Detective Nicely Strongoak and the Case of the Dead Elf (22 page)

He complied, bringing out a knife that could pass as a sword in some circles. ‘I thought you dwarfs didn’t hold with firearms?’

It was my turn to smile. ‘It just shows you that you can’t trust anyone these days. I always thought you goblins had bigger teeth.’ He didn’t say a word, but his eyes looked like two bullet holes, his smile a scar in his face.

‘Now Petal, let’s try again: who are you working for?’

He aired the new teeth again. ‘What’s the magic word?’

‘Bang.’

I could see a thought flicker across his brow like an advertisement in cold-light. ‘Look, Dwarf, I’m going to give it to you straight.’ He relaxed again. ‘There’s a really old saying, you’ve probably heard it before: why should I sign up to fight all your battles when you’re not signing up to fight any of mine? So that’s me. I hustle a bit here, and I do an odd job there. Sure, I play all the sides, but like I said, I would not fire Little Hundred, there ain’t no percentage in it.’

‘Come on Petal, I’ve no time for riddles in the dark. This ain’t no fairy story. Give it to me straight or I start chopping off a few bits the surgeons didn’t attend to.’

‘Master
Detective
, like I said, think a bit. Who do you know who might be wanting you to keep your pointy cap out of their business, and not just in the Bay area either?’

I waved the shooter in his direction. ‘What about a dead elf that’s lying somewhere on a cold table in the Citadel? A dead elf with dress sense and a winning smile that everybody seems strangely reluctant to get excited about?’ Did you get paid for that one as well?’

Petal smiled even wider, like a snake contemplating swallowing a pony. He sat back and looked me straight in the eye. ‘I would not waste an elf for all the gold corn in Widergard, my arse would be elf fodder. I’d swear to that on my mother’s bones.’

I didn’t know why but I believed him. I thought of mentioning the Hardwood Emerald, now snuggled in my pocket, which I had presumed he’d lifted prior to giving Truetouch a new parting, but I decided to keep that knowledge to myself for the moment.

Petal, perhaps sensing my uncertainty, continued. ‘You know, Master Detective, I would not be surprised if we did not have a little bit of free enterprise going on here. I think someone is bringing in boys from off the Hill to do some of their dirty work.’

‘Like decapitating a scribe with a hard-luck story and a grudge against a very senior political sponsor?’

Petal grinned again. ‘Now we can’t be having that, not more “outsourcing”. Maybe I should hire myself a detective to find out who’s doing it? How about that, eh? Yeah, how about it, Master Detective? You look like you could do with the work.’

‘I’d rather start a business cauterising piles for ogres, thanks.’

Petal stopped grinning, which should have warned me. I thought he just found my sense of humour too scholarly.

I had Petal and the door covered with my shooter but I had forgotten about the fire ladder that had provided my own way in.

I span, ducking and firing in one motion. The runt coming in through the window fired at the same time but with one leg over the sill, he wasn’t exactly balanced. My shot hit home and his missed, just the result I look for in this sort of encounter. The added ventilation to his skull ruined his poise still further and he slumped awkwardly forward. A cry from Petal told me where the runt’s bullet had ended up. I can take good luck like that any day of the week.

By then tickler-wielding grunts were rushing through the office door in numbers that made me think twice about the effectiveness of the shooter, but I emptied the chamber anyway, just because I could, and who wants to make a quiet escape when you can do it in style? The collapsed runt had left enough room at the window for a lithe slim dwarf detective to easily slip through; not so easy for a large grunt with a knife clenched in his teeth. Mind you, he soon dropped this when I pinned his hand to the windowsill with the needle-dagger. By the time they had freed the screaming grunt and cleared away the runt’s body I was back at street level and making tracks. My last sight of Petal was of him holding a blood-soaked rag to what remained of an ear.

Smoke from Little Hundred still seemed to be heading in this direction, but I managed to find an inn open. I ordered a quick pick-me-up and asked to use their speech-horn. I got through to the healers; Telfine was alive, conscious and asking for me. That was going to please his chief, Ralph. Telfine was fighting the healers, who were trying to give him a sleep draught. He was winning for the moment, but could not hold out indefinitely. I found my wagon quickly enough but the journey back up the Hill was a nightmare. The flow of gnome refugees made driving almost impossible. I needed to hear whatever Telfine had to say, though, and I was concerned that I would not get there before the sleep draft took effect.

