by William King
“You might have left it behind so no one would recognise you while you murdered that poor lady,” said the servant girl.
“I would put aside a blade I have taken a sacred oath to carry, disguise myself by changing my clothes and then stop to give a servant a good view of my face before entering the room where I was going to commit the murder of a woman I had barely met? Does that not seem far-fetched?”
“You might not have planned on doing murder. You might have had an argument, become overcome with passion.”
“Passion for a woman I saw only briefly,” Kormak said. “I have no motive, and I have a witness who places me elsewhere at the time you claim you saw me. Did you tell Count Shahad this?”
The girl nodded. “He came in this morning, asked about his wife. He must have seen something written on my face for he would not stop questioning me till I told him what I knew.”
“I see,” said Kormak.
Zamara spoke with calm, measured authority. “I believe Sir Kormak.”
Tension filled the air. People were angry and afraid but it was Kormak’s word against that of the servant girl. And everyone present knew he was a powerful man with Zamara’s troops to back him.
“There is something not right here.” The voice belonged to Count Shahad. The man must have a head made of solid rock to rise so quickly after such a blow, Kormak thought. The Count sounded a lot more thoughtful now. How long had he been listening?
Kormak said, “There are those who can take the shape of men. They are not friendly to my order.”
“The Old Ones,” said Count Shahad.
Kormak glanced at the Count. He was contemplating his dead wife with blank empty eyes. He looked as if he was about to burst into tears again.
“No Old One could enter this house,” said Governor Aurin. “It is warded. And Frater Ramon himself has tested those wards.”
“A spell could be cast within the wards by a human sorcerer,” said Kormak. “They only prevent inimical magic from crossing them.”
The Governor looked shocked.
Kormak said, “And at the Courts of the Moon there are assassins who can make themselves look like anyone. They can bypass wards because their methods of shapeshifting are not inherently magical. They are called changelings.”
“Assuming that what you say is correct, Sir Kormak, and you are not a murderer,” said Governor Aurin, “where does this leave us?”
“It leaves us with a murderer on the loose. One who is trying to create chaos and confusion among us. The question is why?”
“What do you mean?” Governor Aurin asked.
“Why murder Lady Khiyana? And why incriminate me in the crime?”
“Because you are the only Guardian of the Dawn in the city,” said Zamara.
“Possibly,” Kormak said. “And possibly because it wants to interfere with my mission. I was sent here to look into business concerning the Old Ones. Perhaps I am not the only person interested in such things.”
Governor Aurin said, “Why did this hypothetical assassin not just kill you?”
Zamara laughed. “You have obviously never seen the Guardian fight. He has killed a Warlord of the Moon with that blade of his.”
“Perhaps,” said Kormak. “Or perhaps he is not trying to kill us, merely to slow us down, to tangle us in a web of accusation and counter-accusation while he does something else.”
“And what would that be?” Governor Aurin asked. His tone was sceptical. He would clearly have liked to accuse Kormak of murder and delay the investigation if he could. That made him a potential instigator of this crime.
“To hinder my mission perhaps.” Kormak paused to consider a possibility which struck him. “Perhaps he is seeking the same thing I am.”
“And what would that be?” someone in the crowd asked.
“That would be my business,” Kormak said. “And the fewer people who know about it, the better.” He looked pointedly at the Governor until the man could not meet his gaze.
Kormak gave his attention back to the body. “Now get out all of you. I want to examine Lady Khiyana and see if the body tells me anything.”
“I would like to stay if I may, Guardian,” said the Count. His voice was heavy with sorrow and something else. Kormak was not entirely sure what it was.
“As you wish,” he said. “But do not move around and touch nothing until I tell you that it is alright. Now the rest of you get out.”
The onlookers filtered out of the room, and Kormak studied the body. Lady Khiyana’s throat had been cut. It had been done with a blade and not a claw. He thought about the sword the servant had seen and ruled that out as unlikely. Too cumbersome. A dagger would be a better weapon for this or a knife.
The woman was naked, and judging from the way her clothing had been folded, she had undressed normally. “Did your wife always fold her clothes like that?” Kormak asked.
The Count nodded. His face was a study in misery. “She was a very neat woman. Always telling me off about the mud on my boots or the food stains on my jerkin.”
So she had most likely undressed herself and in front of a stranger wearing Kormak’s face. He remembered the way she had looked at him last night. It would not have been too difficult for someone wearing his guise to persuade her to come away to this room. She would have teased him, made him beg perhaps but in the end she would have gone. She had been seeking only amusement and distraction, and someone had killed her. And they quite likely did it to make sure Kormak spent his time doing this. An innocent woman had been killed, and he could not ignore that. The person who had committed the crime had most likely known that too.
Or was she so innocent? He remembered what Frater Ramon had told him about her wanting to speak to him. Had someone killed her because of that?
He told himself not to go so fast. He was jumping to conclusions, assuming that he was the focus of all this. As yet there was no proof of that. Only suppositions.
