very； very terrible。'
'My deepest sympathies for your loss； lady；' I said； feeling awkward。
A houseman； his arm banded in black； had led us into a stateroom off the main hall where Lady Froigre was waiting。 The blinds were
drawn； and mourning tapers had been lit； filling the air with a feeble light and a sickly perfume。 Freyl Froigre was a stunning woman
in her late sixties； her lush red hair； almost flame…pink it was so bright； pulled back and pinned down under a veil coiff of jet
scamiscoire。 Her grief…gown was slate epinchire； the sleeves ending in delicate interwoven gloves so that not one speck of her flesh
was uncovered。
I introduced Alizebeth； who murmured her condolences； and Lady Froigre nodded。 Then she suddenly looked flustered。
'Oh； my。 Where are my manners？ I should have the staff bring refreshments for you and—'
'Hush； lady；' I said； taking her arm and walking her down the long room into the soft shade of the shutters。 'You have enough on your
mind。 Grief is enough。 Tell me what you know and I will do the rest。'
'You're a good man； sir。 I knew I could trust you。' She paused and waited while her current wracks subsided。
'Aen died just before midnight last night。 A seizure。 It was quick； the physician said。'
'What else did he say； lady？'
She drew a data…wand from her sleeve and handed it to me。 'It's all here。' I plucked out my slate and plugged it in。 The display lit up
with the stored files。
Death by tremorous palpitations of the heart and mind。 A dysfunction of the spirit。 According the the medicae's report； Aen Froigre
had died because of a spasm in his anima。
'This means…' I paused； '…nothing。 Who is your physician？'
'Genorus Notil of Menizerre。 He has been the family medicae since the time of Aen's grandfather。'
'His report is rather… non…specific； lady。 Could I present the body for a further examination？'
'I've already done that；' she said softly。 'The surgeon at Menizerre General who attended said the same。 My husband died of terror。'
'Terror？'
'Yes； inquisitor。 Now tell me that isn't the work of the infernal powers？'
There had； she told me； been a celebration。 A Grand Fete。 Aen's eldest son； Rinton； had returned home two weeks before； having
mustered out of his service in the Imperial Guard。 Rinton Froigre had been a captain in the Fiftieth Gudrunite and seen six years'
service in the Ophidean subsector。 Such was his father's delight on his return； a fete was called。 A carnival feast。 Travelling players
from all around the canton had attended； along with troupes of musicians； acrobats； armies of stall holders； entertainers； and hundreds
of folk from the town。 That explained the litter and faded patches on the lawn。 Tent pitches。 The scars of marques。
'Had he any enemies？' I asked； pacing the shuttered room。
'None that I know of。'
'I would like to review his correspondence。 Diaries too； if he kept them。'
'I'll see。 I don't believe he kept a diary； but our rubricator will have a list of correspondence。'
On the top of the harpsichord was a framed portrait； a hololith of Aen Froigre； smiling。
I picked it up and studied it。
'The last portrait of him；' she said。 'Taken at the fete。 My last connection with him。'
'Where did he die？'
'The Folly；' said Lady Froigre。 'He died in the Folly。'
THE WOODS WERE damp and dark。 Boughs creaked in the late afternoon wind and odd birdsong thrilled from the shadows。
The Folly was a stone drum capped by a slate needle。 Inside； it was bare and terribly musty。 Sand doves fluttered up in the roof spaces。
Cobwebs glazed the bare windows。
'This is where I found him；' said a voice from behind me。
I turned。 Rinton Froigre stooped in under the doorframe。 He was a well…made boy of twenty…five； with his mother's lush red hair。 His
eyes had a curious； hooded aspect。
'Rinton。'
'Sir；' he bowed slightly。
'Was he dead when you found him？'
'No； inquisitor。 He was laughing and talking。 He liked to come up here。 He loved the Folly。 I came up to thank him for the fete that he
had thrown in my honour。 We were talking together when suddenly he went into convulsions。 Just minutes later； before I could
summon help； he was dead。'
I didn't know Rinton Froigre well； though his service record was very respectable； and I knew his father had been proud of him。 Aen
had never mentioned any animosity from his son； but in any noble house there is always the spectre of succession to consider。 Rinton
had been alone with his father at the time of death。 He was a seasoned soldier； undoubtedly no stranger to the act of killing。
I kept an open mind … literally。 Even without any invasive mental probing； it is possible for a psionic of my ability to sense surface
