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Chapter XLIII : Interrogation
Latemorn of Somnus, Eighth Day of Autumnmoon
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Cedric sank under the weight of Chaucer’s gaze. After hours of questioning, he was losing focus.
“Let’s start over. What can you tell me about your conversation with Mister Eckerd?”
The captain had already started over several times. But this time, Cedric was drowsier, and he lost count. He sat in a small, dark room, except for the ball of magical fire shining brightly in his face. The room was empty, but for two wooden chairs and a plain rectangular table. It was part of the Judiciary Center, a building used by the kingdom’s police to interrogate persons of interest in high profile criminal cases.
Chaucer escorted Cedric there and proceeded to grill him about Mason’s disappearance. The captain repeated his questions numerous times with slight differences in phrasing, a transparent ploy to catch an inconsistency.
“Could you please describe for me how Mister Eckerd left your residence?”
Earlier, Chaucer asked if Cedric had seen which way the fugitive went after disappearing.
The Craftsman felt thoroughly fatigued and frustrated. There were no charges levied, nor any explanation why Mason’s whereabouts were so important. Though Cedric’s patience wore thin, he cooperated fully, hoping to avoid the real ogre in the room: that Mason’s story was true about the death and mistreatment of detained Kitezhian families.
Cedric answered while shielding the light from his eyes. “He must have left the instant before you arrived. I’ve told you a dozen times. I was resting my eyes, and I didn’t see where he went.”
He gave the same response last time, as well as the time before that.
The captain’s response seemed overtly flippant. “Yes, so you say. But, you haven’t convinced me how you could be speaking with a man without noticing him leave, or how you could even rest your eyes for a moment in the midst of conversation. Didn’t you tell me you knew him well?”
Cedric gritted his teeth, nearing the end of his patience. “Why would I lie? I have no reason to protect the man you’re looking for! He’s an old colleague, nothing more. We’ve conducted plenty of business, but we’d never spoken personally until last night!”
Chaucer leaned forward. “Then, it was a personal conversation?”
The whole time, Cedric had avoided admitting what he knew about military detention camps. If these were supposed to be hidden from the general public, Chaucer might seek to determine what else Cedric knew. He worried that if he should expose this knowledge, he might find himself in one of those same camps. But he was tired and not thinking straight. He needed to be free of the captain’s interrogation and get some much needed rest.
“Why did he feel the need to contact you, in particular?” The lines around Chaucer’s mouth and eyes signaled his heightened displeasure.
Cedric sensed a trap. Chaucer was hoping to wear him down and force him to admit to what Mason told him. But he didn’t need to panic. He only needed to stick to his story.
“He told me it was out of desperation, because he had nowhere else to go. I don’t know of any other reason.”
Chaucer paused and folded his hands. He locked eyes with Cedric, like a wolf marking its prey. He bared his teeth. “I know you’re holding something back.”
Cedric regarded the captain through enervated eyelids. Fatigue may have dulled his senses, but he was lucid enough to recognize Chaucer's first real accusation—and it left him feeling uneasy.
The captain waved his forefinger threateningly. “You’ve been very good at staying consistent, but I’ll bet my beard there’s something you haven’t told me. And I won’t let you out of my sight until I find out what it is!”
Cedric braced for what he thought would be hours of grueling questions, but rather unexpectedly, he heard a knock at the door. The captain muttered a curse as another well-decorated officer entered the room. Cedric was now quite curious what warranted this interruption.
Chaucer leapt from his seat to engage the man. They spoke in hushed voices, but Cedric could tell from their body language that the debate was contentious. Chaucer shook his head defiantly, but the other man held his ground.
Sighing, the captain turned toward Cedric and motioned toward the door. His voice held more than a hint of acrimony. “It appears you can leave, after all.”
Cedric was astounded. “I … I don’t understand.”
The captain’s response was cold-blooded. “We no longer require your testimony. The man for whom we’ve been searching is dead.”
The hairs stood up on the back of Cedric’s neck. “What?” His anger brewed. “You mean he was murdered!”
Cedric wished he could take it back, but it was too late. Perhaps lack of sleep had finally caught up to him, but he had inadvertently given the captain some fresh meat to chew on. Chaucer’s lip upturned in a subtle grin.
He was utterly calm. “You’ve had a long night, Mister Curtis. I suggest you return home and get some sleep.”
A fire raged in the Craftsman’s gut. The situation was reversed, and now the captain held a secret. One which he seemingly enjoyed keeping.
Cedric felt the sting of injustice. “Can I expect the matter of Mister Eckerd’s death to be as thoroughly investigated as his disappearance?”
The captain had the nerve to smirk. “You can be sure the members of this office will make every conceivable effort.”
Damn the lies! Cedric scowled and stormed out. But he had gone no more than a step out the door, when Chaucer floated a piece of advice. “If you later feel the need to purge your conscience, you know where to find me, Mister Curtis. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
Cedric didn’t bother to acknowledge the threat. Mason’s death was no accident. There was a conspiracy, and Mason’s knowledge had gotten him killed. The kingdom’s police might think they had covered it up, but they were wrong!
