Fiction: The Library of Eristat / The Seven Suitors, Chapter 8
A serialized mystery in a fantasy setting.
Author’s note: The Seven Suitors is a novel-length mystery in a fantasy setting I’ll be serializing here. It’s also the follow-up to the Library of Eristat story you may have read. Chapter One can be found here, the previous chapter can be found here.
“So what exactly are you proposing?” Rowena gave Semote a careful look, her head tilted to one side.
Semote tried to make his case as best as he could. “Consider the situation. They’re all at each other’s throats right now from being cooped up doing nothing. Each of them wants to either catch the killer or do something to impress you, both of which presently seem to be impossible. We can’t let them out of our sight, but we also can’t afford to delay the possibility of your courtship indefinitely. I’m proposing we move things forward, and see if our killer shows his hand again.”
“I’m clear on the ‘why’ for doing this. It’s the ‘how’ I’m not sold on.”
“It’s simple really.” Semote took in a deep breath. “We ask them a riddle.”
“Something like ‘what is rounder than a ring’?”
“Not quite, riddles of that sort mostly speak to their prior knowledge. I mean something with an unambiguous answer that they couldn’t have heard before.”
Rowena still appeared skeptical. “I’m not sure how whatever answer they give is supposed to tell us anything meaningful about them.”
“It won’t really. But it has the advantage that it will produce clear winners and losers, in such a way that they feel responsible for the outcome. And they might believe you took it seriously. Whether they get it right or wrong won’t tell us much, but how they react when they do, might.”
“And how do we know this won’t end like it did the last time we put forward a favorite?”
Semote had been waiting for her to raise that point. “We know what to expect now, and we won’t give them the chance to act against each other. They’ll have to settle for relying on methods short of murder in dealing with the end result.”
Rowena shook her head. “I wish I could say I had a better use of our time at present, but I don’t. What did you want to ask?”
“Three riddles, of increasing difficulty. To start with—”
“No, we should leave it at two.” Rowena shook her head firmly. “Three riddles means death.”
With his entire force of will brought to bear in that moment, Semote overcame the urge to roll his eyes. “We’d just be asking riddles. If asking three of them tests how superstitious they are, that alone is worth something—”
“I realize that you may see our beliefs as primitive superstitions, but even if you are right, it would send the wrong message to disrespect them. There is a story that would illustrate the point. Are you aware that Aeolia was once a unified kingdom, before being split among local lords?”
Semote nodded. “Under King Enoch. I’ve read the histories.”
“Good, that will save us some time.” Rowena nodded. “But there are stories not written in the histories, stories you may not find in your Library. My father told me that many believe the goddess of death walks in Aeolia. And that those who meet with an unjust fate have the right to challenge Moriae, to be given a second chance to walk the earth. For those who would claim their right, she asks three riddles, some the simplest of questions even a child could answer, and riddles that even the wisest have no answer to.
“There are stories of heroes given a second chance at life, mostly embellished after their deaths, adding color to an already full narrative. But there was a man that even while he lived, many believed that he had undergone the challenge and conquered death itself. King Enoch. The benevolent tyrant, as he called himself.
“It was said that he had no fear of death, that every plot or attempt on his life was doomed to fail. He was ruthless, cunning, and merciless to those who opposed him, killing in the name of a justice only he could perceive. To those he suspected of some crime, or a hidden treason they were plotting, he would ask three riddles as though he was death himself, to force them to reveal their treachery. But the outcome was always the same. Those he suspected would fail to respond to his satisfaction, and be executed as a result.
“In his time he was a living legend, a veritable god of death. So much so that when the lords met together and plotted against him, some were afraid to even kill him, as death seemed so thoroughly under his command that they doubted it could be used against him.
“Stripped of his authority and rank, they left him to rot in the dungeon for months, before finally agreeing on a plan to end his legend, to prove that he was nothing but a man. They took him out before the masses one final time and executed him. And those who saw him in his final moments said he had the look of a man not of this world, as indifferent to the force that ended his life as you or I would be to losing a hair off our head.
“Despite his death and subsequent failure to return, people began to take the myth more seriously. To ask, or answer three riddles is to invoke an ill omen. To invite the presence of death, or to share the fate of the man who tried to overcome it.”
Semote held up his hands in defeat as the speech finally wrapped up. “All right, all right, we can do two riddles. Can I at least explain the first one?”
Semote laid out the following conditions:
Each suitor would be asked to identify which of three chests contained a gold coin.
Each chest would have a note written on it. The chest containing the gold coin had to tell the truth, while the notes on the two empty chests could either lie or tell the truth.
The chest’s notes would be as follows:
The first chest’s note would say: “All the empty chests are lying.”
The second chest’s note would say: “The third chest is empty.”
The third chest’s note would say: “The first chest does not contain the gold coin.”
Semote finished his explanation, then continued. “Now, you’ll place a coin in...”
“Give me a minute.” Rowena interrupted. She had been taking notes with a feather pen. “I think I can figure this one out myself.” Her brow furrowed as she made some marks on her paper, looking up and down the list. “You sure they couldn’t have heard this before?”
“No, I came up with it myself. At most they could be familiar with the general form of the puzzle, but they’d still have to solve this particular riddle.”
Rowena spent a brief moment looking at her paper, slowly making marks as she seemed to narrow in possibilities. She was still scanning the page, but Semote could tell she was getting close to solving it.
So close, in fact, that if anyone ever captured their story in book form, it occurred to Semote that this would probably be the point where the storyteller would force an abrupt pause in the narrative to give the reader the chance to solve the riddle for themselves, before the revelation of the plot immediately spoiled it. A hypothetical author would probably even include a reminder to go back and check the puzzle if the reader wished to solve it for themselves, lest they breach the incoming spoiler and be forever robbed of the joy of discovery.