The healers ushered me straight through to intensive care the instant I had my head through the door, not even waiting to tie me into a gown. The reason for this was apparent as soon as I was ushered into Telfine’s room. He had tubes sticking out of every orifice, he was heavily swathed in bandages and he was also sitting on the edge of the bed holding two physics back with what looked like a particularly wicked form of scalpel that could have given my needle-dagger a run for its money. When they had said he was fighting the healers I didn’t think they were being quite this literal.

‘Good, finally, the Master Detective himself,’ he coughed, as I burst in.

‘Telfine, axes and blood, get yourself back into that bed, you were almost burnt to a crisp.’

He coughed up more foul-smelling fumes, and in a hoarse voice said: ‘I didn’t know you cared.’

I moved slowly forward and took the scalpel from him, to the relief of the physics, and then helped him lie down again.

‘I didn’t say I did, but you’ve got one very angry Sergeant to explain things to after he finishes saving the Citadel. And he is a friend of mine.’

‘Yes, I guess I have at that. They rumbled me, Master Detective. I got too close to him. Those pointy ears must have heard something that made them suspicious. He nearly did for me, the tree poker!’ Another racking cough doubled him up.

‘You’re not making sense, Telfine. Save your strength.’

‘No, you’ve got a right to know, and the chief. I’ve been tailing him, you see.’

Now I was surprised. ‘You tailed your chief?’

‘It was all that rubbish about dental work and the act in your rooms. I thought you were involved in some sort of cover-up, see? He’s got a set of gnashers that could chew through dragon hide. So I trailed him down to the Dwarfholm Bridge.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes, wasn’t too bad, was I? You never saw me,’ he coughed again. ‘You never saw me when I followed you with that wizard either.’

‘No, you took us both,’ I admitted.

‘I overheard you and the chief talking about that elf – Highbury, and I thought I’d tail him too and try to see what it was all about.’ Telfine lay back exhausted. ‘He was a different matter. I didn’t know about those cursed pointy ears … not just how good they are.’

‘No, most other folk don’t,’ I agreed. ‘Now just relax, I think I’d better get a physic.’ Before I could leave, though, Telfine grabbed at my arm.

‘No, it’s important. That tree prodder, he was arguing with this elfess … gorgeous, she was. Seemed to know you, at least your name was mentioned. I could understand that much.’

I suddenly went very, very cold.

‘I was trying to hear better, but one of his pretty boys must have seen me. I was maced. Just like a junior scout! When I came round I was in a house in Little Hundred, fire everywhere. They tried to set me up! Think of it. Me!’

‘I know the feeling,’ I said with real sympathy.

‘Yes, I guess you do. Well, there I was: lamp oil all around and flint in my pocket. Just because I’ve been heard to say a few harsh words about gnomes in the shiftroom, doesn’t mean I’d try to set fire to the little ground huggers, does it?’ He coughed again. ‘I don’t know what happened to her. The elfess, that is. Don’t know at all.’

‘Take it easy.’

‘It’s all right, I’ll manage for a bit longer. They weren’t clever enough, see? They forgot what a warren that Little Hundred place is. The room was built on old tunnels and when the floor gave in I was able to crawl out through them. Seems I was wrong about you … you did have it right … had to tell you.’

‘Come on, Telfine, you’ve got to get some rest.’ I motioned to the physics, but Telfine struggled on.

‘No, must finish my report first. Before they maced me, I managed to hear a few more words. He said her name, the gorgeous elfess, that is. Thel, Thela, I think it was.’

‘Thelen!’

‘Yes, that’s the name. You’d better find her. She wasn’t in the Little Hundred with me, but I don’t rate her chances much; that Highbury tree prodder, he did not look happy.’ Another fit of coughing proved too much for him – the physics moved in and I moved out. Telfine must have walked all the way from Little Hundred to my place; some achievement for a man in his condition. As I left the room, I turned back for a moment. I had forgotten to ask the scout where he had heard all this! The sleeping draught must have finally taken effect, as his body suddenly relaxed. The last words he managed were: ‘Tell the chief, I’m sorry.’

