“Inspector, I was—” Ansee started to speak, but a raised finger and glare from Reva stopped him.
“What in the many hells was that all about?” Reva asked. She spoke quietly, giving the impression to anybody watching that they were conferring about the case. But her tone was insistent and demanding.
“That injured person probably saw our killer, and when that healer refused to help just because he’s a halpbloed, I guess I just lost it.”
“You ‘just lost it’? You assaulted a fellow Constable.”
“But you said so yourself,” Ansee pleaded. “He was interfering with our investigation.”
“One, it’s my investigation,” Reva stated. “Two, hitting a fellow Constable isn’t the solution.” Ansee looked down, dejected. “Even if the ass deserved it.” Reva gave Ansee a small smile.
“But the halpbloeden and other non-elves are good people. They don’t deserve to be treated like animals.”
“Look. I’m not going to debate Royal policy with you. Your intentions were good, Seeker, but I can’t have members of my team striking everybody that disagrees with them. Understood?”
Ansee gave a slow nod.
“Good. And you are right, that litter bearer may be our best lead so far. I hope he’s not too far gone to be saved.”
She looked at Ansee’s head, which had matted blood on the back where it had struck the cobbles. “That looks bad. Do you want the healer to tend to it?”
“No.” Ansee placed his hand on the wound and winced at the pain. “I’ll be all right,” he lied.
Reva looked at him for a moment but said nothing.
Senior Constable Ghrellstone walked up. “He’ll live, ma’am,” he said. “The healer did the bare minimum and it’s none too pretty. The halpbloed is still unconscious, but he should pull through.”
“Good,” Reva said. “Assign a detail to take him back to New Port. We’ll want to talk to him, but not here.”
“You want me to make it look like he’s dead,” asked Willem, “in case the killer is watching or something? I’d hate for somebody to try and take out our witness.”
“Good point,” Reva nodded. She knew that some killers liked to visit the places where they’d committed their crimes. A few even liked to watch the Constables do their investigations. Some healers said it gave the criminal a thrill, almost like sex, to watch and to relive the crimes they had committed. Reva just thought that it made them sick. “Put him in a cell under protective custody for now.”
Willem saluted and headed off, barking orders. Ansee looked about the Square curiously. “Could our killer be watching now?”
“I don’t know,” Reva said, looking around as well. “Nobody really knows what goes on in an elf’s mind to make them do these things. My guess is no. These killings seem to have a purpose. They weren’t done to satisfy any perverted sexual need or anything like that. These two murders have the feel of executions about them. My guess is that our killer is gone, maybe plotting his attack on his next victim.”
Ansee gave her a quizzical look. “How do you know there’s going to be another attack?”
“I just know,” she said. “Something in my gut is telling me that this is just the beginning.”
Ten
Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä’s boots crunched across the gravel as he approached the Grand Inquisitor’s villa. There were several fancy coaches and a couple of private litters parked in the courtyard and Ailan could hear laughter coming from the direction of the garden. The path was lit by waist-high oil basins that gave off a smoky, guttering flame.
He knocked on the front door and it was opened a few moments later by a tall, languid elf dressed in traditional attire: green leggings, short leather boots, and a green and red frock coat with polished brass buttons.
“Reis inellen, sir,” the butler said.
“Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä. I was ordered to meet with the Grand Inquisitor at this hour.” Ailan didn’t recognize the elf and stuck to formal protocol. Grand Inquisitor Agera had a small staff, which he supplemented whenever he entertained. Ailan knew he was entertaining several prominent merchants and wizards from Auros Academy tonight. The festivities were part of Agera’s social plan to meet with prominent elves in the city and give them a chance to meet with the head of the Sucra. These parties helped to reassure these elves that the Sucra had their best interests at heart, and allowed Agera to stay abreast of the latest gossip.
The butler bowed and gestured for Ailan to enter. Closing the door he said, “Follow me, please, Senior Inquisitor.”
He led Ailan out of the foyer and down a short hall to a small sitting room. “Please wait here. I will inform the Grand Inquisitor of your presence.” He bowed and stepped out of the room, sliding the door shut behind him.
Ailan walked over to a sideboard and poured himself a small glass of whiskey from a decanter. He took a sip, letting the smoky flavor swirl about his tongue.
Ailan had spent most of the day since meeting with Agera at the Red Keep, sorting through the documents taken from the First Magistrate’s desk. It was a time-consuming process. Because of the nature of the letter the Magistrate had been writing, it had been written in code. Since the Sucra had provided Lavalé with the code in the first place, Ailan had the cypher. The problem was that he hadn’t known which of the many parchments and papers that they had collected was the right letter.
Ailan had to read all the documents, comparing them against the cypher to determine which was the right letter. This search had been further complicated by the fact that the First Magistrate had used the code on many of his own documents, even personal letters, so Ailan had to read and decode most of the letters in order to find the right one.
He’d done the work himself because the nature of the letter was known to only a few, even within the Sucra. In fact, in the right (or wrong) hands in the Sucra it could have been very dangerous for both Agera and Ailan. It had taken until well after the evening meal—which Ailan had skipped—for him to find the letter that Agera wanted.
