Thankfully, Edeard was getting a lot of support and encouragement from various traders and merchants. Ordinary people, too, were grateful, if their reaction to the constable squads on bridge duty were anything to go by.
Edeard just wanted tomorrow's Council debate to be over, one way or the other. The weight of expectation that had fallen on him was awesome.
Dinlay was waiting outside the main entrance of the Culverit family mansion. The first rays of sunlight had already reached the highest level of the ten storey ziggurat, to glint on the huge horseshoe arch windows. Five pistol-carrying guards with the family's insignia on their coats opened the grand iron-bound front gate. The squad walked in through the giant archway to find themselves in a broad courtyard. Vivid topaz climbing roses smothered the pillars on every side, while tall granite statues of past Culverit Masters and Mistresses gazed down sternly. An equerry greeted them and ushered them inside. Edeard sighed when confronted with a spiral stair.
'I suppose the family live on the top floor, he muttered to Boyd.
'The Master's family do, of course.
The summit of the mansion was a house larger than the Jeavons constable station, surrounded on each side by a strip of hortus garden. It was the traditional residence of the District Master, with the lower floors occupied by dozens of relatives and household staff and clerks who administered his estates.
As they ascended, Edeard became very conscious of the mood swirling round him. There was anger, predominant in the men, and a great deal of fright and sorrow.
'Something bad has happened here, he said quietly. Macsen gave a short uncomfortable nod of agreement.
Walsfol and Julan were waiting for them on the upper hortus garden that faced the Grand Major Canal. Even so early, the Chief Constable was wearing a pristine tunic, his gold buttons shining brightly in the rising sun. Julan, by contrast, was one of the few aristocrats who showed his age. A hundred and fifty three years made his shoulders sag, and his grey hair thin. He wore a rumpled house robe over his nightshirt. His eyes were red rimmed, and sunken with abject despair.
The squad had brought Edeard up to date with Culverit family gossip on the way over. Now, as never before, they were the subject of intense speculation and discussion within the rest of Makkathran's aristocracy. Master Julan had married very late in life. In itself that wasn't too unusual among his class. It was a truly romantic marriage. Apparently he fell completely in love with his wife (a hundred and eight years his junior) as soon as they were introduced, and was utterly devoted to her until her tragic, untimely death six years ago. Though what scandalized everyone was that the first child she produced had been a daughter, Kristabel, as was their second child, during whose birth she'd died. There was no son to inherit. It was almost without precedent in the city. But to the dismay of Lorin, Julan's younger brother, there was a clause in the Culvert family's legally registered claim to the Haxpen District to allow the lineage continuation through a daughter if there were no sons. The situation had occurred only twice before in Makkathran's two thousand year history.
Consequently, Julan was estranged from a good percentage of his relatives; meanwhile Kristabel was the most desired girl in the city, with every noble son desperate for an introduction. Any party she was due to attend was besieged by potential suitors. 'And Lady, wouldn't you just know it, she's an exceptionally pretty thing, too, Macsen had finished wistfully.
'We have a problem, Walsfol announced as soon as the squad was ushered on to the high terrace. 'No doubt the entire city will know by breakfast, but Mirnatha has been abducted.
Edeard risked a sideways glance at Dinlay.
'The second daughter, Dinlay explained with direct longtalk.
'I'm terribly sorry, sir, Edeard said to Julan. 'Obviously if I can do anything to help, I will.
Julan's distress abated long enough for him to give Edeard a fierce judgmental stare. He held up a small square of paper. 'You can start by explaining this.
Edeard gave him a puzzled look, and appealed to Walsfol. The Chief Constable gently extracted the paper from Julan and handed it to Edeard. 'A ge-eagle delivered it not quite an hour ago.
With a sinking heart, Edeard read the note.
Mirnatha is very sweet. The price of her return alive and still sweet is eight thousand gold guineas. If you agree to our price, fly a yellow and green flag from the Orchard Palace this noon.
The Waterwalker is to deliver our coinage by himself. He will go to Jacob's Hall tavern in Owestorn at midnight. Further instructions will be given to him there. If anyone is with him, or if he tries to snatch her back without paying she will be killed.
'Oh Lady no, Edeard groaned.
'I can't order you to deliver the money, Walsfol said.
'You don't have to, sir, I'll take it of course. Er… do you have the money? he asked Julan. With that much coinage you could buy Rulan province and still have enough left over for a fleet of the fastest merchant vessels.
'It can be found, yes.
'Where's Owestorn?
'It's a village out on the Iguru, Dinlay said. 'Maybe two hours' ride from South Gate.
A long way from any possible help, Edeard realized, and even I can't longtalk that far. 'The note was delivered after Mirnatha was taken, he said delicately. 'Is there any proof that it came from those who hold her?
Julan held up his hand. His fingers clenched a blue ribbon with a long tuft of gold-brown hair. 'This was attached.
'I understand.
Tears were running down the old man's cheeks. 'The ribbon was from her night dress. I know it was. I kissed her goodnight.
I kiss my Mirnatha every night. She is so precious— He began to cry, sobbing helplessly. Walsfol moved to comfort him. 'We'll have her back for you, my friend, be assured. Every effort will be made. The constabulary will not rest until she is in your arms again.
'She is but a child, Julan wailed, 'Six years old! Who could do such a thing? Why? He stared wildly at Edeard. 'Why have they done this? What is your part in this? Why you? Why can't I go? She's my baby.
'I don't know, sir. Somehow, just having so much anguish directed at him made Edeard feel shamed.
'Of course you do, a thin voice snapped.
Edeard's farsight identified her being helped though the doorway behind him out on to the hortus, but he didn't want to turn round.
'It is your fault, Mistress Florrel insisted. 'And yours alone. You caused this with your ridiculous crusade against the gangs. Why couldn't you just leave things well alone? Nobody was being harmed. This city worked perfectly well before you arrived.
Edeard took a deep breath, trying to keep a shield around the growing anger in his mind. Mistress Florrel was in one of her usual archaic black dresses, wearing a tall hat that seemed to have purple fruit growing out of it. A man in fine aristocratic robes was holding her arm as she made her way slowly towards Edeard.
'Lorin, Macsen murmured. 'Julan's younger brother.
Mistress Florrel stood directly in front of Edeard, her shoulders all hunched up as if in sorrow; but still managed to fix him with a merciless stare. 'Well?