As she had nothing specific to say in response to that, Danthres didn’t reply, waiting for a better opening to explain her own problem.
“The meeting might have ended sooner, but Harcort would make excuses for his behavior. It isn’t as if those excuses mattered. For one thing, I’m not interested in them. The events already happened and attempting to assign blame now is a frivolous endeavor. For another, the excuses weren’t even good ones, as they did nothing to explain why he neglected to inform me of their discontinuation of the security protocols they had in place.” She finally sat in her chair, having spent the entirety of the tirade pacing behind it. “My apologies, Lieutenant. You did not come to my office to listen to my complaints with the banking bureaucracy. Please explain what you meant by ‘not exactly.’”
“As you probably know, our usual method for investigating a crime begins with an investigation of the scene where the crime occurred. The detectives do a visual inspection, of course, but our best tool for that portion of the process was the M.E.”
“Why did you use the past tense when describing the magickal examiner?” The lady’s tone, Danthres noticed, was harsh, which confirmed what she had suspected.
“Your son dismissed Boneen from his position.”
“For what reason?”
“You’ll have to ask Lord Blayk, my lady.” Danthres added a shrug. She had briefly toyed with the notion of giving the reasons Grovis did, but it served her purpose more to have the lady think they were being kept in the dark. “All I know is that we went to ask Boneen to cast the peel-back—”
“I’m sorry?”
Danthres blinked. “Er, the Inanimate Residue Spell. We call it a ‘peel-back.’”
“I can’t imagine why, that’s not what it’s called.”
After a brief hesitation, Danthres soldiered on. “In any case, when we went to Boneen’s workspace in the basement, it was cleared out. Captain Grovis informed us that he’d been dismissed. And we wanted him to cast the, ah, the Inanimate Residue Spell on your late husband’s sitting room. But that option was taken away from us.”
Lady Meerka pursed her lips. “Strictly speaking, of course, my son’s actions were completely within his purview. As he reminded me when I last called you into my office, the Castle Guard is under his control, not mine. I’m afraid I cannot censure him for this action directly. It is very peculiar, and quite damaging, though. I do wonder what his reasoning was.”
It took all of Danthres’s will power to keep from snarling. Especially now, the lady of the demesne was too valuable an ally to risk her alienating.
As soon as Danthres had that thought, she was utterly appalled with herself. I’m starting to think politically. True, it was only with regard to Lady Meerka—the rest of the nobility could go hang as far as she was concerned—but it was still an odd feeling.
“Is there anything else, Lieutenant?”
“We questioned several of the sirs and madams here in the castle, but they weren’t particularly helpful. We’re still talking to them, though, so something may come up. Also, Sir Rommett did mention that he was having a meeting with Lord Albin the day he died—but Sir Rommett had no idea what it was about. You wouldn’t happen to know, would you?”
“Oh goodness, no. I long ago stopped attempting to keep track of my husband’s meetings. I’m sorry, I don’t know a thing about that. And my son has dismissed his father’s secretary, but perhaps you can find her.”
“I’m afraid not.” Danthres quickly explained that Lord Albin’s former secretary was on a boat somewhere in the Garamin and unreachable.
She also realized that she had only one card left to play, but it was a risky one, as it would put her word against that of Lord Blayk.
“My lady,” she said hesitantly, “there is one other aspect of this case that I feel needs to be mentioned.”
“Oh? What is that, Lieutenant?”
“After you tasked me and Lieutenant Kellan with investigating your husband’s death, Lord Blayk took me aside and told me it was a fool’s errand. He asked that I only do a perfunctory investigation, just enough to satisfy you.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He believes that Lord Albin died of an illness.”
Meerka rolled her eyes. “Why should we be bound by what he believes? The point of the investigation is to find out the truth. Perhaps he did die of an illness—I’m the first to admit that the word of a house faerie is hardly conclusive—but it is, at the very least, the basis of trying to determine the reality of what happened. Blayk has always been more interested in what might be and what he believes than in the evidence of his own eyes. I told him as a boy that it would be his downfall if he didn’t hew to facts rather than beliefs.” She looked straight at Danthres. “Are you doing as my son says?”
