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She gestured to Otherro to bring him one of the chairs that lined either side of the small hall. When he had done so, she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees-a posture which, unfortunately, gave Zoden a rather distracting view.

“Now,” she said, a sudden hardness in her tone drawing Zoden’s eyes back to her own. “Tell me why you’ve come.”

Diani listened as Zoden recounted the tale of his twin brother’s death, murmuring and shaking her head sympathetically. He’d told the story so many times now that it was very like a part in a play, one he performed reluctantly but well. Indeed, it was easier to think of that night as something out of a playwright’s fancy than the all-too-real horror that it had been. That it was still.

“And you say they caught a shifter not far from where Zodal was slain? But you do not believe he is the culprit?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I mean, no. They did catch a shifter, and they charged him with Zodal’s murder, based on some largely circumstantial evidence, but I don’t believe for a moment that it was him.”

“What do you mean, circumstantial?” At some point during Zoden’s recitation, she’d called for wine, and she toyed with her glass as she waited for him to answer. Zoden’s own glass sat untouched beside him.

“He was close by and covered in blood. He claimed to have been in a fight at a local tavern, and several witnesses corroborated his story. At first. But after the Bishop’s people interviewed them, they decided that it might have been a different shifter at the tavern, or that they’d really had too much to drink and couldn’t remember much about that night after all.” He snorted in disgust. “I had plenty to drink that night, but that doesn’t stop me from remembering.”

Diani let that pass without comment.

“And it’s not the first time. There have been at least a dozen other murders in Aruldusk over the past year that have been blamed on the shifters. Only a few have been arrested so far-the ones, like this shifter, who were unlucky enough to be within a mile radius of one of the victims. And just like in Zodal’s case, any witnesses who claim otherwise soon change their story or just disappear. It’s as if someone has some sort of vendetta against shifters, especially those living outside the city.” He finally remembered his wine and took a long, appreciative drink. It was a fine vintage, tart and dry, probably the most expensive he would ever taste. Definitely meant for sipping, not gulping, but his thirst got the better of him. Diani said nothing, merely motioning for Otherro to refill his glass.

“To be honest, Your Majesty, I don’t particularly care for shifters myself. They’re crude, uncultured, and generally have the table manners of a rutting pig. But even I can see that this is the beginning of some sort of campaign to get rid of them-imprison them all, or, more likely, drive them all away from Aruldusk out of fear for their own safety. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

“Except, of course, their actually being guilty,” Otherro remarked as he topped off Zoden’s glass.

Zoden glanced up at the paladin, looking pointedly at the Flame emblem on his armor before answering.

“If the guilty parties are truly in custody,” he asked, “then why do people keep dying?

Zoden’s impassioned words rang through the chamber, and even he was surprised by his vehemence. His hand shook as he raised his glass for another drink, and he took a slow sip as he tried to gain his composure. When both the trembling and his temper were back under his control, he continued.

“Somebody-or something-is murdering people in Aruldusk, ripping out their throats and leaving them dead in dark alleys. That much is true. But whoever, or whatever, it is, it’s not that shifter they arrested for Zodal’s murder. I saw him. He doesn’t look anything like the animal that attacked my brother.”

“Animal?” It was the dwarf, the first time he’d spoken since attempting to decapitate Zoden.

“I don’t mean that in the literal sense. When the killer first came into the courtyard, he-it-was on all fours. I know shifters sometimes run that way, but this thing wasn’t running. And then later it seemed to stand, though it could have reared up on its hind legs, as big cats sometimes do. I’m a little fuzzy on that. But, even so, I don’t believe it was really an animal.”

“Why not?” Diani asked.

“Animals don’t laugh while they’re eating you.”

The Queen frowned. “If it wasn’t a shifter, and it wasn’t an animal, then what could it have been, cousin?”

Zoden shrugged. “Some wizard’s magebred pet? An illusion cast to cover the tracks of a human killer? I just don’t know. That’s why I need your help.”

After Zoden finished speaking, Diani sat back in her throne. She said nothing for a long while, merely watched him, a thoughtful look on her face. Zoden was beginning to wonder if she was expecting him to say something else-perhaps there was some courtly phrase he was supposed to utter, something the halfling had mentioned that he hadn’t bothered to listen to, let alone remember? He began to sweat as he searched vainly for some recollection of the proper courtesy required for this situation. Not for the first time, he damned his family’s fall from grace and his own subsequent absence from the social circles that would have kept him informed of Diani’s latest preference in sycophantic contortions.

But when she did finally speak, he almost wished she’d kept torturing him with her silence.

“Thank you for informing me of the situation, cousin.”

That was it?

“I’m very sorry for your family’s loss. Please convey my condolences to your mother, Lady Ghelena. I trust she is well?”

Zoden nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Otherro will escort you back to your rooms. You are welcome to stay here at the castle, of course, but I would certainly understand if you felt the need to return home. Lady Ghelena should not be left alone in her grief.”

His mother wasn’t alone, and Diani knew it, but after his father’s gambling debts had nearly driven their family to the brink of poverty, the name Urdan ir’Marktaros was not mentioned in polite society. And Diani was nothing if not polite, even when she was dashing your hopes against the walls of a spike trap.

Was it because of his father? Is that why she wouldn’t help him find Zodal’s murderer and bring him to justice? Surely not-they were only distant cousins, and the decline of his stunted branch of the family could have no possible impact on her. Why, then? Why bother seeing him at all if she had no intention of helping him?

It was too much. Propriety be damned. He had to know.

“That’s it? Sorry your brother’s dead, regards to your mother, have a nice trip home, and the sooner you start that trip, the better? Don’t you even care that Maellas is framing shifters for the deaths of people loyal to you?”

Dzarro hissed and stepped forward, and even Otherro’s hand went to his hilt at the bard’s impertinence, but Diani waved them back.

“What do you mean, loyal to me?”

He’d hoped that would pique her interest.

“I’ve been asking a lot of people a lot of questions since Zodal died. And, interestingly enough, I’ve learned that many of the victims have been vocal opponents of the Church.” That might be overstating the case a bit. While several of the victims had been hostile towards the elf Bishop, their hostility hadn’t necessarily extended to the Church as a whole-Maellas had many inconvenient laws against things like gambling and carousing that made him less than popular among certain circles. But Zoden thought it might be prudent to keep that observation to himself.

“Throneholders,” Otherro muttered, earning him a dark look from Diani.

“Seems like quite a coincidence that both the victims and the suspects belong to groups that the Church would be happy to see eradicated,” Zoden remarked.