quester amongst the flowers 7

 

Chapter 7

 

Kiliana stormed into the Jurisprudentor block with parcels, mostly carried by Villnew, and emerged from the elevator on the top floor as a florid man of middle years emerged from another, and headed for the office Quester had taken over. He stopped and gave Kiliana a look of distaste.

“What’s a chit like you doing in the Jurisprudentor buildings? I am sure Senior Jurisprudentor Beram Goodish would not approve.”

“Never heard of him,” said Kiliana. “He can approve or not as he sees fit; it’s no skin off my nose, and I don’t care if he has an apoplexy. He can, if he likes.”

“How dare you, little girl! Have you any idea who I am?”

“Not a clue,” said Kiliana. “But if you’ve been sent for by Lord Quester, if I was you, I’d jump to it; he doesn’t like being kept waiting.”

“If you are the brat of one of his staff, you may be sure I will have words with him,” said the man. “Villnew, Lewis, who is this chit?”

“Miz Antilla is Lord Quester’s personal assistant,” said Villnew.

“Is that what he calls it?” sneered the man.

“It’s what she is, Most Senior Lictor,” said Villnew. “What, don’t lictoria staff ever go under cover on assignment? No wonder the Judiciary have to be sent for.”

“And you are still making Lord Quester wait,” said Kiliana. “I have apprised him that you are here; if you don’t want to be reprimanded, I advise that you hurry.”

“Yes, she’s a Psion,” said Villnew, as the man opened his mouth with a sneer. He went white, and almost scuttled to the door of the office, to knock and enter.

Kiliana stowed her parcels in the kitchen, and took time to change into an impeccable business suit of dark brown, black and cream, the trousers brocaded in swirls, with her favourite over-knee boots, the jacket almost military in its severity, with shaped dark brown velvet fronts and high collar, heavily embroidered, the floor length skirt which swept from the seam of the dark front, the sides, back and arms in cream, the brown velvet appliquéd in points up the cream linen skirt with the same embroidery on it. With her hair extensions twisted into a severe chignon under her brown velvet military-style hat, she swept into the office, looking, as Villnew thought, every inch a lady, and some years older than she really was, and with the air of a Justiciar about to pronounce a heretic-purge.

 

Quester looked up as the Most Senior Lictor came in.

“What kept you?” he asked.

“I... I was delayed outside your office by a pert chit, whom Jurisprudentor Villnew says is your assistant. You may be sure that I will have this relationship investigated, and your position will not save you from charges if the girl is under age!”

“Boss,” said Burdock, “Does dis scumbag mean Miz Kiliana?”

“I have no idea, Burdock,” said Quester. “And frankly, I am uninterested in his shameful and spurious excuses for his tardiness. Kiliana informed me that she had arrived back and was accosted by the fellow in the corridor; presumably as well as his fiscal wrongdoing, Senior Lictor Fredrik Oran is inclined to sample the dubious pleasure of young suspects as he is so willing to assume the crime in others.”

Oran spluttered.

“How dare you!” he managed.

Quester regarded him levelly.

“Are you denying,” he said, with ice in his voice, “that you tried to find some spurious casuistry with which to open an accusation aimed at me in order to attempt to divert my questions about the ten thousand Imperial bribe to your bank account to cover the payroll heist, which you insisted that Senior Lictor Cayban wrap up in a hurry, even though he was not satisfied as to the guilt of Danel Forrest? Are you denying that you are named as an officer of the ‘Clarified Banking Advisory’ as an anagram of your name, under Ferdan Orlik?”

Oran went white.

“No!” he gasped.

“No, you are not denying it? I have pulled your bank records,” said Quester.

Oran collapsed into a chair, sobbing.

“Do I get water for this Free-lick Orange?” asked Burdock.

“Yes, you had better do so,” said Quester. He had a fresh cup of coffee, himself, but had no intention of offering any to Oran until or unless he was sure he might trust him.

This was the point at which Kiliana swept in, and glancing up, Oran went, if possible, even whiter. Nobody would believe for one moment that this beautiful and queenly woman was an underage piece on the side for the Justiciar. She plainly belonged in his office and was probably as frigid as they said Quester was.

