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“I was fourteen the first time we met. My brother Colum was fifteen. We were scared of him.”
“Wise children,” Nyx said with a slight smile.
“You have to understand, my parents are simple people. Neither of them finished high school. They married at sixteen and went to work. So they had a hard time understanding me and Colum.”
“Understanding you?” Hugo asked.
Josephine gave them a rueful grin. “The kind of kids who never stopped reading. We didn’t have a lot of money, most of the time just enough for the essentials—food and clothes. So all our books came from the library, but we were expected to work on the farm, and Ma didn’t have a lot of time to take us there.”
James rubbed his eyes. “Josephine, I assume there’s a point to all of this that ties to our discussion.”
“One that you’ll get to quickly,” Hugo said, glancing toward the door of the library, fighting the urge to race to Eric’s office. He had no weapon, and Josephine had just confirmed Eric was a mercenary—a trained killer. If only Lancelot were still here...
Josephine waved her hand away as if his complaint was inconsequential. “Eric had books, big books about history and science and language in his cottage. My brother Colum was, is, a bit of a shit. Always skirting the line, pushing the limit. Problem was, he was smart enough to always avoid getting into trouble. Anyway, Colum wanted those books. Thought we should…borrow them.”
“Borrow or steal?”
“That’s what Eric asked, when he caught us in his cottage, trying to slip out the back with his books.”
Cecilia, ever the lover of history, was captivated by the story. “What did he do?”
“He asked us if we planned to sell the books.” Josephine’s eyes widened as she said it. “Can you imagine…selling books? When we said we wanted to read them, he handed each of us one—the biggest ones, which I’m sure he thought would teach us a lesson about stealing. Told us we had one week to read them, and then we were to come back and discuss them with him. If we could do so intelligently, he’d give them to us. If we failed, he would tell our parents that we’d broken into his cottage with the intent to steal from him. My da,” Josephine shuddered, “he’s a loving man, but strict. If he’d found out we’d been stealing, well, it wouldn’t have been pretty.”
“And?” Cecilia persisted, her enthusiasm prompting James to roll his eyes.
“We were back at his cottage two days later. The three of us talked so long about both books that we had to move our discussion to the fields, continuing it while we did our chores. After that, whenever Eric came home, he brought us books, always the same deal. Read and discuss intelligently and it’s yours. Those books from him are my most treasured possessions.”
“While it’s a lovely story, Josephine,” Karl started. “I’m not sure it helps Hugo, who is understandably concerned—”
“It does,” she insisted. “Did you know he paid for my brother, for me, to go to college, even paid our living expenses while we were in university? Every penny. We wouldn’t have been able to go otherwise. He submitted our names for membership to the Masters’ Admiralty and got Colum the apprenticeship with the old Archivist. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for Eric. I’m telling you, he’s not capable of what you’re accusing him.”
“I agree,” Cecilia said.
“As do I,” Karl confirmed.
“Same,” James said. “So that means—”
“Would you be so confident if it was someone you loved alone with him?” Hugo asked.
There was a pause, a brief one, before everyone started talking at once, but it was there. A momentary hesitation. Eric was, in many ways, a wild card, a player who didn’t always follow the rules, who wasn’t predictable.
“But if you’re wrong—” Hugo raised his voice to make himself heard.
“If she’s wrong, and Eric is the mastermind, and he knew you were about to meet with us, that you would tell us the term Varangian, he would assume we would figure it out.” Nyx stopped. “In that case, Sylvia is already dead.”
Hugo’s vision went black with horror.
“And you are probably about to die,” Nyx continued.
“Enough,” James all but roared. He was a massive man, a former All Blacks rugby player, and he could be loud and commanding when he wanted to be. “Nyx, no more talking. Eric formed this group, put us all together. He knows we’re discussing all of this right now. Surely he would expect us to figure out the significance of the name Varangian.”
“I can’t stay in this room. Sylvia…” Hugo said.
“Hugo, you’re going to hang up on here and call the number I just texted you. Leave your phone on in your pocket. We’ll record everything you hear. Everything is going to be fine. Eric isn’t the Mastermind, but, uh, just in case...”
“You’ll hear if I die?” Hugo asked.
“You’re not going to die.”
