“I ain’t even told the best part yet!” Dru’s enthusiasm was entertaining for Torin to watch—and gratifying, too, since he’d been understandably morose since Hawk’s death. “So this guy pops outta the hole in the dock, an’ the rat’s still nibblin’ on his shirt! Aleta reaches over, grabs the rat, an’ squeezes the thing t’death right in front’a the guy.”
Again, Aleta shrugged. “I was hoping it might work as intimidation, but he refuses to speak. It’s Gobink all over again.”
“Actually, it isn’t,” Torin said. “That man’s name is Aron Fankell. He served with me in the 17th under Osric during the war.”
The three detectives all stopped to stare at Torin. For his part, Torin just smiled.
Aleta nodded slowly. “Gobink said one of the assassins was named Aron.”
Manfred said, “I saw him stare right at you when he came in. Why didn’t he recognize you?”
“I didn’t have the beard when we served together, and Fankell never had the best memory in Flingaria.”
Dru turned to Aleta. “’Member what Olaf said? Gobink was the only one who’d been in the Dog an’ Duck since the Esmerelda brought ’em into town a few months back. The other three checked in right after Hawk died.”
Aleta nodded. “Which means he was renting rooms somewhere. Now that we have the full name that matches the description, we should look into that.”
“Manfred and I can assist.” Torin got to his feet. “Beffel still hasn’t turned up, and it’s already clear that our cases are related.”
Dru nodded. “Thanks, Torin.” Micah came in just then, accompanied by Jonas; Torin noted that his hand was bandaged. “’Ey, Micah, we got a suspect you might remember—the guy who bit you’s in ’ere. Take ’im to the hole.”
Micah’s jaw set. “My pleasure, Lieutenant.” He moved toward the interview room door.
“Why a bandage?” Torin asked.
Jonas let out a very loud sigh. “I was informed this morning that healing potions are no longer in the budget for anything that doesn’t impede job performance.”
Torin shook his head. That was one way to pay for the reinforcing of the docks and the new armor . . .
“C’mon,” Dru said after Micah led Fankell out of the interview room, “let’s go find where this shitbrain’s been livin’.”
Just as the four of them were moving toward the door, Grovis walked in through it, accompanied by Danthres, Kellan—and a very familiar diminutive form.
“Boneen!” Torin cried, a grin forming under his beard. “You’re back!”
The wizard chuckled. “Astute as ever, ban Wyvald. Lady Meerka spoke to Gunderson, and I was reinstated as magickal examiner, thus cutting short my rather well-earned vacation.”
“Impressive,” Torin said. “I wouldn’t have expected that to happen so quickly, if at all.”
Danthres grinned. “It’s all about applying pressure where it will do the most good. The lady mentioned that taxes were being raised on the nobility, and she thought it would be a dandy idea to do the same for the Brotherhood’s property taxes on all ninety-seven magick shops within the demesne’s borders—not to mention revealing the truth about what Myk Dourti did ten years ago.”
“Excellent.” Torin wasn’t surprised that just revealing Dourti’s murderous impulses would do the trick, as it had been a decade. But nothing annoyed wizards more than affecting their ability to turn a profit.
Grovis said, “Boneen will be performing a peel-back on Lord Albin’s sitting room posthaste.”
“Not posthaste,” Boneen said tartly, “when I’ve recovered enough from two Teleport Spells.”
“Two?” Manfred asked.
“One to bring himself,” Kellan said, “and the other t’bring his stuff back t’the basement.”
“Good.” Torin was still grinning. “The basement room being empty was rather disturbing.”
“So’s your grin, ban Wyvald. Excuse me, I must go make sure everything’s in place downstairs and make sure my sprite is still available. I also need a nap. I’ll be back in two hours to cast the peel-back.”
As Boneen waddled out of the squadroom, Grovis asked, “And where were you all going?”
Aleta filled Grovis in quickly on Fankell, also finally informing Grovis of the connection between their case and the Beffel case—the Esmerelda, Shrenthorshi’s Magick Shop—as well as another mention of their lisping gnome.
