Murder in Cormyr (17 page)

“And what’s that?”

‘That I killed Dovo for insulting me the other night. And that I probably killed the king’s envoy Grodoveth as well, since he was insulting too. And there’s further evidence against me.”

What was she doing, confessing? “And that is?”

“I was searching for treasure in the Vast Swamp. Grodoveth was killed in Fastred’s tomb, and now the treasure is gone. Suspicion should naturally fall on me.”

“Do you mind my asking how you heard all this? I mean, assuming of course that you didn’t actually kill Grodoveth.”

“An adventurer hears nearly everything. And it’s my business to know about the things that concern me. Besides, just because the treasure’s stolen doesn’t mean it’s gone. To my way of thinking, it’s no crime to steal from a thief.”

“Assuming that you didn’t take it to begin with, and aren’t just saying this to divert suspicion from yourself.”

“A possibility. But if I wanted to divert your suspicions from me, there’s a far easier way to do it.”

“And that is?”

“Kill you the way I killed Dovo and Grodoveth. Ifl killed them in the first place.”

I swallowed heavily. “Very true,” I said. “My death would very efficiently end my suspicions of you. But if you wanted me dead, I doubt you would have saved my life.”

“Sometimes,” she said, “one does foolhardy things just for the sheer joy of doing them. Frankly, it’s fun to kill monsters.”

“And is it fun to get wounded in the process?”

“Perhaps. If you’re riding with someone who thinks you capable of killing them. I enjoy that somehow. I suppose it’s the bully in me.”

“I don’t think you would kill me,” I said with more bravado than I felt.

“We’re not at your home yet, are we?” she said, and I had no answer. I simply clung to her waist, figuring that if she did kill me on the way, I at least had the consolation of embracing her until she did the deed.

But when we arrived at Benelaius’s cottage I was unscathed, though Kendra seemed weary from the loss of blood. Benelaius and Lindavar were standing outside worriedly, since Jenkus had arrived home alone, and they both hailed us as we came riding up.

“Kendra saved my life,” I said as I climbed off her horse. “A hydra attacked me and Jenkus threw a shoe. But Kendra killed the monster.”

“With a slight wound to myself, I fear,” she said. “Jasper told me you were skilled in the healing arts.” She tried to swing her wounded leg over the saddle but could not, and clung to her horse’s neck. The three of us came to her rescue immediately, lifting her off her steed and onto the ground, where she leaned heavily on Lindavar and held her left leg aloft.

“That looks quite nasty, my dear,” Benelaius said. “But I have no doubt that we can soon set you right.” We helped her inside and onto a large, comfortable chaise before the fire. Benelaius chattered all the while. “A hydra, you say? A common hydra, I suppose. The cryohydra is unknown here, and the pyrohydra is quite rare. Since you are not singed, I assume it was a common multi-headed variety. Not a lernaean hydra either, I wager.”

“The kind that regenerate their heads?” Kendra said. “No, this one’s heads didn’t come back once I lopped them off, thank the gods.”

“Must have been very hungry to come out of the swamp,” Benelaius went on. “Stupid beasts, though, and slow. Move well in swamps but awkwardly on land. All the better for both of you, eh?”

“Still fast enough to catch my leg,” Kendra said as we eased her down. In spite of the pain that caused beads of sweat to appear on her pale and lovely face, she chuckled at the sight of the cats. “Do with me what you will. I trust a man who likes animals.”

“Lindavar, please heat water on the stove while I get the salves and unguents. Jasper, see to it that Jenkus and the lady’s horse are cared for, then come back here. Quickly now.”

I did as my master said, envying him the task of having such a patient as that magnificent specimen of a woman. I wondered if he was as much in awe of Kendra as I was, and assumed he was not. Benelaius was undoubtedly not a creature of his passions. Kendra would be interesting to him only for what she might tell him about the fighting habits of hydrae. I sighed. What a waste of intimacy.

I fed and rubbed down the horses. By the time I went back in, Kendra was sleeping, her wounded leg covered by a virginally white sheet, and Benelaius and Lindavar had just finished putting away the equipment. Benelaius motioned me into his study, where the three of us sat down.

He filled a pipe with tobacco and lit it, and his words poured forth on the smoke.

