Read Online Kultus by Richard Ford - Free Book Online Page B

than any key. Bounder was quick to kick the thing in, shoving it wide as he waded in, his huge cudgel swinging this way and that. As Amelia followed close behind she could not help but compare him to a knight of old, wielding his mace in the melee, every swing finding a target. Snapper’s men had no chance and those who were on their feet first were soon laid on their backs. A couple even reached for weapons but the barrel of Hodge’s carbine forced them to reconsider.
    To his credit, Trol Snapper merely sat and watched the spectacle; his long equine face betraying little emotion. When he saw Amelia enter after her fantassins, he visibly relaxed. At least this was not an assault by a rival gang. Snapper knew well that the Judicature were more likely to show mercy than a rival Chamber of the Cistern. As long as it was only his men who were taking the beating, Trol would just relax and watch the show.
    Amelia walked forward and sat in a chair opposite Trol’s large desk. ‘Hello, Trol,’ she said conversationally.
    ‘Indagator,’ he replied, with a polite nod. One of his men moaned on the floor, and she could see Trol’s eyes flicker with doubt, wondering if he was next. ‘Is this a social visit… or were you just passing?’
    ‘You know I like to drop in on the Cistern from time to time. When the air of the Manufactory seems too clean I like to fill my lungs with real filth.’ Amelia tugged at her leather gloves a finger at a time, removing them to reveal her slender hands. The nails were cut short and practical and the knuckles were well lined, showing a premature age. They were hands that had worked for a long time to lift her to the position she now sustained. And the work had been hard.
    She reached forward and ran the middle finger of her right hand along Snapper’s desk. All eyes were on her as she silently regarded the end of her finger, rubbing it with her thumb as though smudging the filth she had just swept up.
    ‘Beuphalus? That name mean anything, Trol?’
    ‘Is it what they call that lovely scent you’re wearing?’ said Trol with a sardonic grin.
    Bounder stamped down hard on the leg of one of his felled opponents. The man howled, then was silent. Trol looked unconcerned.
    ‘Earl Beuphalus of House Westowe,’ continued Amelia. ‘He met with quite a sticky end, Trol. Someone cut his heart out. Sounds like something you might have had a hand in.’
    ‘Please, Indagator. That hurts my feelings. I run a legitimate enterprise.’
    ‘Yes, I’m sure you can show me a full account of dockets and ledgers.’
    Trol paused, looking as though someone had just caught him with his hand in the money jar. ‘Beuphalus? Let me think. Skinny, glasses, nice threads? I think I may have seen him around.’
    Again Bounder stamped down hard and again a moan peeled out through the room.
    ‘All right,’ said Trol, holding up his hands. ‘I’ve met your Earl, but I had no idea he was dead until you just mentioned it.’
    Amelia stared at Trol for several seconds, and he stared back. She prided herself on being able to sniff out a lie, and for all his blustering attempts at avoidance, Trol looked to be telling the truth. ‘Where did you meet him?’
    Trol adopted a pained expression, as though thinking of the answer was giving him a headache. ‘He would come down into the Cistern on occasion, looking for a good time. When he needed protection, some of my lads would provide it.’
    Amelia glanced round the room at the shoddy collection of thugs, some standing helplessly, others lying prone. ‘Yes, they seem very good at the protection thing. Who else did he mix with? Anyone from the other Chambers?’
    ‘We looked after him exclusively. It pays to have the favour of the Noble Houses. You should know that better than anyone.’
    The aspersion offended Amelia more than she showed. The suggestion that as an Indagator of the Judicature she would curry favour with the Houses was repellent to her. But she knew there