Quester amongst the flowers 2

 

Chapter 2

 

“You were masterful, Leo,” said Kiliana.

“He is a small-minded man, good enough at his job when things are obvious, and inclined to bully confessions out of people, and I am not altogether sure he always gets it right,” said Quester.  “When we have a list of debutants and their haunts, I may need you to join them and befriend one or more, to be my link with the girls whose families could make life harder by having hysterics and shooting off their mouths if I warn them that their offspring are at risk.”

“And should I take a floral name, too?” asked Kiliana.

“I... I cannot ask that of you,” said Quester.

“No, but I can volunteer,” said Kiliana.  “And to do so even if there are no more floral debutants. Rather than risk some civilian.”

“You are correct, of course,” said Quester. “I do not have to like it, however.”

“Nobody said I was going to enjoy it, either,” said Kiliana, dryly. “Liana, that’s a plant, isn’t it? And easy to remember as it’s part of my name.”

“It’s a class of woody climbing vine,” said Quester. “It’s reaching, for it to be a flower.”

“Bother,” said Kiliana. “Abe’s teeth, what do I know of flowers?”

“Don’t copy my oaths,” said Quester, automatically. “ And more, apparently, than the Lictor. Let me see, Daphne, Veronica, Allysum, Mignonette, Dahlia, Pansy, Begonia, Petunia,  Jasmina, Narcissa, Lily, Nerine, Marigold, Marguerite, Daisy, Poppy... there are probably more.”

“Some of them only used by plebians for not ending ‘a,’” said Kiliana.

“Most can be massaged,” said Quester. “Kerria; it’s a pretty yellow flower, and is close enough, if slurred, to Killie. And you may as well stick with what you used in our previous adventure as Kerria Leonida Antilla.”

“Sent to the centre of the Empire for schooling; I can wing it that if I don’t know their customs, it is because I am from Araklion,” said Kiliana.

“Sensible,” approved Quester.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Kiliana.

“I want you to go shopping,” said Quester. “We stopped to purchase you that suit in the latest style, and to outfit Purity likewise, but I need you to go and get the sort of complete outfit that a girl of fifteen to eighteen is likely to think chic. Purchase some fashion-tabs aimed at the teen girl first, and acquaint yourself with the correct camouflage.  Also accessories and so on. Look at the trid reviews to see what they watch; you will need to be up to date on such things, though  as you are from far away, that covers some slips. Immerse yourself in being Kerria. When Hunter returns he shall be the secretary to Leonides Herakleon Antillus, oldest son and heir to Lord Herakles Theodrakon Antillus. And I know I’m not heir, it’s my nephew, Herakles, but it’s a useful cover.”

“I’ll go out shopping right away, Leo, only I’ll want a servant. It’s a shame, in a way, that we left Nicos in Araklion, but as he was trying to pretend he wasn’t going to be homesick, and your father offered him a home to grow up with Herakles, it did seem ideal.”

“And I have four more assistants than I had a few months ago,” said Quester. “I wonder how Gavrilla is doing, having her fingers regrown? But it will be some time before she is ready to be your maid.”

“I’ll ask the lady Jurisprudentor if she can help me,” said Kiliana.

“Jurisprudentrix is the correct term,” murmured Quester.

“Miz Lewis,” said Kiliana.

“I’ll introduce you, Miz Antillus,” said Villnew. “I don’t object to playing the part of a footman, but I’ll need to put on the right uniform.  I think we’ve got one, somewhere; it’s used for questioning off-duty servants.”

“Splendid, good man,” said Quester, with one of his rare, warm smiles. “And Miz Lewis will perhaps consent to be Killie’s – Kerria’s, I mean – governess.”

“I’m sure she’ll think it a splendid lark,” said Villnew.

Quester looked at him, sternly, and sighed.

“I rely on you and Miz Lewis to keep my young associate safe, not to have a ‘lark,’” he said, repressively.

Villnew was duly abashed.

 

 

Cayban knocked smartly before entering, this time, and flourished his tablet.

“I think I’ve covered everything, my lord,” he said.

“Good, come and sit on that comfortable-looking sofa with me, and go through it; Burdock said something about coffee... ah, good, here he is.”

