He studied her, thinking that she was holding back something. ‘I have no one else to turn to in this,’ he said. ‘The cult members have gone to ground.’
‘They may have gone to ground, but some of them are watching even now. If I revealed secrets, they would kill me.’
‘I could subpoena you.’
‘You could,’ she said, ‘but I would say no more than I have. And there is also the fact that I would not make a very reliable witness. The prosecutor would ask questions about my past, and those I would not answer.’
‘I assume the great work had something to do with Griaule.’
She shrugged. ‘Everything did.’
‘Can’t you even give me a clue? Something?’
‘I’ll tell you this much. You have to understand the nature of the cult. They did not so much worship Griaule as they elevated their fear of him to the status of worship. Mardo saw himself in a peculiar relationship to Griaule; he felt he was the spiritual descendant of that first wizard who long ago did battle with the dragon . . . a sort of ritual adversary, both celebrant and enemy. That kind of duality appealed to Mardo; he considered it the height of subtlety.’
Korrogly continued to press her, but she would say no more and finally he gave it up. ‘Did Mirielle know about the work?’
‘I doubt it. Mardo’s trust of her extended to the material world, but this was something else, something magical. Something serious. And that troubled me. I didn’t want things to be serious, I began to be afraid. People vanished, conversations became whispered, the darkness inside the temple seemed to be spreading everywhere. Finally I couldn’t bear it. I started to notice things. Perhaps I’d always noticed them, but had preferred not to see them. At any rate, I realized then how dangerous a thing had been my boredom, how low I had let it drag me. I understood that for all his drive and intensity, Mardo Zemaille was an evil man . . . evil in the blackest of definitions. He sought to master wizardly arts that have died away for lack of adherents corrupt enough to dig in the nightsoil where the roots of such power are buried.’
‘What things did you notice?’
‘Rituals of torture . . . sacrifices.’
‘Human sacrifice?’
‘Perhaps . . . I can’t be sure. But I believe at the least that Mardo was capable of it.’
‘Then you think that he was going to sacrifice Mirielle.’
‘It’s hard to credit. He doted on her. But, yes, it’s possible that he would feel he had to sacrifice the thing he most cared about in order to complete the great work. She may not have known it, but I think he may have had that in mind.’
Korrogly watched leaf shadows trembling on the sunlit floor; he felt tired, out of his element. What, he thought, am I doing here, talking to an old lady about evil, trying to prove that a dragon has committed murder, what am I doing?
‘You mentioned trust between the two of them.’
‘Yes, Mardo made it plain to everyone that in the event anything happened to him, she was to lead the temple. There was something . . .’
‘What?’ Korrogly asked.
‘I was going to say I always suspected that there was a secret history between them, and that was another reason for Mardo’s trust. It was something I felt was true . . . but it was only a feeling. Nothing admissible, nothing you could use. Anyway, I suppose he drew up documents that would grant her some kind of legal succession. He was a stickler for that sort of detail.’ She tilted her head to the side as if trying to make out some indefinite quality in his face. ‘You look surprised. I’ve never known a lawyer whose expressions were so readable.’
Failure, he thought, even my face is failing me now.
‘I had no idea the bond between them had been ratified in any way,’ he said.
‘Perhaps it hasn’t. I can’t be sure. But if I’m correct and it has, you’ll have no end of trouble unearthing the documents. Mardo would have never gone to a lawyer. If they exist they’re probably hidden in the temple somewhere.’
‘I see.’
‘What are you thinking?’
He made a noise of baffled amusement. ‘I thought this would be such a simple case, but everywhere I turn I come upon some new complexity.’
‘It is a simple case,’ she said, her wrinkled face tightening with a grim expression. ‘Take my word, no matter how villainous a creature you believe William Lemos to be, his act has made him an innocent.’
