Detective Nicely Strongoak and the Case of the Dead Elf (14 page)

Slant caught up with us at the finger stall. ‘So, what did you think? Can I put you down for a couple of the big ones?’

‘I suppose it depends how much a piece is going to set me back,’ I replied. He named a figure. ‘I like it lots,’ I said with admiration and not a little envy, remembering youthful days in New Iron Town with an old power torch.

‘Slant,’ said Tolly, when we had finally managed to steer him to a quiet table with enough spare seats to accommodate his frame. ‘What do you think of this?’ He took out the clipping and handed it over.

‘Nice, very nice, and old, very old. Should know this, can’t quite place it.’

‘Origin?’ I queried.

‘Why, it’s elvish of course.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Tolly.

‘No doubt, stake my reputation. What’s the deal, anyway?’

‘That,’ I said, ‘is the Hardwood Emerald.’

Slant gave a long, low, whistle. ‘I’ve heard of it, but never seen it. Mrs Hardwood doesn’t wear it very much and I am not surprised; it must be obvious to anyone with any knowledge of the craft that this was not man-made.’

‘Nicely,’ began the wizard, ‘would you mind getting us all fresh drinks?’

I can take a hint like a blotter takes up ink, so I left them to their discussion and made my way through the press of people to the hospitality stall. Fortunately I caught a steward with a tray and took whatever was on offer. This gave me some time valuable thinking time too. So, it was possible that Mrs Hardwood was in possession of an elfin ring, as I had suspected, and if my guess about the nature of the conversation I had just left was correct, probably a magic ring too. How did the Hardwood family get possession of such an item? The elves were not renowned for handing them out as party favours. And what would be the Alderman’s reaction if he found it missing? What lengths would he go to in order to recover it and what punishment would he hand out to whomever was foolish enough to liberate it?

I was not at all surprised Mrs Hardwood did not want to go to the City Guards.

By the time I was back with the drinks some decisions had been made. Slant emptied his glass in one swallow, made his excuses, and returned to the throng. Tolly and I took our time while the wizard did some explaining, or what passed for explaining in wizard speak: a language that I was beginning to realise was not designed for the imparting of information, but for the hiding of it. He finally said that he might be able to do something to help: we had to wait until late, though. I was beginning to realise why wizards had such a reputation for secrecy. However, as we had yet to strike an actual deal, and money had not been agreed upon, so I had no real grounds for complaint.

Coming on close to midwatch we left the reception, which with Slant’s encouragement was showing all the signs of developing into a full-scale party. I drove back up the hill and with Tolly giving directions we made our way back to a quiet part of Old Town. We parked behind a ramshackle building close up to the Citadel Wall. I got out of the wagon and was making for the road when I realised Tolly was heading straight for the wall, the one separating the Second and Third Levels. I followed him along a small path with well-worn stones, through a small overgrown garden, and past an ancient-looking statue. The path appeared to peter out as it reached the wall, but Tolly was not deterred. In fact the wall appeared to be completely engrossing and I soon realised why.

‘A secret door!’ I said, a trifle too loud, earning myself a reproachful glance. ‘That’s it, Master Detective, let the whole Hill know.’

‘Sorry, Tolly, it’s just that I’ve heard that there are tunnels built into the walls, but I have never come across one. Who would have thought it, in Old Town of all places!’

‘Sometimes, Nicely, the best place to hide something is out in the open.’

‘Good point. What have you there, a magic key?’

‘Lock picks, if you must know, and I could do with a bit of peace to use them. Why don’t you go keep a lookout, before some surprised passer-by spots us and notifies the Cits.’

It may not have been magic, but it worked, and I soon found myself staring into a very black and very inviting hole. ‘This is not just a tunnel in the wall, is it? This goes right into the very Hill itself.’

‘That’s right. The whole of the Citadel is riddled with tunnels; a labyrinth in fact.’ Tolly took out two old-fashioned torches and lit them with a pocket flint. He handed one to me and I looked into the tunnel mouth. ‘This is dwarf-made or I’m a goblin’s grandmother! I had no idea, how do they keep this hidden?’

‘Mostly, by not telling extremely loud dwarfs!’ I was pleased that the average wizard’s reputation for grouchiness was not altogether ill founded.

I stored that up for future usage. I was beginning to understand all the right marks for winding up Wizard Tollingstaff. My business demands a great array of skills and many a useful thing has been let slip by an angry man, dwarf or, indeed, wizard, if you can get on their goat, or goatee for that matter. See, detecting has lots of seldom-advertised bonuses, in addition to allowing you to mix with women with bad intentions and undergarments that you can read the news through.