“Did your wife have any enemies?” Kormak asked. “Do you? Would anyone have had a reason to do this?”
The Count remained silent for a long moment, and Kormak feared he was about to break down again.
“There were other men,” he said. It sounded like he had been compelled to make that admission under torture. “I told myself it because she just wanted to make me jealous. But it wasn’t really. She was a woman easily bored, and she found me dull once the early excitement of our marriage wore off. She liked excitement, distraction, the feeling of conquest, I think.”
“You have not answered my question,” Kormak said, as gently as he could.
“She had lovers. Some I did not kill. She spurned them all in the end. It was possible that one of them was jealous.”
Kormak nodded. “Would any of them know anything about sorcery, or know someone who practised it?”
The Count looked shocked. “Sorcery? I don’t think so. It’s an unmanly pursuit. Some of the locals are said to practise it, but I doubt anyone in our circle would.”
Kormak discounted that. Sorcerers were usually to be found among the wealthy nobility. They were literate, had the money and the time to study the forbidden arts. They had the connections to acquire the things needed. He did not think it very likely a local noble was behind this but he could not entirely rule the possibility out. Throwing the blame on him would hinder any investigation. He was the man most competent to perform one.
He gave his attention back to the corpse. The dead woman stared up at him as if begging him to find out who killed her. Kormak made a silent promise to her ghost that he would. And when he did, there would be a reckoning.
“You said earlier that this might be connected to you,” the Count said. “What did you mean?”
Kormak considered his answer. The man was in pain. “I am on a mission for the King. It involves sorcery and the Old Ones. It may be that this was done to implicate me in the crime, to force me to investigate, to distract me while the culprit or his masters go about other things.”
“You mean my wife was killed because someone wants to stop your investigation. Not because of who she was or because of anything she did. She was just a convenient distraction.”
“Possibly.”
“That is horrible. And it is evil.”
“I can’t disagree with you. If that is what happened.”
“You seem to be taking all of this in your stride.”
“It is what I was trained to do.”
“I am glad I did not kill you earlier.”
“I’m glad you didn’t try.”
“You honestly think you could beat me?”
“You would not be the first man who tried to kill me. I am still here.”
“Is it true what the fishwoman says? Did you really kill an Old One?”
“I have killed many Old Ones.”
“And you killed a Warlord of the Moon?”
“It was not at its best at the time.”
The Count gave a small bitter laugh. Kormak knew he was only talking to distract himself from the contemplation of the corpse.
“I want to go with you,” he said eventually.
“What?”
“I want to go with you. I want to be there when you find whoever did this. I want to help you stop them getting whatever it is they want.”
“You are assuming that this is the reason your wife was killed.”
“You think it was, don’t you?”
“That does not make it true.”
“But you believe it.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because there is nothing else left for me now.” The huge man’s voice was bleak. “I need something. If you don’t let me go with you. I will follow you anyway. And I can be useful. I am a good fighter, and I am rich, and I have friends in this country.”
“Not half an hour ago you were prepared to kill me.”
“Not half an hour ago I had not seen this.” He pointed to his wife then covered his eyes with his huge hand and began to sob.
Kormak studied the body, willing it to give up some clue as to who had killed it. The corpse said nothing. It was time to go.
“I will remain here for a minute,” said Shahad. “I would like to say goodbye. In private.”
Kormak left the man to his grief.
“So you killed Lady Khiyana?” Orson asked. He stared at the assassin, willing the changeling to look away but as always it was the merchant who blinked first. He studied the chamber around him, taking in the beautifully carved furniture, the rich tapestries, the cut glass decanters, the fine weapons. He rested his weight upon his plush couch. “Do you think it will really slow down the Guardian?”
“I think you forget who you are talking to, friend Orson,” said the changeling. The shapeshifter seemed to have altered his manner since coming ashore and meeting Count Balthazar. Orson was not sure why but it seemed as if the assassin felt like it did not need him any more. “I am not one of your lackeys.”
Not for the first time, he wished the Count was here. The sorcerer seemed to handle the changeling much better. “You are not my superior either.”
The changeling said, “What have you done to advance our venture?”
“My man Lorenzo and his agents are investigating the provenance of the sarcophagus. It should not be too difficult to locate the people who sold it to the Governor. Enough of the gold you affect to despise will let a man find out anything eventually. Lorenzo is efficient, and he knows this city.”
“Let us hope it is soon. We may have gained only a few hours by the death of Lady Khiyana.”
“Did you enjoy killing the woman?” Orson kept his tone bored. He found that sometimes worked with the changeling far more than any show of interest.
It tilted its head to one side and seemed to consider Orson long and hard. “No. It was necessary for my mission. Do you think you would have enjoyed doing it?”
The changeling’s gaze intensified. It wanted very much to know the answer to that question. What did it know that Orson didn’t? Something about Khiyama’s death had affected it; Orson felt sure.