“I am investigating Lord Albin’s death, my lady.” She let herself smile. “I’m afraid I’m not really capable of doing anything in a perfunctory manner. When I look into a death, I do so thoroughly.”
“Good.” Meerka actually smiled back. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant expression on her. “I’ve admired you for some time, Lieutenant. You’re quite an asset to the Castle Guard. I’m glad Osric was able to see that and promote you when he did.”
“Thank you, my lady. We will continue our work, and I will keep you apprised.”
“Yes, see that you do. In fact, I hereby authorize you, for the duration of this investigation, to report directly to me any updates in the case. I prefer not to bypass the chain of command so aggressively, but my son’s recalcitrance gives me little option.”
Danthres rose. “As you say, my lady.”
“In fact, we shall formalize it. You are to report to me at the end of each of your shifts until the case is closed. Not today, since there’s only half the day left, but starting tomorrow.”
Giving the lady a small bow, Danthres said, “Thank you, my lady.”
She then left the office with as large a grin as she was capable of. Indeed, it was possibly the first time she’d ever grinned while in the western wing of the castle. For the first time since Hawk’s death, Danthres felt like she might actually have some measure of control over the world again . . .
By the time Torin and Kellan approached Sir Palrik’s office, he was getting well and truly frustrated.
First Sir and Madam Wint couldn’t speak, as they had several new requisitions from the lord and lady’s office: reinforcing the docklands, repairing the long-disused portcullis on the castle, and an addition onto the castle to serve as what the requisition referred to as “temporary housing.”
Sir Lio couldn’t speak because he’d been asked to write a detailed report on all the methods of entering Cliff’s End and how secure they were.
Madam Roth, the taxation minister, couldn’t speak because Lord Blayk had requested a change in the tax structure for the aristocracy, with payments increased and now coming twice a month instead of monthly.
Sir Latzko, the armory minister, couldn’t speak because he had to supervise a full annotated inventory of the castle’s arms and armament and also write a report on the feasibility of switching the Castle Guard personnel from leather armor to metal armor.
As they approached Sir Palrik’s office, Kellan said, “When Lieuten—er, when Danthres and I talked to this gentleman yesterday, he said he served with you?”
Torin nodded. “When I met him during the war, I had no idea he was a member of the nobility It wasn’t until I came to Cliff’s End and he was referred to as ‘Sir Palrik’ that I found out He gave no impression of aristocracy as a soldier, certainly.”
“He didn’t seem to have much to do, really. Everyone else we talked to had some kinda function, but he was just sittin’ around smokin’ a pipe.”
“Yes, well, there really isn’t much need for a chief military advisor when there’s no war. I’ve always assumed that Lord Albin considered the position ceremonial, and gave it to him in recognition of his service.”
; “Makes sense.”
The pair of them arrived at the office only to find a familiar-looking dwarf hanging a Fjorm axe on the wall of the office and no sign of Sir Palrik.
Torin was stunned. “General Ubàrlig?”
“Yes?” The dwarf turned to face them. “Ah, Lieutenant ban Wyvald. A pleasure to see you again.” He glanced at Kellan. “I’m afraid we haven’t met, have we, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir.” Kellan stepped forward and offered a gloved hand. “I’m Arn Kellan, and it’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
Ubàrlig returned the handshake. “The honor is mine, Lieutenant.”
“If I may ask,” Torin said slowly, “why are you hanging your axe in Sir Palrik’s office?”
“Because this is not Sir Palrik’s office any longer. Lord Blayk asked me to take over his job.”
Torin straightened and blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m Cliff’s End’s new military advisor.” Ubàrlig let out a long sigh. “I must confess, I didn’t expect the offer, and I came very close to declining it. But my days of adventuring are truly long behind me. With Gan, Olthar, Mari, and Nari all dead, with Genero in trouble with the bishopric again, and Bogg having gone home, I realized that it might be wise to settle somewhere.”
