Weapon of Blood (11 page)

“There are lots of
tinkers’ wagons in Twailin, Sergeant.”

“Yep, there are,
sir, but something about runes and fancy wagons and mages is tryin’ to work its
way out of my skull.  I can’t quite get a handle on it.”

“Well, let me know
if you do.  If there’s one thing we need in this case, it’s a handle.  Anything
more?”

 “Nothing on my
end.”  Tamir stifled a yawn as he stood.  “I’ll let you know if I find anything
inside the wizard’s skull.  Maybe that’s bigger on the inside, too.”

Woefler chuckled. 
“I, too, will let you know what I find anything incriminating or warranting
further investigation among Vonlith’s things.  There is a lot to look through. 
I’ll also ask my guild associates about his relationships.  He might have made
a powerful enemy that we don’t know about.”

“Don’t draw
attention to yourself,” Norwood warned.  “A dagger in the brain puts a serious
cramp in anyone’s style, and the duke will have my head if anything happens to
you while you’re working on one of my cases.”

“Thank you for your
concern, Captain.”  Woefler stood and gave him an unassuming smile.  “Rest
assured, I’ll be the portrait of discretion.”

“Good.  And let me
know if you remember anything about that wagon, Tam.”

“Yes, sir.”  Tamir saluted
wearily as he followed the wizard out.  Before the door could close, a girl wearing
a bright green tabard slipped in, a scroll case in one hand.

“What is it?”  The
last thing Norwood wanted was another delay; he was already hours late for
lunch.

“Message from Duke
Mir, sir.”  The page handed over the scroll case and snapped into a textbook
at-ease position, her hands clasped behind her back, her posture stiff as a
board.  Water dripped from her nose, eyelashes, and hair.  It was obviously
pouring rain out, which quashed his plan to run out for a quick bite to eat.

Norwood stifled a
smile at the messenger’s rigid propriety as she tried to hide her heaving
breath.  She’d undoubtedly run all the way from the palace.  The young ones
always took their duties so seriously. 
She’ll relax after a few years.

Glowering at the
scroll case in his hand, he popped free the leather cap.  A red silk ribbon,
the duke’s trademark, bound the note inside.  One glance confirmed his
suspicion; he was summoned to the palace. 
There goes lunch
.  He’d hoped
to have more time to analyze the evidence of Vonlith’s death before reporting
to the duke, but rumors among the courtiers flew faster than falcons on the hunt,
and a murder north of the river was sure to attract the attention of Twailin’s
ruler.

“Reply, sir?” the
page asked, bristling with pent-up energy.  On a sadistic whim, Norwood decided
to indulge that enthusiasm.

“Yes.”  Snatching
up a pen, he scrawled an unnecessary reply on the bottom of the note.  He
sanded it to dry the ink, rolled it tight, and slipped the ribbon back over
it.  “Take this to the duke as quickly as you can.  No lollygagging.”

“No, sir!  Er…yes,
sir, I mean!”  She snatched the case and dashed from the room, her neck
flushing scarlet under her flying ponytail.

Norwood sat back
down and sighed.  “Oh, for the days of youth…”  Memories of his own exuberance,
long gone, fluttered through his mind.  He’d been far too long without that
kind of enthusiasm, plodding through life with grim resignation.  He considered
stopping for lunch before attending the duke’s summons, but reconsidered. 
Meeting with Duke Mir always seemed to upset his stomach.

“Norwood!  Thank
you for coming so quickly.  Have a seat.”  Duke Mir stood from behind his
expansive desk and gestured to the leather-upholstered chair across from it. 
“Can I send for something?  A drink?  A bite to eat, perhaps?”

“Nothing for me,
thank you, milord.”

Norwood’s stomach
roiled at his lord’s show of hospitality.  This did not bode well.  Mir was
generally a direct and forthright man, straight to the point and clear in his
instructions, which was one reason Norwood enjoyed working for him.  The duke’s
overt cordiality meant that he was about to ask Norwood to do something that he
expected the captain would not like.  Waiting until the duke had seated himself
once again, he decided to face the matter head on.

“The investigation
into Master Vonlith’s murder has only just begun, milord.  We’re still
collecting evidence.  The circumstances of his death suggest a professional
assassination.  As far as we know, theft does not seem to be the motive, but we
can’t yet rule it out.  Master Woefler is helping us to identify and compile an
inventory of the wizard’s various magical items, and acting as our liaison with
the Wizards’ Guild.  I’ll provide you with updates as they come in.”

Norwood felt a
twinge of satisfaction as Duke Mir simply stared open-mouthed at him for a
moment.

“I hadn’t expected
you to have
solved
it already, Norwood.  I only
heard
about it
two hours ago!”

“Of course not,
milord.  I just wanted to tell you up front what we’ve learned so far.”

“Professional you
say?”

“Yes, milord, we
believe so.”

Duke Mir’s face turned
as white as the parchments scattered across his desk.  “What makes you think
so?”

“The method
indicated both skill and precision.  In fact, more skill and precision than was
probably necessary.  The killing may have been meant to serve as a warning or a
message.”

The duke sat
upright.  “There was a message?”

“No, milord!” 
Norwood leaned forward and waved his hand.  He knew exactly where the duke’s
thoughts had flown to.  His own had done the same.  “This showed no
similarities to…those other killings.  The method was different, the murder
weapon was not left behind, the victim wasn’t a noble, and there was no note or
any indication that the killing was politically motivated.”

