The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1)

by Peace, Cas

  Roshan fell silent and Denny let him be. He would see for himself the damage done to Neremiah’s rooms; he needn’t trouble the man further. Denny and Valustin followed him into the cloistered enclosure where the clerics had their personal quarters. Simply built and austere, the sandy-colored stone lent an appearance of warmth to the cold functionality of the small, square houses. Roshan led the two men toward the far end of the quadrangle and pushed open a door. He stood back to let them enter and waited outside without being told.

  Denny peered into the gloomy house, which was lit only by the open doorway. The room was so plain as to be positively unwelcoming. Simple wooden chairs, a scrubbed table, bare walls and floor. There were candles and lamps set into the walls, but none of these was lit. Neither was there a fire burning in the grate, although it had obviously been lit earlier that day, probably banked overnight. Moving forward into the plain room and ignoring the stairs to his left, Denny saw a second door ahead of him. He pushed it carefully open.

  This room was more in keeping with what he knew of the Arch Patrio, he thought, his eye roving over the mess within. The outer reception room must be for show. This inner room, if one ignored the devastation, was much more to Lord Neremiah’s taste.

  It contained comfortable chairs, now upturned, their rich upholstery ripped. A large fruitwood table, also upended, rested at the far end among scattered papers and texts. Many of these had been slashed and torn, pieces thrown into the still-warm grate, although they hadn’t burned. Handsome cabinets lined the walls, all of which had been broken into—some violently—and their contents strewn about the room. The expensive woolen rugs on the floor were scuffed and disarranged. Denny heard Valustin’s whistle of amazement as he peered over his superior officer’s shoulder.

  “They’ve done a thorough job,” he said.

  Denny could only agree. “Patrio,” he called, “when you followed Yve in here, did you actually enter the room? Did you move anything at all?”

  The cleric appeared at the outer door. “Only that big table. And then only to ascertain His Immanence wasn’t on the floor behind it. We touched nothing else.”

  Denny nodded and moved into the room. “Val, look for any clues as to who might have done this. We don’t know yet whether this was done after his Grace was killed or before. Did he see the brigand and give chase, or was he murdered and then robbed? Patrio, would you know if anything was missing from these cabinets?”

  Roshan moved to the inner door, his face pale. “His Immanence had a locked chest where the offerings of the congregation were kept. It was in that large cabinet under the window.”

  “Was?” Denny investigated. There was no chest. “How large was it? Small enough to carry, even full of coin?”

  Roshan nodded unhappily.

  The two military men continued their search until they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Straightening, Denny looked up as a shadow fell across the threshold. Elias stood in the doorway, Vassa behind him.

  “Gods, what a mess!” the King exclaimed, belatedly remembering the cleric’s presence. “Your pardon, Patrio.”

  Roshan waved a hand. “Might we have access to His Immanence now, your Majesty? He has been left far too long without the comfort of his due Rites.”

  Elias flushed at the implied rebuke, but answered levelly. “By all means. I don’t think we can learn any more from the body itself. You are free to conduct whatever rites you need and to arrange the funeral. Inform me when it will be and I will announce a day of rest and respect.”

  “You are most gracious, your Majesty.” Roshan bowed, only a trace of sarcasm coloring his tone. He left them and Elias grimaced.

  “Why do these clerics always give me the impression they mean the exact opposite of what they say? I’m sure they have no greater hopes of grace than I do, but they always manage to make me feel inferior.”

  Vassa grunted. “If they didn’t you might suspect they weren’t needed, and they couldn’t have that, could they?”

  Elias grinned, but it quickly faded as he turned back to Denny. “Well, Major, have you drawn any conclusions?”

  “Not yet, your Majesty. Apart from the offertory chest, nothing seems to be missing from His Immanence’s rooms. Neremiah wasn’t here when it was taken, by the looks of things, and there’s no proof his killer was responsible for this. There’s no blood anywhere. So why was His Immanence murdered?”