Axes and blood, how could I have been so stupid! Where had they been? Then Telfine’s clenched right hand opened and a small trickle of sand fell to the floor. I knew that clue.

I still didn’t understand everything though, but there was only one place for me to work it all out: I had to go back to where it all had started.

The ride to the Gnada Peninsula was not as pleasant as on my last visit. Smoke blowing from the south filled the sky, giving it an unnatural hue. I then noticed that there were also clouds blocking the sun for the first time in weeks, although they did nothing to lessen the heat. I missed my Dragonette convertible; the Helmington was handling like a troll. I found a bearer’s office open and addressing a pouch to myself, then slipped the Hardwood Emerald inside. The bearers proudly boast that they bond your goods to a value of 100,000 crowns. I didn’t like to tell them just how much more the contents of this pouch were worth.

Once I finally made it off the Hill I was able to put my hand round its throttle and give the wagon a good shaking. It seemed to appreciate it and almost before I knew it, I found myself on the beach where I had first seen Highbury surfing – could it only have been scant days before?

This time the beach was deserted. The giant rollers crashing in from the Big Sea looked too rough even for enchanted boards. The Surf Elves’ beach huts looked empty as well. I was not about to take a chance on that, though. I parked well away and, axe in hand, made my way round the back of the largest hut. As I thought, the wooden walling soon gave way to a bit of gentle leverage with the trusty steel. I soon had a large enough hole made and I eased myself through. I was in some kind of storeroom, windowless but with enough light coming through the cracks for my dwarf eyes. Paint, lamp oil and various leaflets, not exactly extolling racial harmony, filled the space. Everything you needed for a bit of urban mayhem. In one corner I found piles and piles of clothing, and not elvish, but gnome togs. Now that was interesting. I made my way carefully to the door and listened – no sounds of conversation.

I opened the door slowly. It was a large room with shutters over picture windows. In the middle of it was Thelen, tied to a chair. She had her back to me, facing the door and was bound and gagged. She was in one of those elf trances that pass for sleep, and did not appear to see me as I walked in front. Her lovely face was a mess. One eye was nearly closed, swollen with a bruise, livid green against her fair skin. Some blood was dried in the corner of her mouth and her bottom lip was split. Somebody was going to pay for this. Somebody was going to pay and pay, and after they had paid all they could pay, they were going to find brand-new ways to pay. And I was going to help them and, yes, I was going to enjoy it.

Thelen started as I gently shook her. I put my finger to my lips as I ungagged her. She nodded agreement, and to be honest I don’t think that there was any voice left in her. The knots had been tied by a master, but were no match for the axe. We almost made it. I just hope that isn’t what they get to put on my tombstone when the time comes: ‘Nicely Strongoak – he almost made it’.

Elves move so quietly; the first thing I heard was the hut door opening. I turned: it was Highbury.

‘So, Son of Stone, it appears you have taken a liking to our beach.’

‘Just thought you might want another swimming lesson, Goldy.’

‘The name to you is Lord Highbury, Dwarf, and you may come to regret that remark.’ He smiled without warmth and entered the room, followed by a group of Surf Elves. I shifted from foot to foot, axe in hand. ‘I do not think axe-work will be required, Son of Stone,’ said Highbury, pulling out a shooter. I cursed not reloading mine. I was disappointed in the elf though, but tried not to let it show too much. ‘Well, Lord Highbury, I thought the “better-than-you” nobility had some swollen-headed rules about not carrying firearms?’

‘Oh, we do a lot of things that elves are not supposed to do.’

‘Including setting fire to Little Hundred, I suppose.’

Again the smile. ‘Very good. I would say prove it, not that it matters and not that it is going to help you now.’

‘I suppose you’ve been behind all of the trouble in the Citadel this summer.’

‘You pay us too large a compliment, Son of Stone. You do not think my small band could manage that, do you? The different races are not meant to live together. The hostility is natural, we have just helped it along.’

‘So that’s your angle, is it? You want everyone to pack up their things and toddle off to their mines and halls; that separate development business. What about the gnomes, where are they supposed to go back to now that their homes are gone to dust? And how about the goblins, or are you one of those who believes the only good goblin is a dead one?’

