t and
laid in a course for Menizerre。 Soon we were cruising south…west over the forest tracts and the verdant cultivated belt outside Dorsay
and leaving the Insume headland behind。
In the comfortable； climate…controlled rear cabin of the staff car； I told Alizebeth about Froigre。
'There have been Froigres on Gudrun since the days of the first colonies。 Their house is one of the Twenty…Six Venerables； that is to
say one of the twenty…six original noble fiefs； and as such has an hereditary seat in the Upper Legislature of the planetary government。
Other； newer houses have considerably more power and land these days； but nothing can quite eclipse the prestige of the Venerables。
Houses like Froigre； Sangral； Meissian。 And Glaw。'
She smiled impishly at my inclusion of that last name。
'So… power； land； prestige… a honeytrap for rivals and enemies。 Did your friend have any？'
I shrugged。 I'd brought with me several data…slates Psullus had looked out for me from the library。 They contained heraldic ledgers；
family histories； biographies and memoirs。 And very little that seemed pertinent。
'House Froigre vied with House Athensae and House Brudish in the early years of Gudrun； but that's literally ancient history。 Besides；
House Brudish became extinct after another feud with House Pariti eight hundred years ago。 Aen's grandfather famously clashed with
Lord Sangral and the then Governor Lord Dougray over the introduction of Founding Levy in the one…nineties； but that was just
political； though Dougray never forgave him and later snubbed him by making Richtien chancellor。 In recent times； House Froigre has
been very much a quiet； solid； traditional seat in the Legislature。 No feuds； that I know of。 In fact； there hasn't been an inter…house war
on Gudrun for seven generations。
'They all play nicely together； these days； do they？' she asked。
'Pretty much。 One of the things I like about Gudrun is that it is so damned civilised。'
'Too damned civilised；' she admonished。 'One day； Gregor； one day this place will lull you into such a deep sense of tranquil seclusion
that you'll be caught with your pants down。'
'I hardly think so。 It's not complacency； before you jump down my throat。 Gudrun … Spaeton House itself … is just a safe place。 A
sanctuary； given my line of work。'
'Your friend's still dead；' she reminded me。
I sat back。 'He liked to live well。 Good food； fine wines。 He could drink Nayl under the table。'
'No！'
'I'm not joking。 Five years ago； at the wedding of Aen's daughter。 I was invited and I took Harlon along as… as I don't know what；
actually。 You weren't around and I didn't want to go alone。 Harlon started bending his lordship's ear with tales of bounty hunting and
the last I saw of them they were sprinting their way down their fourth bottle of anise at five in the morning。 Aen was up at nine the
next day to see his daughter off。 Nayl was still asleep at nine the following day。'
She grinned。 'So a life of great appetites may have just caught up with him？'
'Perhaps。 Though you'd think that would have shown up on the medicae mortus's report。'
'So you do suspect foul play？'
'I can't shake that idea。'
I was silent for a few minutes； and Alizebeth scrolled her way through several of the slates。
'House Froigre's main income was from mercantile dealings。 They hold a twelve point stock in Brade ent Cie and a fifteen per cent
share in Helican SubSid Shipping。 What about trade rivals？'
'We'd have to expand our scope off…planet。 I suppose assassination is possible； but that's a strange way to hit back at a trade rival。 I'll
have to examine their records。 If we can turn up signs of a clandestine trade fight； then maybe assassination is the answer。'
'Your friend spoke out against the Ophidian Campaign。'
'So did his father。 Neither believed it was appropriate to divert funds and manpower into a war of reconquest in the subsector next
door when there was so much to put in order on the home front。'
'I was just wondering…' she said。
'Wonder away； but I think that's a dead end。 The Ophidian War's long since over and done with and I don't think anyone cares what
Aen thought about it。'
'So have you got a theory？'
'Only the obvious ones。 None of them with any substantiating data。 An internecine feud； targeting Aen from inside the family。 A
murder driven by some secret affair of the heart。 A darker conspiracy that remains quite invisible for now。 Or…'
'Or？'
'Too much good living； in which case we'll be home before nightfall。'
FROIGRE HALL； THE ancestral pile of the noble House Froigre； was a splendid stack of ivy…swathed ouslite and copper tiles
overlooking the Vale of Fiegg； ten kilometres south of Menizerre。 Water meadows sloped back from the river； becoming wildflower
pastures that climbed through spinneys of larch and fintle to hem the magnificent planned gardens of the house； geometric designs of
box…hedge； trim lawn； flowering beds and symmetrical ponds。 Beyond the sandy drive； darkened woods came right down to skirt the
back of the great hall； except for where a near…perfect sulleq lawn had been laid。 Aen and I had spent several diverting afternoons
there； playing against each other。 A kilometre north of the house； the gnarled stone finger of the Folly rose from the ascending woods。
'Where to put down； sir？' Gabon asked over the intercom。
'On the drive in front of the portico； if you'd be so kind。'
'What's been going on here？' Alizebeth asked as we came in lower。 She pointed。 The lawn areas nearest to the hall were littered with
scraps of rubbish … paper waste and glittery bits of foil。 Some sections of grass were flat and yellow as if compressed and starved of
light。
Tiny stones； whipped up by our downwash； ticked off the car's bodywork as we settled in to land。
'OH； MY DEAR Gregor！' Lady Freyl Froigre almost fell into my arms。 I held her in a comforting embrace for a few patient moments as
she sobbed against my chest。
'Forgive me！' she said suddenly； pulling away and dabbing her eyes with a black lace handkerchief。 'This is all so very terrible。 So
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 th