Goblin Precinct (Dragon Precinct) (3 page)

Danthres leaned forward. “That’s gonna make it hard to put him on trial.”

“Indeed it is, halfbreed.” Fanthral sneered the words.

Torin sighed. Elves thought very little of those of their kind who bred with “inferiors,” and that was as nothing compared to how poorly they regarded the resultant offspring.

Holding out his hands, Iaian asked, “What the hell does any of this have to do with us?”

Osric answered. “The guards in Goblin assumed lothSerra to be another beggar on Haven’s Way who overdosed on Bliss. His body’s already been sent to the shop.”

“That,” Danthres said, “would appear to be that.”

“Hardly.” Fanthral was still sneering. “It is quite possible that lothSerra was targeted. There are many among the elven elders who do not wish these trials to go forward, who fear what people like lothSerra will testify to when put on trial.”

Torin said, “If this gentleman was found on Haven’s Way, he had fallen quite far from his previous station. He would be far from the first beggar to take too much Bliss.”

“This week,” Danthres added.

“And the people who wish these trials stopped do have resources,” Fanthral said insistently. “They could just as easily have made lothSerra’s death seem like a simple beggar’s overdose precisely because they knew there would be no investigation, the body destroyed.”

“Luckily,” Osric said, “the shop is backed up. His body might still be there. Tresyllione, ban Wyvald, you’re to escort Fanthral to the shop and see if you can use his gem to find lothSerra’s corpse.”

“Within a certain proximity,” Fanthral added, “it can detect him even if he is no longer alive.”

Torin did not relish the notion of spending any more time with this man, but said nothing.

His partner, predictably, was less reticent. “You want us to go corpse-diving—with
him
?”

“For starters, yes.” Osric fixed his scowl on Danthres. “Then you will investigate Elthor lothSerra’s death just like you would any other possible murder.”

“That would require a peel-back of Haven’s Way,” Torin said. “Has Boneen returned yet?”

“Who’s Boneen?” Fanthral asked.

Osric replied: “Our magickal examiner. The Brotherhood of Wizards loaned him to us to perform Inanimate Residue Spells on scenes where crimes have taken place.”

Fanthral nodded. “I can see how that would be useful.”

For the first time since Torin’s arrival, Sergeant Jonas spoke. “It would if he were here. However, he has been at a conference the brotherhood has been holding, and has yet to return, nor give any indication if or when he will.”

Chuckling, Iaian said, “Brotherhood’s probably all in a tizzy after that mess with Ythran.”

Fanthral’s eyes went wide. “Lord Ythran?”

“You know him?” Osric asked.

“I know of him. One of the finest wizards.”

“No longer,” Danthres said with a nasty smile. “He was involved in a scandal involving a false religion in Iaron. Removed from his post as representative of the brotherhood for this region.”

“Tresyllione and ban Wyvald were the ones who exposed him,” Osric said proudly, “which is why I’m assigning them to you, Fanthral. I know how important it is to the Consortium that the truth behind lothSerra’s death be found, and,” he added pointedly, “how important it is to the Lord and Lady that Cliff’s End’s relations with the Consortium remain cordial.”

That was the other coin that fell to the floor, as it were. As usual, what made sense took a back seat to political expediency and what Lord Albin and Lady Meerka wanted. It mattered to them that lothSerra’s death be fully investigated by Osric’s best detectives, and therefore it mattered to Osric, since the Lord and Lady were the ones who hired him and could just as easily get rid of him—or anyone else.

Letting out a very long sigh, Danthres got to her feet, walking over to the pegboard that held her cloak. “All right, then. Let’s go find a body.”

Osric, however, was staring at Grovis, who, at some point, had sat back down at his desk. “You all right, Grovis? You’ve been unusually quiet.”

“I cannot be
lieve
that someone would just rob my father’s bank like that! It’s absurd!”

Urgently, Danthres said, “Let’s go. I’d rather spend all day in the shop than listen to Grovis’s bleating anymore.”

Torin smiled. “Of course.” He indicated the doorway. “Shall we?”

Fanthral nodded. “We shall. And I hope the pair of you are as good as your captain says you are.”

“You thought highly enough of Osric to surrender to him twelve years ago, sir,” Torin said tartly.

Danthres added, “So feel free to think just as highly of him now.” She shrugged. “Or don’t, it matters very little to me.”

With that, she left, Fanthral following behind, and Torin behind him.

He just hoped that they hadn’t gotten around to incinerating lothSerra’s corpse yet.

TWO

DANTHRES SURELY THOUGHT SHE WAS GOING TO GAG AT THE SMELL OF all the corpses. Her only solace came from the fact that, as badly as she was suffering from the odor, it was even worse for Fanthral. Danthres’s elven senses were at least dulled by her human half, which today was a blessing.

The body shop was run by a fat dwarf named Orvag in a cave located within the Forest of Nimvale. Strictly speaking outside the Lord and Lady’s demesne, its distance from the city-state proper was necessary for the olfactory survival of its citizens.

If a corpse lay unclaimed, it was taken by the Castle Guard to the body shop, where it was placed on a pallet. Orvag had fifty pallets, and on a normal day they wouldn’t all be filled. The last time Danthres had been here was after a hurricane, when the number of unclaimed dead had skyrocketed. Then, Orvag had doubled up on every pallet, and still had to pile a few on the floor.

This time was far worse than after the hurricane. Each pallet was tripled up, and there were two tangles of bodies in the corners of the cavern.

On the far end of the cavern was a massive firepit, in which Orvag disposed of the bodies. While enclosed from the rest of the cavern by stone walls, the firepit did open upward to the sky, protecting Orvag and his workers from the worst of the heat, but it also made approaching the shop impossible to do without breathing through your mouth.