Even so, Cedric left the Judiciary Center realizing he had a problem. He had been putting every waking hour into his Zounds design, but if he should suddenly stop, it would rouse suspicion. The conundrum was difficult for Cedric to internalize. Zounds was the culmination of his life’s work, not to mention his proudest achievement. Yet, he couldn’t bear the thought of Richard turning it into a war machine for violent conquests. He’d rather set the whole project ablaze.
Still, he had to admit that he had very little to go on. The second-hand knowledge passed down by Mason wasn’t enough to go against his kingdom. Somehow, he needed evidence. Something he could make public. But, how?
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It occurred to him that he still held the king’s confidence. Moreover, Richard counted on him to finish the Zounds airbase. Perhaps, he could speak with the king directly. In fact, he had already prepared to update Richard on the progress toward a functional prototype. He might even be able to advance the schedule to justify something sooner. Once he had the king’s attention, a bit of clever conversational tactics might lead to a confession, straight from the horse’s mouth. Or better yet, if Richard trusted him enough to make him an insider, he could unravel the plot from within.
He had to be careful, though. The trip would take him straight into the griffin’s den. A single slip of the tongue would cost him his freedom, and quite possibly his life. Richard had already lied about Bram’s defection and threats from the north. He wouldn’t just change his tune and tell Cedric the truth, just because he asked. Cedric needed time to think things through.
One thing was certain. There needed to be justice for Mason’s tragic death. Cedric owed it to his old friend, and to himself, to make it happen.
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Midday of Somnus, Eighth Day of Autumnmoon
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By the time Cedric returned to his manor house, his lawyer was already there, waiting patiently in the foyer.
William was in his fifties, with silver strands of hair combed over a thinning head. He had a mustache, an overbite, and a pair of thin spectacles that rested on his nose.
His nasally voice held a hint of anxiety. “I came as soon as I received Erik’s message, Mister Curtis. I’m sorry I was unable to intervene sooner, but I’m well briefed about Mason’s criminal activity and how he dragged you into it. And I believe I can help.”
Cedric was wary. Whatever William had learned, it was part of the same conspiracy to exaggerate Mason’s flight from the authorities and link him to the supposed Kitezhian insurgency. Though Cedric needed sleep to regain his wits, he couldn’t leave his lawyer hanging. At a minimum, he needed to summarize his evening with Captain Chaucer. But he intended to keep it brief.
“There’s no need for apologies, William. They questioned me for six merciless hours, but it appears they no longer require my testimony.”
The lawyer pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “What did you tell them?”
Cedric paused. He trusted William, but it wasn’t the right time to reveal Mason’s revelations. He had no way of knowing how his lawyer would react, or what he already assumed.
Instead, he stayed consistent with his messages to Chaucer. “I told them the truth. Mason Eckerd arrived at my home unexpectedly. He was agitated, at times irrational, and left rather mysteriously, right before the captain arrived.”
William cocked his head. “Did Chaucer question you about where Eckerd went?”
Cedric was tired of answering the same questions. “Yes. But like I told him, I don’t know.”
William drew closer, his voice hushed. “Did you happen to learn that Eckerd was killed in the premorn while trying to escape the city?”
A lump formed in Cedric’s throat. Chaucer had only learned of it an hour earlier. He wondered what kind of source would have known the information soon enough to inform William. “Yes … the captain mentioned it.”
The lawyer shrugged. “It’s tragic, of course, but good news for you. Chaucer has no legal recourse to bother you further. I’ll make sure the matter’s settled, and all records of this injustice are fully expunged.”
Cedric relaxed. He was grateful if William could make the whole nightmare go away. But something still bothered him.
“What is it?” William asked, clearly noticing.
The Craftsman didn’t know how to answer. His mind was behind a sleep-deprived fog. All he could think was to pass off the question.
“It’s nothing, I … I just can’t help but feel like I could’ve done more—”
The lawyer waved a finger, as if to a naughty child. “Nonsense, Mister Curtis! There’s nothing you could have done. Mason was a deranged man.”
Cedric was tired of all the lies. Mason was a great man, yet the kingdom’s propagandists seemed intent on denigrating him to fit their narrative. Even if William believed it, the man was dead. Slandering him now was graceless and irreverent.
Cedric tried to calm his nerves before speaking. “I’ve known Mason for years. He wasn’t a bad man, and he doesn’t deserve to have people speak ill of his mental state.”
William quickly dismissed the rebuke. “His mental state is hardly the only thing in question. The fact is that Eckerd was a Kitezhian and a fugitive. His actions need no explanation.”
