“No. Senior Constable Ghrellstone will move you to a different cell. You’ll be more comfortable.”
“But what about my job? My flat? I need to pay my rent weekly or all my belongings will be thrown out on the street. They’ll move somebody else in fast. Even if the place is a dump, it’s better than most places in Nul Pfeta.”
“I don’t know about your job,” Reva admitted. “Mr. Pflies also thinks that you died and we can’t risk telling him that you’re still alive. As to the flat, give the details to the Senior Constable and we’ll handle things with the landlord. But I can’t let you leave, for your own safety.”
Cedres saw the Senior Constable raise an eyebrow at the Inspector and he wondered if they were making empty promises. He thought about telling them no, that he’d take his chances. Then he winced from another pain in his stomach. It reminded him that he’d be unable to work for a few days—even if he could find another job or could explain to Pflies what happened. Without work he couldn’t pay the rent and he’d be thrown out anyway. I’ll just have to trust the damn Constables and hope that they keep their word. If it restores my heritage it’s worth the risk.
Cedres finally nodded his head in agreement.
“Good.” She picked up her chair and the other two did the same, heading to the cell door. “Don’t worry,” said Reva. “Our hospitality is much better than what you’d get from the Sucra.”
Cedres winced again. That wasn’t much of a comforting thought.
† † †
In the hallway outside the cell, Reva put her notebook away and started heading out of the cell block. Willem coughed politely and she turned to face him.
“I don’t know if the First Constable will approve, ma’am. Paying for this halpbloed’s lodgings, I mean.”
“You may be right.” The Constabulary was usually stingy with funds. Even more so when halpbloeden were involved. “Let them fend for themselves,” was the usual reply.
“Put him in the Groom’s Quarters.” Reva referred to the old living space where the head grooms-elf had lived. It had been converted to a guest quarters and could double as a cell for prisoners who had more standing—or money—than common thieves. “The First Constable will agree to that much.”
Reaching into a belt pouch she pulled out some Skips, handing them to Willem. “I’ll pay for Cedres’s lodgings.”
Willem closed his hand around the silver coins. “Yes, ma’am.” He saluted and walked off to make the necessary arrangements.
“Come on,” Reva said to Ansee. “Our day is just getting started.”
“Good thing yesterday was your day off, then,” quipped Ansee.
Twelve
Reva saw golden sunlight streaming into the Stable as she and Ansee walked up the stairs. The room was bustling as the rest of the division was just starting their day. She walked over to the tea nook. Somebody had brought in pastries covered with honey and pistachios. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she’d not eaten anything since breakfast the day before. Grabbing one of the pastries, she took a big bite from it.
“I hear you had a well-deserved day off,” said a voice behind her.
Reva sighed inwardly, turning to see Constable Inspector Olwyn Pflamtael stirring honey into his cup of tea. Olwyn was a few years older than Reva, with long, flowing, golden hair and deep oak-green eyes. His skin was a light, nut brown and he flashed a smile at Reva that didn’t go past his mouth. His eyes were devoid of any friendliness.
Reva and Olwyn had been competitors ever since she’d joined the division. Olwyn had aspirations of becoming LCI someday, so he always tried to get the highest profile cases to work on. He played the game of constabulary politics quite well, so Reva was sure that he’d make Lord Constable Inspector someday. Gods help us. He was a good inspector, which helped Reva hate him a bit less. He and his partner, Seeker Norah Pfinzloab, made a good team, nearly as good as Reva and Cas had been.
But Olwyn is such an ass! He thinks that he is the gods’ gift to women (she wasn’t sure which god would be so cruel as to force Olwyn on them) and is constantly making passes at her, even though Reva rebuffs every single one. It didn’t matter to Olwyn that Reva had a boyfriend. Hell, it wouldn’t have mattered if I was married. Seeker Pfinzloab was married and Reva—and the rest of the division—knew that Olwyn was sleeping with her.
