Lucky Rabbit

“Lamont Kimball slid this beneath your door about fifteen minutes before midnight,” Augustus said the next day, tapping the note Pandy had placed on the table between them. The envelope Matilda’s mother had given her lay next to it, still unopened in spite of Pandy’s intense curiosity. Lady Mossley specifically said it was for the chancellor, however, so Pandy had resisted. It helped to know that he would probably let her see the contents anyway.

“Why would he do that?” Pandy murmured, staring down at the childish scrawl.

“An excellent question,” Professor Beeswick said. “And one only he could answer. Unfortunately, it seems unwise to ask him.”

They were on the third floor of the library, sitting at the table tucked between the Earth and Fog shelves. Pandy had explained the Extremely Odd Events of the night before, then laid out the two very different letters as she waited for Augustus and the Dragon to respond.

Augustus turned the note toward himself, his expression thoughtful. “There was nothing… sneaky about the boy’s approach.” He gave a wry chuckle, waving a hand. “Well, nothing other than the fact that it was done in the dark, when everyone was supposed to be asleep. But as far as we can tell, there were no Bound involved, and I had Nimien, ah, physically ‘watching’, not just using magic to monitor Thaniel’s room. There’s also nothing of pheromone magic about this note, unless I am badly mistaken?”

He looked at the Dragon, who shook his head. “Neither of these holds any trace of magic. Either they are what they appear to be or someone has finally begun to practice the great art of subtlety. Since I very much doubt that, it’s at least possible that Marchioness Mossley and Lamont are more or less who they seem to be.”

Nodding, Augustus said, “We’ll have to see if we can find evidence to support or refute Lady Mossley’s claims. Having spoken with Matilda, I’m inclined to believe she’s telling the truth. I’ll check with Healer Sinnett and see if he knows or can find out something about this Healer Hildred. For now, I’m more curious about Wulfric Winfielde’s father. I thought he was dead?”

Professor Beeswick’s lips curved smugly. Waving a hand, he summoned a book up through the open central part of the library. It flew to him and flipped open to a page about halfway through. “Obituaries of the Peerage. I often find it far more useful than birth registers. The notices of death for people who are members of or related to nobility are written by professional correspondents, and they are not swayed by sentiment in their reporting,” he told them before clearing his throat.

“Cletus Winfielde, sixty-three, leaves behind a son, Wulfric Winfielde, a daughter-by-marriage, the Marchioness Alvena Mossley, and one granddaughter, Lady Matilda Mossley, as well as a successful mercantile operation. While none could deny his appeal, his success in trade was, to many, nothing short of remarkable. His untimely death came at a moment of particular interest in his affairs.”

Closing the book, the Dragon sent it flying away, but another quickly took its place. The pages of this one were covered in columns of neatly-copied numbers that made no sense at all. “Mention of someone looking into his affairs brought me to public legal and tax records,” Professor Beeswick said, “where I found that he did, indeed, make a surprising number of very one-sided deals. Speaking of subtlety, he was quite careful for the first twenty-five years or so of his career, but once his son married Lady Mossley and he joined the ranks of the peerage, even by association, he became significantly less circumspect. A relative of one of his victims became suspicious at the sudden change in their loved one and wanted someone to look into him. I’m certain you’ll never guess who they hired.”

Even Pandy could figure this one out. “The Shadow Exchange.”

His smile grew a little sharper than Pandy was really comfortable with, making her very glad she wasn’t the reason he looked like that. “Exactly so. Within a month, he was dead. Now, when do you think he died?”

Augustus was scanning the columns on the page the Dragon was holding up, and he cursed softly before saying, “A bit over two years ago.”

“Indeed. Some three months before the plague that killed King Fergus suddenly appeared all over West Altheric,” Professor Beeswick said. “But that’s not all.” He sent the tax book away, and this time he reached into the depths of his robe, removing two long rolls of paper that definitely shouldn’t have fit in there. Augustus picked up Lamont Kimball’s note, as well as Lady Mossley’s letter, which remained unopened.

Spreading out the first roll of paper on the cleared table, the Dragon said, “This is a map of the spread of that plague. Each red point indicates one of the earliest recorded cases, though some weren’t identified until much later, thanks to their remote locations. That baffled healers at the time, because diseases usually begin in either a remote area or a population center, not everywhere all at once.”

