Chương 5

The deposition came two days later. They gave him a shirt and trousers for it, which he appreciated, and conducted it in the infirmary itself, which he appreciated more, since Lady Sera Venn, the healer, had made it clear to all parties — in his hearing, with relish — that anyone who made her patient walk to an office could carry him back personally, when(not if) he collapsed. They arranged chairs at his bedside as though visiting an invalid uncle. A grey-robed proctor with a writing board.

A senior warden with a face like a closed gate. And a third man who arrived slightly late, apologised for it warmly, and introduced himself as Pellan Dorr, assistant registrar. Dorr was fortyish, soft-bodied in the way of men who worked at desks, with ink-stained cuffs and a manner of friendly, rumpled competence. He explained his presence unprompted: the attack had compromised an official travel contract, sealed and countermarked by the registry, and the registry therefore had standing at any inquiry.

He said this while pouring water for everyone, including John, surprisingly, as though they were colleagues settling in for a long meeting. Elara and Mirelle attended as well. Elara took the chair farthest from the bed and looked at John exactly once, at the beginning, with those cool grey-blue eyes, and then looked at the proctor for the remainder. Dorr began.

"This deposition concerns the assault upon Lady Elara Vey during travel conducted under an Academy-recognised contract. The incident occurred within Asterhall's chartered district. The Academy therefore has authority to investigate. Because Master Rook has admitted, to the victim prior to this deposition, participation in a conspiracy to abduct an accepted student, the watch considers his admission sufficient grounds for arrest." A pause. The warden nodded, allowing the Dorr to continue.

"However, the Academy commissioned the travel arrangement; hence, it has an obligation to determine how its credentials were compromised." The clerk's quill moved. A faint scratching filled the space between Dorr's sentences.

"Until that determination is made," he continued, "I have recommended that Master Rook remain in Academy custody. This recommendation has been accepted provisionally by the Dean and Head Warden. Please note that this recommendation is not final and might be presented back to the Dean and Head Warden for revision." Dorr placed both hands on the table.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Cal Rook."

"Occupation."

"Mercenary."

"Present contract?" John glanced at Elara. She sat straight, her hands folded in her lap.

"None." Dorr waited. After a moment, John amended the answer.

"My last contract was an escort mission provided to Lady Vey."

"Was the contract originally assigned to your party?"

"No. Voss had mentioned in passing that someone altered the contract after it was sealed to ensure we got the job."

"After hijacking the contract, was completing the mission as stated in exchange for the therein agreed compensation the true reason you hijacked it?" John sighed. Here it came.

"... No." Ultimately, he had decided during two days of ceiling-staring that the truth was the only version he could keep straight under repeated questioning, provided he sanded a few details off. So: he had taken the factor's coin at a tavern outside Concord. He had known the black cloth on the roadside saint marked the turn, known the handoff waited at the old tollhouse, known the girl was to be delivered alive.

He described the factor's appearance as he remembered it, the route map, and Voss's role in leading the betrayal. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"And then," the proctor said, pen poised, "having taken this money and travelled two days toward the exchange, you killed both of your confederates rather than complete it. Why?"

"I am not sure, really," John shrugged.

"To be honest, I'd have preferred to just walk off from the whole matter entirely. But at the end, I could not, in good conscience, condemn Lady Vey to whatever fate awaited her at the tollhouse."

"So, you cut a harness strap," Dorr said. He had a note before him where he jotted down key details from John's statement.

"Separated the two men, killed the driver by surprise, and fought the second."

"Correct."

"Mistress Saye." The proctor turned.

"You witnessed the confrontation with the man Harl."

"Yes." Mirelle nodded, sitting straighter as the room's attention focused on her.

"The man Harl arrived, saw his companion dead, and accused Master Rook of — his words — cutting us out to claim the whole purse for himself. He said the factor's men waited barely a mile ahead. He then attempted to kill Master Rook and was killed in turn, with Lady Vey's assistance." A pause, precise as punctuation.

"I say this, not offering any opinion of Master Rook's character. This is simply my testimony as I remember it." The proctor wrote for some time. It was Dorr who broke the scratching quiet, addressing the warden as though continuing an earlier conversation.

"For the registry's part — I'd still argue against surrendering him to the city watch. Not yet, at least." He raised his soft hands at the warden's glance.

"But I have spoken with the Dean and the academy is willing to have him available at your discretion for further questioning whenever you require." A mild smile.

"Besides, the man can barely stand. He is not a flight risk. He is scarcely a walking risk. As it stands, there's not much sense in throwing him behind bars."

"…Fine," the warden sighed, frowning. The room shifted slightly. John had the sense of arriving at the part of the meeting where his input was no longer relevant.

"Investigators rode out the morning after your arrival," the warden said to him.

"To the site you described. The coach was there. Burned to the iron with mage fire, hence attempting forensic thaumaturgy was a dead end. The bodies of the men Voss and Harl were also gone. The tollhouse the same. Scrubbed with what the mage charged with investigating the matter suspected was an Elixir of obfuscation." He let that sit.

"You reached this gate perhaps nine hours after the killings. Someone reached that road inside the same night, with enough men to do all that and enough skill to do it well." John kept his face bored, which Cal's face was built for, and felt something cold walk down his back. … Ah, fuck. He hadn't thought this far ahead. In the book — in the little of the book that had bothered with this episode — the abduction had simply succeeded. Nobody had needed to clean anything up.

He had no chapter to consult for what a thwarted buyer did next, or how long its patience ran, or how far up it went. He was, as of two nights ago, fully off the map.

"They will assume he told us everything," Dorr said quietly, to the room in general.

"Which he now has. That is worth noting, for his continued safety, hence usefulness."

"Lady Vey." The proctor turned last to Elara, and his tone gentled into formality.

"The Academy recognises your admission and extends provisional sanctuary from this hour. I must be precise about the word provisional. The full protection of the charter — neutrality, immunity from external writ, the Crown's own guarantee — attaches to enrolled students only. Until you stand in the ceremony and your name enters the Roll, you are simply a guest whom we will defend with diligence, no more." He inclined his head slightly.

"Your enrollment is eleven days from now. I would advise remaining inside the walls until then."

"And him?" Elara said. It was the first time she had spoken in an hour. Everyone looked at her; she looked only at the proctor, chin level, hands folded, an aloof young noblewoman inquiring after a housekeeping detail.

"For now, Master Rook remains a detained witness under Academy jurisdiction," the proctor said.

"He will be housed, treated, and questioned as required. I will not pretend this matter is settled. He has confessed to conspiracy in the abduction of a noble student. If his account holds, his repudiation of that conspiracy — at cost of blood — will weigh heavily in his favour. If it not..." The proctor capped his ink with a small, final click.

"The penalty for selling a noble's child is the rope." Chairs scraped. The meeting dissolved into murmured procedure — where documents would be lodged, when guards would rotate. Elara left last. At the door she paused, half-turned, and looked at him properly for the second time that day. John, propped against pillows with a possible execution now formally on his calendar, could think of nothing sensible to say, and so said nothing, watching her arrive at the same conclusion.

The cool grey-blue eyes searched his face for whatever it was she kept failing to find there. Then she was gone, and John was left with the guards, the ceiling beams, and the growing certainty that lying low had now joined modern plumbing on the list of things his second life did not intend to include.