Weapon of Blood (10 page)

“No, sir.  They’ll forge the ring first,
then choose.”

“Hmm.”  He sipped his tea.  “I assume
Sereth will keep us apprised of the situation.”

“Of course, sir.  That brings up one more
item: news from the
Golden Cockerel
.”  She laid a third report atop the
other two.  “Master Hunter Mya received a letter from the Grandmaster of the
Assassins Guild instructing her to have a new guildmaster’s ring forged and
appoint
herself
guildmaster.”

Hensen sat up straight.  “Interesting
indeed!”  Reaching for another scone, he stopped, a troublesome thought
interrupting his appetite.  “I find it a disturbing coincidence that she should
receive such a letter the very evening Youtrin and Horice tried to kill her. 
Any chance our informant at the
Cockerel
might be playing both sides of
the street?”

“Anything is possible, but it’s not likely,
sir.  Sereth would probably know if Horice received word of the letter.  We
have no way to know about Youtrin.”

“Look into that possibility for me,
Kiesha.  We can’t have our assets straying.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, both Mya and the other masters are
forging rings at the same time.”  Hensen reached for another scone, then
frowned and picked up his tea cup instead.  One of the downsides of being the
boss, he’d found, was that he didn’t get much meaningful exercise, and his
expanding waistline showed it.  “Do we know who they contract to craft these
things?”

“No, sir, but the letter from the
Grandmaster suggested that they only employ a single person to make the rings.”

“Well, when he receives two identical
orders, I imagine things are going to get even more violent.”  This could be
very good; all they had to do was step back and watch the Assassins Guild
destroy itself.  “Kiesha, contact Sereth and find out exactly what those
Assassins Guild rings do.  I know they provide some kind of magical protection,
but I want details.  And keep an eye on this situation from all angles.  If any
of our informants’ findings are contradictory, bring it to my attention
immediately.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, sir.”  She held out an envelope
with a gold wax seal.  “This came for you specifically, sir.  It has a secure
seal.”

Hensen didn’t recognize the seal, a
stylized sunburst, but that meant nothing.  He made no move to take it.  One
did not gain his status within the Thieves Guild without learning caution. 
“Has Master Tinto examined it?”

“Yes, sir.  Just the usual enchantment to
ensure that only the intended recipient opens it.  No traces of poison or other
spells.”

“All right.”  Hensen took the envelope
and broke the seal with his eating knife.  He opened the letter and a second
piece of paper fluttered out—a certified draft from an account with the Twailin
Moneylenders Guild.  He knew
that
seal intimately.  Licking his lips
gleefully, for the sum was considerable, he turned to the letter.  As he read,
he felt a tickle as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.  Chuckling, he
waved the letter at Kiesha.  “The plot thickens!  It appears that someone
else
has taken interest in Master Hunter Mya.  They want to contract our services to
protect both her and her bodyguard from harm.”

“Her
bodyguard
?”  The incredulity
in her tone brought his eyes up to hers, and she continued in a more
deferential tone.  “Sir, that’s…”

“Unprecedented?”

“To say the least, sir.”  She blinked and
shrugged.  “By all accounts she needs little protection other than him.  Six
assassins tried to kill her last night.  Two are dead and three injured, and
neither she nor the weapon got a scratch.”

Hensen frowned.  “The weapon.  That’s the
term that Sereth uses for the young man, correct?”

“Yes, sir.  He was trained as a weapon
for the former guildmaster, but Mya took him on after Saliez’s death.  His name
is Lad.”

“Lad…”  Hensen remembered the search that
had ensued when this Lad had disappeared five years ago.  Mya herself had given
him a portrait when she enlisted Hensen’s help.  It was still in a drawer
somewhere. 
Such a lovely young man…

He snapped his attention back to the
matter at hand.  “So, our solicitor seems to have a card in this game, and he
wants Mya to win.  Well, for this amount of coin, we’ll play along.  He’s paid
half up front, the other half to be transferred in one month if the two of them
are still alive.”  He handed the letter and the draft to Kiesha.

Her lovely eyes flicked over the note. 
“Baron Patino?”

“Nobody I’m familiar with, but there
must
be some connection to the Assassins Guild.  Make it a priority to find out exactly
who this person is.  And write up a response indicating that we accept the
contract.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything else?” Hensen snatched another
scone and began the meticulous buttering process.  Life was too fleeting to be
wasted worrying about one’s waistline, and this game had stimulated his
appetite.  He loved a challenge.  It was what made him such a successful thief.

“Nothing pressing, sir.”

“Good.  Keep this contract on a
need-to-know basis, my dear.  Use our
best
people.  Master Hunter Mya is
no fool, and neither is her bodyguard, from what Sereth says.  If either of
them detects our interference, there could be repercussions.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Go on then, Kiesha, and do be careful
out there.”

“I always am, sir.”  She gave him a
stunning smile and turned to go.

Hensen admired her beauty once more
before the door closed behind her.  After dabbing marmalade on his scone and
pouring more tea, he sat back, intent on savoring the rest of his breakfast.