Opening the second roll, he held it up. It was also a map of West Altheric, but it had lines drawn on it by hand. Those lines passed through every single place marked in red on the first map. “This is a map of Cletus Winfielde’s mercantile association. He had his own caravans, of course, but he also worked with a number of smaller merchants to reach far-flung settlements. Once you include those, you will notice a remarkable correlation.”

Augustus was staring from one map to the other. “How did no one notice this before?”

Professor Beeswick shrugged, laying down the second map on top of the first, then rolling both up together. “They didn’t know where to look, and,” there was that pointed smile again, “they didn’t have the mind of a dragon.”

The chancellor chuckled. “Of course. But,” he shook his head, all humor fading, “with only a few fairly obvious leaps, we can guess that the Shadow Exchange either blackmailed or bought Cletus Winfielde, and they’ve been using him and his associates to do their dirty work ever since.”

“That does seem to be the logical conclusion,” Professor Beeswick agreed. “Though until Pandora told us about her adventures last night, I thought Wulfric Winfielde was the Shadow Exchange’s puppet, with the Exchange providing money or magic. Otherwise, I couldn’t figure out how he was convincing people to go along with his plot even after his father, who was apparently an extraordinarily powerful Air mage of the Pheromone type, passed away. I had guessed that Wulfric might just be pretending to be a Nature mage, as he told Matilda to do, but it seems not.”

Augustus laid the note and the letter on the table again. “I’ll reach out to some people I know and get them to look into this. Even now there should be some record of merchants from this coalition traveling through each of these places shortly before the disease broke out. They’d want to delay it a bit to make sure no one linked their visit to the illness, but even a short incubation period would be enough to keep it from being obvious. I remember that this particular disease could take up to three weeks for the victim to begin showing symptoms. That variability is one of the reasons it took so long to pin down the origin points.”

“Fergus and Kaden attended Founding Day festivities about two weeks before the healers sent up the alarm about the illness, so we always assumed they were exposed at that time.” Augustus said, picking up Lady Mossley’s letter. He tapped the paper against the table in a rhythmic pattern, brow creased in thought. “Now I wonder if they weren’t exposed much later. If that ‘disease’ was like the one we’re tracking now, it would have become progressively less virulent as it was passed on. For Fergus to die of it, he almost had to have been infected – bitten – directly. Then Kaden caught it from him, which is why he became ill but didn’t die, and Louisa and Eleanor were only sick for a few days before fully recovering.”

Pandy’s head was full to bursting, her brain-hamster one turn of the wheel away from exhaustion, but she said, “So Cletus Winfielde and the Shadow Exchange are the real villains here? The masterminds? Not some mysterious third party who only hired the Exchange? But why? What do they stand to gain? I mean, I understand a merchant wanting wealth and influence, but why make so many people sick, especially so long ago? And what does that have to do with them wanting to kidnap Thaniel or Eleanor now?”

“I suspect the illness is entirely tied to whatever the Shadow Exchange is up to, and it’s becoming less and less likely that any organization would be willing to do everything they have, no matter how much money was thrown at them,” Augustus said, still tapping the corner of the envelope gently against the table. “But we’re still dealing in supposition and guesswork. Elarion, do you think you can find us some supporting evidence? Something I can give to Louisa so she can take action against these people. Right now they’re just an odd group of friends who meet at Lady Mossley’s home for dinner parties.”

As Professor Beeswick nodded, Pandy reached out and laid a hand over the chancellor’s, halting the tapping. “Why don’t we see what Lady Mossley has to say?”

Augustus looked at their hands, then at the envelope, almost as if he’d forgotten the letter existed. Laying his other hand over Pandy’s, he made a hand sandwich that threatened to set Pandy’s face on fire. It was just a hand, and they were in the middle of Serious Business!

Closing her fingers, Pandy grasped the letter and tugged it free, studiously ignoring Augustus’s disgruntled expression. Producing one of the silver knives the chancellor had given her, she pointedly slit the envelope open, not breathing as she vanished the knife and peered down into the rectangular paper-pocket. Several pages nestled there, tidily folded into thirds. She didn’t see a single speck of powder, and when the Dragon leaned over to sniff at the contents, he nodded in satisfaction as well.