It was at this exact moment, unbeknownst to any of the inhabitants of the world Rowena and Semote inhabited, that a comet collided with a asteroid in space, narrowly diverting its course away from their planet and preventing a cataclysm that would have ended all life on their world, making the remaining chapters of this book exceedingly dull.
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We now return you to The Seven Suitors, already in progress.
Rowena checked the paper one last time before looking up triumphantly. “I think I have it.”
“Go ahead.” Semote nodded.
Rowena started out slowly. “The first chest can’t be telling the truth. If it was, it would have to be the chest containing the gold coin, but that would make the second chest truthful. That contradicts the first chest’s statement. So the gold coin can not be in the first chest.”
“Correct.”
“It gets trickier from there.” Rowena’s brow furrowed slightly. “If the third chest contained the gold coin, its statement would be true. The second chest’s statement would be false. But that would make both the empty chests liars, which would make the first chest’s statement true, which we’ve already said is impossible. So the gold coin can not be in the third chest.”
“So.” Rowena concluded. “The only combination that works is that the second chest has the gold coin. Making the third chest truthful, and the first chest a liar. Am I right?”
“Exactly correct.”
“Fantastic.” Rowena sighed, leaning back to set her paper down. “At least I know I’m qualified to marry myself.”
“All I ask is that you don’t watch them too closely as they try to make up their minds, or let them draw you into conversation as they think out loud. I don’t want them to pick up any clues from watching you. Simply force them to make their choice without any help from you.”
“Sounds simple enough.” Rowena had a small smile on her face. “Maybe my courtship will be remembered for something other than playing host to a murder after all. Do you need any suggestions for keeping yourself busy while I’m making them sweat?”
Semote shook his head. “I already have something in mind.”
The castle’s library was less impressive than Semote had hoped, despite boasting a collection that the lords staying at the castle were likely envious of. Bookcases twice his height stretched to the ceiling, divided into shelves spanning the domains of history, law, and tales of disputable veracity or undisputed falsehood. The classification scheme was a bit boring: the primary index was subject, and after that books appeared to be sorted by…the names of their authors? He could hardly imagine anything more dull.
The muffled sound his shoes made on the fresh green carpet was the only thing intruding on the stillness of the room. Placing himself in the center of the library and looking up all around him, Semote wished for a moment he could simply stay here for the rest of his trip and drown himself in the knowledge surrounding him, only bothering to come up for air when absolutely necessary. It must have taken a significant effort from the house of Lithos to accumulate the collection he saw before him. And despite being philosophically opposed to the concentration of power they held, in that moment he wouldn’t have minded if they had been able to acquire even more.
Semote soon realized that in regard to his immediate concerns, the modest size of the library could prove to be more of a problem than its lack of selection. With only a little time to spare, there were three books he was hoping to find. One of those he was certain the library possessed, although finding it could prove to be a challenge. There didn’t seem to be anyone on staff tending to the upkeep of the library, and he had only their loose categorization by subject to narrow his initial search. Resigning himself to what could be a lengthy exploration, Semote began methodically examining the bookcases that seemed to be related to history, climbing up a ladder when the lower shelves proved insufficient. He soon tried the same with the books related to law, occasionally balancing a promising volume in his hands while holding onto the ladder. Eventually he found what seemed to be a row of books relating to the overarching legal traditions of various countries. Serenia, Erelia, Eristat…but there was a gap in the books where he would have expected Aeolia to be.
If the book had already been taken by someone else, this could prove to have all been an unfortunate waste of his time. As he climbed back down the ladder, Semote happened to spot the chair where Wesley had been sitting yesterday. On top of the table next to it was a worn brown book. Semote hurried down, skipping the last rung to rush towards the book and examine its spine. It was exactly what he was hoping to see. The Aeolian Concordat. The supreme law of the land as to what passed as justice here, and the final authority on rules of succession.
Semote sat down in the chair and began thumbing through the Concordat’s pages. He already knew the basics of what he would find inside. But what he was hoping to tease out was a loophole of some kind. Some quirk in the rules that the others might have missed, or that they might even be counting on.
The results were not encouraging. Every reference to the head of a house referred to them as a man, and women were explicitly excluded from being legitimate heirs. The fact that Rowena still enjoyed her position at all was due to a provision designed to protect a house from losing everything from a sudden loss. If the senior member of a house died and there were no heirs left behind, the female members of the family had 30 days to produce a legitimate heir to the throne, through marriage or childbirth. If multiple female heirs existed at that point, they followed the normal rules of succession — first consideration was given to the spouse or child of the eldest daughter, then any younger daughters in turn if they found a husband. The eldest daughter’s marriage took priority, but it was not strictly required for the house to continue.
Semote backtracked through the volume to double-check the qualifications for serving as a head of house. Being a member of the nobility was a requirement, but that restriction was almost trivial to get around; a commoner marrying into one of the families was immediately considered to be a noble of that house, for both men and women. It appeared to be more common for women than men to marry above their station, but there was precedent for it under both cases.
There was only one more thing he needed to check. Towards the end of the volume, there was a description of what happened to a house unable to produce an heir. According to the terms of the agreement between the houses, a house in that position forfeited their right to rule, and their lands and wealth would be considered unowned, the property of whomever could take them. The book suggested that only one house had failed under those circumstances in the history of Aeolia. A foreign army had moved in almost immediately to raid its treasures, and none of the other houses chose to repel them. While the authority of a house stood, they were all obligated to defend each other from outside aggression. But after it fell, they were free to abandon their neighbors or loot them for their own gain.