Kellan was practically agog. “I’m sure that Cliff’s End will be a better place for your service, sir.”
However, Torin was more concerned about the case. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Sir Palrik went?”
Ubàrlig shrugged. “Back to his home, I would think. I don’t know, the office was empty when I arrived this morning. Now if you’ll excuse me, Lieutenants, unless there’s anything else, I have several messages to send out to some old comrades.”
“No, that is all,” Torin said grimly. “We have questions regarding Lord Albin’s death, and you were in Velessa when that occurred, so I’m afraid you won’t be of much help. Thank you for your time.”
Torin turned and left quickly, leaving the dwarf to decorate his new office. Kellan blurted out, “It was truly an honor, sir!” before running to catch up to him.
“Let’s go back to the squadroom,” Torin said quietly.
“I can’t believe that.” Kellan was grinning like a child. “That’s Ubàrlig! He fought with Gan Brightblade against Mitos the Mighty!”
For a moment, Torin considered telling Kellan just what a pain in the ass Ubàrlig had been, first by obstructing his and Danthres’s investigation into his comrades’ deaths, then again when they almost assaulted two people because they happened to once work for Mitos. But the young man’s enthusiasm was infectious, and besides, sometimes it was better to think of heroes as heroes instead of people. People more often disappointed.
And these past days had been filled with too many disappointments as it was.
TWELVE
When Lord Blayk had informed Amilar Grovis that he was being promoted to captain, he was utterly stunned. For one thing, he never truly expected that Osric would willingly retire. He had always struck Grovis as the type who would continue to work until the day he fell over dead on his desk—probably while in the midst of yelling at one of the detectives for some imagined offense or other.
The lord of the demesne’s reasons for doing so were eminently sensible, of course. Grovis had many issues with the structure of the Castle Guard, including the fact that a commoner served as its head. It was Grovis’s considered opinion that an unkempt soldier, no matter how talented, wasn’t truly suited to the role of leading men and women of intellect, as detectives needed to be.
Still, it hadn’t been how he expected things to go. He’d anticipated only to serve as a detective for at best another few months before Daddy finally let him work at the bank. His father, for reasons known only to himself and Ghandurha, had decreed that his son Amilar needed to spend some time serving in the Castle Guard in order to make a man of him. Grovis had thought that nature had taken care of that already, but Daddy disagreed.
At first, of course, the promotion had been wonderful. He was in a position more worthy of his station. Lord Blayk had been kind enough to encourage Iaian to retire—while Grovis had come to respect his erstwhile partner over their time together, he was a hidebound old fool who needed getting rid of. By bringing in new blood such as Aleta and Manfred and Kellan, Lord Blayk was giving Grovis a chance to mold the detective squad in his own image.
But once the initial joy had worn off, he couldn’t help but notice that there was very little molding he was going to be allowed to do. Lord Blayk had dictated who would partner with whom, had instituted policy changes without consulting with Grovis, including the dismissal of Boneen, and generally didn’t seem interested in letting Grovis be in any way involved in the decision making. Upon his arrival in the squadroom this morning, besides the news about the M.E., he’d also been informed that the sergeants in the four precincts within the city-state were to schedule weapons testing for all the guards under their command. Grovis couldn’t imagine that Lord Albin would have instituted such a change without at least discussing it with Osric first, yet here was his son not giving Grovis even the courtesy of a conversation.
A knock came at the door of his office, and he looked up, fearing it would be Torin or Danthres. The pair of them were indeed the finest detectives in the squadroom, but since Lord Albin’s death, they’d been disgustingly disagreeable. Grovis intended to give them a very firm talking-to on the subject, once they calmed down a bit. Trying it now would just result in their hitting him with even more disrespect, and Grovis didn’t think he could bear that. Worse, it would cause morale issues; the guards and the other detectives all looked up to Danthres and Torin, and Grovis had learned in his tenure in the Guard that alienating those below you before you’ve gained their respect would only cause more issues down the line.