Yes, life is far too fleeting
…

Chapter
VII

C
aptain
Norwood’s stomach growled as Tamir and
Woefler
entered his office.  He’d worked through lunchtime, and the two men brought
scents of roast lamb, garlic and sautéed onions in with them.  He rose from his
desk to stretch the kinks out of his backside.  He had not been able to escape
his chair all morning, and looked forward to hearing about what they had
discovered at Vonlith’s.

The men were a mismatched duo if ever he
saw one.  Tamir stood tall and beefy, as were most of the Royal Guards,
taciturn of face and smartly uniformed.  The sergeant towered over the wizard,
who darted about like a little dog exploring every new scent.  For an important
member of the Duke’s court, Woefler was decidedly
unassuming.  His robes were well-made, but unadorned, his rings and
amulets simple.  His clean-shaven face didn’t strike Norwood as particularly
venerable or wise, but he’d been with the duke for even longer than the
captain, and his proficiency was renowned.  Unfortunately, Woefler also fancied
himself a sleuth.  His near-frantic enthusiasm grated against Tamir’s stoic,
methodical approach.  But as much as Tamir might dislike the notion, the death
of a wizard warranted Woefler’s aid.

“Master Woefler, good to see you.  I wish
it was under different circumstances.”  He waved them to chairs, though he
continued to stand, shifting from one foot to the other in a slow rocking
motion to ease the pain in his back.

“Captain Norwood.”  The court wizard
nodded and grinned, his angular face flushed with pleasure, unusual for the
circumstance of a murder investigation, but not for the odd little man.  “Good
to see you as well, though we do only seem to reacquaint ourselves over dead
bodies.”

“We do at that.”  Norwood noted a sour
expression on Tamir’s face at the wizard’s greeting.  He had probably been
listening to Woefler yammer on about the magical whatnots in Vonlith’s home all
morning.  Stifling a grin, he waited until his visitors were seated, then got
right to business.  “What news of Master Vonlith?  Tam, you first.”

“It’s probably a safe bet that the victim
knew his killer.  Though all the windows and the front door were locked, the—”

“The locks on the doors and windows were
reinforced with magic, Captain,” Woefler cut in.  “If one were to pick one of
the locks or try to force it open, an alarm would sound and the entire house
would be sealed by a spell.  All of these spells were intact when I arrived,
except—”

Tamir’s voice overrode the wizard’s, and
he continued.  “—except the servants’ entrance.  When we questioned her again,
the housekeeper admitted that she’d found it unlocked this morning.  She
absolutely swears that she locked it on her way out last night.”  Tamir
consulted his notebook and checked something off with a pencil.  “She’s got the
only other key besides the one we found in Vonlith’s pocket.  But…”  The sergeant
paused dramatically and grinned at the captain.  “…remember the snifter on the
table beside Vonlith?  We found a matching one on the sideboard that still had
a bit of brandy in the bottom.  So, you were right about our victim having had
a guest.”  He made another checkmark in his notebook, and sat back.

Norwood sank into his chair.  “So,
Vonlith probably knew his killer, let him in through the servant’s entrance,
and they had a drink...”

“Not a colleague, however.  You would
receive a colleague at the front door, not the servants’ entrance.”

Norwood nodded to the wizard; his
reasoning made sense.  “An acquaintance, then.  Someone known, but not a peer.”

“Someone known well enough to share a
glass of brandy with, but not highfalutin enough to rate the front door.” 
Tamir added.

“Or someone you didn’t want your
neighbors to see, perhaps.”  A thin smile spread across Master Woefler’s lips.

“Or someone who didn’t want to
be
seen…”

Quiet suffused the office for a long
moment before Norwood waved to Tamir to continue.  “What about the body?”

“The stab wound to the back of the skull
was the only injury we found.  We’ll cut his head open later to see if there’s
anything odd about the death stroke, but I don’t expect to find anything.  It
seems like a straightforward hit.  There were plenty of valuables around, so
robbery’s not a likely motive.”

“Unless the killer was after a specific
item that we don’t know about, Sergeant.” Woefler wagged a skinny finger under
Tamir’s nose.  “One does not recognize an item by its absence if one is not
familiar with its presence.”

“What the hells is that supposed to
mean?”  The look Tamir gave the wizard could have soured milk.

“It means, Sergeant Tamir, that something
could
have been taken.  Perhaps something that Master Vonlith kept on
his person, an amulet or ring, for instance, that required his death before it
could be removed.”  Woefler smiled as if proud of his deductive reasoning. 
“One must not jump to unwarranted conclusions.”

“Don’t know why a thief would go to all
the trouble of putting a knife in the man’s head to take one thing and leave a
whole pile of fancy stuff just sitting there.”  Tamir shook his head and turned
back to Norwood.  “
Also
, the method of the killing suggests a
professional assassin, not a thief.  My guess is that our victim pissed off the
wrong people.”

“Thanks, Tam.  Let me know if anything
new turns up.”  Norwood turned to the duke’s wizard.  “Anything from your
perspective that stands out, Master
Woefler?”

