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.

 

Quester amongst the flowers 6 weekend bonus

 

Chapter 6

 

Kiliana was purchasing sports kit for school; they were required to wear stretch tops and pants to do various field sports, and a sensible swimming costume for a world-class pool with diving pit and boards. Kiliana had learned to swim and dive like a fish under Quester’s tuition, and was looking forward to the feel of water again.  It seemed a shame to waste a good pool on probably no more than a hundred girls, but Kiliana knew well enough how loudly money could talk. She was confident enough about showing well in track and field events; Quester might look as though a puff of wind would blow him away, tall though he was, but under his robes in a fisherman’s linen trousers and light tunic, he had muscles. In fact, he was decidedly fit, thought Kiliana, who had worked at getting her body into tone to match his. Working out with Winged Hussars helped, too.

Kiliana had just picked a nice, plain swimsuit, which would hold everything in the right place tightly enough not to come off, when she stiffened at the nasal voice of another girl.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you found to criticise in my cossy, Miz Peta, my mother made no complaint.”

“I’m sure the thing you refer to as a swimming costume, and which I call a couple of wisps of lace, would be suitable for lounging on a beach, provided you did not mean to move at all; but it will not do to swim in. That girl there has the right idea,” said the adult, approvingly, and as Kiliana turned, the red-head could see that she was the one indicated.  The woman was of indeterminate age with an olive complexion, brown hair in a bob, dressed well, and neatly in a jump-suit with a short jacket over it. Her charge was somewhat more avant-garde, and Kiliana had to work not to blink.  The girl was a rich dark brown, with bleached, straightened hair, with golden yellow bootals matching the corset-tunic which barely covered the  essentials, and under it, white shortings, a garment Kiliana had thought silly, being shorts which carried on as leggings in lace. These had been cut away in large portions.  A white lace jacklette covered the girl’s shoulders and arms. Kiliana could not make up her mind if the girl was stunning, vulgar, or stunningly vulgar.  She was in a cream sleeveless jumpsuit herself, under a light brocade jacket with shades of orange flowers with sage green or brown centres and sage green leaves on a cream ground. It only had knee-length skirts, but it swished nicely, which was Kiliana’s definition of good fashion. The first of the clothes had arrived, for her to wear out.

“That’s not a swimming costume, it’s like dullsville for some dweeb who actually wants to swim,” yawned the other girl.

“What a nasty impolite vulgar ragamuffin you are,” said Kiliana. “I didn’t know they let your sort in here.”

The other girl screeched and went for her.

Kiliana put her down.

“Miz Stayvuhsunta!” Miz Peta jerked the dark girl up.  “How you can let down the Academy by insulting this young lady!”

“She’s no young lady!” started Miz Stayvuhsunta.

Kiliana sneered.

“I do hope you aren’t at the Nantsia Daviona Regina Academy,” she said. “If you’re an example of what’s turned out there, I’ll tell my daddy I don’t want to go.”

“Excuse me, miss...?” said Miz Peta, in a hurry.  “Miz Stayvuhsuntais feeling a little out of sorts today; I apologise for her.” She glared at the girl.

“I’m Kerria Leonida Antilla,” said Kiliana.

“I am Miz Peta, I teach sports, and I’ll be delighted to have someone serious about swimming. Miz Stayvuhsuntawas about to apologise to you.”

“She isn’t, but plainly her manners aren’t your fault,” said Kiliana. “I hope she’s not typical. I understood girls would be sophisticated in the centre of the Empire, not gauche.”

“Miz Stayvuhsuntais finding herself,” said Miz Peta. “Hurry up and pick something similar to Miss Antilla, Ambria, and we’ll get back to school. And because you’re behaving so truculently, don’t expect me to take you for coffee before we return.”

She sounded grim, and Kiliana suspected the girl was going to get a good talking-to.

“I wouldn’t want to be seen out with anyone as dowdy as a teacher anyway,” said Ambria Stayvuhsunta, of unknown middle name.

“Leo,” thought Kiliana, if they’re all like the girl I just met, I won’t stick the course without flattening some of them.”  She pushed the picture of her encounter to Quester.

“People like Hunter; it’s where they get their attitudes, I fear,” he replied. “Do your best; it seems she is particularly spoilt. The Stayvusanti are very wealthy, and have had money and position from time immemorial. You don’t have to interact with the girls, it’s being a girl with a flower name that’s important.”

“Dear Leo, you are an innocent,” said Kiliana, with mild exasperation. “If I don’t interact with the other girls, I’ll show up as different. But I won’t take her nonsense.”