  “What if the thief feared Neremiah might realize who had done this?” Vassa said. “He might simply have killed His Immanence to be sure the theft wouldn’t be discovered too soon. Or maybe His Immanence saw the thief leaving and accosted him?”

  Denny grunted. Something didn’t add up. The murderer wouldn’t risk being seen robbing these rooms with bloodstains all over him. And if he had risked it, there would be smears of blood in here. Yet if Neremiah had caught the thief in the act and challenged him, the murder wouldn’t have been committed in the Minster. The murder itself was too vicious, too savage, to be an opportunist killing.

  No. Denny was convinced the theft of the chest was unconnected to the killing. A coincidence. A nasty one, to be sure, but something told him he was nearer the mark with this idea than the other suggestions were.

  Valustin straightened, holding a slim sheaf of bound parchment that had escaped the devastation. “Sir, this appears to be His Immanence’s appointments diary. Look at this.” He thrust the sheaf toward the King and Denny, pointing to a line of script under his finger.

  The King read it out. “‘Master Withen, eighth hour.’” He glanced up. “Anyone know who Master Withen is?”

  Denny nodded. “He’s the master mason. Has his workshops over by the wharves.”

  Elias took the parchment. “We need to see this master mason. We need to know whether he kept his appointment this morning and, if he did, whether he saw anything unusual. He may well be the last person to see His Immanence alive. Denny, we need to search his premises. You and Valustin get over there now and prevent him from touching anything in his workshop. Watch him carefully. Vassa and I will return to the garrison and turn out more men for a thorough search. We might just have found our murderer.”

  + + + + +

  Withen could be seen standing at a drawing table in his large, echoing workshop, two craftsmen by his side. Withen had his head bent over a sketch, a charcoal stick in his hand, adding lines here and there. The craftsmen—one young apprentice and one older man—were pointing, making suggestions. All were engrossed in their task and didn’t see or hear the two military men until the sounds of their feet scrunching over the stone dust on the floor echoed about the room.

  Withen looked up in surprise, puzzled to see soldiers from the garrison. He scanned Denny’s rank insignia before speaking.

  “Major. We don’t often get the military in here. What can I do for you?”

  “You are Master Withen?” asked Denny, although he already knew the answer. Withen nodded, the frown remaining on his face. “We wish to speak with you. Is there somewhere private?”

  Withen looked irritated. “What’s this about, Major? I’m very busy this morning. I’ve just taken on an important commission and there’s much to do.”

  Denny inclined his head. “Our business may concern that commission, Master, and I assure you it is most pressing. If you have nowhere private we can talk, you might want to accompany us to the garrison.”

  The two craftsmen widened their eyes, looking from Denny to their master. This sounded serious. Withen stared hard at Denny before sighing. “Oh, very well. We can use my office.”

  “How many men do you have working here today, Master?” Denny asked.

  “Six at the moment.” Withen’s puzzlement was growing toward apprehension.

  “Will you call them all together, please?”

  Withen’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What, now? What is this about, Major? My craftsmen and I have better things to do than stand around all day!”

  Denny replied smoothly. �
��I’m sure you have. Nevertheless, you will do as I ask or face the consequences.”

  Withen stared a moment longer before realizing Denny was serious. Turning abruptly, he gave a yell which was heard throughout the vast workshop.

  Three more men appeared from various corners of the building. Two were brawny, muscular fellows hired merely to lift and position the giant lumps of marble and stone Withen ordered from the quarries. The third man was Withen’s second-in-command. They came forward to stand with the other three, looks of enquiry on their faces.

  Denny held Withen’s eye. “Is this all? Has anyone else been here today? Clients, men looking for hire, delivery men?”

  Withen shook his head, ignoring the concerned expressions thrown his way by his workforce.

  Denny turned to his subordinate. “Keep them here, Captain, until the extra men arrive. Master Withen, come with me.”