Semote took a deep breath, as he allowed himself to scan the shelves with a more personal interest. His official business here was concluded, and he should have a little time to spare for himself. Dreading the probable disappointment as he did so, Semote slid the ladder over to his best guess for where a cluster of books on mathematics could be found, and began pulling books off the shelves while paying little attention to their spines, looking for a title filled with numbers instead of letters, the sort of tome that would be little more than a curiosity to most.
The Tenebrous Codex itself had been such a title once, sitting idle for years before Semote had found a way to decrypt part of it. This whole trip could end up being worth the risks he was taking if he could find the original copy of that source text, or a publication of the mathematical knowledge which could unlock the remainder of it.
After scanning volume after volume and seeing nothing but prose and brief constants and equations, Semote was ready to put his search on hold, until flipping past the introduction of a white volume revealed a table of numbers, neatly arranged on dual pages. Similar strings of digits continued almost to the end of the entire book. Semote quickly flipped to the beginning of the sequence to confirm what he didn't dare to hope. 2, 3, 5, 7, 11…this was it. A list of primes, the key to the Tenebrous Codex he had been searching for.
Semote flipped through eagerly, watching the sequences grow in length, pinching himself to check that he wasn’t dreaming. Some of what he was seeing he had laboriously calculated by hand already, and the rest…novel digits that could serve as a decryption key. The list stretched on. Until…the book ended, the sequences suddenly cut off. Semote flipped back to the start of the book, making a rough estimate of the number of pages and the density of digits in the tabular format. This was more data than he had ever seen, but just from its size, it stopped well short of everything he would need to translate the other book. If this was really all that was known under today’s mathematics, whatever remained in the Codex might remain locked away for the rest of his timeline. It was then that Semote flipped back to actually check the spine of the book. A Compilation of Primes. Volume 1.
Semote checked over the neighboring spines on the same shelf, but found no matching title. His heart was still beating quickly. He had left the Codex itself back in Eristat, but this book of primes alone would be enough to unlock scores of pages filled with new revelations, to dive deeper into the mysteries of the universe he might be the only person alive to know of. It was more than he had dared to hope for, but if the second volume could be found it would take him even farther, as the calculations for the remaining primes only grew more difficult as the size of the numbers increased. If part of this archive had found its way here to Lithos, the matching volume couldn’t be far away, the Aeolian community seemed very insular. Perhaps one of the other lords…
A small furry presence was beginning to make itself felt next to his legs. Semote looked down to see a fluffy white dog looking up at him and panting. Skye was standing a few feet behind, staring at him with a curious expression. Semote quickly slid the book back into place on the shelf and did his best to show he was carrying no books on his person, while also trying not to suggest any appearance of guilt. He had not exactly made his interest in Rowena’s library a secret, for all he knew Rowena had asked her sister to keep an eye on their collection, and make sure he didn’t try to secure payment before it was owed.
If Skye had any concerns about his interest in the library, she didn’t show them. “Bailey has been waiting quite a while for you to notice him. I didn’t want to disturb you. You seemed quite comfortable here.”
“I grew up in a place like this.” Semote responded distractedly, scratching the dog behind its ears. “I thought this was Alexander’s dog.”
Skye shrugged and bent down to call the dog over. “Alexander hasn’t asked for him since that first night. Rowena says if he doesn’t mention it soon I get to keep him.”
Hardly surprising, Semote thought to himself. Skye was staring at him like she didn’t know what to make of him. Semote wondered how much Rowena had told her sister, and how much was appropriate for him to say.
“Rowena says you’re here to help.”
That answered the first part of his question. Semote glanced around to make sure no one else was near. “I’m attempting to, at any rate.”
“Do you really think it will make a difference?”
“It could hardly get worse at this point.”
“What if they kill you next?”
The bluntness of the question made Semote start a bit. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, the two of you had better catch the murderer.”
Skye’s face took on a mock frown. “I don’t know what chance we would have. We’d be better off praying to Moriae at that point.”
More superstitions. There are no gods, no fate, and no… Semote put the thought out of his mind, realizing she likely had negative interest in his metaphysical speculations. Maybe playing the part of a noble was training him to hide what he really thought more often. A disquieting thought. “If revealing the future and undoing unjust deaths are feats she can achieve, maybe you should have hired her instead.” Looking down, Semote realized there was one book still left out of place. Years of practiced librarian habits kicked in, and Semote reached down to put it back on the shelf.
Skye watched him as he grabbed the book. “Is that the Aeolian Concordat?”
Semote slid it back into place on its row. “It is.”
“We should probably get a second copy. It’s been a popular read. Darius borrowed it on his first night here.”
“Really?” Semote said absently, then stopped himself. He thought about it for a moment longer. What could Darius have wanted to know from that book?
Skye nodded. She was staring at one of the bookcases Semote had identified as being devoted to fiction. “You said you grew up in a library. Have you read many novels? Stories of love and romance?”
“A few.” Understatement again. This was turning into a bad habit.
“Good ones or bad ones?”
“What qualifies a romance as good or bad?”
“It’s simple enough.” Skye responded, running her fingers over a few titles. “The bad ones force everything into a happy ending somehow. The heroine is paired off, and the story cuts out there—all her problems are assumed to be over with a good marriage. The good ones end tragically. They’re not afraid to be true to life. That’s why I prefer the bad ones.”
“For your sister’s sake you should hope that’s not how life actually works.”
Skye smiled slightly. “I don’t know if I can. Nothing she’s been through would suggest that love is that easy.”
“And what about your parents?”