“So, what type of
message did you mean?”

“There are two
types of professional killings, milord.  One is meant to look like an accident
or something other than a professional killing, the other is meant to tell
everyone that it
was
professional as a warning or statement of some
kind.  This was the latter.”

Mir heaved a sigh
and pushed himself to his feet.  Striding over to his sideboard, he poured a
glass of pale wine from one of the artfully arranged crystal decanters and
drank down half in one gulp.  Norwood wished he hadn’t declined the duke’s
offer of refreshment.  His mouth was dry, and he would have welcomed a glass of
wine, even on his empty stomach, but he wasn’t about to ask for one now.

“The reason I
summoned you, Norwood, isn’t just about the Vonlith murder, though it has
provided the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.”  Mir topped off his
glass and turned to regard the captain.  “I know it’s not your jurisdiction,
but you undoubtedly have knowledge of the escalating violence south of the
river: beatings, arson, some killings.”

Norwood nodded
cautiously, his guard up.  “You mean the increasing gang violence, milord?” 
Mir nodded.  “I’m aware of it, and in my opinion, the sooner these criminals
kill each other off, the better.  The more they fight each other, the less time
they have to bother honest citizens.”

“That is also the
opinion of the captain of the City Guard and, while I understand that
philosophy, Norwood, there is one problem with it.”

“And what is that,
milord?”

“Powerful members
of my court who live
north
of the river have business interests
south
of the river.  Violence hurts business, and not only is the violence
escalating, but it now seems to have jumped the river into their own
neighborhoods with this recent murder.  They had already been complaining.  Now
they are beating down my door with demands to resolve this fiasco.  The City
Guard can’t seem to prevent the violence or find the perpetrators, which makes
it seem as if I do not have control of the situation.”

“That’s because you
don’t, milord.”

“What?”  Mir’s hand
shook, and the wine sloshed over the rim of his glass.  “How
dare
you
suggest that I don’t have control of this city, Captain!”

“Milord, please. 
No insult was intended, but you, of all people, should understand that true
control is impossible without an absolute police state.  Not even the emperor
has the funds to support that kind of oppression, and if he tried, the people
would burn his shiny palace to the ground.  He knows this, so he lets the lower
classes continue to kill, maim, buy, sell and rob one another with minor supervision
to ensure that his true supporters, the nobles, are not unduly affected.” 
Norwood shrugged.  “Besides, there’s absolutely nothing to suggest that this
murder has anything to do with the violence south of the river.”

“Whether it does or
does not isn’t the issue here, Captain Norwood.”  Mir quaffed the remainder of
his wine and glared.  “The issue is perception.  I need to be seen as trying to
rectify this problem by assigning the Royal Guard to the investigation.  What I
need
you
to do is keep this situation from escalating.”

Norwood didn’t
relish the prospect; the Royal Guard wasn’t welcome south of the river.  He
couldn’t expect much help from the City Guard.  Still, there was one
stipulation he had to get clear before he started treading on toes.

“What am I to keep
from escalating, milord?  The violence, or the worry of the nobles?”

It was a legitimate
question, but Norwood immediately regretted his flippant tone as the duke’s
face flushed face and his eyes bulged.  To stave off a tirade, the captain
raised his hand in a gesture of calming.

“Please, milord, I
ask that question because the two require very different amounts of effort and
time.  The murder investigation has barely begun, and it will take considerable
time for all leads to be tracked down, especially if I must now split my
efforts.  Curbing the violence south of the river, if it can be done at all,
will require a huge amount of manpower.  However, quelling the worry of the
nobles can be accomplished with much less effort.”

“What do you
suggest
,
then, Captain?”  Mir’s tone dripped sarcasm, but Norwood ignored it.

“That we continue
working to solve Vonlith’s murder, but in the meantime, round up a few thugs
from south of the river, string them up, and tell your court that the problem
is being dealt with, even though the violence will probably continue.”

“You’d hang
innocent men to quiet this situation down?”

“Innocent men?  No,
milord, but there are plenty of thugs out there who deserve hanging, and I’ll
happily put them on the gallows to keep this city under your governance.  And
if we pick the
right
thugs to hang, we might even send a message to the
ones who are really behind all the violence.”  He regarded Duke Mir, keeping
his face set in serious consternation.  “I don’t suggest you tell your
moralistic court of my methods, milord, but I do get the job done.  I thought
that was why you hired me.”

Muscles clenched in
the duke’s jaw.  “Norwood, you are an insolent, overbearing, pain in the ass!”

“Yes, milord.”

“Unfortunately, you
are also right.  That is
exactly
why I hired you.”  Mir put his glass
back down on the sideboard and returned to his desk.  “What will you need from
me to get this done?”

Norwood considered
a moment.  “A copy of your orders sent to the captain of the City Guard.  I
want to make sure that everyone down there knows that this comes directly from
you, milord.  Also, I need a warrant giving me the authority to investigate the
Wizards Guild.  I’ve already asked Woefler to make some discreet inquiries, but
I’d like to do some sniffing around myself.  I’d like to review this wizard’s
activities, see what he’s been up to lately, if he’s perhaps made some enemies
among his fellow wizards.”

“That will cost me
several favors, Captain.  The Wizards Guild wields considerable power.”  Duke
Mir raised his eyebrows in thought.  “But I think I know which arms to twist. 
I’ll have the documents delivered to your office within the hour.”