Tolly took a deep, and to my mind rather theatrical breath. ‘This whole complex is mind-numbingly old, the tunnels were obviously built before almost everything else on the Hill. The dwarfs who delved them returned home and, gradually, as the rest of the Citadel was constructed, they were just sort of forgotten, except by people who needed a more private manner of getting from A to B.’

‘Wizards?’

‘And others. This section is said to be one of the oldest. I was not really sure of its existence until now.’

I turned to face Tolly. ‘This is very exciting. However, how does it concern us?’

‘That, Master Detective, we shall see in good time. For the moment, though, I ask for your patience and your assistance. We need to get to the centre of this maze and that is a task beyond my skill. Are you equal to it?’

I stepped inside. The air, although hardly sweet, lacked the rank smell that told of poor circulation and possible cave-ins. The tunnel wall at my side felt as smooth as it must have when it had originally been hewn, and was clearly a work of great skill. Whatever the wizard’s plan, this was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘Do you have any chalk?’ I asked, and Tolly replied that he had it in abundance. There was nothing else for it. ‘Let’s go see what this is all about, then.’

Before we began, the wizard pulled the door to, but left it open a crack, with a good strong doorstop to prevent it closing completely. These sorts of doors had a nasty habit of only having a keyhole on one side. I had a quick scout to begin with; looking for signs of wear on the floor and sides that might have pointed to the most commonly used path. I went a short distance up some of the side branches, trying to get a feel of the place. When I was confident that I had the main feed, we set off. It was hard to believe that somewhere above us were the roads and buildings of the Citadel. The rock had swallowed all the sound of the late-night inns with their drunks and good-time boys and girls. Here, we had been transported back to a simpler time and place. Dour and doughty dwarfs had cut this path. They had come a half-year’s march from their native Northlands and constructed a network that would not have disgraced many a fine dwarf hall.

‘A dead end,’ said Tolly.

‘Don’t worry. We will have a few of them,’ I said as we retraced our steps. ‘It’s no problem. The method of cracking a dwarf maze, you see, is largely one of trial and error. By eliminating the dead ends we begin to construct a sequence of correct turns, and – here is the part not generally known to outsiders – we arrive at a strict arithmetical progression. Each dwarf family in the business has a series of closely guarded path codes; hopefully this is one that I know. Then, once we have that figured out, the way should become apparent. They can be difficult, but as long as we mark the way clearly with the chalk we should not have too much trouble.’

Tolly looked considerably more at ease. So, just in case the wizard thought this was getting too simple, I added: ‘Of course, each family also had a reputation for adding a few specialised tricks of their own devising.’

‘Such as?’ asked Tolly, suspiciously.

‘You know, the normal sort of thing: false dead ends, turning rocks, sudden pits, spears coming out of the walls and, naturally, a hideous guardian or two.’

‘Guardians?’ said Tolly, now quite pleasantly worried.

‘Yes, but don’t worry about that. There isn’t much that could survive down here over all these ages, is there?’

We made steady progress. I was beginning to work it out. My head was spinning slightly; it was a seventh-level progression and I had not worked one of these out since night school – that interesting period in a dwarf’s education when he is left by himself in the dark, in the middle of a mountain with no food and minimal water. It is no surprise that all the best mathematicians in Widergard are dwarfs.

Some time later I smelt a change in the air quality.

‘There’s a large chamber ahead,’ I told Tolly confidently. We turned a couple more corners and there it was. We placed the torches in convenient holders by the entrance and took in the sight. ‘Well, Tolly, feast your eyes on this. You will not see better work this side of the Iron Ore Mountains.’

And indeed it was impressive. Our puny torches could hardly do it credit: a huge vaulted dome cut into the living rock with winged arches and great buttresses of carved stone. Expert drainage and effective use of damp courses had kept it free from any seeping water or wayward stream. It was a monument to dwarfish engineering. Even the wizard was momentarily lost for words.

‘You know Tolly, this reminds me of the Citadel Central Archive. I wonder if this was dug at the same time as the building was constructed? It could explain a lot.’ We walked around, heads back, eyes vainly seeking to accommodate the grandeur. ‘This really should be open for all to view. It would be one of the wonders of the Citadel. What it could do for the tourist trade doesn’t bear thinking about. Why, half of New Iron Town would pay good gold for a glimpse of this. I can’t believe it’s been hidden for all this time.’