He took another sip of the whiskey and walked over to a plush armchair covered in a green and gold brocade and sat down. Ailan idly picked up a small leather-bound book of classical elven poetry and read a few stanzas of the Epic of Laronna while he waited.
“I prefer the Maloren translation,” said a voice from the doorway. “But that edition isn’t a bad translation from the Old Elvish original.”
Ailan turned in the armchair to see Grand Inquisitor Agera standing in the doorway. He’d not heard him open the door. Ailan closed the book, setting it back on the table, and stood up and saluted.
The Grand Inquisitor closed the door and walked over to the other chair, taking a seat as he motioned for Ailan to resume his own seat. “I assume you were successful.” said Agera.
“Yes, sir. There were many documents in his possession, including personal papers, that were coded. I’m afraid that particular code can no longer be trusted.” Agera gave a slight nod and rolled his eyes, reflecting Ailan’s own sentiment on the foolishness of people entrusted with sensitive information. “It took me some time to find the right letter.”
Ailan reached into a small dispatch bag he carried and withdrew the letter, handing it over to Agera. Agera looked at the paper, his brow drawn slightly. He pointed to a red-brown spot that obscured some of the text.
“Blood, I’m assuming,” said Ailan.
“Ah,” replied Agera and read the letter. He didn’t have the key to decipher the message, so it read as an innocuous letter discussing the latest events at court and simple matters in the city.
“I received a request from the Constabulary this afternoon,” Ailan mentioned. “It was sent by LCI Gania, requesting that we turn over the documents to them as part of their murder investigation.”
“Really? She’s usually not that insistent.”
“I think she was prompted by Constable Inspector Lunaria. She likes to stick her nose into places where it doesn’t belong. She’d be the one to insist that we turn over the documents.”
“And will you?”
“I planned on turning over the papers in the spirit of organizational brotherhood, once we have removed anything sensitive, of course. She’ll get a small box with a few pages, but nothing of any value.”
Agera nodded approval. He held the letter, tapping the edge of the paper on his chin. He was organizing events and scenarios in his head. They were playing a dangerous game, but he’d worked hard to stack the odds in his favor. The First Magistrate’s death had altered the pieces that were available to him, but not significantly.
“I heard from a source today that the King is thinking of recalling High Marshal Caenor from Tolan,” commented Ailan.
“Yes. It seems that the Marshal had letters indicating that he’d been secretly plotting with a faction of dark elves to infiltrate the Gap of Tolan and attack our defenses there.”
Ailan raised an eyebrow. The Marshal was the King’s cousin, and an important ally and friend of the King. Such treason would hit the King hard. The fact that it was all a fabrication made it all the better. Ailan had not been part of the operation to insert the forged letters into the Marshal’s personal correspondence, but he’d been aware of the plan.
“Will the King recall the High Marshal?” asked Ailan.
“Not yet. He is sending Prince Orlean and a squad of the Royal Guard to Tolan to look into the matter. I made the suggestion that they take some Sucra mages with them to help in the investigation. When they confirm that the letters are genuine, the King will have no recourse but to recall Caenor and assign Marshal Lieucathé to the post.”
“What about the First Magistrate’s letter?”
Agera started to reply but was interrupted by a knock on the door. The hired butler opened it and bowed, saying, “My apologies for the interruption, my Lord. There is a Sucra courier here with an important message for the Senior Inquisitor.”
Agera flashed a look of annoyance at Ailan, who merely looked puzzled. They could see the courier standing behind the butler.
Agera beckoned the courier into the room. He strode in and saluted. “Hail King Aeonis.” He then waited for the butler to close the door.
“Novice Whalen, what is your message?” asked Ailan a bit testily.
“Apologies for the interruption, Senior Inquisitor, Grand Inquisitor.” He remained at attention and gave a formal bow of the head to each of them. “Inquisitor Ghavrael dispatched me to tell you that Lady Tala Ochroma was murdered this evening while on her way home from the Treasury. She was attacked in Lythra Square and apparently she was cut in half.”
“Ghavrael is sure of this?” asked Ailan. He was stunned by the news.
“Yes, sir,” replied the Novice. “He confirmed the information from one of his sources in the Constabulary. The Constables are on the scene right now. Inquisitor Ghavrael has sent elves to Lady Ochroma’s home to secure any sensitive documents.”
“Thank you,” said Ailan. He dismissed the courier.
“Hail King Aeonis!” Novice Whalen saluted again and left the room.
Agera rose from his chair as the door closed and walked over to the sideboard, where he poured himself a brandy. His face was impassive but his mind was racing.
“Somebody knows,” said Ailan quietly. He took a large pull on his whiskey, draining the glass.
“Not necessarily.” Agera’s voice was calm.
“The First Magistrate and the Lord of the Treasury killed in two nights. Both by being cut in half!” Malvaceä was unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.
Agera turned and gave a look that said, keep it together. The Sucra had a reputation for being calm and calculating in all things—especially when presented with unexpected news.
“This is a mere setback,” Agera admitted. “It does not alter our long-term plans.” He returned to his chair, swirling the brandy before taking a slow sip.