Skye looked genuinely sad. “I suppose they were happy for a while. But their story ended sadly as well. They both died too young. And you see where we are now. Happy endings are only found in books, to help people get through life. At most you get a brief respite from grief, and then it ends. At worst, it never gets any better.”
Semote was trying to figure out how to respond when both of their attentions were distracted by the sound of footsteps in the hall. Skye nodded at him, and turned her head towards the hall.
“Go ahead. I understand you need to keep busy.”
Semote emerged into the hall to find Wesley trudging around. He looked up at Semote with a disaffected look on his face.
“So, how is fate treating you?” Wesley forced a weak smile.
“I can’t complain. And you?”
Wesley shook his head, gazing off at nothing in particular. He still possessed the presence of mind to bow to Skye as she passed by, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.
“Between you and me, I’m starting to wonder if this is actually worth it.”
“Because of the risk of death?”
“It’s more to do with the reward.” Wesley sighed. “I feel like Rowena’s not the same person anymore since this all happened to her. She used to be full of energy and life, up for anything. But now she’s acting more out of fear than hope. She doesn’t want to get closer to any of us. I don’t think she’s even looking for love anymore. She’s looking for a reason to say no to each of us. Time was, she wanted to be with someone who made her feel alive. Now I think all she wants is someone safe. Probably someone boring, the last thing I’m capable of being.”
Wesley’s expression was a mix of gloom and regret. Semote wondered what had brought it on. “Do you plan on sticking around?”
Wesley laughed to himself. “I can hardly leave now without looking guilty, can I? We’ll see. Maybe she’ll decide what really matters to her is something other than all this nonsense. But unless that changes, even if she decides I’m the one she wants, I’m not sure I’ll be able to say the same.”
“How did the results turn out?”
Rowena was looking back at Semote with a slight smirk on her face. “I thought someone said they didn’t really matter.”
“I still don’t think they should decide anything. But I’m interested to know.”
“I figured as much.” Rowena picked up a scrap of paper. “Four right. Two wrong. Cedric, Darius, Gideon and Lucien correct. Alexander and Wesley got it wrong. If anyone asks, I’ll say you picked correct with the majority.”
“Interesting. Those are better results than random chance.” Semote thought for a second. “Who answered it the most quickly?”
“Lucien.”
That took him by surprise. “Really.”
Rowena looked back at him. “Is that not what you expected? I would have put him as the smartest of the group.” She must have caught something in Semote’s reaction to her words, as she quickly followed up. “Other than you, I hope. It’s not as though Lucien has an entire Library in his head.”
Semote felt himself smile involuntarily, despite telling himself the compliment didn’t matter. He needed to stay focused. “It’s just odd, is all. He’s been antagonistic to me since I arrived. I’ve gotten the impression he’d be happier if I left.”
“Perhaps he thinks you’re his biggest competition.”
“It’s ironic then. If he was really that smart, he'd know that I'm not. He’d be trying to get me on his side.”
“I can’t say I know for sure what any of them are thinking anymore. Now, I think you had one more riddle for us…” Rowena looked at him carefully. “And just one more. Correct?”
Semote nodded. “Correct. I’ve written it out. You’ll place five chests arranged in a line, with the same goal as before: find the one with the coin. The chest with the coin tells the truth, the empty chests can either be lying or telling the truth.”
The paper Semote handed over had the text for five chests written on it.
Chest 1: The second chest either contains the gold coin, or it is telling the truth, or both
Chest 2: The third chest is lying.
Chest 3: Half the empty chests are lying.
Chest 4: I contain the gold coin.
Chest 5: The gold coin is next to a truthful chest.
Rowena stared at the paper for about a minute before setting it down and shaking her head. “I’m starting to think you must really hate the nobility to want to inflict this on us. You’ll forgive me if I don’t attempt this one.”
“No offense taken.” Semote felt a small hit of relief that he didn’t need to explain further. “But do let me know how it turns out.”
Semote chose to linger outside in the hall as the next suitor was called in. Wesley soon passed by him, although he didn’t look particularly pleased to be there. Semote caught his gaze briefly; Wesley rolled his eyes as he walked in to see the princess.
“Silas. We need to talk.” Alexander approached him from the side. Semote guessed that he had been waiting for Wesley to leave.
“Yes?”
“What can you tell me about Rowena’s chest?”
Semote blinked in disbelief. It’s not as though he had no speculations on the subject, court fashions being what they were, but there some things you just didn’t say. “Honestly Alexander, even for you, this is a little—”
“The riddle.” Alexander continued impatiently. “About the chest that has the coin. I need to know the answer this time. You’ve already gone, so you must have learned the answer one way or another.”
“Ah.” Semote looked skeptically over at Alexander. “What makes you think I would want to tell you?”
Alexander looked hurt. “I answered your questions when there were things you wanted to know about her father, remember? I’d say I’ve done plenty to assist your efforts. You promised you would do the same for me someday. So go on, tell me.”
“You’re really calling that favor in now?”
“Yes.” Alexander responded bluntly. “Now, are you a man of your word or aren’t you?”
Semote sighed and looked back at Alexander. In the final evaluation there was nothing new Alexander’s answer was likely to tell him at this point anyway.
“The coin will be in the second chest. Keep it to yourself.”
“You’re sure?” Alexander looked at him guardedly. “That’s the answer to the riddle?”
“That is where you will find the coin.” Semote chose his words carefully. “You can always try to solve it yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Alexander shook his head. “I’m sure you’re right. And confidence should count for more than cleverness in any case. Thanks. She should be quite impressed with me after this.”
The smug look on Alexander’s face irritated Semote just a little bit. “It doesn’t bother you at all that she’d be praising you for something you didn’t do yourself?”
