‘Yes, sir, I will try, but I cannot do this in a day.’
‘Indeed so. You will remain here. I will send for you when we have crossed the Great River.’
‘Yes, sir. Is this a punishment, sir?’
‘No. Merely an order.’ Antikas began to shuffle papers on his desk, but Dagorian stood his ground. ‘There was something else?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir. I was wondering if the Lord Kalizkan could help us. His powers are great, and it would save time.’
‘The Lord Kalizkan is busy preparing spells to aid the king in his coming battle with the Cadians. But I will convey your request to him.’ Dagorian saluted crisply and took one step back, before spinning on his heel and marching to the door. The Ventrian’s voice halted him. ‘Trust me, Dagorian, you will never need to ask if I am punishing you. You will know.’
Dagorian and Zani rode to three addresses in the north of the city, each said to be the home of an astrologer or seer. All were empty. Neighbours were unable to supply information. The fourth address was a house in a rich area called Nine Oaks. The houses here stood in several acres of landscaped gardens, with fountains and walkways meandering through cultivated woodland.
The two men rode their horses through the woods, coming at last to a tall house, the outer walls faced with
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blocks of green marble. No servant moved out to greet them as they made their way to the front of the building. Dagorian and Zani dismounted and tied the reins of their mounts to a hitching rail.
The main doors were locked and barred, the green wooden shutters of the windows closed tight. A one-eyed old man wearing a green patch and pushing a wheelbarrow came into sight, moving slowly across the garden. He stopped as he saw them. Dagorian approached him. ‘We are looking for the master of the house,’ he said.
‘Gone,’ the old man told him.
‘Gone where?’
‘Just gone. Had all his valuables packed into three wagons and left.’
‘When was this?’
‘Four days ago. No . . . five now.’
Zani moved alongside the old man. ‘What is your name?’
‘I am Chiric, the head gardener. The only gardener now, come to think of it.’
‘Did your master seem troubled?’ asked Dagorian.
‘Aye, that would be one word to describe it. Troubled.’
‘What other words might you use?’ put in Zani.
The old man gave a crooked grin. ‘I might say terrified.’
‘Of what?’ queried Dagorian. Chiric shrugged.
‘Don’t know and don’t care. Spring’s coming and I’ve too much planting to do to worry about what frightens the likes of him. Can I go now?’
‘In a moment,’ the Ventrian told him. ‘Do you live in the house?’
‘No. Got a small cabin back in the woods. Warm and snug. Suits me, anyway.’
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‘Has anything strange happened here recently?’ asked Dagorian.
The old man gave a dry, rasping laugh. ‘Strange things happen here all the time. That’s the way with wizards. Coloured lights, flashes of fire. Groups of them used to come round. They’d chant late into the night. Then he asks me why the hens have stopped laying. Asked me to join in one night. Said they were one short of some mystic number. No thank you, said I.’
‘What was it that terrified him?’ persisted Dagorian.
‘Do I get paid for all this information?’ asked Chiric. ‘If not I’ve got better things to do than stand around jawing all day.’
Zani’s anger overflowed. ‘You could spend a few weeks in the Watch dungeons,’ he said, ‘for obstructing officers of the king. How does that sound?’
Dagorian stepped in swiftly, dipping his hand into his money pouch and producing a small silver coin. The old man pocketed it with incredible speed, then cast a surly glance at Zani. ‘Labourers get paid,’ he said. ‘That’s why they labour. Anyway, you were asking about his fear. Well I was away for a few days last month. My youngest got wed to a farmer from Captis. When I got back some of the servants had gone. And the master had bought three big black wolfhounds, teeth like knives. Hated the bastards, I did. I asked Sagio about it. . .’