“They did’n have none of the good stuff, so I had to go an’ get some,” said Burdock. “One for the lictor too?”

“Yes, please, Burdock; he’s on our side,” said Quester. Burdock hastily retrieved another cup and with it a bowl of sugar and jug of cream. He also left a plate of sweet cookies.

Quester smiled fondly and waited for Burdock to leave.

“He thinks I need feeding up,” he said. “He’s also inclined to feed synthcaf to people he thinks are disrespecting me, tortured further by the aroma of the real coffee he thinks I deserve. He’s a good man.”

“I didn’t know Ogroids could reason that far,” said Cayban. “I’ve always rather discounted them as witnesses for that reason.”

“Burdock tells me that the clever ones hide it, because being big and smart makes humans fear them, and people who fear, get violent.”

“That’s a remarkable feat of reasoning for anyone.”

“I believe Burdock to be at the upper end of intelligence for Ogroids,” said Quester. “Now, what have you for me?”

“All the girls attended the same finishing school, but that’s hardly surprising; the Nantsia Daviona Regina Academy is the only real finishing school there is in the whole of the Jinnya Isles,” said Cayban. “I fed in the names of all the other girls attending and had my data tablet cross-correlate for flower names or names close to flower names. I came up with three, and questionably, a fourth.”

“Oh, well done,” said Quester.

Cayban flushed.

“I... thank you, my lord. I... thank you for your appreciation, and the coffee; I’ve often reported to high muck-a-mucks who sit drinking their coffee and don’t even offer a glass of water. I’m sorry I got you all wrong; I thought you drifted by on your reputation.”

“I have some advantage, in being a psion, which gives me hunches, which I then have to follow up to find concrete cross-correlation,” said Quester. “I understand you are a good, dogged lictor with one fault.”

Cayban went a darker red.

“I overwhelms witnesses,” he mumbled.

Quester decided not to say that ‘bullies’ was the term he would have used. If the man had this much self-insight, he could be helped, and inflammatory words would not help.

“So, are you going to try to improve that trait?” he asked.

“Yes, but a man’s going to die today or tomorrow because I made him confess, and I’m not sure in my own mind... new evidence... but they wanted someone!”

“Oh, I see,” said Quester. “What is the name of this man, and where is he being held?”

“Danel Forrest,” said Cayban. “He’s in the Jinnya Pen.”

Quester swiped  a few times on his tablet, and listened to a dial tone.

“Jinnya Pen? You have an inmate named Danel Forrest,” he said.

“He’s scheduled for execution,” said a voice on the other end.

“Then unschedule him; cancel the execution,” said Quester.

“That’s impossible without a....”

“Wrong. I order the execution halted; Danel Forrest is a person of interest to the Judiciary. I need him alive to question. The execution is cancelled, and you can deliver him to the holding cells of Judiciary Central, marked property of Justiciar Quester, and jump to it. I don’t have time to waste arguing with pettifogging underlings with delusions of having more brains than snot,” said Quester.

“Y... yes, my lord, immediately,” said the voice.

“Naturally,” said Quester, ringing off.

Cayban was changing colour rapidly.

“I... my lord, thank you,” he said. “I... I’m not the best of men, but I’m not a bad man. And I got a letter in crayon from the man’s child, telling me that her daddy wouldn’t say where he’d been, because he’d snuck out of work to see her; the wife has custody because Forrest is a legally registered mutant. He had webbed hands and feet, but he had an operation to hide the taint, and did not tell his wife. He is not banned from procreation, but it is grounds for divorce and custody.”

Quester sighed.

“Foolish of him not to share, but people so often are foolish. It would make our lives easier if they were sensible, and told the truth and the whole truth, rather than try to cover up minor transgressions or embarrassments. You can, in good conscience, tell the child that you have done all you can to help her father.”

“But I haven’t; I tried, but it is you....”

Quester gave him his rare, sweet smile.

“I am your instrument in this, Cayban,” he said. “Because I carry the authority, and a tone of icy menace, which, in a Justiciar is a bigger weapon than threats.”

“I see, my lord; I must try to cultivate it.”

