'You saw Oren make improper advances ? however acceptable to or even encouraged by the recipient ? improper advances to Lady Rowena. You knew this would happen at the fete, because it always did when your husband and the lady met at any gathering. It happened again. You then prepared the dagger, made it invisible ?'
'Yes, I did. Yes! I was going to use the spell. But not for him! I didn't kill him!'
'No? Then who was the spell intended for?'
Lady Rilma pointed across the room. 'Her! That woman!'
Lady Rowena paled, her hand going to her throat.
'Yes, her! She was just as responsible for my constant humiliation. Even more, because she could have protested, and he would have listened to her. But she had to play the hussy in front of her husband! That vile vixen! It was she I wanted to kill.'
'But you didn't.'
'No.'
'You didn't take the spell any further. Why?'
Lady Rilma wobbled. One of the lords assisted her to a nearby dining chair, into which she slumped.
Her voice was low. 'Because the monster would have succeeded in corrupting me completely. He was vile, he was bestial. But if he had driven me to kill, he would have won over me. His victory would have been complete. Through the grace of the merciful gods, I realized this, and I did not go up to Lady Rowena and lay the targeting touch on her. I put the dagger away. Not even when Oren threw the capon wing at me did I take it out again, though anger flashed through me, as it did whenever he struck me.'
Thaxton walked away from her, turned. 'But the spell would not have worked, my lady.'
Rilma was slow in answering. 'No?'
'No. There was no way to work the flying-dart spell using a dagger instead of the dart, as it is written in this book. Your Highness, would you explain why?'
'Yes,' Dorcas said. 'An assassination spell is malevolent magic, sometimes called black, but of course color has nothing to do with it. These parlor tricks are innocuous magic, sometimes called white magic. The latter employs the cooperation of playful spirits, benevolent spirits. Sprites, pixies, wraiths, call them what you will. They will do the bidding of any magician who has the skill to guide and direct them. But a black spell requires the command of a malevolent spirit. The spells in this book are not of this variety. You can render a dagger invisible, but you cannot do harm with it. The flying-dart trick will not work if the dart is directed at a human being.'
'Thank you, ma'am,' Thaxton said. 'So you see, Lady Rilma, you were in no danger of committing murder, unless you had actually attacked Rowena or your husband in the old-fashioned way.'
Thaxton continued walking the grim circle of suspects, witnesses, and innocents.
'So, it would take quite a good magician to work up a new spell, in an aspect that didn't admit of much magic. This would take a bit of research. Research that you were in the habit of doing… Lord Belgard.'
Belgard took out his monocle, rubbed it on the sleeve of his morning coat, and fit it back in. 'I won't stand for this.'
'You do a lot of reading in magic, don't you, my lord?'
'And what of it?'
'Very dangerous magic.'
'Sometimes. Purely a scholarly interest.'
'Oh? Then why did you purchase a Helvian dagger? You needn't deny it. Tyrene's plainclothesmen traced the knife by the tiny initials of the smith carved into the boxwood handle. Not usual in a cheap item, but some craftsmen have pride all the same. The vendor sold that particular type of dagger to several people, but he remembered your monocle. Again I ask you, my lord, why did you purchase the weapon?'
Belgard looked around, huffed, and said, 'I simply bought one, that's all.'
'So it was you Count Damik saw buying the dagger.'
Belgard's shoulders fell. 'Yes.'
'And he, being a knife fancier, asked you why you wasted your money on such inferior merchandise.'
'Yes. He did say that.'
'And what was your answer, my lord?'
Belgard summoned his ruffled pride. 'I didn't owe him an answer, and I'm damned if I owe you one.'
'Could it have been because you were contemplating just such a spell as Her Highness described, an assassination spell to do Oren in at the fete, and you wanted to do it with a common knife that would be hard to trace, a cutlery version of what is known in my world as a Saturday night special?'
'No! I had no such intention.'
'You could have read the Baldor book.'
'Never clapped eyes on it.'
'And there are no witnesses to your having done so, my lord. In that you're quite safe. But the Perilous library has records of dozens of books on magic which you took out on loan.'
'What of it? Lots of people do research on magic.' Belgard sneered. 'Even chambermaids.'
'Yes, but not everyone has a motive for killing. You did. You've been stewing in hatred for years. And Oren was eminently detestable. He was a rotter, a scoundrel, and a villain. To say nothing about tupping your wife ?'
'You bastard!' Belgard swung his Malacca cane, which Thaxton neatly sidestepped. Belgard lost his grip and the cane went clattering across the flagstone floor.
'So sorry,' Thaxton said calmly.
'Yes!' Belgard screamed. 'Yes, I hated him, and I would have killed him, once I perfected my spell. And it is a guided dagger spell, but nothing like the child's play you seem to think I'd toy with. No, I've been working on mine for years. It was designed to foil all his protections, all his defenses. It's effective over great distances. I can even cast the spell in my home aspect and have the dagger travel ? invisibly ? through the castle and into Oren's aspect. It's a masterpiece, and it would have worked, if I'd had the time to perfect it. But cast it here? In this aspect? Nonsense! Why? I never saw that book of yours. I don't care how long it's been in the Peele library. I never set eyes on it!'
Thaxton walked away. 'No, I don't think you did, my lord.'
Thaxton kept stalking. He stopped in front of Trent, who was standing hand-in-hand with his wife.
Trent grinned. 'And this is the point in the scene in which the murderer blurts out a confession, right? All right. Means? You're looking at one of the best magicians in the omniverse, if I do say so myself. Motive? I would have killed the son of a bitch eventually, either in a duel or some other way, for molesting my wife and attempting to sodomize her. The man was a mad dog and should have been put out of his misery years ago. There is no end of victimized servants ? he had a taste for teenage upstairs maids especially ? who can attest to that. And he wasn't content with just rape and _involuntary deviant intercourse' as the statutes put it. He usually added beating as a lovely little fillip. Opportunity? I could have thrown demons at him at any time, defenses or none, and Tyrene's men would have found his body parts artfully arranged around his billiard room. But Inky would have gotten wind of it and would have been pissed off at me. So, as far as the murderer is concerned, whoever he may be ? all I can say is, there but for the grace of the gods go I. Yeah, I confess to intent. But I didn't kill him. Somebody beat me to it.'
Thaxton strolled on. 'Be that as it may. There is another name in the Peele guest registry. And the name is one that hasn't been bandied about very much, if it was on the suspect list at all. Why do you think that is… Lord Arl?'
'Because there's nothing to connect me with the crime,' Arl said mildly.
'Oh, but I beg to differ, my lord. You have a reputation as a competent magician.'
'Hardly in Trent's league.'
'No, but a good one. And you have been known to research in the library.'
Arl laughed. 'I must say, this is turning into quite a charming little witch hunt. Am I suspect merely because of my bookish ways? Have something against intellectuals, do you?'
'Very clever ploy, my lord, turning the tables like that. Admirable. But it so happens this matter has much to do with reading habits. You did a lot of browsing in the Closed Stacks, where the _eldritch and pernicious tomes,' as Osmirik likes to call them, are kept. Isn't that true?'