“No, you should not,” said Quester.

 

 

“I’ve got a file on the killing of plebian girls with flower names,” said Cayban. “But the method is different. Where the patrician girls are tied up and raped and then strangled, there are a series of girls who have merely been stabbed by some two or three-bladed knife.”

“You mean, like a hand fork, for gardening?” said Quester. Cayban stared.

“Void take it! That could be it,” he said. “They were not violated, either.”

Quester made a sound of distaste.

“Treated as weeds to be removed from a precious garden of flowers to be tied up and arranged when plucked,” he said. “This thrice void-damned soul must be caught.”

“I don’t say you have it wrong,” said Cayban. “But difficult to understand. And if he knew my daughter was a flower...”  He had hastily introduced his wife and shy daughter on arrival, who had been hurried off to the apartment. His prisoner sat in a corner, nursing a coffee with some reverence, as fed by Burdock.

“Sah,” said Burdock, “Dis crackpot. What for is he killin’ ordinary girls if it’s the posh pieces he wants to screw?”

“As I see it,” said Quester, patiently, “He had an infatuation for a particular girl, and got carried away, raping her; and killed her to silence her. And then he tried to kill some other girls in the same way, choosing them to have flower names, as that was important to him, but somehow that awakened the madness.  I am looking at the girls just killed; one of them, a Rose, like the first Rosa, worked in the garden store where the twine was bought. I suspect he saw her name-tag and was enraged that this Rose lived when his was dead. I think he lured her to meet him, and then just killed her with an implement one uses to dig out recalcitrant weeds. The photos are consistent with a hand fork; it has three tines, and is a little more than a palm’s width... or in your case, Burdock, a little less.  Most of the photos here show two punctures in the throat, so we’ve had speculation that someone thinks himself a vampyr, a creature from folk tales. But they are too broad and too far apart to be teeth... though I suppose it could fit your fangs, Burdock.”

Burdock came over.

“Nah,” he said. “Yer couldn’ get teef into the neck at that angle, nowise.”

“No, you couldn’t,” said Quester. “But that needed to be checked out and discounted, in case anyone suggested it. Especially to spite me and my Ogroid aide; as I believe you’ve been thwarted with the Forrest case, uh, Peet?” he asked Cayban, having heard the man’s wife calling him by name and to stop chivying them like his suspects.

Cayban flushed.

“Yes, couldn’t get Forrest executed fast enough couldn’t Leading Lictor Oran.”

“Forrest; come here,” said Quester.

The gaunt-looking man shuffled over.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you did not kill Lindon Bain,” said Quester.

“I did not kill my friend,” said Danel Forrest. “They said it was because he was my wife’s lover as well as wanting the money; he was welcome to her.”

“And all it needed to clear the man was a Psion,” said Quester. “This man is about as innocent of anything, except fear to divulge his mutancy to the woman he thought he loved, as it possible to be. We can’t let you go free, yet, Forrest, however, because there are those who seem to have an interest in the case. However, if you want to write to your daughter, Lictor Cayban will have it delivered; and you will be on parole in a safe place. There are books to download... uh... that does not fill you with joy.”

“I’m not much hand at reading, my lord,” said Forrest. “Really? You knows I didn’t do it?”

“I could see your memories of the day which you cradle like a jewel in the love you have for your daughter.  Peet, I want his ex investigated from top to bottom. If she was the lover of Lindon Bain, she may have a connection to his killer. And may have used him to get at Forrest. I went over the files for the man, Chet Bradway, who supposedly dealt with the automated systems in Bain’s appartment. No such person is logged as an electronics engineer.  However, a Brad Chetway has served time for using his skills to override electronic safeguards to undertake robbery. I am inclined to think that they are one and the same, and that he was a part of the theft known as the nano-second payroll heist which led to the use of couriers in the first place.  Those responsible were never caught; they set up a bank called the Acme Banking Company and transferred the bankrolls there and then dispersed them as payouts to a huge number of other banks in various names, all of whom had standing orders set up with another shell company, and thence... well, thence the trail was lost.  I wasn’t on the job, which is just as well, since seven years ago I was a boy of nineteen with the patience of a flea on a hotplate, and the sanctimonious attitude that money was beneath the lofty reach of a guardian of souls.” He smiled. “I was, at least, more open-minded than Hunter, who has much to learn, and need of a more patient instructor than I.”

“I hate to think that a Leading Lictor is associated with theft,” said Cayban.