“The lisping gnome bought both magick items?” Grovis asked.
Nodding, Aleta said, “Why, is that important?”
“No, no, no, no, not important at all, simply making sure all bases are covered. By all means, Torin, Manfred, assist Dru and Aleta, since it seems that Beffel is part of the conspiracy to, ah, to kill the king and queen. It seems you were, ah, right after all, Torin.”
“Is something wrong, Captain?” Torin asked. Grovis seemed suddenly out of sorts.
“No, no, no, nothing at all.” Grovis’s nervous tone belied his words, but before Torin could query him further, he retreated to his office. “Carry on, and let me know what you find.”
SEVENTEEN
When Grovis was summoned to Lord Blayk’s office, he felt the need to stop in the kitchen for a mug of tea. He needed something to settle his stomach.
To Grovis’s great relief, the lisping gnome who had come up multiple times in the investigation of the assassination attempt on the king and queen was not present in the office. It was just the lord of the demesne, who was reading over a slate of the type that the gnome was always carrying.
Setting it aside, Blayk stared angrily at Grovis. “Captain, do you recall what my final words were to you when you were last in this office?”
“Well, my lord, you see—”
Blayk, however, was being rhetorical, and interrupted. “They were that if I heard of Lieutenant ban Wyvald asking around the castle about Father’s death, there would be trouble.”
“Yes, my lord. But you see—”
“This morning, ban Wyvald was asking around the castle about Father’s death. Do you not wish to keep your job, Captain Grovis?”
“I do wish to keep my job, my lord, yes.”
Placing his palms flat on his desk, Blayk tightly asked, “Then why did you allow ban Wyvald to continue to involve himself in an investigation that I assigned to Lieutenants Tresyllione and Kellan, and which should have been over with by now?”
“Because I was unaware that Torin was still involved in that investigation.” Which was the truth. In fact, until he arrived in the lord’s office, he hadn’t been aware that Torin had been making more inquiries. Of course, he hadn’t actually informed Torin of Lord Blayk’s desire that he remove himself from the inquiry, distracted as he was by the likelihood that Blayk’s gnome aide was part of the conspiracy. Grovis’s sense of self-preservation kicked in and stopped him from informing Blayk of that particular lapse.
“Have you no control over your subordinates, Grovis?”
Now, though, Grovis felt it was time for a bit of truth. “No, my lord, I do not.”
“And why is that?”
“Because, my lord, as I indicated to you when last we spoke, I do not have the respect or loyalty of my subordinates.” He allowed himself to smile a bit. “In fact, most of them view me as their subordinate, as they did the entire time I served as a lieutenant. Captain Osric earned the respect of the squadroom by his history and his actions, but I’m afraid, my lord, that my own history is only that of a poor detective and a wealthy imbecile who was undeservedly brought into the Castle Guard at the rank of lieutenant without moving up the ranks.”
Dismissively, Blayk said, “Your breeding makes your going through the ranks redundant, they should understand that. Besides, ban Wyvald also came in at the lieutenant rank.”
“An action that, I’m told, caused problems during the early days of his service. However, Torin is a superb detective, and he earned the respect of the others. I, however, never did, and giving me a purple cloak has don
e nothing to grant it to me. In fact, it may have done more harm than good, as they now view me as little more than your errand boy. Because of that, they do not always inform me of their activities.”
“Make them, Grovis.” Blayk tugged on the ends of his mustache. “I do not appreciate being blindsided. Bad enough that my mother brought that wizard back, but there is little I may do about that.”
“In fact, my lord, there is little you should do.” Grovis put a hand to his forehead, wiping away a prodigious amount of sweat. Only then did he realize just how frightened he was—yet here he was, barging ahead and committing that most egregious of mistakes, speaking truth to power. Iaian’s words about not annoying the person who controlled the purse strings rang in his head. “The magickal examiner is a valuable part of the Castle Guard’s investigatory function.”