“I have sewn up the wound and given her a sleeping draught,” my master said. “By morning she will feel much better, but she should rest here a day or two. She has lost some blood and must regain her strength.” He smiled admiringly. “A fine woman, and a brave one, though one who, I fear, would not suffer fools gladly.”

“Meaning Dovo and Grodoveth,” I suggested.

“I believe they would have qualified as fools,” Benelaius said. “Now tell me, Jasper, what you’ve learned in town today. Did the ghost witnesses prove at all valuable?”

I related everything that I had learned, and was pleased to see that some of the information hit home. Benelaius and Lindavar seemed particularly interested in the fact that Barthelm Meadowbrock was with Diccon Piccard when he saw the disguised Dovo, and their eyebrows raised when I told them Lukas Spoondrift’s theory about Rolf being the killer. But what really piqued my master’s interest was when I related Looney Liz Clawthorn’s tale of the glowing hands.

“I know of the woman,” Benelaius said thoughtfully. “She has the cataract, the veil over the eye that blurs and softens her sight. If she said she saw two waving hands…”

He left it for me to finish, and finish I did. “Lanterns,” I said. “She saw two lanterns. Dovo must have had the one, but the other?”

“Someone Dovo was signaling to,” said Lindavar, a catch of excitement in his voice. “That great mere we saw this morning would have been one of the few places in the Vast Swamp where signals could be given over long distances. Still,” he said knowingly, “we saw no lantern by Dovo’s body.”

“But we did see lantern glass,” said Benelaius. “And that means—”

But I was not to know Benelaius’s conclusion, for at that moment we were all startled by the flutter of wings at the window, which Benelaius had opened to disperse the heavy tobacco smoke. I gasped as I saw what sat on the sill.

It looked like a raven, but its body was half again as wide, and its wings equivalently longer. Its eyes glimmered an eerie greenish yellow in the candlelight, and they looked directly at Benelaius. The feet were more menacing than those of any normal bird, with three-inch talons at the end of pale, fleshy claws that looked like dead men’s fingers. Around this creature’s neck was a bag of thick leather knotted shut.

With a motion that made my breath catch in my throat, the weird bird hopped into the room and perched right on Benelaius’s shoulder. It was a tribute to my master’s calm that he moved not an iota at the bird’s act. Then he turned his head toward the beak that could have pierced an eyeball with a single thrust, and smiled at the gleaming eyes.

“A good evening to you, Myrcrest,” Benelaius said. “I hope that Vangerdahast, your master and my good friend, is well this night?”

The bird nodded its head slowly, and a guttural squawk escaped its thick throat. The sound sent chills through me like fingernails on slate. Even Lindavar winced.

But Benelaius was unshaken by the din. He raised his eyebrows and looked pleased. “I am glad to hear it,” he said. Then he gestured toward the leather pouch. “And may I assume that inside is a message for me?”

Myrcrest nodded again, slowly and solemnly, like one of those toy birds that dips its beak in water over and over again.

“Then, with your kind permission…” Benelaius lifted his

hands and, with a series of deft, tiny strokes, undid the pouch from around the great bird’s neck. I noticed in the light of the candles that Myrcrest’s feathers had no sheen to them at all. They gave back no light but seemed rather to pull the light into them, and kill it. I have never seen so flat and lusterless a black. The thing must have noticed my attention, for it fixed its beady eyes on me. I could not hold its gaze, and quickly looked at Benelaius’s hands.

He had freed the pouch and undid the string that held it shut. From it he withdrew a heavy paper, folded many times, but when he unfolded it, the creases vanished, and it was as smooth as though it had just come off a press.

Benelaius read it, his composed and serious face giving no hint as to the letter’s matter. When he had finished, he nodded once more at the fiendish bird on his shoulder. “Pray tell Vangerdahast that his message has been received, and that its contents will be obeyed. Fortune smile on him, and bid you speedily home, good Myrcrest.”

The bird nodded again, as graciously as a courtier. Then it spread wide its wings, and I ducked at the sudden movement, although the feathers were yards away from my face. It leapt to the window, and then through it, so that its blackness seemed sucked up by the night. Its exit was so abrupt that at first I could hardly believe it had been there at all.