“I’m not overjoyed myself,” said Quester. “But we also need to consider that he might have been under some kind of coercion.  If anyone told you details of your daughter’s day, for example....”

“As a man who can hack electronic surveillance can do,” said Cayban.  “What about the apartment?”

“No surveillance and all the security is from our own suite, and already covers the floor below too,” said Quester. “I don’t like having servants there, but I’ve set up my own bugs and watching eyes. And Villnew is running the security system about who comes in and out; and my bugs depend on me being a Psion.”

Cayban nodded.

“I must say, I am relieved... thank you.”

“I take care of those who work with me,” said Quester, simply. “Though to be honest, I’d still care for an innocent who falls inside the criterion of this predator’s prey, even if you and I were still at crossed purposes.”

“What happened to Hunter?” Cayban was curious.

“He wasn’t ready to work with me, and tried to push my assistants around,” said Quester.

“I’m not about to assume that a girl a Justiciar considers capable of a dangerous undercover job is in any way a kid like my Daisy,” said Cayban.

“And you haven’t insulted Burdock,” said Quester.

“I make it a rule to be very nice to anyone who can make good coffee,” said Cayban.

Quester laughed.

“It’s a good rule,” he said. “I’m going to pull down the records of any banks registered in the last two years. They have to be registered, even as private banks, in order to be able to trade. And I’m going to look over the named officers of the Acme Banking Company.  An automated search was done, of course, but such things only check out name matches, it doesn’t make intuitive leaps about people with the same initials or, like Chet Bradway alias Brad Chetway, such name mash-ups.”

 

 

Quester requested a list of all banks set up in the last two years, and looked through them with Cayban.

“I think we can discount this one,” he said, pointing to a bank called ‘Arcadian Finance.’ “The CEO is Lucius Rykos Martellus,” he added.

Cayban frowned.

“Discounting him because he’s a patrician?”

“No, nor even that he’s a friend of mine, but because he’s so rich, he wouldn’t bother with, to him, a penny-ante payroll heist. Lucius probably carries as much as the payroll on his person as clothes, jewellery, and petty cash. He’s just married the first amongst equals of the Patrician council in Araklion, and owning a bank makes dealing back and forth easier. He can fleece the government of more in five minutes using his legal team than any honest crook could manage in ten years’ planning, but I like him anyway. As far as I know he pays his taxes mostly with honesty, and his activity stimulates other trade.  This is below him.”

Cayban nodded.

“I’m glad it’s not because he’s a friend of yours.”

“I usually investigate friends hardest and first.” Quester looked at his list of officers of the Acme Banking Company.  “Look, we have Bradley Chetton as CEO, and officers Atherton Rudge, Donal Duck – really? That’s the name of a character from an ancient propaganda vehicle to teach children the consequences of bad actions. Michal Quinn, and Spence Danyels.”

“There’s a new bank here, set up a week before this heist; ‘Admirable Banking Collective.’ Would using the same initials be significant?”

“Let’s see who their officers are,” said Quester. “Chester Bradley, Arthur Rudgeton, Damon Dastardly, Marcus Quinon Quintius, and Danel Spencer.”

“Well! That looks pretty damning,” said Cayban. “I can’t believe I neglected all this. My Lord!  Look! There’s a financial services company opened this week, the ‘Clarified Banking Advisory.’    ABC, but backwards....”

“Worth checking out,” said Quester. He frowned. “What’s Leading Lictor Oran’s first name?”

“Fredrik,” said Cayban. “Oh. CEO, Buster Chetley, officers, Ferdran Orlik, Rudi Athers,  Davy Day, Quinn Mikals, and Seth Dornkvast. His name is even an anagram.” 

“We have them,” said Quester. “And a link to Mr. Senior Lictor Fredrik Oran.” He pulled a face. “At least a tenuous connection based on past actions.  I can pull the activities of the ‘Admirable Banking Collective, because they are required to show their accounting, and I outrank any other fiscal authority. That, I fear, will take time to come through, but I wager we will find the amount matching the payroll paid in to the names of those on the chits, perhaps with extra spurious middle initials, and then they will have paid out the whole amount for services rendered to another company holding an account at another bank which will be found to have liquidated all its assets and disappeared.  I imagine a large amount will also have gone into the bank account of Fredrik Oran.  So, either this was done as a bribe; or to look like a bribe.”

“It certainly looks like a bribe to me,” said Cayban.

