Tal contrived to look and act astonished—never mind that the way Koob had probably learned all this so far was by means of a scrying-spell to read the papers in Tal's pocket. Koob continued to give him details about his supposed life, all of them lifted from the letters and other articles he had with him. It was an interesting variation on the same game Tal had seen run elsewhere—the difference being that there was no pickpocket accomplice to lift a pouch, learn who the client was by opening it and examining it, and replacing it without the client ever being aware that it was gone in the first place.
"Now," Koob said, deepening his voice, "I must call upon other spirits in the matter of your business. These are very powerful spirits, powerful, and sometimes dangerous. The spirits who know the future are far more risky to call upon than those who know the past and the present."
The light in the lantern dimmed, and an eerie glow came up from the crystal sphere in the middle of the table. As the lantern-light dimmed to next to nothing, strange sounds filled the room, the sounds of people whispering, the distant rattle of a tamborine, a few notes on a flute, a drumbeat echoing his heart. Then, as Tal looked away from the crystal globe, he saw things floating in midair—the face of a young woman, disembodied hands, the very tamborine he'd just heard.
So just what is it about the tamborine that makes itsoattractive to spirits?Tal had never been to one of these little "Consultations" without "the spirits" floating a tamborine around the room and beating an occasional solo on it.
You'd think that, since they're in the afterlife, they'd have enough talent to play more than just a tamborine! If they're Blessed Spirits, shouldn't they have at least the talent of a minstrel? If they've been dead a while, wouldn't they have the time to practice, oh, a gittern at least, or a floor-harp, if not a pipe-organ of the sort from a Cathedral?
Furthermore, as a constable, Tal had trained himself to remember faces. He was not particularly surprised to see that the young woman levitating above the floor was the same one who'd met him at the door. Now she had unusual lighting and some fresh powder makeup and quickly-painted brows, but it was the same woman.
The young woman proceeded to give him advice about his various plans and investments—the ones mentioned in the papers in his pouch, that is. When he asked for further advice—should he undertake new projects?—she was curiously silent. And when she spoke, her lips didn't move.
This was the first time Tal had gone to a fortune-teller who was also a real mage, but he had a good idea which effect was produced by fakery, and which by applied magic.The girl's face and veil glowing—that's foxfire, I've seen that before. The levitation is either magic or a platform lowered down from the room above us. Probably the platform, it's easier. He's reading the documents I have with me by magic; he probably sees them in that crystal ball of his. Then he's the one speaking in a female voice, not the girl; that's ordinary voice-throwing, pitched high. Once in a while his lips twitch.
Just as he came to those conclusions, the Master "collapsed," the "spirit" vanished, and Tal, professing concern, went to the Master's side. This, of course, gave the girl time to shed her veils, foxfire and makeup; he kept careful track, and she appeared in about the time it should take for her to get rid of the costume, wipe off powder and greasepaint, and come down from the second floor. She assisted the Master out, and returned a moment later.
"The Master must rest; it has been a difficult morning," she said stiffly, as if making a rehearsed speech. "The usual fee is five ducal florins for each consultation."
Five florins! That was steep, even by the standards of the best! Then again, Oskar Koob's show was a bit more impressive, so perhaps he was worth it. Tal paid without protesting, and left, after he made an appointment for a second consultation—one which, of course, he would not attend.
Of course by that time, Oskar Koob would no longer be in residence here; he would be taking up space in either the Ducal Gaol or the Church Gaol, depending on which authority got to him first.
Unless, of course,Tal thought with some amusement, as he made his way back towards the bridge,the spirits warn him first!
Chapter Eleven
Despite diligent searching and enough bribes to equal his old wages as a constable, Tal was able to contact only a single one of the rest of the men on his list. He got to find one, and that was the extent of his luck. One had actually set up his own Chapel in one of the poor neighborhoods and was acting as a Priest in spite of the fact that he had been specifically forbidden to do any such thing. But by incredible but genuine coincidence, before Tal located him, the people of the neighborhood discovered what he was doing with their daughters during his "special religious instruction" sessions, and he'd fled from an angry mob that chased him outside the city limits. A quick interview with the fellow from horseback, as he relentlessly stomped away from the city, convinced Tal that this one was in no way able to muster so much as the concentration or resourcefulness toplan a killing, much less follow through on one. Tal felt no sympathy at all in seeing that sad excuse for a man shamble off in his tattered Priest-clothes with just one small pouch of money—and a by-now-shriveled manhood—to his name.
The other suspects had simply vanished shortly after they'd been dismissed from the Church, and no one knew, or would admit to knowing, where they were.
Time was running out; it would not be long before the killer struck again, and Tal was getting desperate. He had yet to find even a tentative candidate for his killer.
So when his last lead ran out and he found that his path back to the bridge led him towards the Ducal Palace, he acted on an impulse.
I need something more than the resources I have,he told himself, gazing around at the darkening city streets and up into the overcast sky. The sun had set a little while ago and dusk was descending swiftly; surely that bird-man Visyr couldn't fly at night. If there was any way to persuade the creature to help in watching for suspicious persons, he'd be worth more than twenty constables. If, as they thought, the magician was directing his "tools" from some vantage point above the city streets, Visyr might be the only person able to spot him.
He had had an almost instant sense of trust for the Haspur. Perhaps it was due to some early-childhood fascination with the raptors that the Haspur resembled, or a mental echo of the hawks and eagles of command banners and insignia which called forth thoughts of loyalty and respect, or perhaps it was the personal manner of this Visyr, but the constable's instincts did not call for him to be suspicious beyond the norm. That in itself was remarkable, since he reflexively made himself even more thorough in his self-questioning when dealing with any nonhuman, since their expressions were so often harder to read. But Visyr was possessed of such an intense, open presence and his mannerisms were so plain to read that Tal believed that dealing with him as a colleague would not be difficult, and his impression of Visyr's ethics indicated he would likely want to help the side of right.
Now, if ever, was the time to use his special privileges, because it was going to take those privileges just to get into the palace without an invitation.
He went first to the constabulary headquarters, and for a wonder, Captain Fenris was actually there; a constable-in-training showed him to the Captain's office without any delay, and once there, he explained what it was that he wanted.
Fenris, a tall, dark man with a full beard and mustache, stroked that beard thoughtfully. "That's a good idea," he said when Tal was finished. "I suppose the question is whether or not acting as a lookout for us is going to interfere with Visyr's duties for Arden. Getting the Duke to agree if it does interfere might be problematical."
"Oh, it's going to," Tal admitted. "There's no question of that. If he's going to do us any good, he's going to have to stay over the common sections of Kingsford, even after he's already mapped them, and that means he's not going to be getting much of the Duke's work done."