We’re pushing too hard. We’re going to lose her. Lenoir saw it too; he raised his hands in a mollifying gesture. “Forgive me. I will not ask any more about magic. But I must have your brother’s name. If what you say is true, your brother would not want the child to be hurt, but if I do not find him, the boy could die. Please.”
The women looked at each other. The younger one said something in Adali, shaking her head. The sister sighed. They conversed for a moment, and then the sister turned back to Lenoir. “What I do could make me banished,” she said. “But if a boy is in danger, and this can help you, I must. In return, I ask that you see that my brother’s body is burned, in the Adali way. Do not let them put him in the ground.” Her eyes welled up again, and she swallowed hard.
“I will see to it,” Lenoir promised.
“His name . . .” Her voice quavered, and she swallowed again. “His name was Raiyen.”
“Thank you,” Lenoir said.
“You’ve done the right thing,” Kody added.
The woman nodded. Then she said something to her companion in Adali, and they turned and headed back up the road toward the Asis camp, the younger woman wrapping her arm around the sister’s shoulder as they walked.
Excitement churned in Kody’s guts. They were really getting somewhere now. “Where to next, Inspector? Back to the city?”
“To the station. When we get there, we will split up. You will head out to the slums, Fort Hald, anywhere there is likely to be a concentration of Adali. Now that we have a name to go with your sketch, you may be able to find someone who knew this Raiyen.”
Kody nodded. “And you?”
“I will be with the scribes, looking for any record of him or any other known members of the Asis clan living in the Five Villages. It may be that Raiyen sought out his own kin.”
“Makes sense.”
“If we are lucky, we may also be able to find someone to tell us more about khekra. We still do not understand the motive, and that is the most important clue.”
They mounted up and headed back for the city, riding at a brisk pace. They’d barely hit the outskirts of Berryvine when they heard galloping hoofbeats behind them. Kody twisted in his saddle and recognized Constable Crears and two of his men riding hard toward them.
When they had caught up, Crears said, “I’m glad we found you so quickly. There’s another body, sir, and we think it’s only an hour or two old. Adal man, midtwenties.”
Lenoir and Kody exchanged a look. “Go, Sergeant. Start your inquiries in the city. I’ll stay with Crears and attend to this. We’ll meet up tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Kody nodded crisply to Crears, then turned and rode off, leaving Lenoir to deal with the corpse.
As he rode, Kody’s mind started to race. He’d learned more about Adali culture in the last twenty minutes than he had in the past twenty years, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. But he knew one thing for certain: whatever was going on, it was much bigger than the boy—and it was getting out of hand.
CHAPTER 14
Lenoir followed Crears into a narrow alley on the eastern side of town, where a group of the constable’s men were gathered around the body. They were muttering to one another and there was some laughter, but they fell silent when they saw Crears approach. The constable would not approve of disrespectful banter, regardless of whom the victim was.
There was nothing remarkable about the way the body was situated. It lay near the intersection of two alleyways, angled in such a way as to suggest that the victim was attempting to flee around the corner of one alley into another as he fell. The man lay on his side, one knee drawn up toward his chest and both elbows tucked into his body, a little like a stabbing victim. But there was no blood anywhere, and no obvious wounds.
As though reading Lenoir’s thoughts, Crears said, “We haven’t figured out what killed him yet. I gave him a quick once-over, but I didn’t find anything.”
Lenoir grunted and glanced around. There were five watchmen standing over the body, including the two that had accompanied Crears to fetch Lenoir. “Which one of you found him?” Lenoir asked, and the tallest of the watchmen raised his hand. “The rest of you can go. This alley is too small for all of you to be here—you’ll contaminate the scene.”
The watchmen exchanged glances, but they did not move, looking instead to their commanding officer.
Crears colored slightly. “You heard the inspector! Go!” He turned apologetically to Lenoir. “I’m sorry, sir. . . .”
Lenoir waved his hand dismissively. “Do not concern yourself. It is only proper that your men should show such loyalty.” In fact, Lenoir was envious; he had a hard time believing Kody would demur over the orders of a superior. Not that Lenoir had done anything to earn the sergeant’s loyalty.
The alley was now empty save for Lenoir, Crears, and the watchman who had found the body, and Lenoir suddenly became conscious of the darkness of the place. The buildings that flanked the alley were three stories high, shading the body so that the skin appeared dark gray, as though the man had already begun to decompose.
“When did you come upon it?” Lenoir asked the watchman.
“Just over an hour ago. She showed me.” The man pointed to the far end of the alley, where a young woman with a flower cart stood pale-faced and trembling in the sunshine. “She’s been there the whole time,” the watchman added, his voice lowered. “I think she’s in shock.”
“And did you question her?”
“I did,” said Crears. “She says she didn’t see anything. Just walked past and saw him lying there. She could tell from his position that something wasn’t right, so she called the watch.”
Lenoir looked down at the corpse again. A feeling of dread was oozing from the center of his body into his extremities, like bile leaking out of his stomach. He did not want to examine the body, especially not in front of Crears.
“Did anyone else in the area see anything?” he asked, floundering for excuses to delay. “Did you question the passersby?”
Crears regarded him curiously. “Some of my men are doing it now. You might have seen them out in the street? I got them started on it before I came to find you.”
Of course he did. Damn him.
There was a stretch of silence. Crears looked uncomfortable. He started to speak, then glanced at the watchman and fell silent, scratching his beard. At length, however, when Lenoir still made no move, Crears chose duty over decorum and said, “Inspector, aren’t you going to take a look at the body?”
Lenoir nodded numbly and squatted. There was no getting around it.
The man’s shirt was already open, presumably from Crears’s initial inspection. There was no blood on the clothing, no bruising or cuts on the flesh. The skull appeared to be intact. Lenoir rolled the body onto its back. The corpse had not yet begun to stiffen, but the skin on one side was vaguely purple, in sharp contrast to the pallor of the rest of the body. The discoloration suggested that the body had been lying on its side for at least an hour. Crears had been right about the approximate time of death.
“Two hours at most,” Lenoir said.
“He was still warm when I found him,” said the watchman, “and no discoloration. Can’t be sure, but I think most of that two hours started from the time I went to get the constable.”
“But you did not see anyone suspicious?”
Lenoir did not have to look up to know the watchman was annoyed; it came through clearly in his voice. “I would have said so, Inspector.”
It was a stupid question, but Lenoir was just talking, his eyes skimming over the corpse as he tried not to notice the tear in the man’s trousers just below the knee. But the pale flesh peeking through the cloth snagged at the corners of his vision, holding his gaze. He could not bring himself to look directly at it, but neither could he look away. How he wished Crears and the watchman would leave.