“And it looks like a bribe to anyone who sees an unexplained large amount in his account,” said Quester. “And maybe that’s what he was told to force him to act as he did.  I haven’t had any visit from him, foaming at the mouth over pulling Mr. Forrest out of peril of execution.  And he must surely have had a report on his desk about it.  Which inclines me to think that he has been thanking the Blessed Abe that some er, ‘Void-cursed heresy poker...’ I know what the Lictorium calls us... has taken an interest in some other aspect of the poor fellow’s life.”

“You can prove if he’s innocent with your Psion thing, can’t you?” said Cayban. “But if he was, why would he be an officer of this new bank?”

“To keep him on the hook,” said Quester, calmly.  “I believe I will send for him; we may get more from him than he thinks he knows. And I like to keep potential enemies close to me when there is trouble.”

 

quester amongst the flowers 5

 

Chapter 5

 

Had Kiliana not been getting used to the palaces of Araklion, she would have described the apartment as ‘palatial.’  As it was, she considered it adequate for Quester’s status. She looked into every room, and agreed, on the whole, with the dispositions Hunter had made of the occupants.

“I can’t find a kitchen,” she said.

“Oh! That’s in the servants’ quarters,” said Hunter. “The Justiciar won’t be needing it, will he?”

“Yes,” said Kiliana. “I like to cook, and the Lord Justiciar needs to have a constant stream of coffee the way Burdock makes it.   As you have assigned Purity and Burdock separate rooms, you can have her bed moved in next to his, and turn her room into a kitchen.”

“I don’t take orders from you!” flared Hunter.

“Yes, you do,” said Burdock. “I’ll move Purity’s stuff and you can see about ordering a stove and a table and having them installed.”

“But it’s not a designated cooking area according to the lease....”

“Then just write it in,” said Kiliana. “You’re supposed to be a trainee Justiciar; you should know how important it is for a Justiciar to have people he knows and trusts making his meals. How can you guarantee this servant couple don’t have relatives held to hostage to make them poison Leo? Are you really that naive?”

Hunter was outraged, and went in search of Quester.

“Do I have to take orders from that chit of a girl and from a... an Ogroid?” he demanded.

Quester regarded him.

“What was requested of you?” he asked.

“That the Unchosen be put in the Ogroid’s bedroom to sleep and to get kitchen equipment for her room!” he said.

“That seems a sensible away around the dilemma if there is no kitchen, and neither Kiliana nor Burdock would ask you to facilitate such a thing if there was a kitchen, would they?” asked Quester.

“But... but it’s not a designated cooking area, and... and I am not some servant to be ordered around by your servants, by rights, they should do as I say!” said Hunter.

“Oh, dear, I did think you were getting somewhere,” said Quester, disappointed.  “I leave my family to sort out things in their own sphere of capability. Burdock and Kiliana will be spending the evening choosing groceries for the new kitchen which you will be having installed. That requires a stove, cooking surfaces, a table to sit around, storage cupboards, and a refrigerator-freezer unit. That’s not too difficult for you, is it?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then I fail to see the problem.”

“I’m a Justiciar! They are only....”

Quester’s anger lashed across the younger man’s naked mind almost like a slap directly to his ego.

“They are my family. You are a semi-trained boy, not a Justiciar but a junior-Justiciar, which is a polite way of saying ‘trainee.’ You may be better versed in the law than they are, even better educated, but you do not know me, or my ways, or that having once been poisoned, I take it seriously to have my food prepared by someone I trust, should I fail to trust the servants who come with the apartment and are not people I know.  I may come to trust them.  I may come to trust you. But as things stand, yes, you take orders over my comfort and safety from my left hand and from my security specialist. Is that pellucidly clear?”

“I... I resent being treated less then a little girl and a biomonster.”

“You’re fired,” said Quester. “You are too full of yourself and too like that idiot, Aquila! I have been giving you the benefit of the doubt in permitting you to get on with the job, as a junior must be able to do, but I am not pleased that you failed to heed my warning when you first came to us that you must fit in with my team, which I have built for the increase of my efficacy. Having you sniping at Kiliana, who is about to take an extremely dangerous undercover role, is going to damage her efficacy, especially if she contacts the office and you are the one on duty and she cannot guarantee that you will jump to providing her with what she needs immediately and without question.  And I refuse to work with anyone who can refer to a semihuman by that disgusting epithet. As you refer to Purity as ‘the Unchosen,’ presumably you think of her by the same epithet, and possibly even the Highbred too; and I will be writing a report to Judiciary central recommending you for psychological evaluation, and examination for casual heresy of those who disparage the Blessed Abe’s design. I cannot have a semiphobic on my team. You may sleep here overnight, and make organising a kitchen fitting your final task; and you had better not skimp. Good night.”