Alexander laughed at him, his confidence apparently restored. “Beautiful women make liars out of us all, Silas. We lie to them about who we are, and we lie to ourselves about our chances. There’s not a man here who’s not guilty of those two sins.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out by now. Every man here is engaged in a game of deception of his own making. For some of us it just runs a little deeper than the others.”
It had occurred to Semote that he hadn’t seen Darius since his outburst the other night. He kept an eye out as he headed over to the guest suite—he passed a triumphant looking Cedric with a smile on his face, but didn’t stop to engage him in conversation. He expected to hear an objective account of the results of the second riddle soon enough.
As he arrived in the guest suite, he tried to remember which door was Darius’s, eventually deciding on the room at the far end of the hall that Darius had emerged from yesterday. Semote knocked gingerly at the door. After spending a few moments feeling a little ridiculous for waiting, he simply opened the door and stepped in.
The room was surprisingly tidy, the bed was made up perfectly and not a single item was out of place. It was mostly surprising because his own room was currently a bit of a mess, Semote was under the impression the rooms were usually cleaned while they were at dinner. It took a look at the wardrobe for him to realize why. He wasn’t in Darius’s room.
Hung up in the wardrobe was the outfit Valerian had worn the day before he died. The servants must have cleaned it one final time before realizing he would never return. It was a creepy feeling, looking at a dead man’s things and the last remnants of the life he left behind. Semote couldn’t help but feel a morbid curiosity to see what Valerian had kept in his room, on top of wondering what Darius had been doing in there. After a quick peek in the back of the wardrobe, Semote knelt down on the floor to check whether Valerian had kept anything under the bed.
A long dagger with a curved tip was resting under the bed. Semote felt his heart begin to race. Cautiously, he reached his hand under the bed to grab it by the handle, and pulled it towards himself. He turned it carefully in his hand. The metal of the blade was stained red, and the tip was partially blunted. The dagger in his hands was almost certainly the one that had killed Valerian.
Three facts immediately came to the forefront of his mind.
First, the murderer was without question someone with access to the castle, and this room in particular. In short, it had to be one of them.
Second, there must be some reason why the murderer brought the weapon back inside the castle. Did the murderer have no choice in hiding it? Did he plan to use it to strike again? Was there something to be gained by leaving it where it might be discovered?
Third, Darius was the only person other than himself who he knew for sure had been inside this room since the murder took place. Even if he had wandered in by mistake, that made him the most likely suspect.
Semote heard the distant sounds of a heavy footfall coming from the hall. He froze briefly, struck with indecision about how to proceed. If he revealed the dagger’s location now or if he was found with it, on top of being accused of murder himself, he’d miss the chance to see who returned for the weapon. Making up his mind quickly, he slid the dagger back under the bed and hurried outside, shutting the door behind him. He shuffled towards one of the other rooms, trying not to look too guilty as he peered to see who was coming down the hall.
Gideon was making large strides in his direction. “Silas.” Gideon’s voice was low and unhurried. “I was hoping I might find you. Do you have the time to talk?”
Semote tried not to glance in the direction of Valerian’s door. “I do. Go ahead.”
Gideon looked around warily. “I’d prefer it if we could converse in private, if you don’t mind. The things I want to say are better kept between the two of us. We can speak in my room.”
Gideon headed towards one of the doors in the middle and opened it. Semote waited for Gideon to walk in, then moved to shut the door, leaving it cracked open so he could still see outside. But no sooner had he done so, than Gideon turned back to fully shut the door.
Gideon coughed nervously. “I’m sorry. But I’d rather this not go beyond us for now. Would you like to sit down?”
Semote shook his head. “I’m good to stand.”
Gideon started to sit on a chair, then abruptly stood up again. He seemed uncomfortable with what he was about to say. When he began to speak, his words were halting. “As you may know, the princess is in a difficult position. She needs to find a husband, but is faced with the reality that any man she might choose to marry could be a murderer. With only two exceptions: Alexander, a noble from our lands, and you. A foreigner.”
Semote nodded. Somewhere behind him he could hear some footsteps coming down the hall. He tried to resist the urge to open the door to find out who they belonged to.
Gideon was gazing intently at him. “The fact that you don’t share our history and customs may be counted as a mark against you by some. But I see no reason for it to be. So far as I can tell, you seem to be a capable man, who’s conducted himself honorably since arriving here.”
Semote heard a door creak open from somewhere in the background. He did his best to focus on what Gideon was saying without looking distracted. “Thank you for saying that.”
“What I am trying to say is this: There are those who might protest a foreigner moving in to absorb the wealth of our country. Some might question his motives, and try to make life difficult for him. But I do not intend to be one of them. If Rowena chooses to marry you, you will have my full support.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Semote heard the sound of a door slamming shut from somewhere outside, and another one opening. “Would you be willing to say the same for Darius?”
Gideon sighed. “I respect that you have not rushed to accuse him, or anyone else. But until he is cleared of suspicion, I do not feel it would be right to weigh in on either side concerning him. I have my doubts...” Gideon caught himself, and trailed off. “In any event, while there is the possibility he could be a murderer, little else seems relevant. And as for you—I trust that if you find yourself the beneficiary of our laws and traditions, you’ll see fit to defend them.”
“Have you had a similar talk with Alexander yet?”
Gideon grimaced. “Between us, I am not sure whether Alexander has the temperament necessary to serve as the head of a house. Something I suspect the princess herself must be realizing by now.”
“I can’t say I disagree.” Semote was unsure of what to say next. He felt more than a little awkward being on the receiving end of such praise. “But I hope this is all premature. I don’t think it will be safe for anyone to marry until this is all put to rest. If we catch the murderer, the princess can make her own choice freely.”