“No,” Orson said. “Did you speak to her before she died? What did she tell you?”
“Nothing,” said the changeling.
Orson felt sure it was lying. He wished he knew what the accursed woman had said. She was far deeper into the mysteries of Balthazar’s cult than Orson had ever cared to be. There were questions there he suspected he would not like the answers to. “Was it really necessary to pretend to be the Guardian?”
“I suspect that man frightens you, friend Orson.”
“With good reason. The man killed Vorkhul, a consort of the Lady, one of her chosen warmasters. Vorkhul was known as a slayer of armies.”
“Vorkhul was sadly diminished when he encountered the hillman.”
“I have not noticed you being anxious to cross swords with him since your last attempt.”
“Do you seek to provoke my wrath, friend Orson. Death comes for every man in the end.”
Orson matched the changeling’s smile. It seemed he had found a weak spot in its armour. “Even you.”
“Ah, but you are assuming that I am a man.”
No. You are not that, Orson thought. You are a freak and your time is coming. He did not like the changeling. It was an ally foisted on him by circumstance. He needed it because of its connection to the Courts of the Moon and the power they represented. Once that alliance was made, the removal of one shapeshifting assassin would not matter a damn. Perhaps, he would make sure the Guardian knew where to look for his prey. Orson was looking forward to that day more than he cared to admit even to himself.
The changeling gave him a disturbing smile. Almost as if he were reading Orson’s thoughts. But that was not possible. Was it?
Chapter Seven
Kormak strode into the Governor’s study.
“Well, did you find anything?” Governor Aurin asked. He turned the wine goblet around in his hand as if he intended to study his reflection in the vintage rather than drink it.
“She went willingly with the man who killed her. If man it was.”
“You insist there was an Old One in my mansion. That is not possible. The place is warded with elder signs.”
“So was the Royal Palace in Trefal and an Old One got in there and almost killed the King. And that’s something you may still go to the headsman for,” said Kormak. He felt the urge to twist the knife, remembering how the Governor had smiled when it looked like the crowd might go for him on the suspicion of murder.
The Governor hastily swallowed his wine, then recovered himself. “I am still the Governor here, you know. The men are loyal to me no matter what your piece of paper says.”
“You can explain that to Prince Taran then when he shows up with a fleet.”
“You think that is likely?” Why was the man testing him now? Did he sense some way to find an advantage in this situation? A man did not get to be a colonial Governor by lacking ruthlessness, guile or ambition.
“There is only one way to find out.” Kormak let the words hang in the air.
The Governor stared at him long and hard, took another gulp of his wine, drummed his fingers on the table and said, “What do you intend to do now?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? The assassin had been here last night. It was quite possible he had come in with the group of soldiers, but it was equally likely it has come with the guests. “Send for Frater Ramon. He may be able to help.”
The Governor rang a bell that summoned Ezra and then instructed him to send for the mage. “Now what?”
“What do you know of Count Shahad and Lady Khiyana?”
The Governor smiled as if he knew exactly why Kormak asked. “Shahad is a bull of a man, thoughtless rather than unintelligent. His father came during the Conquest, carved out a huge estate. The son grew up wanting to be like his father, but the opportunities to be a great conqueror were just not there. Shahad has a temper, as you probably noticed. Killed three
men in duels in the last year. All of them suspected of being lovers of his wife.”
“And this is well known?”
“Lady Khiyana’s affairs and her husband’s reaction to them have been the talk of the town for years. I don’t know why he put up with her. He should have divorced her years ago. I am surprised he has not killed her himself.”
“He would have been my first suspect under normal circumstances, but too much else points to sorcery.”
“Which conveniently clears you of wrongdoing as well.”
“Why would I kill a woman I have only just met? And why would I do it in such an obvious manner?”
“It’s the second one of those that makes me believe you didn’t do it. Your order has the reputation for being assassins.”
“So I keep hearing. I might start doing some assassinating if I hear it a few more times.”
“I trust that was an attempt at humour.”
“Trust what you like. Tell me about Lady Khiyana.”
“You met her last night, apparently, briefly. She was everything she appeared to be. Intelligent, beautiful, witty, vicious when she wanted to be.”
“Until you said the last I would have suspected you of being smitten by her yourself.”
“I’ll save you the bother of fishing for answers, Guardian. I was one of those men her husband would have challenged to a duel if he had known about me.”
“But he didn’t.”
“You have seen the man. I had good reasons to be discrete.”
“It appears his wife was less so.”
“She liked to taunt him sometimes. Not always. There were times when I think even she felt rather sorry for him.”
“You realise this gives you a motive for the murder.”
“Indeed. And am I a shapeshifting sorcerer?”
“If I thought so, you would not now be among the living.”
“Then it’s a good thing you don’t.”
“Have there been any other murders like this in recent times?”
“You mean involving shapeshifting sorcerers? Not that I can think of, but then I wouldn’t know, would I? Not if the wizard were clever.”