The elves edged closer. Highbury continued: ‘That’s the problem with so many mortals, even ones as long-lived as you dwarfs. Your insight is so limited. It’s nothing compared to our viewpoint. Of course, the inferior races have their role as well; we are not actively against them, although they do tend to breed rather, shall we say, profusely, which will have to be stopped. We can see the larger picture – given our long-term perspective – and quite frankly the Citadel, and all of Widergard, is going to the pits unless something is done to stop it.’

‘And you young lords are just the ticket, are you?’ I couldn’t hide my derision. ‘What about that democratic process you elves are so fond of saying you brought back for us all? Where does that fit in?’

Highbury just smiled and something clicked.

‘Of course,’ I said, ‘the elections. Well, you’re not going to win it with the Citadel Alliance Party, so which other candidates have you in your pockets?’ Highbury still looked far too smug for my liking.

‘Come on, you can’t really believe you can win it. You aren’t going to get the gnome vote with this separatist argument, and the gnomes are going to have a lot of sympathy from the rest of the Citadel after the burning of Little Hundred.’

‘Really, Master Detective. So you think the gnomes are going to just sit back and take it, after their hovels have been fired? I’m sure they are likely to be quite upset, and probably retaliate, and where will all the sympathy be then?’ I had a bad feeling about what he was telling me. It was just a bit too much like a possibility.

Thelen spoke hoarsely for the first time: ‘That’s the plan, Nicely. After the firing of Little Hundred, they are planning a series of “gnome retaliations”, which will provoke real bloodshed and split the Citadel right down the middle.’

‘Citadel splitting’ was not an option that appealed to me. The Citadel was where I lived and where I made my living. The Hill was messy and frequently bad tempered and often made you want to spit, but it was also full of life and energy and rude vitality. Somehow, out of all the places in Widergard, it had achieved a balance of all the different folk that sort of worked. Yes, it was not perfect and some folk certainly had more than their fair share of the pie, but I’d be cast into a pit of boiling pitch before I let some group of spoilt bush fanciers with superiority complexes start running things.

I was about to throw another question Highbury’s way when there was a start from Thelen. Someone was behind me – they must have come through the hole I had made in the storeroom. Fool me twice – shame on me! I turned, but this was no goblin lightweight and I was far, far too late. Cold metal punched my ticket to dream time.

I came round, groaning, trussed up like a spider’s lunch box. I was lying on rough wood; Thelen was facing me, similarly trussed up. They had not bothered to gag us. They must have been confident. I became aware of a noise that wasn’t just a return performance by the
All-Star Syncopated Gnome Home Jump Band
.

‘What sort of accommodation is this?’ I muttered. ‘How do they expect anyone to sleep with all that racket going on?’

‘That, Nicely, is thunder and rain and the sea as well. The weather has finally broken.’

‘Terrific,’ I muttered, aware of a steady drip of water falling from the roof. ‘Just what I need. This suit is going to be ruined; wool hates water more than dwarfs do.’

This managed to raise a smile from Thelen. ‘Does nothing dampen your spirits, detective?’

‘Yes, stripes worn with spots. That and hogget pudding without enough gravy.’

She laughed, wincing slightly, and licking her split lips. ‘Nicely
irrepressible
Strongoak.’

‘It use to be my middle name,’ I admitted, ‘but I changed it officially to “Nicely
vengeful with a war-mallet
Strongoak.”’

‘I hope to meet him soon.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said, pulling at my ropes, ‘I hope he’ll soon be with us.’ The ropes refused to budge, though. The elf that tied these bonds had even put twine around my thumbs and that was the mark of a professional. ‘Oh well,’ I continued, ‘at least there’s little chance of us being overheard with all that going on out there.’

‘It also seems to be holding up their plans. They are still next door, not instigating carnage, so we must be grateful for that, I suppose.’

‘Yeah, this is my grateful face. You should see my beaten-up-and-bound face. It’s a stinker.’

‘Your grateful face is bleeding, Nicely.’

‘Which means my heart is still pumping and for that I am very grateful.’

Thelen had herself another rueful little laugh.

The situation certainly wasn’t looking promising. Ralph would be far too busy to wonder what I was about and Telfine would be lucky to recover this side of the New Year. It seemed that survival was in our own hands and they were securely trussed.

‘Not much of a rescue,’ I finally admitted.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance that the Citadel Guard are waiting around the corner, ready to pounce?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t have time to tell them.’ I gave it a few seconds before I admitted: ‘I didn’t actually think of it, to be honest.’