The death of First Magistrate Avecath had been an annoying tragedy, losing one of their important members, but it was not catastrophic. Agera was already in council with the King as to who should replace Lavalé. As in most things, the King would acquiesce to Agera’s suggestion.
But the death of Lady Ochroma was a different matter. She had been critical to the plan and without her Agera could not proceed. There was nobody in a position he could suggest to the King as her replacement that would serve his needs without tipping his hand to the King. Tala had been overly paranoid and had kept possible threats, both external and internal, real or imagined, as distant as she could. She’d never fully trusted Agera (with good reason, he mused) and had insisted on not having anybody within the Treasury who could threaten her position. Since she’d been critical for the overall plan, Agera had never forced the matter—a fact he was now deeply regretting. Tala’s paranoia and inconvenient death would now cost Agera dearly.
He needed control of the Treasury for the plan to work and it would now take time to arrange a suitable replacement without arousing suspicion with the King or his allies. Moving too quickly would be foolish and arouse suspicion. The King was by no means stupid and not all of his advisors were loyal to Agera. He wondered if he should delay the removal of the High Marshal as well now. Removing Caenor was a key signal to their allies that the plan was ready to be executed. If the High Marshal was removed too soon without the other pieces in place, it could prove fatal to the entire operation. Everything depended on control of the critical pieces for the plan to work. Timing was not important. In fact, this plan had been around for longer than Agera had been alive. He was just one of many before him who’d worked hard toward a common goal.
No. It is better to delay and assure success, rather than proceed and risk failure, Agera told himself. There had been setbacks before and Agera was sure that this would not be the last one. He did not want to be the one responsible for the ultimate failure of an operation that has been so long in the making. His allies would not be happy with the delay, but Agera would make sure that they were mollified. They’ll come around in the end.
Ailan waited as the Grand Inquisitor sat and thought, nervously playing with the whiskey tumbler. Finally, he said, “We should check to make sure that the blade has not been taken. We know that it has the power to cut a body in two.”
Agera looked annoyed at the broaching of the subject again. “The blade is secure,” he huffed. “I had Olea check on it after our meeting this morning. He told me that the weapon was in its accustomed place.”
“Did he verify it was the right blade?” Ailan pressed. “I have experience with duplicating magical weapons. It is not that difficult to make one that can pass a visual, or even a cursory magical inspection.”
The Grand Inquisitor’s silence was enough to confirm that Olea had only looked at the blade. Olea was loyal, but was not used to a devious mind.
“What you suggest has a larger implication,” Agera finally said.
Ailan nodded. “If the blade is missing, it could only be because someone on the inside took it and is using it for their own purposes. Purposes that are opposed to our own.”
Agera frowned at the thought of a mole within his organization. It had happened before, most recently with a bothersome Constable that Malvaceä had dealt with personally.
“Very well. To remove any doubt, go and check the blade personally. You will confirm that it is real.”
“And if it’s not?” Ailan asked.
“Then you will find the thief and deal with him.”
Ailan nodded and started to rise from the armchair.
“Wait, Malvaceä.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Before you do that I need you to see me first thing in the morning. I must draft some letters tonight and I want you to perso
nally deliver them before you see Olea. Lady Ochroma’s death changes things and we must adjust our plans and our timetable accordingly. That takes precedence over the blade.”
“Shall I return after breakfast?”
Agera nodded. “Yes, that will do.” He rose from his chair. “Now I must go chase off my guests. I have much to do the rest of tonight.”
Eleven
Senior Constable Ghrellstone dragged his body up the stairs at New Port and into the Stable. He saw CI Lunaria and Seeker Carya conferring at her table, but Willem headed for the tea nook. It had been an extremely long night. He’d sent a runner to fetch his wife and she’d come and taken the children home. Willem had then spent several hours at the crime scene, interviewing elves who had grown more and more irritable as the night dragged on. They’d scoured the Square looking for clues, finding nothing.
Willem poured himself a cup of tea. It was dark and had too many leaves in it, but he drank it anyway, grimacing at the bitter taste. It had probably sat all day, with the Constables adding more leaves to the brew and not bothering to clean the pot. Couldn’t these Stable Constables do something productive, he grumbled to himself, like make a fresh pot of tea while I’m busy working a double shift?
Willem walked across the Stable, sipping the bitter tea, and stopped at Lunaria’s table. She was holding a small enamel pin and there were several rings and a broken necklace, all splattered with blood, sitting on the table.
“Why was Lady Ochroma traveling through Lythra Square?” asked Reva. “Her home is near the castle.”
“The litter owner said she always gave explicit instructions about her route home. It was never to be a direct path,” said Seeker Carya. “Apparently she was afraid of being kidnapped.”
Willem gave a rueful smile at the irony. Earldown Pflies, the owner of the litter company, had shown up about an hour after Willem had sent a Constable to fetch him. He’d been carried on one of his own litters, similar to the wrecked one, but more richly appointed. Pflies had been shocked by the scene and had vomited when he saw the bodies. It took Willem and Seeker Carya several minutes to calm him down. The Inspector had been discussing the scene with Alchemist Bromide, so he and Seeker Carya had interviewed Pflies.
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