First, allow Deroe to discover that the host of the master pearl was on her way to the cellar, and to believe that with her pearl he could break the possession for good. Deroe would follow her, carrying the three stolen pearls that never left his side.
Next, using Rix’s heatstone, tighten the compulsion on him and bring him to the cellar to kill the magian and cut the pearl from Tali’s head. Lyf’s new body, even when complete, would not have the dexterity to remove it safely. Then Lyf would take the pearl, kill his remaining enemies and rise in triumph as his armies broke into Caulderon.
Last, recover the iron book and write the true ending. Then the real war could begin.
CHAPTER 92
Lord Ricinus swayed on his feet while the chancellor praised his staggering gift of the Third Army, studiously avoiding mention of his personal attributes or character. The Honouring medal was fixed to Lord Ricinus’s chest, the official artist completed his sketches and the chancellor beckoned Rix forward.
‘Would you unveil your portrait, Lord Rixium?’
Lady Ricinus was glowing now. This night was the culmination of two decades’ dreams and schemes and, despite several scares and stumbles, it was going well.
The crated portrait rested on a wooden frame behind them, high enough for the audience to see it over the heads of the dignitaries. Lady Ricinus drew Rix’s ancient blade and handed it to him, hilt first.
As he rose, pain speared through his skull and he stumbled, for his head felt worse than when he had roused on the tower roof. The audience must have thought he was tipsy but everyone smiled indulgently — he was soon to be the lord of a house of the First Circle, after all, and many of them had daughters.
With the titane blade Rix cut the sealing wax and the bonding cords, and lifted the front of the box away. Behind it, the portrait was concealed by grey silk.
‘With a flourish,’ said Lady Ricinus.
Rix forced himself to bow to his father, his mother and the chancellor. He took hold of one end of the silk and turned to the assembled nobility.
‘Father,’ he began, choking on his own hypocrisy. ‘Father, with this portrait I reveal the true man behind the mask. With all — with all my art I honour you …’
With a single heave, he tore the silk away to expose the portrait he never wanted to see again.
The nobles stared, open-mouthed.
Lady Ricinus throttled a gasp.
Lord Ricinus’s red eyes bulged. Bubbles popped from his nostrils and he let out the squeal of a pig being slaughtered.
The chancellor smiled.
Rix spun around, focused on the image and it was as though he had been smashed in the face with it. His knees buckled. It wasn’t the portrait; the crate held his frenzied depiction of the murder in the cellar. How had it ended up here?
His blood froze — had he, in a drunken rage after he’d seen the killers’ faces, swapped this painting for his father’s portrait? Did he secretly long to destroy the family and the house without which he was nothing? But why do it this way? Why not accuse them openly? Was he such a coward? Rix could not believe that, even blind drunk, he could have committed such a betrayal. Nonetheless, shame scalded him.
A clamour broke out at the front, a hundred people talking at once. Those at the back, too far away to see clearly, were whispering and crying to their neighbours, desperate to hear the scandal. From the corner of one eye Rix saw Tobry urging Tali towards the door, but she stood firm. She had waited ten years to see the killers’ faces.
‘What is this?’ said the chancellor in a low voice, beckoning the justiciar and the high constable behind his back.
‘The stupid boy has crated up the wrong painting.’ Lady Ricinus, as always, was the first to recover her poise. ‘It’s one of his nightmares; he’s always painting them. I’ll have the portrait brought down immediately.’ She gestured to her attendants. ‘Take this to the furnaces.’ Then, to the chancellor, ‘I told you he’s not fit to be lord — ’
‘Be silent!’ said the chancellor, silkily. ‘Rixium Ricinus, did you paint this abomination?’
Rix’s throat was so dry he could barely croak. ‘Yes, Chancellor.’
‘When?’
‘Last night, after I finished the portrait of Father.’
‘Then why is this picture here in its place?’
‘I can’t say,’ Rix gasped. The room was boiling, his head whirling, the air almost too thick to breathe. ‘I–I was drunk. After I saw what I’d painted, I went to the top of my tower — to jump! — but I fell and knocked myself out. It appears I lay there unconscious all day.’
‘Why have you portrayed your mother and father, whom any dutiful son would honour, as vile murderers?’
The truth was screaming at Rix but he could not utter it. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘Really?’ The chancellor’s voice went low and deadly. He gestured to the right side of the painting. ‘And what is this black object in your mother’s golden tongs?’
‘Don’t know,’ Rix lied. ‘It … just came to me.’
The chancellor’s eyes glowed. He had his teeth in Lady Ricinus’s throat and, whatever explanations she put up, he would never let go.
‘Chief Magian,’ said the chancellor, ‘would you come here?’
The dumpy little man hurried across, examined the object in question, then straightened up, his mouth curling in disgust. ‘I believe it is an ebony pearl, Lord Chancellor.’
‘For the benefit of Lord Rixium and our noble audience, what is an ebony pearl?’
‘A nuclix. A sorcerous talisman of prodigious power. A forbidden object, my lord.’
‘Forbidden?’ said the chancellor.
‘Indeed. I have never seen one. It is rumoured that there are only four in existence, that only five can exist.’
‘And these would have a high value?’
‘Beyond price,’ said the chief magian.
‘How far beyond price?’
‘A single ebony pearl would be worth as much as this palace and everything in it.’
A stir ran through the audience.
‘This palace, which House Ricinus bought for cash a hundred years ago,’ said the chancellor. ‘Tell us more.’
‘With two such pearls, even a minor magian’s powers would exceed my own. With four, all the magians of Hightspall together. If one man should also get the fifth, the master pearl — ’
‘If you’ve never seen one, how do you know about them?’
‘From a parchment written by an obscure magian half a century ago.’
‘And they’re only known from this source?
‘Yes.’
‘Where do they come from?’
‘It’s said they’re cultured within the heads of Pale girls and grown there over many years, before harvesting after the girl comes of age.’
Rix’s mouth went dry. This was a deadly moment. If the chancellor saw a connection between the one and the master pearl, he would not scruple to cut it out of Tali.
The chancellor’s disgust was unfeigned. ‘Cultured? In the heads of living girls?’
‘Just so.’
‘To harvest a pearl, would it be necessary to kill the girl?’
‘Ebony pearls must be extracted while the host is alive, then stored in her warm, uncongealed blood for several days. After her head has been cut open and the pearl gouged out, and enough blood taken, how could she survive?’
‘And this is what Lady Ricinus is doing in the portrait? Extracting such a pearl and killing the young woman who was the host?’
‘There can be no doubt,’ said the chief magian.
‘Justiciar, High Constable,’ called the chancellor, ‘would you come forward and inspect the evidence? You too, Abbess, if you please.’
They approached.
‘It’s just a stupid painting,’ cried Lady Ricinus. ‘The fantasy of a sick boy. He’s addled, everyone knows that. He has been ever since — ’