thoughts。 There was no flavour of deceit about Rinton's person； though I could feel carefully contained loss； and the tingle of
trepidation。 Small wonder； I considered。 Uncommon are the citizens of the Imperium who do not register anxiety at being quizzed by
an inquisitor of the Holy Ordos。
There was no point pressing him now。 Rinton's story might easily be put to the test with an auto…seance； during which psychometric
techniques would simply reveal the truth of his father's last moments to me。
Rinton walked me back to the Hall； and left me to my ponderings in Aen's study。 It was as he had left it； I was told。
The room was half…panelled and lined for the most part with glazed shelves of neatly bound books and data…slates。 Discreet glowglobes
hovered around the edges of the room at head…height； set to a low luminosity； and a selection of scroll…backed couches and
over…stuffed chairs were arranged in front of the high…throated ceramic fireplace with its wood…burning fusion stove。
The desk； under the diamond…paned west windows； was a wide crescent of polished duralloy floated a metre off the carpet by passive
suspensor pods。 The desk was clean and bare。
I sat at it； depressing slightly the hydraulics of the writing chair … I was half a head taller than Aen Froigre。 I studied the mirrorsmooth；
slightly raked surface of the desk。 There was no sign of any control panel； but a gentle wave of my hand across it woke up
heat…sensitive touch…plates engraved into the duralloy's finish。 I touched a few； but they needed Aen's touch … probably a combination
of palmprint and genekey … to unlock them。
That； or inquisition…grade software。 I unpinned my Inquisitorial rosette； which I had been wearing on the sternum of a my black
leather coat； and slid open the signal port。 Holding it low over the desk； I force fed the touch…plates with several magenta…level
security override programs。 It gave up the fight almost at once； opening systems without even the need for passwords。
Built into the stylish desk … an item of furniture that had clearly cost Aen a lot of money … was a fairly powerful cogitator； a vox…pict
uplink； a message archive； two filing archives； and a master control for the simple； limited electronic systems built into the Hall。
Separate pages of each file and message could be displayed as a facsimile on the blotter plate and a touch of a finger turned them or
put them away。 Aen had destroyed all paper records。
I played with it for some time； but the most interesting thing I found was a log of invoices for services provided at the fete； and a list
of the invitations。 I copied both into my own data…slate。
Alizebeth and Gabon arrived while I was busy with that。 Alizebeth had been interviewing the household staff； and Gabon had been
out； walking the grounds。
'There were over nine hundred guests here； sir；' he said； 'and maybe another five hundred players； musicians； entertainers and carnival
folk。'
'Where from？'
'Menizerre； mostly；' he replied。 'Local entertainers； a few troubadours and some street tumblers from the biweekly textile market。 The
biggest individual groups were Kalikin's Company； an acclaimed troupe of travelling actors； and Sunsable's Touring Fair； who
provided the games and rides and diversions。'
I nodded。 Gabon was as thorough as usual。 A short； spare man in his one fifties with cropped black hair and a bushy moustache； he
had been with the Dorsay Arbites for about seventy years before retiring into private service。 He wore a simple； refined dark blue suit
that had been ingeniously tailored to hide the fact that he was wearing a handgun in a shoulder rig。
'What about you？' I asked Alizebeth。 She sat down on one of the couches。
'Nothing scintillating。 The staff seem genuinely shocked and upset at the death。 They all react with outrage at the idea your friend
might have had any enemies。'
'It seems quite clear to me that he did have some；' I said。
Alizebeth reached into the folds of her gown and fished out a small； hard object。 She tossed it across onto the desk top and it landed
with a tap。
There it extended four； multi…jointed limbs and scurried across onto my palm。
I turned the wriggling poison…snooper over and pressed the recessed stud on its belly。 A little ball of hololithic energy coalesced above
its head…mounted projector and I read it as slowly scrolled around on its own axis。
'Traces of Iho； obscura and several other class II and III narcotics in the garden area and the staff quarters。 Penshel seed traces found in
the stable block。 More lho； as well as lis