Somewhere outside another door slammed shut and Semote heard the sound of footsteps again. Gideon nodded and looked pensively back at Semote. “For my own reasons, I obviously hope you’re right, and that it doesn’t come to that. But I wanted you to know where I stood regardless.”
Semote took a moment to excuse himself, leaving Gideon to ponder their situation alone. He hurried over to Valerian’s room, opening the door as quickly as he could and checking under the bed.
The dagger was gone.
“There was a wide range of opinions this time.” Rowena was studying another roll of paper. “Are you ready for the results?”
Semote nodded, doing his best to seem interested. It had been his idea, after all. But at this particular moment the outcome of the exercise was among the least of his concerns.
“Going through them in order after yourself...Wesley picked incorrectly on the third chest. Alexander correctly identified the second one. Darius, wrong with the fourth. Lucien, also wrong with the fourth. Cedric, correct with the second. And Gideon, correct with the second again. That’s everyone but you. Just so we have our stories straight, should we say you got it wrong or right?”
“I’ll settle for having gotten it wrong. And you can ignore Alexander’s answer. He asked for some advice from me to repay an earlier favor.”
Rowena raised her eyebrows. “Really. Well my perspective on the world is a little less shattered now. Any insight into how they’re all taking it?”
“Wesley seems on the verge of giving up.”
Rowena frowned. “That’s discouraging. Has he said anything about leaving?”
Semote shook his head. “Not to me.”
“That’s really a shame.” Rowena stared off into the distance for a second. “Perhaps he’ll come around. But perhaps it’s better in the long run if he doesn’t. Anything else?”
“Yes.” Semote wasn’t looking forward to the questions about to spring from what he said next. “We need to talk about Darius.”
“Something tells me you’re not about to call him the perfect groom.”
“No. I’m not sure we can give him the benefit of the doubt any longer. I saw him go into Valerian’s room yesterday. Today in that same room I found what I’m certain was the murder weapon.”
Rowena’s eyes widened. “Really. Do you have it with you?”
“No.” Semote forced the words out. “I went to Gideon’s room to speak with him, and someone took it away. I don’t know where it might be hidden now.”
Rowena shook her head. “I’ll order another search...”
“I don’t know what we could give as the reason. The killer might realize that we found the weapon when it was stashed in Valerian’s room. He might even guess that someone is informing to you. We’d lose our only advantage.”
“Refusing to investigate because we’re afraid of spooking the killer isn’t going to make us any safer. You’re being a bit paranoid.”
“Yes. I’m also the one who’s most likely to be killed if something goes wrong.”
Rowena sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I can’t really argue with that, now can I. But if we don’t come up with anything else, your testimony means the responsibility for the crime will likely fall on Darius.”
Semote felt a shiver come over him as he thought through the implications. “What I witnessed suggests it’s likely Darius was aware of the murder weapon’s location at one point. It may mean that he knows something, but that doesn’t by itself make him guilty.”
Rowena shook her head. “I know he seems sincere, but that’s true of all of them. There’s more reason to suspect him than not, you can’t base your judgement on—”
“I know, I know.” Semote interrupted, bristling a little at a correction he could have given himself. “I’m saying that being more likely to be guilty than not is still not sufficient to convict. Not beyond a reasonable doubt. It would be better to let ten murderers go than execute an innocent man ourselves.”
Rowena sighed a second time. “As noble as that sentiment may be, it is far from realistic, and far from how things work here. The reality at this point is that someone is going to be blamed for this crime. And it would be a greater miscarriage of justice for it to fall on someone less likely to have done it.”
Semote thought quickly. “Let me keep an eye on Darius this evening. I could probe him to see if there’s anything he wants to share.”
“If you’re no longer worried about your safety, we should just—”
Semote shook his head. “I don’t think he would make a move against me at this point, out of everyone here. It would be risky, and I’m one of the only people he couldn’t frame as the murderer. I think I’ll be safe.”
Rowena gave him a look that suggested genuine concern. “Just be careful, please. After what we set up today, our killer could act again if he thinks things have turned against him. This time we had better catch him when he does.”
Semote was leaning in to knock on Darius’s door when it swung inwards, forcing him to catch himself to avoid stumbling forward. Darius stopped short upon seeing him, wearing a look of surprise that gave way to relief.
“Silas. How’s life not under a cloud of suspicion?” Darius’s laugh had a nervous edge to it.
“I can’t complain. But I’ll be happier when things are cleared up for everyone.”
“None more so than me. And speaking of which, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you. Do you have time? Am I keeping you from anything?”
Semote had been formulating excuses for how he was going to keep an eye on Darius without looking too suspicious. He was actually finding himself a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to get to use any of them.
“Nothing as important as this, I trust.”
“Splendid.” Darius motioned for Semote to follow him. Semote caught sight of what looked like the kitchen setting up to prepare dinner as he hurried to keep up. Darius’s path led him turning and passing through a number of halls before reaching an empty sitting room. A bottle with a wide base containing a light brown liquid sat on a table, with a pair of cups resting on a silver tray next to it. Darius uncorked the bottle and took a sniff. His face showed slight displeasure, then resignation.
“Aeolian brandy. We could do worse, I suppose. Fancy a drink before dinner?”
Semote had no desire for one, but he doubted Darius would be drinking alone if he didn’t, and he wanted his tongue as loose as possible. “Sure.” Semote’s mind raced through possibilities, despite having already committed to the action. The bottle had been sealed. The cups were empty. They would both be drinking the same thing. If anything was safe to drink in this castle, this should be.