Burdock brought water and Oran gulped, nervously, quite broken.

“They were right, nobody would ever believe me if I told the truth,” he said, bitterly.

“Indeed? Why don’t you tell me the truth, and if it is the truth, there are ways to check it,” said Quester.

“They put the money in my bank account, and told me to find a way to wrap the case fast, or information would be laid that I had taken a bribe.”

“It did not occur to you that the said bribe would lead us back to the culprits?” asked Quester.

“I think they had safeguards,” said Oran.

“No, they relied on scaring you,” said Quester. “I have a record of everything.  Did you know you were named in anagram as an officer of the bank they are setting up?”

“By the Eternal Abe, no!” cried Oran.

“I’ve been reading you and you are telling the truth,” said Quester. “However, you should have turned yourself in, and asked for a truth scan. You’re big enough in the scheme of things that it would happen, though there are not enough psions to check that all accused are innocent.”

“What do I do about the money in my account? My wife thinks it’s a bonus and is planning a holiday.”

“You’ll have to tell her the truth,” said Quester. “It could be worse; you could be facing me officially not unofficially. I have reopened the case. You can turn in the money to the Lictorium widows and orphans fund. I’ll write you a permission to use it for that, and add the note to your file that you never spent it and that you were waiting for an accredited psion to have your innocence checked in this matter.  So, that disposes of that matter. The other matter is your attitude to Miz Antilla, my assistant. Your comments to her in the corridor were beyond foul. Whatever you think of me, and whether you believe me to be a disgusting pervert or no, to speak in such a way towards someone you thought to be a very young girl was unforgiveable.  For all you knew, when you first saw her, she might have been a material witness in the care of Miz Lewis, and probably already scared without you taking out your own – adult – fears on her. You will apologise to her most abjectly, and I expect you to go and pray for at least an hour to the Blessed Abe for His grace in your heart to be able to repent and atone. As it happens, she is working on passing as a child of sixteen for the flower-plucking murderer. I hope you will not be blowing her cover by permitting yourself to be forced into a situation like that of the payroll heist?”

“I... no, of course not!”

“So I should hope,” said Quester. “You may apologise on the way out.” He waved one of his shapely hands towards Kiliana.

Oran’s face had a tic as he faced the girl.

“I apologise for my manner and remarks towards you, earlier,” he said.

Kiliana regarded him.

“I have to apologise that I find your manner and apology so inadequate for your disgusting imputations that I will have to concentrate on not finding an excuse to put you to the question,” she said. “But I suppose from someone as inadequate as you, it’s the best I’m going to get. I shall pray to want to forgive you, and for your soul, which surely needs it.”

She turned away; and, unused to being dismissed, Oran must make his way out.

 

“Fatuous void-lost spawn of the forty-fifth demon of entropy,” said Quester.

“Fester-it Orange,” said Burdock, happier with this second attempt.

“Unmitigated inane twaddlemerchant,” suggested Kiliana.

“Ah, where would I be without you two for commentary?” said Quester. “Well, now we’ve shocked Peet Cayban with our very frank opinions of his boss, I need a run-down on the purported addresses of our CEO and officers.”

Kiliana handed him a file.

“I did that while you were shredding the egregious little nosewipe,” she said. “They are all addresses of convenience, and presumably no direct electron trail to the real email.”

“No, messages are downloaded onto hard data storage, and physically inserted into a separate machine to be sent on to the correct datapad,” said Quester. “And generally those who hold the data are in small fortresses.  It’s illegal, but it still goes on.  You have to make an appointment to speak face to face on pad, no doubt, which would be a one-use pad, used somewhere like a public restroom, and discarded after use, and the face of an illegal icon which mimics every movement of the person being contacted.”

“Body language?” suggested Kiliana.

“Maybe, but it’s uncertain,” said Quester. “Did you get all you wanted as well as making contact with the enemy... uh, another girl?”

Kiliana giggled.

“We aren’t likely to be friends,” she said. “She’ll probably tell everyone I’m awful, and if she’s a class leader, that may get tough; but if they know her for the silly little girl she is, I might get some overtures of friendship. Whichever, I’ll handle it.”

