Oisín McGann - Ancient Appetites

Slattery stopped pacing for a moment to draw a long breath.

'Given that Master Roberto walked from the house and that said attack was carried out using a large engimal – an unlikely weapon for a rebel, as you rightly pointed out, Master Nathaniel – and given that the perimeter was being patrolled by armed men, it would be fair to assume that the culprit could have also come from Wildenstern Hall. I am aware that members of the family do indulge in the occasional act of… aggression, in order to… well, to get ahead, shall we say? I could not rule out the fact that this might be just such an act.

'But then we found this,' he said abruptly, flourishing a cheap-looking brown envelope. 'And things got a lot more interesting!'

'Get on with it,' Edgar grunted, his engimal claw clicking restlessly.

Slattery nodded respectfully to the Duke. Taking out the piece of notepaper contained in the envelope, he unfolded it and handed it to Nathaniel. Nate took it and held it up to the light to read it:

A mesage for the Willdensterns,

Yor days of grynding good working people under yor

hele are numbered. Take this as a worning that there is

no place to hyde from us. We can reach past yor walls

and yor gards and strike wher you leest espect it.

Releese yor grip on the poor people of Ireland or sufer the

connsequenses.

Yors faithfully

The Irish Liberty Brigade

'Looks to me like their spelling is no better than their assassinating,' Nate quipped. 'I've never heard of them. "The Irish Liberty Brigade"? Where did they spring from?'

'We'll find out,' Slattery assured him. 'But since this was left for us to find, it suggests that the person who followed Master Roberto from the house is in league with this group. Perhaps someone who is working with the rebels in order to advance their position within the family.'

Nate nodded, but thought it unlikely. It was only then that he noticed somebody was missing.

'Where's Daisy?' he asked. 'Shouldn't she be here?'

'She's vanished,' Berto muttered sourly from behind the cloth. 'Nobody can find her.'

'I bloody knew it,' Nate said through gritted teeth.

'Daisy was not the attacker,' Edgar declared. 'Although her complicity has not been ruled out. Carry on, Slattery'

'Yes, sir.' Slattery took centre stage again. 'As you'll know from your experience in tracking, Master Nathaniel, every engimal leaves a unique footprint, by which they can be identified. We were fortunate enough to be left with a perfect imprint of the offending velocycle's feet.'

He snapped his fingers and a footman brought forward a jacket. Roberto's jacket. Slattery held it up for all to see, clearly marked in a diagonal line of mud across the front, the track left by the attacker's engimal. Nate caught his breath. He recognized it instantly.

'Naturally, we checked it against all the velocycles in the stables first,' the bailiff told him. 'We nearly forgot one, as it was being kept in a spare stall with the horses.' His eyes held Nate in their unswerving gaze. 'It was your velocycle, Master Nathaniel, and its feet matched the print perfectly'

'This is absurd! It can't be… I…' Nate began. 'I haven't left the house all night! Someone must have stolen Flash and-'

'But the damned machine won't let anyone else ride it, Nate,' Roberto pointed out, looking utterly miserable. 'Nobody else can even sit on the cursed thing. I mean… I'd understand if it was an accident, you know? If that's all it was-'

'It wasn't me!' Nate shouted.

But from the expressions on the faces around him, it was clear that nobody believed him. He stared helplessly at his brother, unable to fathom how Roberto, of all people, could suspect him. They had always trusted each other completely, and that trust was one of the few things in his family life that Nate had always thought he could count on. And as that was shaken, so too was everything he believed in.

'I can't say which surprises me more,' Edgar rumbled. 'That you had the nerve to finally attempt an act of aggression, or that you managed to cock it up despite a lifetime of training.'

That remark seemed to bring Roberto's misery to a head and tears welled up in his eyes. Mortally embarrassed, he struggled up off the divan and hurried towards the door, wiping his face with the cloth. Nate stood up, trying to reach his brother one last time, but as Berto passed him, he stopped and glared at Nate with bitter hatred.

'What about Marcus?' Berto asked. 'Was that you too?'

Nate turned away.

'Go to hell,' he hissed.

As Roberto left the room, Nate faced the four remaining men.

'If I did this thing, do you really think I'd carry it out with the one engimal that could identify me? I know a hundred ways of killing a man – including half a dozen that don't leave a trace – and you think I'd try and run my brother down with a velocycle? Do you think I'd leave a bloody note that linked me to some stupid bloody Fenians and risk everything I was trying to kill him for? And as for the letter… My God! Do you seriously think I'd hand on a note with that many spelling mistakes? Have you all lost your bloody minds?!'

'Perhaps it was a rash act, perhaps you planned too hastily,' Edgar replied. 'Perhaps you hoped to make it look like an accident but when you realized you hadn't killed him, your nerve failed you and you fled back to the house. Perhaps you left the note to throw us off the trail and avoid the emotional repercussions from the family. Perhaps you faked the handwriting and spelling mistakes to make it look as if it were written by an uneducated hand. We do not know these things yet. And until we do, you will not leave this house.

'Slattery tells me you ordered the release of the moneylender, Duffy.'

Nate gave the bailiff a hostile look.

'They beat the man to a pulp, Father.'

'If they did so, then it was only because it was necessary' Edgar assured his son. He went on in a dispassionate tone, 'You see, Nathaniel, if you had simply attacked Roberto, the Rules of Ascension would apply to protect you. But when I hear that you have taken pity on a known rebel sympathizer, and then this letter is found at the scene of your brother's assault, I am forced to re-evaluate your position.' His voice was lower now, and grating with menace. 'For we know that there is a traitor in this house, and if I find out that the betrayal is yours, I promise you the most dire consequences.'

He paused to let those words sink in.

'That is all. You are dismissed.'

The whole room waited in silence for Nathaniel to leave. He gritted his teeth and stood there for as long as he could bear his father's piercing stare.

'It wasn't me,' he managed at last – but it sounded weak and insubstantial after his father's declaration.

He spun on his heel and left the room, trying not to show his hurt. He had taken enough from the old man – from the whole family. His face burned with rage and shame, his hands were clenched into fists. The gas-lamps were turned down in the empty corridors, only every one in four glowing; he took the dimly lit stairs all the way up to his floor, savouring the darkness and quiet, letting his anger smoulder away as he worked his legs up one staircase after another. The exercise helped, and his feelings had subsided by the time he reached his rooms. He was able to think more clearly.

There was one good thing to come out of this at least: it was unlikely that Edgar would hand his business on to a suspected traitor, so it looked like his move to America was off. Now all he had to do was plan his departure from this damned house.

He threw off his dressing gown and climbed into bed, stacking the pillows up behind him so that he could sit up – there was no chance of him getting back to sleep. Wrapping the blankets around him, he lifted the cap on the speaking tube and asked Clancy – who he knew would still be awake – to bring him some cocoa and two slices of hot buttered toast.