"Well…I…uh…" Regdar stammered.
"Oh, he'll have a family all right," the duke said.
"A young lady, is there, Lord Constable?" Vargussel teased.
"Actually…the lord constable started, but it was the duke who finished for him.
"Let's just say that my daughter has a way of getting what she wants."
Vargussel's heart seemed to stop in his chest. Tingling fingers of cold death worried about his shoulders and spine. His legs trembled, and sweat broke out on his forearms.
"Your daughter?" he managed to say.
The duke chuckled and winked at him, and Vargussel found it difficult to breathe.
"Yes…well…" Vargussel said. "Yes…why not?"
"Why not indeed," said the duke.
Because I'm going to kill him, Vargussel said only to himself. Because my shield guardian will hold a rod to his head that will blast his soul into shreds. Because he is now on my list. Because she will not have what she wants, but what she needs. Because…
"Yes," he said aloud, "why not indeed, Your Highness…Lord Constable…why not, indeed."
10
Naull found it difficult to keep up with Regdar and the tall, skinny man who owned the Thrush and the Jay. The skinny man was walking faster than most people ran. If Naull could spare the energy to look at him, she fully expected Regdar to be sweating and panting from the exertion. He'd insisted on wearing his heavy, cumbersome armor and he clanked his way up the stairs like a steel golem.
She wanted to be angry with him, but she was also smart enough to identify jealousy, even in herself. So he was the Lord Constable-so what? It meant nothing, except that he was a member of the aristocracy and would never be able to marry her, though he could marry the duke's daughter. That would make him the duke, eventually, and Naull one of his subjects.
To Carceri with it, she thought. I am jealous.
When the tall, skinny man stopped at one of the wide double doors in the hall at the top of the stairs, Naull wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and took a deep breath.
"Please tell me this is it," she said, making a show of shaking her tired legs.
Regdar smiled at her in that endearing way he had. She suppressed the urge to slap his face and instead turned her attention to the inn's owner.
"Yes, madam," he said, "this is the…unfortunate room."
Naull ignored the sarcastic tone she was sure she heard in his use of the word "madam," and she waited patiently for him to finish unlocking the doors.
"Leave us here," Regdar told the proprietor. "We'll come find you when we're finished."
The tall, skinny man raised one tall, skinny eyebrow and looked down his tall, skinny nose judgmentally at Regdar. He swung the doors open and stepped out of the way, clicked his heels on the marble floor, and tipped his head in a cursory bow.
Regdar walked into the room and Naull followed, but not before she smiled graciously at the man and said, "Thank you, sir. Do let us know if any more murders occur while we're here."
The man's face blanched and Naull closed the doors behind her.
The room was as opulent as the one Naull shared with Regdar. The massive bed was draped in the finest silk and wool, and the marble floor was covered with exotic rugs that might have been woven by elves. The furniture was quite old but in impeccable repair. The air smelled of lavender from the scented candles burning in gold sconces. Lingering just at the edge of Naull's senses, though, was another scent. It was the odor of something burned, the scent of a lightning-struck tree…something like that.
Regdar strode purposefully to a small table set for two. On the duke's orders, the body had been taken away but nothing else had been touched. The remains of a light supper from the night before was congealing on plates of the finest porcelain, and the dregs of a bottle of vintage elven dew wine stained a pair of crystal glasses.
"Our friend had a guest?" Naull asked.
Regdar nodded and said, "A young elf he was…seeing, I guess. The duke asked me not to be too specific about that in public. I guess it would cause some kind of scandal."
"Why?" Naull asked. "The sons of the rich and famous aren't supposed to date elves?"
Regdar actually blushed and looked down, pretending to examine the fine linen tablecloth.
"What?" Naull asked.
Regdar cleared his throat and said, "In the army, it's more common than you…well, anyway…we're not supposed to ask…"
When Naull realized what he was saying, she nodded vigorously and felt her cheeks flush.
"I get it," she said. "Well, that's hardly a crime-wouldn't draw a death sentence anyway. Are the rich and famous of New Koratia so uptight that they'd kill one of their prodigal sons just for dallying with other prodigal sons?"
"I wouldn't know," Regdar said. "I don't think so, but we shouldn't discount it as a possibility. These people are very sensitive when it comes to children, bloodlines, and all that."
"Really?" Naull asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do tell me more, Lord Constable. Your own bloodline, for instance. Is it clear of all such impropriety?"
Regdar looked at her with narrowed eyes, seemed to think about it for a second, then sighed and said, "That's not fair, Naull."
"Well," Naull replied, "If you say so, milord."
"You don't have to call me that."
"Don't I?" she asked. "What shall I call you, Lord Constable?"
Regdar sighed and turned away. Naull felt suddenly very petty and just as suddenly cold and unsafe.
"Could the food have been poisoned?" she asked, in an effort to rescue them both.
Regdar seemed as relieved as she was to move on to the business at hand.
"Perhaps," he replied. He gestured to the table and stepped back.
Naull brought to mind the simple cantrip she'd prepared that morning on Regdar's request. It required no material components or focuses, so all she did was murmur the proper incantation and move the fingers of her right hand just so.
She let her gaze fall over the table. When her eyelids started to twitch, she knew the magic was active, but nothing about the cold food and warm wine looked different. If anything in the general vicinity of the tabletop had been poisoned, she would have seen it glow a subtle purple. There was no such glow.
"No," she said to Regdar. "Nothing's poisoned. At least, not the food or wine."
Regdar nodded and looked around the room.
"There's only one way in or out," he said, "besides the windows anyway."
"None of the other guests saw or heard anything?" Naull asked.
"Nothing of value," Regdar said. "Some reported sounds of a ruckus, of heavy footsteps in the hall."
"So someone heavy came in the front door and…did what?" Naull asked.
Regdar shrugged.
"Aren't there guards in here?" she asked. "I've seen guards."
Moving in and out of the Thrush and the Jay over the past several days, Naull had even commented to Regdar on the professional, experienced mien of the inn's uniformed guards. She'd even surreptitiously cast a spell that showed her the auras of their enchanted weapons and armor. No expense had been spared.
"The guards are kept outside," Regdar said, "and in the common areas on the ground floor. Apparently, the guests' privacy takes precedence here. There are no guards roaming the halls."
Naull sighed and said, "No loose lips to wag about midnight indiscretions, youthful or otherwise. Unfortunately, no loose lips to wag about murderers either."
"I guess so," Regdar replied. "The entrances are so well guarded, though, the question isn't so much how did our man get into this room but rather, how did he get into the Thrush and the Jay in the first place?"
"I prepared a spell that might answer that question," Naull said. "It would be easy enough to discern if there's some secret way in or out of this room, but it would take a while to cover the rest of the inn."