“They don’t train lictors well enough,” said Quester. “You are expected, on the whole, to be dealing with the commons, and there is a train of thought that the commons are as thick as dung, and answer only to violence and threats. And as you and I were both born as common as muck, we both know that this perception is heavily flawed.”

“You’re commoner born?” Cayban was taken aback.

Quester laughed.

“I was a fisher-boy.  Now, my father is the illegitimate spawn of a patrician, and has been dragged kicking and screaming into a patrician island council, by some patrician wench who thought she was doing me a favour, and because he’s an honest man, but his comments on the subject were... earthy.”

Cayban laughed.

“Well, you did not have to share your origins, my lord; and I appreciate it. I... I will attempt not to get caught in the trap of raising the voice and threatening to get answers.”

“Lowering over people and making them fear physically is a part of it,” said Quester. “Now, that has its place in interrogation; but I get far more out of people by being pleasant and even-tempered, inviting them to tell me. You’ll see as we work together. And, I must say,” he added, “I have formed a better opinion of you in your willingness to learn. I will instruct Burdock not to come up with a name which sounds as if he got it wrong on purpose for you. He does it for my amusement, and nobody has a clue it’s all heavy irony. The legitimate owner of this office became ‘I-ram Stick-in-back.’”

“Hiram Hickenback... how very appropriate,” breathed Cayban.

“Well, let us get back to the plucked and murdered flowers,” said Quester. “I’ll give you a hand with Forrest in due course, unless you want me to stay off your case?”

“I... I’d be honoured to have the help,” stammered Cayban. “I didn’t like to ask... yesterday, I’d have said ‘no’ quite rudely, but....”

“But we have started again, because we see each other in a different light,” said Quester.

“Thank you, my lord, yes,” said Cayban.  “Now, I looked into gardeners, and as they are all wide-spread, there’s no correlation there; not even from the same firm, or in any way related to each other. I checked.”

Quester nodded.

“As well to cover all bases now, when that lead can be discarded,” he said. “Negative information is still information.”

“Thank you, my lord, I didn’t think it was a waste of time to be extra meticulous, since I’ve messed things up so far.”

“No, no, not messed up; failed to recognise something someone with an interest in botany might see; or a woman.  A female assistant might help you, if you are as lucky as me and find one who is serious-minded.”

“There are some good female lictors,” said Cayban. “Especially if not permitted to congregate in flocks.”

Quester smiled.

“Women en masse terrify me,” he said.

“Yes, and teenage girls are worse,” said Cayban, frankly. “And they giggle even when upset.”

“That’s why I’m setting Kiliana on them to gain testimony discreetly and covertly, as one of their number,” said Quester. “I sent her shopping for gee-gaws.”

“That’ll help,” said Cayban. “Well, then I turned to the finishing school; and the grounds there are done by The Shackled.”

Quester shuddered. He had a horror of the punishment given to some of the worst murderers, to have them lobotomised and working out their miserable lives in service to the community.

“I suppose someone might be getting near them by pretending to be one of The Shackled,” he said.

“I hadn’t thought of that; I’ll have some men watching them all, and checking they go back to their proper huts each day,” said Cayban. “Well, that looked like a dead end, but there is a park across the road from the finishing academy; and the girls like to go there in their lunch hour, and after school, and at the weekends, because on the other side of the park is a Training Academy for Patricians, which takes those girls likely to be inheriting titles, but is mostly young gentlemen, learning politics, law, management, and so on.”

“Oho,” said Quester. “A serious academy; not, as the finishing school sounds, an academy to learn how to simper, flirt, and present a good figure for husband-catching. You suspect one of the young gentlemen?”

“Oh! No, I had not considered... but it is possible, I suppose. There are, however, three gardeners, and I have made notes about all of them; Frank Juby, Willum Portus, and Jemus Gardiner. I thought you might want to pull them in for questioning.”

“Yes, we could do that on grounds of asking if they have seen anything,” said Quester.  “The boys and their teachers must also be of interest; but the girls will know which one is a ladies’ man and will giggle about him in front of Kiliana. Or Kerria, as she is going to be known.”