But the paper that Benelaius held was the proof. My master looked at Lindavar and me and said, “This you should hear,” and read:

Benelaius, my friend in wizardry—

Be it known by all men that Azoun, King of Cormyr, and I, Vangerdahast, ‘Royal Magician and Chairman ‘Emeritus of the College of ‘War ‘Wizards of Cormyr, do place in you our absolute trust (concerning the apprehension of the murderer of Grodoveth, the envoy of the King, and another victim.

‘When you have proven to your own satisfaction the identity of this kilter, whose act threatens the peace of this good and, Captain Flim, or whoever may at that time be commander of the local garrison of the king’s purple Dragons, shall order his troops to immediately put the murderer to death.

Vangerdahast

“Well,” said Benelaius, sitting back in his chair and taking a deep puff upon his pipe. “That seems rather final, does it not?”

“No arrest? No trial?” said Lindavar. “Why would the king order such a… a departure from the normal process of justice?”

“The king did not order it,” said Benelaius. “Vangerdahast ordered it, and it is well within his power. It is altogether possible that King Azoun knows nothing of this order. Perhaps Vangerdahast felt it would be better for all concerned if he did not.”

“But why?” I asked, echoing Lindavar. “I don’t understand. I think that the king would want a trial of such a person, to make an example of what happens to those who would so openly flout his authority and kill his envoy.”

“Unless,” Benelaius said, “that envoy was a member by marriage of the royal family… and if the solution to the mystery cast aspersions on that envoy’s honor. And, by extension, upon the honor of the king himself.”

‘Then Vangerdahast is trying to protect the king?” Lindavar asked.

“I think it likely,” the old wizard said. “He loves his king more than he loves his magic, and Azoun is a good man and a good king. I doubt that he himself would make such an order as this that hints of self-protection.” He removed his pipe from his teeth and tapped it on a metal bowl. The dottle dropped out, and he set the pipe next to it.

“But this command,” he went on, “is contingent upon our finding the perpetrator in the first place, and that we have not yet done, though I fancy we have all the information we need. It is merely a matter of placing that information in the proper context and viewing it from the correct perspective.” He smiled at me. “I suppose your Camber Fosrick would have done so far more quickly. Of course, he has the benefit of being a character in fiction, while we, unfortunately, are saddled with mundane reality. Still, we shall do our best.”

“So what are your thoughts, sir?” I asked him, desperate to know what synthesis he had made of the disparate parts of this mystery.

“Still forming, I fear,” Benelaius answered. “But even such infant musings would not have been possible without your diligence and hard work, my good Jasper. You have done superbly. But you must be very tired from all your labors, and the night has grown late. I suggest you retire to your bed. Kendra will be quite comfortable on the chaise for the night, and I wish to speak with Lindavar for a short time.”

I had no choice but to obey. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall, listening to their conversation, and when I was in my room, I tried to hear their talk, but since my quarters were at the opposite end of the cottage from Benelaius’s study, I heard only a low droning, out of which I could distinguish no separate words at all.

So I lay in the darkness and decided that I would not fall asleep until I had done what Benelaius had suggested was within the realm of possibility. I would determine who had killed Dovo and Grodoveth. I would come down with that information in the morning and dazzle them with my ratio-cinative wizardry, and glory at the look of wonder and admiration in Benelaius’s eyes.

And so I exercised my brain feverishly for all of three minutes, when exhaustion caught up with me and bashed me over the head.

But my concentration on the solution to the murders came with me into my dreams, and I remember waking up, convinced that I had the solution and the killer. In the darkness, I sleepily fumbled for the note pad and pencil with which I had taken notes for my master, and scribbled down several words that held the key to the mystery that had gained the attention of even the king himself. In the morning, even if I had forgotten the amazing revelations that came to me in my sleep, those words would still be there, and my sharing them with the world would bring me fame, honor, and riches. I fell back on the bed, smiling as sleep claimed me again.

I awoke at eight o’clock and had nearly finished my morning ablutions before I remembered that I had solved the murders in the middle of the night. And sure enough, as I had feared, I had no memory of the solution. So I dashed to the paper, snatched it up, and read:

Sunfirth—D made mess—fight—G—spilled? no tip?