 

oOoOo

 

Hunter was tight-lipped. He undertook the task of ordering a kitchen, however, and then took himself to bed. Being recommended for psychological evaluation was an almost certain bar on him becoming a full Justiciar; there could be no bad mark on the purity of a Justiciar’s psyche. He would be condemned to being a jurisprudentor, a lictor, or a family law expert.

He cried himself to sleep, still resentful that someone who had been through the academy should be valued less than a little girl and a monster, still unaware that his perceptions were what troubled the man he had idolised.

Quester prayed long to the god-hero, and constructed a careful report in which he praised Hunter’s use of initiative, but noted that someone had missed his tendency to semiphobia, and suggested that therapy was needed and re-evaluation by a high-grade Psion to determine if he should continue as a Justiciar.

Kiliana slipped in to pray with Quester, her increasing Psion senses having ‘heard’ much of what Quester had said to Hunter, as he had not shielded.

“You’re going to have to shield more, now Eusebius has helped you open up your powers,” said Kiliana. “You got loud.”

“Void, ether, and darkness!” swore Quester. “I apologise.”

“I wasn’t on the receiving end, only getting it second-hand,” said Kiliana, dryly. “Hunter must be sore for getting that excoriation deep in his mind. But I can’t work with him if he won’t recognise that I’m more than one of the idiot girls my age of his own class that he’s used to; the ones who are dying.”

“And I won’t ask you to do so,” said Quester. “Even if you were not going undercover, I can’t have my retinue, my family, disparaged and sneered at. And better to find out now than later when his jealousy and pride gets one of you killed.”

“It crossed my mind that he might fail to back me up out of sheer spite, and cause my death,” said Kiliana.

“And that is what I put in the report,” said Quester. “He needs to grow up to be older than you before he can consider being a justiciar.” He grimaced. “I said as much, too,” he added.

 

oOoOo

 

Hunter left in the morning, before anyone else had breakfast, aware that the Senior Justiciar’s report had preceded him.

Quester was not to know, but Hunter was to destroy his own chances to return to the fold of trainee justiciar; for Quester had written that the young man was more lacking in maturity than might be expected of one of his age, possibly owing to a sheltered childhood; and that a little life experience might teach him much, working in a rehabilitation centre for those of minor heresy owing to misunderstanding or having been given improper teaching. Together with psychotherapy sessions, Quester opined that Hunter might yet have an active future with the Judiciary.

That Hunter tried to get his retaliation in first in declaring Quester placed too much reliance on animals, and was plainly led around by his privates by a red-haired strumpet did not do him any favours.

Quester had described his fears that Hunter was not sufficiently mature to handle having a teen-aged girl ready to place herself in deadly danger, and might cost her life if he was unable to take her seriously; and as Zadok, the head of the Academy, knew how austere Quester was, he questioned that Quester even saw his underling as a girl.

In this, he was mistaken; but was correct in realising that Quester would not permit any partiality to colour his judgement. And if he was ready to send the girl into peril, it made a mockery of the stern Justiciar having any partiality in the first place. Here, Zadok underestimated Quester, who would take risks himself, and saw the few people to whom he was close as extensions of himself, and trustworthy to take risks. But then, few Justiciars were as complex as Quester.

Zadok permitted Hunter to pour out his anger, his bitterness, and his skewed view of how things were, until he ran out of power and fell silent, as he realised he was repeating himself.

Zadok sighed.

“I have a report from Justiciar Quester here,” he said. “And I had been considering following his recommendations.  However, you have changed my mind.”

Hunter looked pleased, and expectant.  Zadok sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You are young for your age, he’s right there,” said Zadok. “But I don’t think you want to grow up. So, I’m afraid I am going to refuse Quester’s request for clemency assuming you accepted further training in the program; and I’m going to strip your rank as junior justiciar, and send you home. You’ve wasted a lot of expensive training, for the want of being able to button your mouth just once.”

“M... my lord? I don’t understand,” said Hunter.

Zadok glared at him.

