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have helped humanity s standing with the Federation that the taking of an-
other s life for personal gain was the simplest event imaginable.  Well, it s
been common since Roman times, if not before; gods know, it s still the pre-
ferred method of advancement in the Adjudication Division and in most walks
of life in the Sirius sector.
 Yes, the Doctor agreed, absently toying with the incriminating dagger.  Yet
Hugues doesn t seem to be the cuckoo-in-the-nest type to me. He shot to
his feet, suddenly alert and brimming with vitality, though he hadn t eaten so
much as a single mouthful.  I believe I ll go and see Hugues; perhaps go over
a little philosophical ground. Life, death, life, that sort of thing. When you
two are ready, go back to the jobs that you ve been given, but keep your eyes
and ears open for anything unusual.
 We re in a castle full of refugees and followers of a whole bunch of minor
cults, Benny replied pointedly,  what the hell is usual that we can tell what s
unusual?
 Anyone who looks as if they re in a position to send messages out of the
Roc, the Doctor called back, as he vanished into the night.
 He is very much like the owl, I think, Guy said, half to himself.
 Wise, you mean? Benny had heard several people comment on such a
likeness. Perhaps it was his eyebrows and keen gaze.
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 What has wisdom to do with owls? He is comfortable in the darkness,
as they are, and I think he is equally as adept at hunting down prey in cold
blood.
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Chapter 15
Hugues was finding trying to run the fortress on his own a little more tiring,
and certainly more difficult, than being an ostler had been. It was a challenge
to which he felt his intellect was suited, however, as the combat of the human
mind and spirit with the realities of the world was rewarding in a way. He
wasn t concerned about the supply situation  one or two days without food
wasn t fatal, though the reception they could expect from the Inquisition cer-
tainly would be  but the task of finding room for the increasing numbers of
sick and wounded was tying his brain in knots. And as for the problem of
working out which non-Parfaits should leave the Roc in which group . . .
He almost wished that they would all stay, but Girard had made it clear that
the non-believers should leave. It was their choice, after all, and someone
had to spread the word. Hugues supposed it was for the best, since he would
not wish the unclean spirits of unbelievers to join them in the great hereafter
before they had learned the lesson that it would be better for them.
An afterlife of complaints and recriminations was not what Mani had had
in mind when he founded this belief, Hugues thought.
A goblet of water was resting on the scribe s desk which was the standard
furnishing in the Roc, but Hugues had so far ignored it in favour of concen-
trating on scrolls and parchments.
 The loneliness of command?
Hugues head jerked upwards; he hadn t even noticed that the Doctor was
at the door.  It should not be lonely for a Parfait. There should always be two
of us.
 These things are sent to try us, I suppose. Speaking of which, I wonder
where we can find a reliable magistrate around here.
 Not outside Béziers. Do you mean to say there is some need for one?
 You tell me. Girard s death was no accident, and it s not uncommon in the
outside world for promotion to be gained by assassination.
Hugues felt a hot flush of anger at the implied suggestion, but resisted. He
knew better, and knew that such reactions were just torments sent by Rex
Mundi to spite the inhabitants of the world he had usurped from Amor.  What
care I for how others make their plays? We work in pairs, or not at all. I would
have cut off my right hand before I would murder my fellow, and anyone who
wished to remove the leadership of the Roc would have killed me as well.
Hugues reached for his goblet of water irritably.
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The Doctor s wrist twitched slightly, and the dagger he had removed from
Girard s corpse buried itself into the table, quivering briefly in the tiny gap
between the goblet and Hugues outstretched hand.  Before you ask, yes it is
a dagger you see before you  and I expect there will be others before long,
both air-drawn and in the smiles of men, as it were.
With exaggerated care, Hugues moved his hand past the dagger and lifted
the goblet. He suspected it would be unseemly to look too unnerved  that,
after all, was a condition of mortal flesh, and not of the pure intellect.  I did
see you pull it from the body earlier, but it has no tale to tell, unless you are
a seer. He looked askance at the intense stranger to his country.  Are you a
seer?
The Doctor looked surprised, then smiled tightly.  There are many kinds
of seers. The Doctor spread his hand before Hugues face.  Do you see the
patterns on my fingertips?
 Of course. Everyone has them  what of it?
 Have you ever examined them closely? If you had, you d have found that
no two patterns are ever the same. Everyone s fingers have a slightly different
pattern of spiral lines and whorls, and the print of those patterns can be left
behind like a wet footprint on a flagstone.
Hugues realized the Doctor s point immediately.  If you know one man s
pattern you can tell if he has held an object?
 Well, recently, yes.
 Magic indeed.
 On the contrary, Parfait Hugues. It s just a matter of looking closely enough
at the pattern and at the object.
 Then you must have found the pattern of Girard s fingers on that dagger.
 Yes, but very faintly, as if they were only resting on it rather than pressing it
into flesh. What is considerably more productive is that there is also a second
pattern on it. One which is much clearer, and so obviously belongs to someone
who held the thing much more firmly.
Hugues stood angrily. Why had the Doctor been wasting time if he knew
this all along?  Whose is it, then?
 I m not sure yet. To find out, we d have to check the fingerprints  the
pattern of lines  of every person in the Roc last night. That could take days,
and I don t have that long.
 Then what is it that you wish of me?
 What relics do you have here that the Church would be willing to kill for?
 The Church would kill for any of them . . . Are you implying that there is a
spy in the Roc?
 According to Louis de Citeaux there is.
 He lies as easily as breathes.
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 Undoubtedly true, but as it happens, I believe him, because he was talking
to Philippe de Montfort and Guzman at the time. I just happened to overhear;
I have something of a knack for these things.
 Then evidently the spy is the killer. Hugues stood up impatiently.  I will [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]