“I also heard you got a new Seeker,” Olwyn stepped forward and placed a consoling arm around Reva’s shoulders. “I was really saddened when Cas left our family.”
Oh gods, I hope Cas wasn’t sleeping with him too!
“Yes, we had a very busy day and night,” Reva admitted, stepping away from the embrace. “I heard you got yourself a floater.” She smiled wickedly and took another bite of the pastry. Floater was the term that they used for bodies that were found floating in the River Tenz. They were usually halpbloeden who’d “fallen” into the river, or a drunk sailor or adventurer who actually took a misstep. The bodies were always nasty-smelling and rotting, and nobody cared about them. They were definitely the opposite of high profile, but they still had to be investigated.
“About that,” said Olwyn, getting to what Reva knew would be his real motive. “We should really switch cases. You have such an important case, and certainly you’d be able to handle it if Cas was still around to help you. But with you having a new Seeker, maybe you should take on something a little easier so he can take his time to get adjusted. Maybe something with a much lower profile so your Seeker’s, ah…temper, doesn’t interfere with the case.”
So that’s it. It really shouldn’t have surprised Reva that word of Ansee’s altercation with the healer had already spread. Everybody in the Constabulary had probably heard about it ten minutes after it had happened. But this was the excuse that Olwyn would make, that Ansee was a sapling and not ready for a big case. And since Olwyn had the ear of LCI Gania—Reva suspected he had even more than that—getting removed from the case could actually happen.
“I’ve already dealt with Seeker Carya,” said Reva as she poured a cup of tea. “In fact, I’m pretty sure his temper even helped the case.” She smiled, adding a large dollop of honey to the tea, but she didn’t elaborate.
“Well,” Olwyn gave a polite smile, “I’m sure the LCI will be most happy to hear that.” He turned and walked out of the tea nook.
“Have fun with your floater,” she called after him. “Remember to breathe through your mouth.” Grabbing another pastry, Reva headed to her table. Ansee was there writing up some notes.
“Why aren’t you at your own table?” she asked, stifling a yawn and taking a sip of the tea. She’d been awake for over twenty-four hours straight and was starting to feel it.
Ansee looked up. “You mean we don’t have to share?”
“Hells no. This isn’t Nul Pfeta Division. We can afford to buy one chair for every butt. Now move yours.”
“Where? I’ve not been given a table.”
Reva sighed and shook her head. They’d been so busy yesterday they’d not had time to do any of the basics. “Well, that one there,” she pointed to the table across from hers, “was Cas’s table. I guess it’s yours now, but there’s no time to settle in. We need to go update FC Aescel.” She set her tea down, it was too bitter anyway, and headed for Aescel’s office, Ansee following her.
Reva knocked on Aescel’s door but didn’t wait for a reply. She and Ansee entered the small office and Ansee shut the door.
The First Constable set down a cup of tea before speaking. “Reis hoestii. I heard you had a long night.”
“Yes, sir,” Reva said, not bothering to hide her weariness. “We only finished up at the scene a few hours ago.”
Without being prompted, Reva proceeded to recount the events of the second murder as she knew them. The First Constable listened, letting out a curse under his breath upon hearing who the second victim was. He’d apparently not yet heard
that Lady Ochroma had been murdered. Reva had just informed Aescel that one of the litter bearers had survived the attack when he interrupted her.
“About that, Inspector,” he said, using what Reva called his “command voice.” “Inspector Pflamtael told me that your Seeker here broke a Betula Division Constable’s nose.”
He turned his gaze to Ansee, who withered a bit. “I don’t know how things were run in Nul Pfeta, but we don’t assault fellow Constables in my division! Pflamtael has already raised concerns about your readiness to join our ranks, and you go and pull a halpbloeden move like that. I’m starting to believe him. I’ve already received a note from LCI Gania suggesting that I pull you both off the case. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
Damn Olwyn! thought Reva. She should have expected that he’d already be working hard to get this case. She’d misjudged just how much he wanted it. Now, before she could do anything about it, he had the LCI ready to pull them off the case.