“Quester said you might have the makings of a good justiciar if you could get over your phobia of semi-humans, and your belief that having a dick and being more than twenty years old put you on a par with one of the blessed saints!” he roared. “Not that he put it so crudely, but you don’t appear capable of handling anything but the bluntest Angelic! You’re a spoilt little boy, and you threw up the chance to learn with one of the best for a fit of pique and jealousy! Abe’s bollocks, if you’d shown proper humility when you came into my office, and listened to my words, you might yet have had the opportunity to stay in the program, but no, you have to shoot off your mouth like an addlebrained kid of eleven with a bad case of hormones and spiritual acne! You’re out; don’t bother coming back here again!”

Hunter stumbled out, wondering what was wrong with the Judiciary that they put inferiors over him.  Well, he would enter politics, and see if he could not manage to limit their power, as apparently they were quite ineffectual!

 

oOoOo

 

Kiliana put Hunter from her mind as she directed the fitters in fitting the kitchen.  The apartment below had no servants and a kitchen available so everyone had moved down for breakfast. Having a kitchen would merely be more convenient. There were internal communications for ordering meals, and once Villnew had discovered all he could about the convenient servants, they might use that; in the meantime, Burdock and Kiliana were in charge.

And Villnew must be the secretary to enrol Kiliana in school, and bring her the syllabus.

Kiliana decided she might as well seek out the syllabus online.

She discovered that the principal was a woman named Katrinna Jema Rubia, who also taught art.  Kiliana enjoyed drawing now she had the leisure for it, and secretly hoped to be able to learn enough to draw portraits of suspects from descriptions of witnesses, so hopefully this would be a useful class. Music, well, Kiliana enjoyed singing hymns with Quester, but had had no other training, and did not feel drawn to it.  Dancing and Deportment was a different class to Etiquette; practical and theoretical aspects of social graces, Kiliana supposed, glad she had learned to dance in Araklion. Botanical Drawing and Flower Arrangement was different to art? Oh, well, it might add to techniques. Household Accounts should prove no problem, Kiliana already did Quester’s accounts for him; Current Affairs might be more of a problem as she had no knowledge of, or interest in, politics. Oh, well. History and Faith would either be fascinating, the way Quester taught it, or turgid and limiting. Though it seemed unlikely that a girls’ school would employ a frothing madman as a spiritual guide, like the unspeakable Eliezer Cringe or Torquilan, who doubted the faith of the Highbred.

Well, any heresy she could pass back to Quester; he would know what to do.

 

Quester was coming to the realisation that if he wanted information about plebian girls being killed, he was going to have to search for it himself.

Then he put a call through to Cayban, who would have better resources at his immediate disposal.

“Lictor! Did I catch you before you left for the office?” asked Quester.

“Yes, I was on my way out. What can I do for you?”

“I wondered if any plebian girls with flower names had been killed,” said Quester.

There was a long silence.

“I... I will check,” said Cayban. “My daughter’s name is Daisy.”

“My dear fellow! You must have your wife and daughter, and any other children, of course, pack up and come and stay with me, in a high security area until we have this fellow by the heels,” said Quester, in sudden horror. “I can’t have your family at risk if he thinks us getting close to him.”

“That... that’s uncommonly good of you, my lord,” said Cayban.

“If you go and get any files on other girls, I’ll send the rotodyne... no, actually, if you and your family pack and you take them into your office, I’ll have the rotodyne pick them up from the helipad and take them to our office in about an hour.  If they’ve delivered Forrest, you can bring him up too.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Cayban.

Quester called for the pilot, and ordered him to go on to pick up Cayban from Lictor headquarters. It was not far from the building he was occupying, but it saved Cayban having to go through the security below with his family. A senior lictor like Cayban would have no trouble escorting his family through the Lictorium, but the Jurisprudentors got a little jumpy at times.

He smiled a wry smile.

That was an understatement. Well, there was plenty to work on, and he would look over Forrest’s case whilst waiting for information about other girls, if any; and he could send a message to the Nantsia Daviona Regina Academy requesting to enrol his supposed daughter. Absently he opened the alternate identity he had set up on his datapad to do so. Flattery about how an academy named after one of the Blessed Abe’s pantheon of saints had to be good, Saint Nantsia, a Patrician, obviously, by her name, worked to fight the evils of so-called recreational chemicals and sponsored the aid of the mentally infirm, personally aiding her husband, whose name he could not bring to mind... Ronnis something Rex, he presumed, when he had been driven mad by visions of the void, when fighting the Commutants.

Meanwhile, Kiliana was to go out and purchase what he termed ‘sundries’ whilst Purity stayed with the pilot for a few tips on what machines there might be available. He had begged her not to get an autogyro; he hated the feeling of dropping off a height to get the rotor started.