The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [359]
‘Easier to hide,’ Tobie said. ‘You say Simon is here. Perhaps even his father. The sooner we find that child and Margot, the better. You should change out of that. If we have to go out, we should all be in masquerade. You want to keep your son this time.’
He had got himself a fisherman’s costume. He was going to look a fool, and didn’t care. He saw Nicholas take some of his drink, and went off to dress. Gregorio had no disguise, but could wear a black cloak and mask. And Nicholas at least would be in black.
They were all in the salon again by the time that Gelis returned. Her cloak was fresh; she wore a plain gown underneath it. She stopped a moment and then moved forward, scanning them all. Her eyes rested on Nicholas.
He had not wanted to change. Tobie had had to persuade him that it was not irrelevant, and he had flung on the clothes, making his way quickly back, listening ceaselessly. Then she was there before him, her smile openly mocking. ‘Alichino?’ she said.
The narrow pourpoint and hose, the single garland, the black diabolical mask in his hand with its soft fur and incipient horns were unmistakable. She said, ‘The devil-buffoon. How appropriate.’
‘I knew you would think so,’ he answered. He had some colour, and the worth of some hours of vitality, Tobie thought, depending on how much he was now going to expend. He said, ‘Did you bring something?’
She brought it out from under her cloak: a little whistle on a silk cord. Tobie saw Gregorio swallow. Nicholas himself just said, ‘Bring it,’ and walked out of the room to his chamber. The girl, following, bit her lip, frowning at his back. When he sat down at the desk, she held back.
He looked up. ‘Then give me it,’ he said. The whistle changed hands. He was going to use it, Tobie realised, as his pendulum.
She had never seen it done before, Tobie guessed. He stood back with Gregorio, watching her move a step closer, then another, her eyes on his hand with the cord. The other, the left, was moving slowly over the paper. For a long time, she watched the glints and swings of the whistle. Then she caught sight of the diviner’s face and stood very still, her eyes on it.
You would suppose that, in all the time they had spent together, she had seen something of this order of concentration. It occurred, in flickers, when Nicholas was calculating, or preparing a plan. Sometimes, devising some mechanical marvel with John, Tobie had seen them both like this, for odd moments. John thought of Nicholas, Tobie knew, as a master technician with no need for the softer emotions. In his heart, John thought that Nicholas was the same kind of man that he was. The trouble was, they all did.
Tobie said, ‘If you are not getting results, you should stop.’
Sometimes, he didn’t hear. It was Gelis’s voice saying, ‘Stop!’ that made him look up. The cord had inflamed the chafed part of his finger, but that was all. It had never been roused to full swing on this search.
Nicholas said, ‘There are so many people. And he is being moved all the time. Is that possible?’
She said, ‘You can’t tell who has him? Or why?’ She sounded distracted. ‘Or if he is lost?’
‘I can’t tell,’ he said. ‘I need to be there. Will you let me keep the whistle?’
She said, ‘What will you do?’ Her eyes were on his face again, searching it.
‘Walk about,’ Nicholas said.
‘Then I’ll come with you,’ said Gelis.
‘We’ll all come,’ Tobie said. ‘Nicholas. You need ten minutes’ rest. Gelis will wait.’
He had expected her to object, but she left the room quietly. Gregorio said, ‘Well?’
Nicholas had threaded the cord through his hands and was looking down at the whistle, lying flat on his palm. He said, ‘They aren’t together. The signs for the whistle are in different places from the signs for Margot.’
‘What in God’s name –’ burst out Gregorio.
Nicholas looked up. ‘She’s clever, your Margot. She doesn’t want to lead anyone to the baby until