All too aware of the two sets of eyes watching her, Pandy pulled out the pages and unfolded them. As she did, something solid fell from among the pages. It was wrapped in what looked like tissue paper and – to Pandy’s great relief – bore no resemblance to either kivit or Aetherbane. She laid the papers down and unwrapped the object, using great and hopefully unnecessary caution.

“It’s a… brooch?” she asked, turning the item over so she could look at the pin on the back. It looked very much like one of the pieces of vintage jewelry Grandma Caroline loved to wear. The old woman always seemed to be cold, so she had several pretty shawls she would drape over her shoulders and pin in place.

Augustus started to reach for the pin, then stopped and withdrew a pair of gloves from his cache pocket. After putting them on, he took the piece of jewelry, which looked like a silver circle with some kind of design on it. It was tarnished almost black with age, and Augustus rubbed his thumb over the embossed detail. As he did, the front of the pin shifted, making Pandy think he’d accidentally broken it. She reached out to catch the falling piece, but all that happened was that the front of the brooch turned in place.

“It’s a fidget spinner,” Pandy blurted, then flushed bright red as they both looked at her. Holding up the hand she’d extended, she flicked her fingers, trying to imitate the way she would use one of the toys. “You… spin it. It’s for when you’re thinking about something and you want to be able to focus.”

“Spinning an object allows you to focus?” Augustus asked, bemused. Shaking his head, he added, “No, it’s a simple tool for decoding a message.” He rubbed harder, and some of the tarnish came off on his glove, revealing the letter Q carved into the outside of the brooch. He twisted, and the center part moved until a symbol that meant nothing to Pandy lined up with the Q.

“The message contains a symbol that sets the code. If it’s this symbol,” he pointed, “then you set that to some predetermined letter, and interpret the rest of the message from there. That way the code has many different variations, limited only by the number of symbols on the key. You can also change which symbol sets the answer. It could be the first, the last, the fifteenth, or one on an entirely different piece of paper. Obviously if someone has the brooch, they can figure out the code through the process of elimination-”

“Unless there’s a secondary code,” Professor Beeswick said, eyes bright with interest. “Some simpler code that becomes complex when paired with this one.”

Augustus handed the brooch to the Dragon, who took out a handkerchief to protect his hand as he accepted it. He used the tip of his talon to turn the top of the trinket while the chancellor perused the packet of papers.

“All in code except for this one,” Augustus said, separating a single sheet from older pages that were worn thin along the creases, as though they’d been opened and put away many times. Professor Beeswick took the sheets that were covered in senseless scribbles while Augustus scanned the hand-written one. The lines of text slanted slightly downward as they crossed the page, and the hand that held the pen had definitely been shaking.

“It’s basically the same story she told you – or rather, Thaniel,” Augustus said. “A few more details she couldn’t mention to a child, but nothing too surprising. But listen to this.” He held the page up and began to read aloud.

“Attending Falconet has been both a gift and a torment for Matilda. I’m frightened by the thought of what her father might do to force her to obey him, or what may happen if he realizes that I am the reason she is still able to say no. Right now, her fellow students are children, but in the years to come, they will be the leaders of our country, and he has placed her in the center of them.

“For my daughter’s sake, and for the sake of West Altheric, this must stop. I would like to say that I will do whatever is necessary, but the truth is, I cannot. The possible consequences are too dire. I want to be there for her, watch her grow and become the amazing person I know she can be. In order for that to happen, my husband must be removed, and the corruption he and his father have planted must be rooted out.

“Before Matilda told me about you, I believed I would have to take some drastic action myself. Action which had as much chance to leave Matilda alone as it had to succeed. I dare to hope that you will be willing to aid me, if not personally, then by bringing this letter and its contents to the attention of someone who can. I’m certain this is within your power. Remember, your cousin Grace was my best friend, and best friends often tell each other more than they ought.”

“She knows who you are,” Pandy said, then shook her head. “Who you were.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Augustus said dryly. Removing his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I suppose there’s no help for it. We’ll have to aid her.”

Meanwhile, Professor Beeswick had been twisting the face of the brooch this way and that, looking from it to the older pages that had been tucked in with Lady Mossley’s letter. “Oh, I think she’s more than earned any assistance we could offer. I believe she has sent us exactly what we need to bring her husband, his father, and the greatest threat to Prince Kaden’s birthright down all at once.”