“They’ve been implicated in the boy’s death,” Yarl replied dryly. “No one will believe their investigation is unbiased. I agree that the timing is unfortunate, but you cannot simply ignore this new development, Lord Morningstar.”
It made Gavriel even more vexed that he was right. “What do you suggest?”
“Perhaps it would be prudent to have one of the cyphers from Kirith look into the matter? Only to determine if there’s any truth to the claims that lithomancy was involved. If so, you can go on the record recommending a special tribunal. Let Luzia Bras lead it.”
Gavriel considered the various angles but could find no flaw. Yarl’s solution was masterful. “Yes, that will work. My cyphers aren’t local and thus will be deemed impartial. Make it appear like a discreet inquiry, but ensure that the scribblers are aware. Then we kick it back to the Assembly.” He regarded his secretary with great fondness. “We must ensure you live another fifty years as I could not go on without you.”
Yarl looked both pleased and weary at this prospect. “Which one shall we send, sir?”
Gavriel was tempted to rid himself of Rowan for a day or two. She had a way of watching him with silent intensity that he found distracting. But of the pair, Rowan was the loose cannon. She had a habit of saying whatever was on her mind. If the gossip-mongers cornered her, she might blurt out anything.
That would be a disaster. He needed to carefully manage every aspect of the investigation from here on. If his reputation were tarnished, Gavriel feared that the last glue holding the empire together would dissolve.
“Mercy Blackthorn will do,” he said.
“Very good. I have another lead for you, sir,” Yarl added, “regarding the payments for that flat on Rua Alva. Apparently, Casolaba had a mistress. Her name is Gia Andrade. Shall I summon her here?”
Gavriel hesitated. That was his usual practice. But the scribblers had been lying in wait outside the Red House to ambush him that morning and the gods only knew what might leak if they got hold of her.
“No, I shall go myself. Excellent work, Edvin.”
Yarl nodded and fetched the cyphers, which took but an instant since they were standing outside the door.
“Cypher Blackthorn,” Gavriel said, “I would like you to visit the morgue and examine the boy’s body. Determine if there is any evidence of lithomancy and gather whatever details you can. His name, where he came from, et cetera.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her bluff features. Clearly, she had assumed he didn’t care.
“I can do that, Lord Morningstar,” Blackthorn said.
She headed for the door with Yarl, who had prepared documents with Gavriel’s seal that would give her access to the morgue. The man was nothing if not efficient.
“Cypher Rowan, you will accompany me to an address on Rua Alva. We shall leave immediately.” He removed his magistrate’s robe and hung it on a coatrack. Underneath, he wore his usual starched shirt, waistcoat and trousers. It was late autumn, but the days were still balmy. “Is there a problem?”
She was staring at him with a mutinous look in her eye. “With all due respect, Lord Morningstar, you’re all over the broadsheets. Appearing in public would cause a tumult.”
He gave her a thin smile. “Would it?”
“Yes, it would. I can’t go alone, since that would leave you unattended. So you should either summon her to the Red House or send Yarl.”
“Summon her? I have not mentioned the purpose of the visit, so I can only assume you were listening at the door.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again.
“Yarl has other duties,” Gavriel said, unused to explaining himself. “And the mistress is more likely to talk if we catch her unawares, before she has time to concoct a story. Isn’t that how you would conduct an investigation, Rowan?”
She faltered. “Well, yes, But you’re a special case.” She studied him like he was some zoo specimen, biting her lower lip. “I’d cast an illusion around you, but I don’t know how.”
This surprised him, though he knew little about cyphers. “Why not?”
“We’re blunt-edged weapons,” she said, a wry twist to her mouth. “We are not taught the subtle arts. So you must see that it would be madness to proceed with this plan.”
“Then it was not a cypher who attacked me on the rooftop,” he murmured. “I can rule them out entirely.”
“Yes, but that’s hardly my point!” She continued to protest as Gavriel opened the hidden panel and they took a dusty, dark staircase down to the side exit.
“Just trust me,” he said gently.
She fell silent but regarded him with skepticism. Gavriel focused on the raw power in his blood, directing it to the lightwaves bending around his form.