Darius poured a generous portion into both glasses, then took a seat next to Semote. “Here’s to us, the outsiders. May we stay alive and out of trouble.” Darius clinked their glasses together and took a deep sip from his own. Semote followed with a smaller sip he hoped was still at an acceptable threshold.
Darius stared into his glass with an intensity most people reserved for priceless works of art. He took another sip, then set it on the table. “There’s something I need to share with you. I have a theory about how Rowena's father died.”
“I have a few of my own, but nothing seems to fit.”
“I mean I know precisely why he died. I think I know how the murder was committed.”
Semote noticed Darius staring at the mostly full glass in his hand, and awkwardly took another sip in response. “Go on.”
Darius sighed and began to speak. “Poison."
"They said he ate and drank nothing."
"Yes. I believe the compound used was tactile, applied through the skin, but the effects were more deadly than a snake bite. I have reason to believe someone well-connected went out of their way to acquire such a substance recently."
"Are there plants, or venoms with that property in Aeolia…"
"No." Darius winced slightly as he looked back at Semote. "And yes, I realize what that implies. We have comparable substances in Serenia, as closely guarded as any royal treasure. If such a substance was used by one of the suitors, it is likely a foreign power would have assisted them in acquiring it. One other than myself."
“I’m surprised you managed to find this out so quickly.” Semote paused, hoping he could verify Finn’s recent claim of Darius’s whereabouts. “What is your source for believing someone purchased such a poison?”
Darius started to speak, then stopped himself with a chuckle. “Until I win or lose, I need to hold onto every advantage I can. You may not be trying to kill us all, but we’re still rivals in love. I'm sharing this because I trust you, and I may need your help. But I haven't counted myself out the game just yet.”
Darius took another long sip of his drink, finishing it off. He licked his lips and set his glass back on the table. He stood up and reached for the glass held by Semote, who quickly drank the rest.
Semote regretted doing so immediately, as the drink burned down his throat. His second wave of regrets came when Darius showed his intention to refill both their glasses. Semote slumped back into his chair.
If Darius noticed his discomfort, he didn’t show it. He continued to speak, rolling his glass in his hand. “As you can imagine, if I share this information now, I’ll look like I’m trying to distract attention from myself as a suspect for Valerian’s murder. Maybe that’s even what you’re thinking. But you should know, if proof does come out that a foreign party played a role in Owen's death, we will both fall under suspicion that we’re only here to destabilize the region. Or size it up for invasion.”
“You think the others would go that far?”
Darius frowned, then nodded. “I wouldn’t put anything past this group. Excluding the princess, what I’ve learned of the Aeolian nobility makes me think they’re capable of anything. Insecurity born from undeserved power. The only routes to success in this country are corruption and exploitation. They’re all living in a house of cards, someday it’s all going to collapse on them, and that fear leaves them ready to squabble over any scrap left for the taking.”
Semote kept silent, not wanting to appear argumentative or offer complete agreement either.
“You can mark my words, none of the others are going to risk their own positions to do anything to alter the balance of power.” Darius fixed him with a serious look. “I was hoping I could do something to help. But if it falls to you, I hope you’ll see things similarly. You need to find the real killer, Silas. For both our sakes.”
Darius seemed largely unburdened by his previous concerns when the signal for dinner took them over to the dining hall. That may have owed as much to the alcohol as the effects of conversation—Semote stopped to steady himself while still keeping the considerably more sure-footed Darius in view. They both checked with the steward for seating when they arrived—Semote was instructed to take the seat closest to the head on the left side of the table, placing him next to Skye. Darius took a seat alone at the foot, a fact he shrugged off, after briefly making eye contact with Semote.
Wesley took the seat opposite Semote not too much later—the one closest to Rowena. Alexander filed in next to him, followed by Cedric, and the seats to Semote’s right were eventually occupied by Lucien and Gideon. Lucien had a slightly irritated look on his face as he took the seat next to Semote.
“I understand you had a little trouble with the latest riddle yourself.” Lucien turned towards Semote after finishing his sentence, apparently addressing him.
“It was a challenge.”
“Evidently. And one with only three winners.” Lucien’s gaze passed over Alexander, Cedric, and Gideon in turn. “I think it’s possible our host got the answer wrong when creating the riddle. Not that complaining would serve any purpose.”
“You seem troubled by the outcome, should I be worried for myself as well?”
Lucien shook his head. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint. I’d say there are far more pressing concerns than who happened to get lucky this time around. Not attracting attention may even be the smarter play right now. Rowena’s done her best to keep the killer from having any opportunities to act, but this might have been enough to make the right man desperate.”
Lucien’s voice trailed off as Rowena and Skye made their appearance. Rowena’s eyes passed briefly on Semote’s and smiled, likely relieved to see he had made safely it to dinner. Just as Rowena moved to take her seat, Skye tapped her on the shoulder.
“Do you mind if I switch places with you tonight?”
Rowena looked a little surprised. “I suppose not. Someone you were hoping to talk to?”
Skye blushed slightly, saying nothing. Rowena shrugged, then moved to take the seat next to Semote, sliding into the chair in a graceful motion. It was occurring to Semote that this was their first time sitting together, as Rowena leaned in close to him in a way he didn’t exactly mind.
“Finally, a chance to talk alone.” Rowena whispered in Semote’s ear, a smile playing out on her face.
Semote felt himself flush, telling himself it was just due to the alcohol, and not a result of his attractive employer singling him out for attention in a way the other suitors probably read as flirtatious. “If this is where you ask me the real reasons I’m here…” Semote whispered back, the words slipping out a little more uninhibited than usual thanks to the liquid confidence he had ingested. “I can safely say I am the only man here who is an open book.“
“But are you really that open?” Barely audible even to his ear, Rowena’s voice had a hint of mirth to it. “There’s so much left unsaid between us. So many secrets you haven’t shared, like what book my open book wants. You are stuck with me now, maybe by the end of dinner I’ll have coaxed your secret out of you.”