“Sir,” Reva started to say, but Aescel held up a hand to quiet her. He looked expectantly at Ansee.
“I did not hit him in the nose,” said Ansee firmly, looking Aescel in the eyes. “It was the jaw. And I’d do it again in the same situation. The healer was refusing aid to a victim of the attack.”
“I heard it was just a halpbloed,” Aescel said dismissively.
“A halpbloed who also happened to see our murderer,” countered Ansee.
“He did?” Aescel looked at Reva.
“Yes, sir,” she confirmed. “We just finished interviewing him.” Reva briefly recounted their interview with Cedres. The First Constable was quiet during the few minutes it took.
“I’ve placed Cedres into protective custody. He’s our only eyewitness.”
“To what? An elf in a mask? That’s not much to go on.”
“I’ve gone on less before,” Reva said. “But there’s the victims too. I think there’s a link.” Reva pulled out the two enamel pins from her pocket, handing them to Aescel.
“These are order pins for Pfeta fey Orung,” he said. “Knehtlaar Quercus.”
“Yes, sir. The Knight Oak is the third, and highest rank within the Elves of Purity.”
“What of it?” asked Aescel irritably. He didn’t like being lectured about things that he already knew. “Are you suggesting that our killer is targeting members of the order? There are many elves that belong to the Elves of Purity. I’m one myself, and I’m also a Knight Oak. Does that mean the killer is going to target me next?” he asked sarcastically. “This could all just be a coincidence.”
“Maybe,” Reva persisted, pointing at the pin he was wearing. “If you look closely, you’ll see that both of these pins are different than yours. One of the stars is black, not white.”
Aescel brought one of the pins close to his face and squinted. “What of it?” he said. “These pins get damaged all the time. I had one once where the clasp broke. I’m sure that the white enamel just got rubbed off or something.” He handed the pins back to Reva. “It’s not much of a link. Why would our killer be targeting members of Pfeta fey Orung?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Reva. “But it’s the only lead we have, other than the sword.”
“About that,” Aescel turned back to Ansee. “Did you learn anything at Auros Academy?”
“Very little, I’m afraid,” said Ansee. “With so little to go on yesterday it was hard to narrow down my search. But even if I go back today with the new details we learned about the weapon, I doubt I’d have any more luck. So many of the references and descriptions the Academy has for magical weapons—swords especially—are outdated, or even removed, ever since the TSA got its way.”
“Damn the Tenyl Sword Association,” said Aescel. “Their anti-pedigree stance has hindered more of our investigations than I care to count. How they got the King to pass that law is beyond me.”
Reva nodded. The TSA had managed to convince King Aeonis that registration of pedigrees for swords and other weapons was un-elven. All elves had the right to own a sword, they argued, without fear that the government would know who owned a weapon, and could thus take away those weapons. They’d played up the legend of Countess Virosa, who tried to use her power to take away the weapons of the common elves before her war against King Arona. The commoners had taken up their weapons and rallied to the King’s side, winning the First Dark Elf War, and preserving the pure elven way of life.
Prior to the law, swords and other weapons had been freely and willingly registered by their owners in order to establish a pedigree for the weapon. It had been common practice to show ownership, and was a way for elves to trace a weapon back through many generations, allowing them to take pride in a weapon’s heritage and fame. The TSA had twisted this, arguing that this registration (which was entirely voluntary) was actually a way for the King and his lords to keep tabs on elves and would allow the King to confiscate weapons in times of crisis, to eliminate the threat of a coup or other action against the King.
It was total hawkshit, as there had been many threats to the throne over the centuries and no King had taken such action. But the TSA had been so vocal, and had riled up so many elves with thinking that the King was going to take away their weapons, that they created a ground swell of support for their cause. The King had no choice but to agree to the law, fearing that a real revolt would come from the supposed threats that were spun by the TSA.