Cedric clenched his fist, disturbed by his lawyer’s disrespect. “Mason lived a long, upstanding life. He had a family, children, and grandchildren. I realize the captain’s men were doing their duty to find those responsible for the attacks, but a person’s descent is not a reason to presume guilt. I don’t believe Mason was one of the insurgents. And I don’t fault him for running.”
William’s eyes narrowed. He leaned close, eyes full of intrigue. “So, you think he had good reason to evade authorities? Did he tell you those reasons?”
Cedric felt uneasy. There was more than just curiosity in his lawyer’s voice. He was fishing for something. But, the idea seemed crazy. This wasn’t an interrogation, and William represented Cedric as his lawyer. He had client-attorney privilege!
He needed to say something. “I’m sorry, William, but I think we’re finished for today. I need to get some rest.”
His lawyer’s brow furrowed, and his mouth tightened. “A real pity, Mister Curtis. If Chaucer finds out you withheld something, you’ll be in a heap of trouble. It would serve you better if you trusted me to help you.”
Cedric took a step back, wondering if his lack of sleep was creating some kind of paranoia. But, it was also possible that his lawyer was trying to trick him into revealing something incriminating. The adrenaline sobered him up.
“Mind your tone, William. Mason raved about a great many things, and I only meant to suggest that I needed time to figure it out myself. Some of what he said was indeed troubling, but it does us no good to speculate.”
William seemed to relax. “I apologize if I overstepped, Mister Curtis, but I sense a worrying pattern. First, Miss Reynolds. Now, this? If Chaucer connects you one more time with a suspected criminal, he’ll never let you out of his sight. And I’ll be powerless to help you.”
Cedric glared at his lawyer, insulted by his insinuation. The whole city seemed to have an interest in keeping tabs on him. “The company I keep is no concern of yours!” He didn’t intend to sound testy, but he needed the debate to end. He needed sleep, then he could think clearly. “Listen, William, I’m a bit short tempered, given all that’s happened. Let’s discuss this later, so I can go to bed.”
But William persisted. He stepped in front of Cedric, stopping just short of blocking his path. “Before you go, I wanted to offer some advice.”
Cedric sighed. “Go ahead, but be brief.”
“It’s about your project, Mister Curtis. The one His Majesty recently commissioned.”
Cedric’s protective instincts ignited for a brief moment, but he forced his nerves to calm. “Could you be more specific, William?”
“Well ….” William’s eyes narrowed. Cedric might be imagining things, but something seemed off. “I understand you have a review scheduled with the king later this week. I’d like to recommend you cancel and send a messenger, instead.”
Cedric was taken aback. The advice was out of place, and worse, poignantly targeted, given his brand new desire to speak to the king. “There’s no way I’m sending a blasted messenger. Zounds is my design, and I intend to keep that meeting.”
“Even so.” William argued, jabbing his forefinger into Cedric’s chest. “It would rouse too much suspicion in the midst of all these scandals. Besides, the king’s priorities are with the military this week as they debate retaliatory options.”
Cedric wanted to swat the finger out of the way. He had never been so disrespected. “My design is part and parcel to the military response, and Richard will want to hear about its progress from me.”
William stood firm. “Just look at yourself. You haven’t slept in over thirty hours, and you look a disheveled mess. You need rest, and your update can wait for another time. Besides, Chaucer would never let you past security, looking the way you do.”
Cedric couldn’t stand the abuse a moment longer. He stood tall and puffed out his chest, ready to give the man an earful. “I am Angkor’s Grand Craftsman, Sir! I’m a member of the king’s cabinet, and I’m at liberty to speak with His Majesty anytime I have matters that concern the kingdom. You’d best believe I’ll freshen up and change clothes, but not at your behest. You’re my lawyer, William, and I demand you learn your place!”
William’s bluster deflated, and he backed down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this pertinacious before. You’re not yourself, Mister Curtis. I strongly suggest you think twice before doing something you’ll regret.”
Cedric shook his head. He wasn’t about to let this sniveling weasel turn things around on him. “You think I’m stubborn? Well, I’ve never seen you so determined to advise against my wishes! You’ve worked for me for many years, but I won’t be disrespected. Don’t forget that you work for me!”
William’s passion now appeared fully drained, leaving behind a dull frown. “Once again, Mister Curtis, I apologize. I’m merely concerned for your wellbeing.”
Cedric’s own flames were doused as well, but he was determined to follow through. “I forgive you, William, but don’t let it happen again. You’ll have to see your own way out.” He pushed the man aside and fled up the stairwell to the upper floors. As he passed by Erik the butler, he instructed him to make sure William was escorted off the premises.
As he marched to the washroom, Cedric reflected on the argument. It probably wasn’t a wise idea to leave his lawyer on bad terms, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was strange about him. He wondered if Chaucer had gotten to him, but the timing didn’t support that theory.
He had to take a nap, gather his wits, and freshen up. Angkor’s Grand Craftsman needed to be at full faculties. His next stop, the hangar, where he would prepare the paperwork for an update to King Richard.