 “Vonlith was a
highly proficient runemage.  Invading his home would have been impossible, even
for a
skilled
intruder.”  He smiled pleasantly at Tamir.  “The magic on
the front door and the servant’s entrance is substantial.  Entry through either
of those portals could
only
have been gained through use of one of the
two existing keys, both of which bore subtle spells that would be recognized by
the spells on the locks.  Since both of those have been accounted for, the only
logical conclusion is that Vonlith did, indeed, let someone in.”

“We already figured
that out,” protested Tamir.

“But the locks
inside
the house were quite different.  There were no keys to lose for those.” 
Woefler’s eye gleamed with secret satisfaction.

Tamir groaned as he
cast the wizard a chagrined glance.  “Yeah.  Unfortunately, you’re right about
that.”

“What about the
locks inside the house?”  Norwood looked from one man to the other.

“
Those
were
mage-locked,” Woefler explained, “designed to open only to Vonlith’s touch.”

“So, if they
couldn’t be opened by anyone but Vonlith, how did you open them?”

“I didn’t say that
Vonlith had to open them, Captain,” Woefler said.  “I said that opening them
required Vonlith’s
touch
.”

“So how did you—” 
The look of disgust on Tamir’s face told Norwood what they must have done. 
“Oh, you did not!”

“Yes, sir, we did. 
Master Woefler insisted that we parade around the house with the corpse, soiled
nightshirt and all, touching its finger to every single locked door, cabinet,
chest and bin.  Like a bloody funeral procession it was.”

“Well, it worked.” 
Woefler grinned boyishly and shrugged.  “And it was much quicker and more
efficient than my trying to unravel every rune-spell.  And as you have often
said, Captain, time is of the essence in these investigations.”

“Marvelous.” 
Norwood rose from his chair and paced the floor, hoping that the Duke didn’t
hear of the grim spectacle.  “Well, what about Vonlith?  What did he do to earn
a dagger in the brain?”

“He’s got some nice
stuff.”  Tamir shrugged.  “We might look into who gets it all if he kicks the
bucket.”

“Have someone track
down his next of kin.  Start a list of suspects: relatives, or anyone else who
might be in line to inherit.  I assume he had a will, so let’s get a look at
it.”  He looked to Woefler again.  “What about his guild affiliation?”

“He paid his dues
on time, but was not politically active.  His membership was in good standing,
and has been for a very long time.  Vonlith was quite a lot older than he
looked.”

“Lots of time to
make enemies,” Tamir noted.

Woefler wagged his
head equitably.  “He had few close friends, but he seemed to be on decent terms
with his fellow guild members.  I had met him several times socially at the
guild lodge, and he was agreeable, though rather reserved.  It’s the way some
of these fellows get, you know, when they practice in isolation for too long. 
For myself, well, I prefer—”

“Master Woefler.” 
Norwood gently tried to steer the wizard back to the subject at hand.   “You
said he was a proficient runemage.  Proficient enough to make other mages
jealous?”

“Possibly.  He’s
been practicing rune-magic at a level that I have not seen in many years.  He
was a specialist, and quite adept.”  Woefler made a face halfway between
wistfulness and jealousy.  “It is amazing what you can craft with the right
arcane runes.  Some of his things…”

“Like what?”

“Like a box in his
study into which he could place items that he did not wish to be affected by
time.  It was empty when we found it, so we have no idea what he used it for. 
He also had a rune-etched knife in his laboratory that would cut through
virtually any material, including diamond.  Even his bed was magical.  The
runes inscribed in the headboard ensured calm, dreamless sleep.  These things
alone are quite valuable, and we still have not completed an inventory.”

“Don’t forget the
wagon,” Tamir put in.

“Wagon?”  Norwood
looked at them both again.  “What wagon?”

“Vonlith had a
wagon in the stable behind the townhouse.”  The wizard laughed heartily.  “Your
guardsmen were quite surprised to discover that it is a good deal larger on the
inside than the outside.”

“Really?” 
Norwood’s eyebrows arched.  “That would be handy.”

“Indeed!  It was
quite impressive.”  Woefler looked around the expansive office.  “This entire
room would have fit nicely inside, with enough additional space to add a large
closet.  It’s elaborately decorated, resembling a tinker’s wagon more than a
wizard’s conveyance, but the decorations are all actually rune inscriptions.”

Norwood raised an eyebrow. 
“Did it look like he was getting ready to take a trip?”

“Again, I have yet
to identify and inventory everything, but the wagon contained wizardry
implements, not a wardrobe or mundane supplies.  His stableman said that he
generally used the vehicle for short trips, but had not used it in some time.”

“Interesting.” 
Norwood continued to pace.  Tamir and Woefler had provided him with many pieces
to the puzzle, but he couldn’t yet figure out how they fit together.  “Anything
else?”

“Somethin’ about that
wagon, sir.”  Tamir rubbed his eyes and sighed.  “I never seen it before, but
something about it seems familiar.”