Lymwich looked at the other inquisitrixes’ progress in the cavern with a certain frustration. “Not a thing,” she admitted reluctantly. “Curse it, a haunt must remain within sixty yards of where its body lies! But no matter how we track itup, down, right, leftnothing! If either the daughter or the halfling had come to me with this story minus your corroboration, I never would have believed it.”
“Ah, the joys of reputation,” Pryce said. He looked at her with calm self-assurance. “Have you done as I requested?”
She seemed ready to argue, but quickly controlled herself. “What you had your halfling… associate… request for you,” she corrected him reprovingly. “But,” she conceded, “your idea was an expedient one. It met with the approval of my superiors.”
Pryce resisted the temptation to rub salt into her wounded ego, so he kept his expression placid and his tongue still. He simply nodded and stepped over to the other side of the slab. He tried to attract the gatekeeper’s attention, but the old fellow was too intent on the body. “You’re a man of many talents,” Pryce finally said idly.
“Hmmmmm?” the gatekeeper said without looking up.
“Gate guard, immigration officer, and now magical examiner.”
“Cleric as well,” Lymwich elaborated. “Matthaunin is one of our little community’s most respected members.”
“Outside of your own master, of course,” Witterstaet hastily added.
“Really?” Pryce retorted.
“Geerling Ambersong basically gave Witterstaet his choice of responsibilities in our exclusive retreat,” Lymwich continued, walking the length of the morgue slab and back again, “and he chose his place at the gate.”
“Fresh air,” Witterstaet explained, looking at the ceiling of the cavern, “meeting new people, constant intellectual stimulation…”
“But you also double, or should I say triple, as an examiner?” Pryce marveled.
“Matthaunin is also one of the most respected seers of magical presence in the nation,” Lymwich said sourly, apparently not reserving her infinite pool of envy to Blade alone.
“Really?” Pryce drawled again, raising one eyebrow practically up into his hairline.
“It has been said, sir,” Witterstaet answered modestly, “but, of course, I wouldn’t dare test my paltry skills against your own, sir.”
“Wouldn’t you, now?” Pryce echoed, looking askance at Lymwich, who studiously avoided his gaze. Even so, Pryce quickly redirected their attention, just in case anyone considered pressing the point. “And have you uncovered anything around the body of Teddington Fullmer?”
Once that subject was again broached, Witterstaet seemed to forget all about Blade’s fame. “Well, there was a very indistinct shadow, or afterimagean echo, if you willof the haunt’s previous presence that even I was hard pressed to perceive.” He turned toward Pryce for a moment. “But that is just a testament to the skill and power of your master.” He turned back to Fullmer’s cadaver. “Other than that, there isn’t a single iota of magic anywhere in, around, or on the body. Whatever happened to him prior to the haunt’s possession, it was done by a person alien to any form of magic.”
Before Pryce could consider the ramifications of that statement, the people he had asked to be summoned arrived. Pryce stepped back as burly, bearded tavern owner Azzoparde Schreders, blonde and beautiful serving wench Sheyrhen Karkober, and gaunt mine owner Asche Hartovin the company of several inquisitrixes and militiamenmade their way down the brightly lit cavern to the section of wall that hid the workshop.
“Cost, what is the meaning of this?” the gaunt mine owner demanded.
“You had to pay these people?” the serving wench asked Hartov incredulously.
Pryce rolled his eyes, then put his hands on his waist and leaned toward the three arrivals. “I told you before, Asche, Cost Privington is a pseudonym… a false identity. My real name is… Darlington Blade.” Pryce nodded to himself. He was getting the pause between “is” and “Darlington” down to mere seconds. Maybe if he said it often enough, he’d actually come to believe it
“Harrumph,” wheezed Hartov, bending his slight frame. “False identity indeed! Why did you feel the compunction to fool the likes of me?”
“Matters of national security,” Pryce said affably, “and that is precisely why I’ve asked you here today.”
“Really?” Karkober breathed, her eyes widening.
“Really.” He motioned toward the slab. “First, I believe you all knew Teddington Fullmer?”
They stared at the man. “He doesn’t look well,” Karkober finally squeaked.
“Not a bit,” Schreders agreed vehemently. “This is terrible!”
“Very sound observation,” Pryce told them. “Unfortunately, it was the price he paid for finding his heart’s desire.”
“Is he” Hartov choked”dead?”
Pryce sighed and looked evenly at the distraught mine owner. “Be careful what you wish for, Asche. You, too, might get killed for it.”
“Killed!” Schreders boomed. ‘You mean this was no accident?” Pryce just stared at him.
“Butbut” the tavern owner stammered “but this is Lallor! Things like this don’t happen here. They can’t!”
“Did,” Pryce said curtly. “Can.” He stepped back and pulled at the lip of the mechanical door. The unlocked gears now moved easily, and Pryce soon revealed the room dug out of the area beyond the cavern wall. “Lady and gentlemen, I give you Geerling Ambersong’s secret workshop.” He let them have a few seconds to take it all in. “Well, I’m not actually going to give it to you, but I will let you touch it. In fact, I’m going to let you carry itpiece by pieceout of here.”
Schreders was the first to comprehend the words through the haze of his amazement. “Eh? Eh? What was that?”
Pryce snapped his fingers until he got the attention of all of them. “I found Teddington Fullmer’s dead body in the middle of my teacher’s secret workshop,” he almost didn’t lie. “So this is no longer my classroom; it is a crime scene. Furthermore, the authorities have discovered evidence of additional foul play. I won’t bore you with the details, but rest assured that it is absolutely imperative that the priceless legacy of Geerling Ambersong be moved to safekeeping.” He smiled and clasped his hands together like a solicitous concierge. “And we need you three to help.”
Schreders snapped to attention. “It would be an honor!” he announced. “Thank you, Mr. Blade, for even thinking of us!”
“Not at all,” Pryce replied humbly. “It is our duty and responsibility to protect these materials so vital to our nation’s security. We can’t safeguard them here any longereven do not have the energy to cast a protective spell powerful enough to shield my own master’s life’s workso we must turn to you for help.” He then turned dismissively to Inquisitrix Lymwich. “And get that body out of here. It’s blocking the entrance.”p›
Sheyrhen Karkober naturally took up the rear. Some things never change, Pryce thought as he carefully and quietly approached her. Whether in Merrickarta or Lallor, serving wenches usually deferred in the presence of their superiors or customers… but only in their presence. Left alone to her own devices, Pryce imagined Sheyrhen could juggle wine casks, but when in a mixed group such as this one, she played it safe by allowing the male egos to lift the big packages and lead the way.
Pryce carefully moved alongside her in the cavern, watching her walk in her tightly laced waitress costume. “Ah,” he said casually, “I see you have the girdle of priestly might.”
“I beg your pardon!” Sheyrhen said with offense. “I work very hard to maintain my figure.”
Pryce slapped himself on the forehead, but kept pace with her. “No, no,” he quickly corrected. “Not yours… his! Geerling Ambersong’s.” She looked at him blankly. “It’s what you’re carrying,” he said, pointing at the magnificent jewel-and rune-covered vest in her arms.
She looked at it, then at him. Then she dissolved into giggles. “Oh! Oh, of course!”
“It’s not an actual girdle of priestly might, of course,” Pryce said casually, walking beside her. ‘That only appeared after the Time of Troubles. Priests of Mystra took it as a sign that the goddess had regained her power. This is my master’s… Geerling’s… version of it. It is said to give him greater strength and protection when worn.”