“Yes, sir,” said Ansee. “Since the law was enacted, there have been groups of TSA ‘Promise Keepers’ who have been amending the old records. Most have been rewritten to remove references of ownership and makers, and many of the descriptions have been generalized in order to prevent easy identification. The records at Auros Academy were some of the first to be ‘cleansed’, as the Promise Keepers call it. Now most entries just say things like ‘Steel longsword, 9 hands long, with a black scabbard.’ We’re lucky to get a mention of blade color or material, let alone a description of pommel and grip.”
“So it’s hopeless to learn anything about the sword?” asked Aescel.
“From public records, yes. But I’ve heard that Pfeta fey Orung has an extensive library, including weapon pedigrees, as part of its ancestry archives. If I could access their library, especially now that we have a better description of the attacker’s sword, I might be able to track down the weapon that is being used.”
“And that should lead us to the owner, and possibly the murderer,” added Reva.
The First Constable nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds like a good plan. You’re not a member, are you?” he asked Ansee.
“No, sir.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll write you a letter of introduction to Roya Locera. He’s the archivist and he should be able to help you with your search.” Aescel pulled a clean parchment from a stack.
“What about the connection between our victims?” asked Reva.
“I still think it’s coincidence,” replied Aescel as he wrote.
“Sir, you know I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“No Constable ever does, but it still happens in the real world.” Aescel sighed. “Check into it if you want, but our main focus should be on identifying the weapon. That will give us the best chance of finding our killer.”
Reva nodded but didn’t say anything. She’d let Ansee take the lead on the sword while she did her own investigation into the pins. She was sure the connection there was more important than what Aescel thought.
The First Constable finished the letter, blotting the ink and affixing a wax seal with his signet ring. Folding the letter, he then handed it to Ansee. “Keep me apprised.”
“And what about CI Pflamtael and the LCI’s suggestion to pull us off the case?” asked Reva.
“Don’t worry about it. Once I’ve explained that we have a witness to the murder, LCI Gania will see reason and keep you on the case.”
Thirteen
Ansee yawned as he walked up the street. He was in Old Grove and his feet wanted to take the familiar turn down Aspen Gold Walk and head to his flat facing the river. He needed to take a nap, but instead he forced his body to follow the grove’s twisting cobblestone streets and headed for Pfeta fey Orung.
After the meeting with First Constable Aescel, he and Inspector Lunaria had written up their notes from Cedres’s interview. Ansee had managed to choke down two cups of the bitter Stable tea, but all the pastries had already been eaten. He had to grab a Tave Pie—a doughy pastry filled with vegetables and cheese and named after the city where they were first created—from the Constabulary cantina before walking to Pfeta fey Orung.
The building was built in the classical architectural style that characterized Old Grove. The area resembled a forest more than a city. In the case of Pfeta fey Orung, the building was three large oaks that had been grown and enhanced through magic to create a single, massive tree. The branches reached out and intertwined with those of neighboring buildings. Stairs had been added to the exterior, leading up to several balconies and rooms in the upper stories of the tree. Small, organically-shaped windows were set around the massive trunk, and at the base was an arched door.
Ansee was a little unsure of the protocol here. Pfeta fey Orung was not a private residence, but at the same time they were an exclusive club known for protecting their members’ privacy. He’d never been inside and wasn’t sure if he could just enter or if he had to be escorted in by a member. Damn, I wish I’d asked the First Constable what to do.
He decided to err on the side of formal protocol and knocked. There was no answer and Ansee felt embarrassed, looking around at the elves in the square. He smiled at nobody in particular and tried the handle, which turned, so he pushed the door inward, nearly colliding with the elf who was reaching to open the door from the inside.
“Oh! I beg your pardon,” Ansee said.
Wrath of the Fury Blade Page 10