  He gestured for Withen to lead the way to his office and the man complied, his square jaw set, his eyes showing disquiet. He led Denny to a tiny room partitioned off from the workshop, littered with dust and old papers. He turned to face the major once Denny had shut the ill-fitting door. “I demand to know what this is about, Major. You’re treating me like a suspected criminal! What have I done to deserve such disrespect?”

  Denny ignored his ire. “Master Withen, can you tell me what you did this morning before coming to your workshop?”

  Withen looked surprised. “This morning? Why, that’s when I received my commission from the Arch Patrio. Once I’d seen him I sent for the two craftsmen out there, and we came here to begin the initial designs.”

  “You saw His Immanence? You met with him?”

  “Yes, I just told you. I had an appointment with him at the Minster this morning, eighth hour.”

  “And you left him when?”

  “I suppose our meeting took half an hour. I met him outside the Minster doors, we entered the building, he told me what he wanted and showed me where he intended the design to go, gave me a rough sketch, and then we bargained over the cost. I left with the drawing after that.” Withen drew himself up, anger mounting. “Will you please tell me what this is about? Has His Immanence made a complaint? Has he accused me of trying to rob him? Because if he has, let me tell you, his Grace is a very shrewd bargainer! If anything, he got the best of the deal.”

  Denny regarded him closely. “It’s interesting you should mention theft, Master Withen. But theft is not the main reason I’m here. I have to tell you that Lord Neremiah was found violently murdered this morning, and it must have occurred around the time you say you were with him.”

  There was a cold, shocked silence.

  “M-murdered?” Withen’s face drained of color and his hand stretched out to the wall, to support his shaky legs. “But … but I spoke with him only a few hours ago! How is this possible? Who’d wish to murder the Arch Patrio?”

  Denny’s voice was flat and cold. “That’s what we intend to find out, Master. And as the last known person to see him alive, you are our primary suspect.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The King arrived within minutes of Denny’s revelation, bringing six swordsmen from the garrison. He ordered them to begin a thorough search of the workshop and its premises while he and Vassa shut themselves away with a shocked and frightened Master Withen in the tiny, dusty office. Denny stationed himself by the door and set Valustin to watching the five men outside. The King had no time to hear the full story before one of the searching swordsmen gave a shout.

  Denny hurried over to the workshop’s far corner. One of his men was bent over a small heap of marble and stone chippings. He kneeled beside the man. “What have you found, Fergus?”

  The swordsman poked at something lying under the spoil heap. “Look at this, Major.”

  Denny’s expression turned grim. What Fergus had uncovered was a thin strip of cloth, and the brown stain on it was immediately familiar to one used to seeing dried blood.

  Denny straightened. “Leave it be.” He returned to the office and cracked the door. “Your Majesty, you should see this.”

  Elias stood at once, Withen following suit. “No, Master; you will wait there.”

  Pale-faced, the short man subsided and the King left with Denny. Vassa stayed to watch the master mason.

  Denny showed Elias what Fergus had discovered. “Pull it out, man,” said the King.

  The swordsman brushed away the dust and chippings, delicately pulling out a long strip of bloodstained cloth wrapped around a slender object. The King’s mouth was a stern line as he observed. “Open it.”

  Fergus complied, and even Denny gasped as the viciously-notched and bloody blade was revealed. Elias tore his gaze from the knife and stared flatly at Denny. “Do you think this is the blade that tore Neremiah’s throat?”

  Denny glanced back at the awful instrument. “It’s the sort of thing I suspected, your Majesty.” He felt unwilling to be more definite. Something about Withen’s demeanor had struck him as honest. Denny wouldn’t have been surprised if they had found no evidence to incriminate the master mason. But even he had to admit this looked pretty damning.

  The King grunted. “Keep it safe.”

  Denny picked up the object and Elias turned toward the office. Then another of the searchers called out, this time from outside the building. Elias stopped in his tracks as Denny sprinted to answer the call. Withen’s workforce watched him go, puzzlement and fear on their faces.