‘Oh well, I deserve this, it will teach me to play detective.’

‘You didn’t deserve this, Thelen, the gnomes in Little Hundred didn’t deserve to have their homes burnt down and Truetouch didn’t deserve to die.’

‘I should have let you in on all I suspected.’

Which is true. It’s never easy to work properly as a detective if you’re not kept fully informed. And along with total co-operation, I’d like to have an end to famine, peace among all the folk of Widergard and free ale on a dwarf detective’s birthday.

‘I think I’m rather more guilty of that,’ I finally admitted.

‘Ah, yes: at last Truetouch is touched upon.’

‘Yes, sorry for that, Thelen. I didn’t really know who I should, and shouldn’t, be talking to and I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position either. Want to play catch-up now?’

I told her everything I knew about the dead elf. The ‘when’ and ‘how’ and the ‘where’, although I was far too unsure about the ‘why’. She didn’t seem too surprised, but elves never do. It’s another reason why some folk so often want to hit them, but it’s a very poor excuse for an axing.

Thelen then gave me her account. It transpired that it was Thelen herself who had seen Highbury returning the Gnada Trophy. She was out for an early surf one morning and spotted him with the trinket in tow setting out from the beach hut. She decided to snoop around a bit, and had found paints and leaflets as well. Incensed, she had confronted Highbury back on the Hill and demanded an explanation. She really could not believe that elves were capable of such behaviour. She got a lot more than she bargained for, and she found herself a prisoner. Thinking that she was working with someone else, they had not been too gentle in asking the questions.

‘I do not know if Perry Goodfellow gave him the Trophy to return,’ she added. I told her that Highbury had simply relieved me of it after I’d found it hidden under Perry’s bed, and she agreed that this did not sound too rosy a prognosis for Perry’s health. We both went quiet at this.

‘Any chance with the ropes?’ I wondered, eventually.

‘Elfin ropes do not make a habit of coming untied,’ she replied.

‘Hey – I thought that was what made them magic!’

‘Come on, Nicely. What would you think is magic; a rope that stays tied or one that comes undone?’ I couldn’t argue with that.

We lay on the floor listening to the rain come down and I gave her an abridged version of what else I had also found out over the last few days. She couldn’t make sense of it either. If Mrs Hardwood had set me up for the Surf Elves, why all the fuss about the emerald? Had Leo Courtkey stolen the gem, sold it and gone west with the profits? Who had killed Truetouch? The Surf Elves? Thelen did not believe that they would actually go as far as killing one of their own. I was not so sure. And if not them, who? Petal had denied killing any elves, so who was to gain from a dead elf? I asked Thelen if she knew Truetouch. She did not know the name, but recognised the description. It seemed that he was always on the periphery at the beach, certainly was never seen surfing – the eternal towel-carrier, or maybe he was just happy to be part of the crowd?

A little while later Highbury came in and gave us a speech, what he called the Big Picture. It was full of stuff about the historic destiny of what he called the ‘Old Races’, by which he meant elves and the Men of the True Land, and, grudgingly, the dwarfs. How they were hampered in their Great Quest by the inferior races: trolls and ogres, gnomes and goblins and other degenerates and abominations.

‘The gnomes, I admit, make excellent rugs and very good servants,’ he continued, ‘and I realise that the goblins, of course, were led astray by their dark masters in days gone by – but difficult times demand difficult, radical solutions. These peoples would be better off in their own lands, the goblins should go back east and the gnomes to the farthest north; compulsory repatriation is the only real answer, surely you see that? Multiculturalism has failed, separate development is the only answer.’

‘So the gnomes try digging the tundra and the goblins get a one-way ticket to the pits?’ I asked.

‘There will still be roles for many here, naturally.’

‘Oh sure, there’s always enough crap jobs to be done; just that they won’t be hampered by any additional chores, like having to vote.’

Highbury didn’t have much time for irony and he gave us the pitying look. Now I’ve no particular fondness for goblins, mechanics aside, but some of my friends are gnomes. Quite frankly I almost wish he had beaten us up some more rather than give us this earache. Thelen hadn’t said a word, but if looks could kill, Highbury would already be a Dune Dragon’s appetiser.