“The Castle Guard’s ‘investigatory function’ is a very minor part of its purview, Captain, and it will become less so as time goes on. That little wizard’s presence is a waste.” He let out a long breath. “That, at least, is not your doing, but my mother’s. I will deal with her in my own time, but meanwhile, I want you to take control of your lieutenants. Anyone who disobeys my instructions will be removed from their posts, is that understood?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“Good. How is the investigation into the assassination attempt proceeding?”
Grovis opened his mouth and closed it. He’d already gone against Iaian’s advice too much in this conversation. It would not do at all to reveal the numerous references to a lisping gnome, especially since he himself was the only one who knew that Blayk’s aide fit that particular description.
Finally, he said, “We have two of the four assassins in custody, and we know both their names. As we speak, Torin, Manfred, Dru, and Aleta are attempting to ascertain where one of the assassins was living in the weeks between his arrival in Cliff’s End and the funeral.”
Blayk’s eyes widened. “You know when they arrived?”
“Yes, my lord, we know when they came in, what ship they came in on, and what at least two of them were paid. We also know that they were aided by a halfling, who was assaulted in order to stay quiet. The halfling in question has gone into hiding, unfortunately.” He hesitated. “Sadly, we do not know the name of their employer, and only have the vaguest description of him.”
“So even with all your people have found, you are not close to learning who is behind this?”
“Not yet, my lord, but we’re hardly through investigating, either. We’re still searching for the halfling and the other two assassins.”
“All right, then. I have been receiving daily messages from Velessa asking for our progress. Being able to tell tomorrow’s messenger that we have two suspects in custody will, I hope, serve to tone down the harassment a bit.” Lord Blayk sighed and picked up another slate. “Very well, Captain, you may go. And please make sure my orders are carried out to the letter—or I shall find a captain who will.”
“Of course, my lord.” Again, Grovis practically ran out of the office, sweat pouring from his forehead.
He returned to the squadroom just as the time chimes rang the end of shift. There was nobody in the squadroom, save for a quickly departing Sergeant Jonas, and Grovis wondered if everyone had simply gone home and not bothered to tell him. This annoyed him, but didn’t surprise him. Before Lord Albin died, no one would ever have dreamed of keeping Osric so completely in the dark, but the detectives were routinely doing so with Grovis.
And what was he to do? The only option Lord Blayk had given him was to fire anyone who disobeyed him, but all that would accomplish was to have an empty squadroom inside a week.
Perhaps that’s what he wants, Grovis mused, recalling the lord’s comment about the investigatory function of the detectives becoming less relevant. He wondered what that even meant for the future of the Guard.
Just as he was about to go into his office to gather his things and go home to give his father yet another evasive answer as to how his day went, he heard a commotion. Turning, he saw all six of his lieutenants, and Boneen, enter the squadroom.
“Ah, Grovis, you’re here,” Torin, who was the first one in, said. “Good. We have a bit of news.”
“Several bits, actually,” Danthres added. “Starting with the results of our newly reinstated M.E.’s peel-back.”
Grovis swallowed. “What did you find, Boneen?”
“Nothing good, I’m afraid. Lady Meerka’s suspicions were correct. A young man entered the sitting room and introduced poison into the mug that Lord Albin used when he drank in that room.”
“Oh dear.” Grovis didn’t like this one bit. Lord Blayk was already unhappy about having to even open this case, and when he learned it was justified, he would go through the roof. Again.
“You’re underselling it, Grovis,” Danthres said. “Lord Albin was murdered. We have to take action immediately.”
“Perhaps.” Grovis refused to give in to Danthres’s paranoia. Or her tiresome insistence on being right all the time. “Were you able to ascertain Fankell’s place of residence?”
“Yes,” Torin said, “and that’s rather an issue. You see, we found among his personal effects a bottle of Emet poison.”
Grovis frowned. “I’ve not heard of that.”
Dru rolled his eyes. “Can tell you never had a garden.”
“We in fact have a most excellent garden behind our—”
“You ever actually do any work in it?”
That brought Grovis up short. “Of course not!”