Her leather-armored arm held in front of her face, Danthres turned to look at her partner. “Torin, remember that house that had the closet explode with all the muck from half of Cliff’s End bursting out of it?”

Torin nodded.

“I wish this place smelled as good as that.”

That got a chuckle out of Torin and another sneer from Fanthral. The latter said, “May we please get this over with?”

Orvag approached them, his soot-stained face breaking into a massive grin. He wore an apron that had even more soot stains than his face—he’d actually washed the face some time in the past year, which was more than could be said for the apron—and carried a huge poker that was half again as long as the dwarf was tall. “Well well well! What brings the Cloaks into my place’a business, eh?”

“We’re looking for a body,” Torin said.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, eh?” Orvag laughed heartily. “Any one in particular, or you just want one I pick at random, eh?”

“This is
not
a joking matter.” Fanthral’s tone was bitter. “We seek the corpse of Elthor lothSerra, and you’d best pray to whatever foul deities your diminutive kind worships that you haven’t yet incinerated it.”

Orvag’s laughter modulated into a frown. “I don’t know who you are, eh? But you ain’t wearin’ no castle guard uniform, so I ain’t have to take such tone from you.”

Fanthral stepped forward, and Orvag tightened his grip on his poker.

Danthres would have been more than happy to just sit back and watch them go at it—she especially was curious as to where, exactly Orvag might stick the poker—but Torin intervened, ruining her fun. “Fanthral here is a diplomatic representative from the Elven Consortium.”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s the lord and lady’s son, I ain’t being spoken to like that in my own place, eh?”

“A charnel house is indeed your ‘place,’ dwarf.” Fanthral continued to move forward.

Then he stopped, looking down at the pouch on his belt, which Danthres noticed was now glowing. Reaching into it, Fanthral pulled out the gem he had shown them in the squadroom, but now it appeared to be lit from within by a light blue flame.

“He’s here. Be grateful, dwarf, that you have not yet performed your ministrations upon him.”

Orvag gripped the poker tightly. “I’ll perform a ministration on you, y—”

“That’s enough,” Torin said to them both, then asked Fanthral: “Can you pinpoint the body?”

“I believe so.” Fanthral walked over toward the pallets, finally finding one that had an elderly male elf and two human females, all covered in grime. “This is Elthor lothSerra.”

“He
is
being claimed, eh?” Orvag asked.

“So it would seem,” Torin said.

“Fine by me, eh? One less body to deal with—you’re welcome to it.”

“Good.” Fanthral turned to Torin and Danthres. “Please remove the body to wherever it is that your magickal examiner stores them.”

Danthres’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Were my words not clear, halfbreed?”

“Oh, I heard you, believe me.”

“Then what is the problem?”

Torin cut Danthres off before she could give her incredibly rude answer to the question. “Because, sir, one of the many advantages to our rank of lieutenant is that we are spared such onerous duties as that of hauling corpses hither and yon. We shall summon some guards from the castle, who will take care of it.”

Danthres looked at Torin. “All right, I’ll admit, you said that better than I would have.”

Grinning, Torin said, “Considering that you would have said something along the lines of, ‘The problem is that you’re a shitbrain,’ that wasn’t much of an accomplishment.”

Returning the grin, Danthres replied, “True.” She turned toward the body. “I have to say, Fanthral, that your conspiracy theory is looking less likely.”

The elf now stood with his arms folded over his chest, regarding Danthres with unconcealed contempt. “And you
have
to say that, do you?”

Ignoring the dig, Danthres continued. “Your notion is that lothSerra was found by enemies and framed by brigands determined to keep him from his rightful place as the subject of one of your Consortium’s trials, yes?”

“I would not have used the term
brigands
, but that is what I believe happened.” He walked over toward the corpse as well. “He was no doubt hiding in this city-state, hoping to remain anonymous. People of every race pass through Cliff’s End, after all. One more elf would hardly cause comment, and most people here—especially in the poorer region where he was found—keep to themselves. But then he was found by someone working against the Consortium’s purpose, and they overfed him this drug you were speaking of, and they placed him in that alley.”

Danthres looked at Torin. “Quite an impressive story.”

Torin nodded. “It does have a certain ring to it, yes.”

“But, unfortunately, it’s shit.”

Fanthral sneered again. “Excuse me?”

Smiling sweetly, Danthres asked, “Were my words not clear?”

“Do not try my patience, halfbreed. I’ve come a long way to find—”

“A beggar.”

Thrown off by the interruption, Fanthral blinked. “A what?”

“Look at the body, Fanthral.” Danthres was now pointing at the corpse. “That isn’t dirt and grime that someone put on him to make sure he looked the part. And these clothes, if you can call them that, were practically welded to his person. LothSerra wasn’t dressed up to look like a beggar, he
was
a beggar.”

“Impossible.” Fanthral scoffed and turned away. “He was one of the highest ranking members of the Elf Queen’s court. He would rather die than live like that.”

“Indeed,” Torin said. “Why else do you think he overdosed on Bliss? The drug is fairly new to the city, but from all reports it bestows euphoria upon one. What better pill for an elf lord who has lost everything to swallow?”

Fanthral looked back at the body. “It couldn’t be that simple, could it?”

“Yes, it could.” Danthres shook her head. “Torin and I have been doing this for some time. In our experience, the simplest explanation is more often than not the right one.”

“Perhaps.” Fanthral strode toward the exit. “And perhaps not. Your pretty story is no more or less proven than mine, Lieutenants. I believe your captain instructed you to investigate lothSerra’s death, and you will do precisely that. Then we will learn which of our stories is the story and which is the truth.”

Orvag watched as he departed. “He’s an emissary of the elves, eh?”

Danthres nodded.