02 The Alchemist in the Shadows by Pierre Pevel

Author:Pierre Pevel
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781616143657
Publisher: Pyr
Published: 2010-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

2

The rain continued after the storm and did not cease until dawn. Paris woke fresh and reinvigorated. To say that the capital was clean would have been an exaggeration; it would have required a deluge of biblical proportions to carry away the filth accumulated on its streets and to remove the foul muck clinging to its pavements. But the worst had been washed away and Parisians, upon rising from their beds, were grateful to have finally been relieved of the dust and stink of recent days. It even seemed that the cocks crowed more valiantly and the bells rang more clearly this morning, while the city glistened beneath the sun’s first rays.

‘Dead,’ repeated La Fargue in a tone which did not bode well. ‘Gueret … is dead.’

The garden still being soaked, they had gathered in the large fencing room inside the Hotel de l’Epervier. The atmosphere was tense. Even those Blades who were not involved in the previous evening’s fiasco were keeping their heads down. Only Almades, who had stationed himself slightly apart from the others to guard the door, seemed completely aloof.

‘Yes, captain,’ Agnes confirmed.

She, Marciac and Ballardieu had not had time to change from the night before. Their clothing had dried on their backs and left them looking bedraggled, not to mention their tousled hair, weary faces and obvious chagrin. Ballardieu in particular wore a hangdog look.

‘How?’ La Fargue demanded.

‘Gueret surprised us while we were in his room,’ Marciac explained.

He was sitting down with one bare foot resting on a stool.

‘And killing him seemed like a good idea to you?’

‘No!’ the Gascon defended himself. ‘He fled over the rooftops. We pursued him and, unfortunately, he broke his skull in a fall.’

‘Unfortunately. That’s one way of putting it … And how was it that Gueret managed to surprise you? Was no one keeping watch?’

Agnes and Marciac exchanged an embarrassed glance. Ballardieu kept his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

‘Yes,’ said the old soldier. ‘I was.’

‘And you didn’t see the man coming back …’

‘It was a dark night,’ the Gascon interjected. ‘And with the rain, the storm—’

‘—and the wine, am I wrong?’ La Fargue continued relentlessly.

‘No,’ confessed Ballardieu. ‘I just went off for a moment to buy a bottle and—’

The Blades’ captain thundered at him:

‘You BLOODY OLD TOSS-POT! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT YOUR FOOLISHNESS HAS COST US?’

Ballardieu kept his mouth shut. There was an oppressive silence in the room.

After a moment, La Fargue rose and went to a window. It opened onto the wet garden, where the chestnut tree’s leaves were shedding their final drops upon the old table. Hands behind his back, he took the time to regain his calm. Then, still facing the garden, he said in a quieter voice:

‘Any witnesses?’

‘None,’ replied Agnes. ‘And the innkeeper will hold his tongue.’

‘The body?’

‘Thrown, naked and unrecognisable, into the Seine. With the waters still high from the storm, he’ll never be found.’

‘His belongings?’

‘I lis baggage and the clothes he was wearing are all here.’

From over his shoulder, La Fargue glanced at the table the young woman was pointing to.

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