  Outside the building were storage sheds where large blocks of stone were kept before being moved into the workshop for carving. The door to one of these stood open and the man who had called beckoned Denny inside. It was gloomy within, but when Denny looked where his man indicated, he could just see a gleam of gold coming from behind a large, rectangular block of stone. By turning his body sideways and edging past the block’s sharp corners, Denny was just able to enter the space behind.

  He crouched down and took up the gold-bound wooden chest he found there. Passing it to his man, he extricated himself and dusted down his leathers. Waving the swordsman before him, they returned to the workshop. Elias was awaiting them and he’d had Vassa bring the master mason.

  Denny approached the group and his man handed the chest to the King. “This was found by Chaz here in one of the storage sheds, your Majesty.”

  They all recognized the offertory chest, stained with blood though it was, and the pitifully few gold and silver bits left within it gleamed as the King raised the lid. He turned to the bewildered master mason. “Would you care to explain how this came to be in your storage shed, Master?”

  Withen opened and closed his mouth like a stranded fish, unable to speak. Elias gestured to Denny. “Show him the other item.”

  Denny brought out the wrapped bundle and opened it, holding the awful knife before Withen’s eyes. The master mason gaped in horror, but Denny couldn’t see guilt in his frightened eyes. They flicked to the King’s grim face before roving desperately around the other faces surrounding him.

  He raised calloused hands in supplication. “I have no knowledge of these things, your Majesty! I didn’t bring them here! You can’t suspect me of murdering the Arch Patrio? What motive could I possibly have? I’ve just won a valuable commission from him. Why would I jeopardize that?”

  Elias’s face was closed and hard. “Yes, but didn’t you say His Immanence had the best of the deal? Didn’t you just tell me you had to bargain hard to get a fair price? Maybe his intractability angered you. Maybe you decided you could gain more gold by robbing him than you could by completing your commission.”

  Withen gasped in distress. “I would never do that! I value my business and my reputation. How many clients do you think I’d have if I went around murdering those who struck good bargains? I’d never get away with it, anyway!”

  His face, pale and strained, took on a serious look. He gazed at Elias in frank appeal. “I’ve always admired and respected Lord Neremiah. You can ask anyone who knows me. I att
end Church services regularly, and a goodly amount of the gold that finds its way into that coffer comes from my business. I love our Minster. I’ve long wished to add my own contribution to the glory of its stone, the magnificence of its aura. I would never jeopardize my chance to do that. I am innocent of this foul murder. I swear it by all that’s holy.”

  Elias considered the mason standing firm before him—still pale, still frightened, but steadfast in his declaration. Denny saw the King glance briefly at Vassa, and caught the Colonel’s answering, equally brief, nod.

  Elias sighed. “Very well, Master, I will accept your word for now. But the question as to how these items came to be on your premises remains. It’s my belief that someone here is involved in this horrific crime. If you aren’t the murderer, we must suspect one of your workforce. They would have known of your appointment this morning and could have taken the opportunity to steal from His Immanence’s rooms. They will all be taken to the garrison for questioning. Major, if you please.”

  Denny gave swift orders and soon had Withen’s five men secured. Protesting their innocence, through tears in the case of the young apprentice, they were led away to the horses waiting outside.

  Withen tried his best for them. “Your Majesty, I will personally vouch for each and every one of my employees. They’ve all been with me for some years, even young Kerris, and I’ll swear for their characters before any court.”

  The King nodded curtly. “Your words are noted, Master Withen. I hope you don’t have cause to regret them.”

  He strode away, followed by Vassa, leaving an unhappy master mason alone in his empty workshop.

  + + + + +

  Sullyan was with General Blaine and Robin when the contact from Taran arrived. Blaine meshed psyches with his two officers and they all heard the Adept’s report of the murder and the findings of the initial enquiry. Blaine broke the contact and turned to face his two officers.