Semote took a deep breath, trying to keep his mind on the job he was there to do, and not how much he should be reading into that. Or how the intractably stupid parts of his brain were already making the case that the risk to his life in being played up as the favorite would be worth it, just to have her keep talking to him like that. He took a second deep breath, then whispered back. “Am I keeping you from tending to the wounded ego of Wesley over there?”
Rowena glanced over at Wesley, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Skye. “Time heals all wounds it appears. I suppose they can have their fun. Just not too much.”
A pair of servants showed up with trays of food and goblets of wine, handing the first plate out to Rowena and proceeding around the table to the right; a ritual he was observing for the fifth time. Semote had picked up that the proper etiquette was that they were free to begin eating immediately after their hosts were served, but wasn’t sure what to do since the food was making it to Skye after all the others tonight. He faked a lengthy yawn until the food reached Lucien, who wasted no time in attacking his plate. Fair enough.
“Are we any closer to learning what happened to Valerian?” Cedric spoke up just as the final plate arrived on the table.
Rowena stopped to swallow a bite and wiped her face clean before responding. “Unfortunately no. I didn’t bring you all here to give someone their last meal before dragging them away. We don’t know anything more than before.”
“Are you sure we’ve ruled out suicide?” Alexander offered. “Valerian was always a bit odd. Maybe he wanted to have us all running around for nothing.”
Gideon fixed him with a weary look. “If you know of a way to stab yourself in the back and bleed to death while still having time to dispose of the weapon, we’d all love to hear it.”
“I’m no expert, I was otherwise occupied at the time.” Alexander glanced over at Rowena briefly. “As you’ll recall.”
Gideon made a sound Semote initially thought was some indication of derision, but soon turned into a sputtering cough. The bearded man’s face was beginning to turn red as he patted his chest. Semote studied him with concern as his coughing began to ease up. A very unpleasant idea had just come into his head.
“My apologies.” Gideon looked a little embarrassed. “Something must have caught in my throat.”
Semote watched him carefully for a moment to make sure he was all right. Alexander took advantage of the silence to bring the attention back around to him.
“A toast, then!” Alexander raised the glass in front of him. “To killers caught, and love found.”
Rowena shrugged, but raised her glass in agreement and began to drink. Semote did the same—the drink was stronger than he expected, he forced himself to finish it in a quick gulp. He was beginning to feel a little light-headed. He was starting to wonder if he’d soon have reason to regret either downing two drinks before dinner, or living a life that left him without a significant tolerance to alcohol.
On the other side of the table. Alexander lowered his glass with a bit of a frown on his face. “Can’t say I much care for your taste in wine. As a matter of fact...”
Alexander cut himself off mid-sentence as he began to cough violently. The color slowly began to fade from his cheeks, and his body began to twitch. Semote felt a burst of panic run through him as he watched the other man’s face change color. He stood up quickly, knocking his chair to the ground.
“Alexander!” Rowena was on her feet as well. “Are you all right?”
Semote was already rushing over to the other side of the table, tripping once in the process, and helping himself back up with the assistance of a chair. “He’s been poisoned. We need him on his back.”
By the time he made it over to him, Alexander was already on the verge of falling over. Semote quickly brought his chair to the ground and Alexander with it. Semote forced open Alexander’s mouth, and began to reach in with a pair of fingers.
“I’d like to apologize in advance for this. To everyone.”
The words came out a little more slurred than he would have wished. Semote pressed his fingers deep into Alexander’s mouth, forcing his hand to remain steady over the spasms of Alexander’s body. Gingerly, he rubbed his fingers against the back of Alexander’s throat. Alexander began to retch involuntarily. Semote felt the man’s body tense up, and quickly pulled his hand out.
What happened next put a definite end to the evening’s activities. Alexander’s vomit spewed out onto the floor in a sickly mess. He groaned as he tried to sit himself up. He still looked deathly ill, but he was no longer shaking.
Semote let out a sigh of relief, feeling his own heart still pounding. “I think he’ll make it, but we need to call him a doctor, now.”
“I’m on it.” Darius patted Semote on the shoulder as he rushed out of the room, his expression as stressed as Semote had ever seen it.
“Let’s get him downstairs.” Rowena’s face showed concern, but with a hard edge underneath it. Semote guessed she was more angry than worried. Semote raised Alexander’s arm over one of his shoulders as they stood up together. Gideon was soon there at his other side, helping Alexander along. Together they began to move Alexander carefully out of the dining room. Semote took a look back as they were leaving. The room seemed to swim before his eyes. Cedric was staring in a dumbfounded silence. Lucien looked upset...and Wesley was standing in the corner with Skye, shaking his head.
Semote took another step forward with Alexander, then fell to the floor, leaving Gideon to catch Alexander. He was beginning to feel dizzy, and the noises of the room around him were sounding more and more muffled. He tried to stand up again, but slipped down a second time. His heart was beating faster and faster and he was beginning to feel disoriented.
Semote heard Rowena shouting something to him, but her words didn’t penetrate the fog growing in his mind. All of his consciousness was focused on one detail that his mind had fixated on.
He had been with Darius for the past two hours, since before dinner and drinks would have been prepared. He had never let him out of his sight. However suspicious he might look, Darius couldn’t possibly have had the opportunity to poison anyone. So who did? And why target Alexander, of all people?
No answer came to him, and Semote felt his consciousness slip away.
To be continued in Chapter 9, now available here:
