-pitched voice drawing the girl back to the conversation. "Denrick will be very impressed," the woman added, a knowing grin on her face. "I'll bet you'd much prefer to go visit with him than to sit around here with all of us stuffy old crones, now wouldn't you?"

Emriana opened her mouth to deny the notion that she would like to spend any time at all with the woman's boorish son, then snapped it shut again helplessly as she spied her mother boring a hole into her daughter with her gaze. It was clear to the girl that her mother wished her to be as endearing and cooperative as possible.

Emriana finally nodded and managed to croak, "Yes, ma'am."

"Well then, dear, I think he's out on the back porch, though you'd better hurry. I think I remember him saying he planned to go riding today. Patimi here can show the way, if you've forgotten."

Emriana silently groaned but got up and curtsied before hurrying along, following the attendant Anista had indicated. The woman led Emriana through the house and out onto a tiled and covered porch with awning-covered arched windows looking out over a broad field that sloped down the hill toward a rather massive barn.

"Master Denrick, the Lady Emriana Matrell," Patimi intoned, bowing toward a man perhaps four years older than Emriana.

He was tall and somewhat lanky, but with a carefully coifed head of hair and matching goatee that was thick and black. He looked up as the two women approached, and his smile was predatory when he spotted Emriana. Sure enough, he was dressed for riding, and a stable boy was standing at the bottom of a set of steps that ran down from the porch with a fine-looking horse in his care.

"Hello, Em," Denrick said affably, belying the hungry look in his eyes. "You're looking wonderful today."

Emriana forced herself to smile back at the young man. "And you look like you're getting ready to go riding," she replied, hoping he'd ask her so she could decline.

"Why, yes I am. In fact, I was hoping you'd find your way out here, so you could go with me. A picnic with you under the shade of a tree sounds like a perfect day to me. What do you say?"

Emriana had to work to keep the delight out of her voice as she apologized.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Denrick, but as you can see, I'm not dressed for riding today, and I'm afraid I didn't bring along any other clothes on this trip."

Den rick looked crestfallen, but for only a moment before he brightened again.

"You can wear some of my sister's!" he said. "She has scads of things still in her old rooms, and I'm sure some of them will fit you."

Emriana swallowed, feeling backed into a corner.

"Oh, well, I…" she stammered, trying to think of an out. "My personal maid, Jaleene, was indisposed today and could not come, so there's really no way I could change without help, and-"

"I'm sure Patimi can help you," Denrick said, his smile fading as he looked at Emriana expectantly. "Surely it's not that difficult to change your clothes."

Emriana sighed quietly and succumbed. "Well, then, I'd be delighted," she lied.

"Wonderful! I'll have Turcan prepare a horse for you while you change."

With that, the young man stood up and began instructing the stable boy to fetch Emriana a gentle horse and put a suitable saddle on it.

Patimi, meanwhile, led the girl back into the house and into the chambers of Denrick's older sister, Lobra Pharaboldi, who had gotten married and moved into her husband's estate a couple of years previous. Emriana remembered meeting the woman but once, a long time ago. Patimi showed the girl where the wardrobes were and helped her choose a suitable outfit for riding and assisted while Emriana changed clothes. The girl thought the servant seemed a bit subdued, for Patimi spoke very little, other than to offer a word of instruction, but Emriana was too preoccupied with her impending afternoon with Denrick to think to ask the woman what was wrong.

At last, the girl was dressed in a set of breeches and a shirt with a loose-fitting vest over it, accompanied by a wide-brimmed hat and durable gloves, perfect for riding. She had to admit that she was more comfortable than she had been in the stiff, sumptuous dress. She followed the servant back outside, where Denrick was waiting, already mounted on his own horse, a bay named Shert. Emriana's mount, held still by Turcan for her as she climbed into the saddle, was a slightly smaller palomino named Goldy. Once she was situated, she took the reigns from Turcan and nodded to Denrick. Emriana had ridden often enough to feel confident, if not completely at ease, atop the mount Goldy proved to be a gentle creature, though, willing to follow Denrick as he turned Shert and headed around the side of the porch.

"First, well ride over to the back door of the kitchens and have the staff prepare a picnic basket for us," the boy called over his shoulder. "Then we can head over to a spot I like out toward the south wall."

"Lead the way," Emriana replied, determined to make the best of the trip and not give her mother any reason to frown at her.

The pair trotted slowly around to another wing of the estate, where Denrick hopped down and strolled inside a back door, which led into the kitchens. Emriana remained mounted, studying the door into which her riding partner had disappeared, suddenly ill at ease. Something was troubling her, something she needed to remember. She couldn't put her finger on it, but whatever it was, her stomach was roiling with nervous energy.

Denrick returned, followed by a kitchen maid carrying a large basket. One look at the woman in her simple dress and flour- and soot-covered apron made Emriana remember, and she nearly fell off Goldy in her alarm.

The woman who had been killed the night before had worked in the Pharaboldi kitchens.