“I am sure you will find it hard to interract with children, but will do your best,” said Quester. “Yes, you are very mature for your age. You’ve seen more life even than those who are closer to your own age. I have every faith in you.”

Kiliana basked in the warmth of a genuine smile from Quester.

“What do you want me to do about this re-e-direct service?” asked Cayban.

“What would you normally do?”

“Storm them, and hope to do so quickly enough to grab the data before it’s scrambled,” said Cayban.

“Hmm. Don’t you have any hackers?”

“Not on the payroll,” said Cayban, dryly.

“In the cells?”

“One in hard labour; he dodged being one of the Shackled, because he has always targeted big business, not ordinary people, as he has a moral code.”

“Get him; I’ll write you an order if you like. If he does well, I’ll give him a pardon. I might even employ him,” said Quester. “Depending on how well he fits in with my team.”

“He’s a disturbingly likeable rogue,” said Cayban. “Yes, I’m on my way, and Arry Cain on his way. Actually, I’ll call through the order, and see if I can pick him up tomorrow; by the time the paperwork is done, it will be so late they won’t let me have him anyway.”

“You know how the system works,” said Quester. “I leave it to you.”

 

“I’m glad Lictor Cayban and the other new people are in the other apartment,” said Kiliana. “Am I starting school tomorrow?”

“Yes, I got it all arranged while you were completing your shopping,” said Quester. “It’s Effdeeyarday today, so there’s Levyday and Tedday before the weekend, and I believe the school does sports all day on Patternday.”

“Oh, that should give me time to find out quite a lot,” said Kiliana. “Are you going to lay the tarot to help me?”

“I... yes,” said Quester. “But in the apartment, I will feel more relaxed, and Burdock will prevent anyone from annoying us.”

 

 

oOoOo

 

Kiliana wore a plain white gown to kneel opposite Quester, who was similarly clad. The beautiful painting of the Holy Abe was open in its protective setting.

They prayed first, begging the god-hero to be with them and guide the cards to show glimpses of the future. Kiliana knew it was a meditation to enhance the psychic abilities to glimpse the future that Quester already had; and it laid him completely open, one reason he did not use the cards often. His deck was old, willed to him by his former mentor, and had been through several hands previously. They were worn, but beautiful.

Quester, uplifted by his prayers, shuffled the cards, almost without being aware of them. He laid three.

“Preacher, signifying trust; the dark knight, who operates in shadows; joker reversing the previous cards. One who betrays trust, who embraces his own darkness. Let us have three more.” He laid three more cards, and jerked. “The assassin; the innocent; and death. He kills tonight,” he said.

Kiliana whistled, and got up, opening the door.

“Go to Cayban and tell him to have people on patrol in the park, our killer is on the move,” she said. Burdock nodded, and hastened off.

“I... I have lost concentration,” said Quester. “But you did right, my dear, if there is any chance of catching this fiend, it must be taken.”

“We will pray again,” said Kiliana.

“Yes, you are right,” said Quester, shaking, “I... I could feel his glee and savage joy in the kill... I doubt they will save any girl, unless it was his anticipation I felt.”

Kiliana put her arms around Quester.

“I cannot imagine how awful it must feel for such a terrible soul to touch yours,” she said, softly. Quester leaned into her embrace, and touched her face. He leaned towards her; and stiffened.

“I almost kissed you,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Kiliana.

“No; you don’t understand. I... I still have the vile backwash of his impure lust in my soul, and I would not sully anything I might find with you by having a first kiss in such circumstances,” said Quester, with unwonted openness.

“Oh! I understand,” said Kiliana. “Moreover, such people, like animals, have instincts, and it would be as well if I am not in the least awakened in order to catch him.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Quester kissed her forehead. “Let us pray and I will try a final three cards.”

After praying, Quester’s hands were steady again, and he laid the cards.

“The boy wonder; a youthful prodigy. The innocent, again; and Void’s Jester, madness. I... I think that you will prevail.”

“And I am going to sleep with you, on a camp bed, in your room, in case you have nightmares,” said Kiliana, firmly.