“Then you never had a garden, you just got a nice buncha plants to look at near your house. Emet poison’s what we used t’use on weeds before they found out that rabbits were eatin’ it and gettin’ all diseased. Can’t hardly find it anymore.”
Grovis was now completely confused. “Then how did Lord Albin’s murderer get his hands on it?”
Torin then held up a vial that was decorated with a flower logo. “I suspect that it was from the same merchant where Fankell procured his vial of the same stuff.”
Now Grovis’s eyes goggled. “Wait, Fankell had the poison? Are you saying that he also killed Lord Albin?”
“No,” Boneen said, to Grovis’s relief. “The person I saw in the peel-back did not look at all like the person currently in your dungeon.”
Dru asked, “Hey, Boneen, can you show us what the guy looked like?”
Reaching into a pouch, Boneen said, “I took the liberty of creating a crystal.” He took one out and it projected the image of a rather sour-faced human.
“Holy shit.” That was Kellan. “That’s Del Francit!”
Danthres whirled upon him. “The pageboy Sir Palrik mentioned?”
Kellan nodded. “But he’s dead. He died two weeks ago.”
Boneen frowned. “The poison was applied two weeks ago. Its effects are slow, and mimic that of Lord Albin’s usual late-summer illness. No doubt that contributed to why that particular poison was chosen.”
“This Francit was killed in a bar brawl, you said?” Danthres asked.
Kellan nodded. “Lieutenant Iaian caught the case.”
It was Grovis’s turn to frown. “Wait, that brawl in the Ogre’s Breath?”
Again, Kellan nodded.
“We never solved that. Nobody saw who killed him, and the peel-back was inconclusive thanks to some manner of glamour, as I recall.”
Boneen squinted. “I recall that, yes. The glamour was very sophisticated, but we assumed that it was because the perpetrators wished to keep themselves from being seen by my peel-back.”
Grovis nodded. “We made several inquiries, but while Francit was a generally unpleasant sort, nobody hated him enough to kill him. Well, there was his father, who threw him out after he was fired from the castle, but he had an alibi. We had very little evidence to go on, so when the Elko case came up, Osric put us on it.” He shook his head. “So you’re saying that there’s a connection between one of the people who tried t
o kill the king and queen and the murder of Lord Albin?”
“The vial used by this Francit person,” Boneen said, “is the same style as that ban Wyvald and the others found in Fankell’s place of residence.”
Aleta added, “We also found a sheath that matches that of the Thevit dagger that Fankell had when we captured him—which, in turn, matches my own recollection of the blades used during the funeral in Jayka Park.”
“It’s maddening.” Danthres shook her head. “We have more and more connections, and it’s adding up to quite the web of intrigue. But what we don’t have is a single solitary notion of who the ringleader might be. All we have is some lisping gnome.”
Grovis winced. There it was again.
“You’re the one with the shiny new purple cloak, boy, you figure it out.”
“I wanted a man of breeding because aristocrats understand their place in the grand scheme of things, Grovis. Your place is to do as I say.”
“And in both cases, the end result’s gonna be the same: he’ll toss you an’ any detectives you drag into it out on your asses. Now that’s fine for you, ’cause you got Daddy’s money to cushion the blow. But what do Torin and Dru and Aleta and the rest of ’em do? Huh?”
“I want you to take control of your lieutenants. Anyone who disobeys my instructions will be removed from their posts, is that understood?”
“Yeth, thir, abtholutely.”
It wasn’t just a failed attempt on the king and queen anymore. It was the actual murder of the person who ran the city-state, who was responsible for making the Castle Guard what it was today. And it looked like whoever was responsible for that murder also tried to commit regicide.
Grovis saw no way to come out of this well. His detectives were well on their way to finding out the truth, and if they did so without his help, his hands would be clean with Lord Blayk—but what good would that do him in the long run if the truth was as horrible as it seemed to be? Did he wish to remain on the good side of such a conspirator?
Gryphon Precinct (Dragon Precinct) Page 15