However, when he looked upward at the doorway to his office, he saw Dru and Aleta instead. “Ah, come in, please. What progress have you made with Gobink?”
“Some, but not nearly enough.” Dru sat down in one of the guest chairs.
Aleta, Grovis noted, waited until Dru was seated before sitting as well. “Once the magistrate agreed to enforce Sir Rommett’s request that any punishment for his wife and children be waived, Gobink was very forthcoming. He gave us the names of the three who worked with him, and said they were staying at the Dog and Duck.”
“Ah, good,” Grovis said, folding his hands on the desk, “so when will you be going to the inn to find them?”
Dru and Aleta exchanged a confused glance. “We already been,” the former finally said. “Olaf said they checked out right after the funeral.”
Grovis pursed his lips. “That’s not good. Did Gobink at least provide descriptions in addition to the names?”
Aleta stared at him for a moment. “He didn’t need to, sir, I saw them quite clearly at the funeral.”
“Ah, yes, of course.” He forgot that the elven woman was a former member of the Shranlaseth. While Grovis wasn’t sure how much he heard was fanciful stories and how much was truth, he was certain that she would provide a good description of the would-be assassins.
“We went to the precincts to provide those descriptions,” Aleta said.
“Yeah,” Dru added, “and they didn’t exactly fill us with joy.”
“What do you mean?” Grovis asked, confused.
Dru leaned forward. “We went t’Dragon first, ’cause that’s closest to the Dog an’ Duck, and Grint told us that he’d do his best, but he’s got a quarter of his people off doin’ weapons qualifications all shift, an’ that’s goin’ on for a few days. The rest of his guys’re on crowd control.”
“Well, of course.” Grovis nodded appreciably. “The city-state has been quite crowded.”
“But, with respect, sir, it isn’t.” Aleta, Grovis noted, actually sounded respectful when using that phrase, which made her depressingly unique among the detectives, who generally used that phrase to precede a sentiment that was wholly without respec
t. “The number of people on the streets has dropped precipitously since the funeral. Mermaid is still a bit of a mess because of all the people leaving on boats, but Dragon and Goblin don’t have any kind of crowd-control issues.”
“But Grint an’ Markon,” Dru said, referring to the sergeants in charge of Dragon and Goblin Precincts, respectively, “both got told they hadda keep doin’ crowd control even though there ain’t no crowds. Gonna make it hard for ’em t’look for folks, y’know?”
“And Sergeant Arron received the same instructions.” Aleta gave a quick glance to Dru, who nodded. “Sir, it makes no sense to put the guards of Unicorn Precinct on crowd control. But all four sergeants were given the same instructions, to forego the usual patrols for crowd control, and to also make sure that all their guards were tested in the next three days for weapons proficiency.”
“Those are the orders they were given, and they are the orders they shall follow,” Grovis said primly.
“Sir, excuse me, but—” Aleta hesitated. “You said ‘orders they were given.’ Does that mean you didn’t give those orders?”
“No, of course not, it was Lord Blayk.” As soon as Grovis said the words, he regretted them. “But it wouldn’t matter if I had! The chain of command must be respected, of course.”
“Right.” Dru was giving Grovis a dubious expression, which he didn’t appreciate.
Deciding to ignore it, he asked, “Did you learn anything else about the conspirators? Such as, for example, who hired them?”
Dru shook his head. “No names. All he could tell us was that it was a gnome with a lisp. Oh, and the gnome was from Iaron.”
“But the gnome never gave his name,” Aleta said, “and the best Gobink could do for a description was the lisp.”
A pagegirl stuck her head into the captain’s office. “’Scuse me, Cap’n Osric, sir? Oops, sorry, I meant t’say Cap’n Grovis, sir?”
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