‘The reason, I believe, Master Dwarf, lies in front of us.’ He pointed to a raised dais in the centre of the hall. I had been so busy looking up I had missed it. We approached the platform. On it was a marvellously wrought model of the Citadel as it must have been before the urban planners and the road engineers had got at it. I made out the Archive and Citadel Hall, all perfect in every detail. What caught the eye, though, was the walls. A ring fastened each of the beautifully executed gates.

‘Walls of the Citadel,’ I started, almost involuntarily, ‘One to ten!’

‘Yes,’ said Tolly, ‘I see you know the old rhyme.’ He finished it:

‘One for the elves,

And one for the men,

One for the wizards,

And the Keeper of the Trees,

One for the dwarfs,

But none for the pixie.

‘Many a truth is hidden in a children’s rhyme.’

‘You are right, Tolly. It’s been running through my mind a lot recently, but it never seemed to make much sense – until now, that is.’

‘Of course, it’s changed in the telling over the years. The original verse actually read: “One from the elves, and one from the men” and so on. It tells of the time of the founding of the Citadel, when the gates themselves were constructed. Each of the Free Peoples of Widergard donated a magic ring and used the power therein to fortify one of the walls of the Citadel. This is why the walls are named as they are – the Elf’s Gate, the Dwarf’s Gate and so on.’

‘The ten walls, then, are the five around the Citadel and the five here on the model with the magic rings.’

‘Yes, and any foe would have to conquer the combined might of all the peoples of Widergard if he sought to conquer the Citadel. It is in the magical construction that you see here, as much as in the actual stonework, that the real strength and unity of the Citadel rests. Or did once.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘To be honest, Nicely, I was not sure I could trust you. Things are hardly as they were when these gates were built, after all. And as I am sure you would be the first to admit, many less than scrupulous individuals would be more than happy to have in their collections what you are now privy to. Plus, to come clean again, I was not sure of my facts. I had heard of this place’s supposed existence, but I have never been here. It could have been a rumour. It is not always wise to place too much credence in old tales or even old rhymes. Very few, I would wager, are the number now alive in Widergard who know for certain of this room’s whereabouts.’

‘But surely this should all be under lock and key in a museum.’

‘Look at the model more closely, examine the gates; you have not yet understood the full import.’ I got up close and saw what I had missed the first time. A ring with a mouth-wateringly enormous dragon’s eye – the red diamond so beloved by us dwarfs – fastened the lowest gate, the Dwarf’s Gate. The ring on the fourth gate, the Tree-friend’s Gate, had a form of brown ruby which even I could not identify, but in the torchlight it shone warmly like one of Grove’s eyes. The Wizard’s Gate, which partitioned off the Third Level, and which closed the largest and most fortified of the Citadel walls, was a stunning multifaceted diamond. A sky-blue sapphire fastened the Gate of Men, and on the uppermost gate, still known to all and sundry as the Elf’s Gate, there was nothing.

I had not realised I was holding my breath until I let it out in a low whistle. ‘Indeed,’ said Tolly. ‘I would not like to comment on what we might call the theoretical, magical implications of removing the model from this place. Whatever, I do not think it would be ideal for either the morale of the Citadel folk, or the well-being of their representatives, to exhibit it with the most important ring missing.’

‘The Hardwood Emerald.’

‘I am afraid so. There were not many candidates for such a gem, if, as you suspected, the Hardwood Emerald was indeed an elfin ring. At the moment I have no idea how it might have come into the Hardwood estate. It would not have been by legitimate means, though.’

‘Power and influence can open many doors, Tolly, even hidden ones.’ I stared at the model, the old rhyme still playing through my head. I was suddenly aware of a movement out of the corner of my eye. Tolly caught it at the same time – a shadow cast on the cavern wall by the torches at the entrance. A shadow, large and menacing; a shadow with curved spines and a swinging tail, and with it the sound of claws being dragged across rock and the leathery flap of wings.

‘Tolly, if I didn’t know for a fact that they had been extinct for ages––’ I left the question hanging.

‘Yes, if I didn’t know better I would say––’ Tolly began. Whatever else the wizard was about to mention was lost in a loud roar. Flame shot into the cavern, illuminating the roof in all its glory. Flame scorched our hair and singed our eyebrows. Flame seared our suits: the flame of a dragon!