And while Sabira was certain that most of the other Aurum members who’d been slain could have afforded to be resurrected, none of their heirs had seen fit to authorize that exorbitantly expensive procedure—probably because they had other uses for their newly acquired wealth. A fact that would normally have made each of them suspects as well, but unless they’d all conspired together to kill their respective family members and frame Aggar for it—a scenario that, while possible, was not at all probable—the chances of any of them actually being guilty were very slim.
The second and third murders had occurred in Krona Peak while Aggar was there seeing to family business. Though the method of killing was identical to Goldglove’s, these deaths had not been linked to his until after the fourth murder, which happened back in Frostmantle and coincided with Aggar’s return there.
At that point, local Inquisitives had been called in to examine the various crime scenes, but they’d found few clues. Inquisitives from Houses Medani or Tharashk would likely have had more success, but the dwarves had been understandably reluctant to call in outsiders. The only reason her own presence was being tolerated was because of her past service to the dwarves—the Iron Council had extended an open invitation to her after Nightshard’s death, and they could not rescind it now without looking churlish, frightened, or weak.
It took four more murders before Aggar came under suspicion. The Inquisitives actually brought him in for questioning in the deaths of the ninth and tenth victims, which occurred back in Krona Peak. Aggar had been there attending Orin and Gunnett’s wedding, an ostentatious affair that had been held in Kol Korran’s Throne, the largest temple dedicated to the Sovereign God of World and Wealth in all of Khorvaire. But the Inquisitives didn’t have enough evidence to incriminate Aggar, so they had to let him go both times.
It hadn’t been until the thirteenth and final death—also in Krona Peak—that Aggar had been apprehended, when they’d found the murder weapon in his possession. The sword had still been slick with the blood of the last victim, and a fair amount of Aggar’s own.
It didn’t matter that his preferred weapon was a greataxe, or that he handled a longer blade about as well as he coordinated his clothing. Nor did it matter that he had been attacked and wounded that very night himself, by a cloaked figure wielding an identical—if not the very same—sword.
The bulk of the evidence against him was too strong; if not for his position as a leader of Frostmantle and the heir to the majority of the Tordannon clan holdings, he’d have been arrested much sooner. But the Inquisitives had needed concrete proof of his guilt. How opportune that they should find it lying in the open in his rooms while he was being treated for the injury he’d likely received from that self-same weapon, at the hands of the actual murderer.
“Well, whoever framed you went to a lot of trouble,” Sabira mused when the dwarf was done talking. “A plot this complex had to have taken a great deal of planning—it wasn’t hatched in a day, or even a month. That indicates someone with a long-standing grudge. Not to mention the resources and skill to circumvent the protection of some highly placed figures. Silvervein was related to Queen Diani of Thrane’s bodyguard, wasn’t she?”
“His youngest sister,” Aggar answered, nodding.
“Oh,” Sabira said, wincing. That wasn’t good.
“And Mikos Deepshaft was Tiadanna’s favorite cousin,” Aggar offered, somewhat apologetically.
“Tiadanna Mroranon? Wife of Torlan Mroranon, the Iron Council’s arbiter? That Tiadanna?”
Aggar at least had the grace to look sheepish as he nodded.
“It gets worse.”
Sabira suppressed a groan as something that felt suspiciously like dread crawled down her spine and curled into a ball in the pit of her stomach.
“Just tell me.”
“Deepshaft was the last victim. He was also the chief priest at the Temple of Kol Korran.”
Sabira’s groan escaped this time, though in truth she didn’t do much to try to hold it in.
Mrorians revered their priests, viewing them as selfless heroes who willingly sacrificed the standing they held in their individual clans to serve the most important clan of all—the dwarven people.
“Host, Aggar!” Sabira swore, shaking her head in disbelief. “A priest? This person doesn’t just want you dead, he wants you destroyed! I’m surprised they’re even giving you the courtesy of a trial.”
“My father’s also on the Council,” Aggar reminded her, “And Torlan wasn’t particularly fond of his wife’s cousin, not after Deepshaft spoke out against the new tax on ‘excessive’ religious offerings.”
Sabira scoffed at that. “Even if he secretly wanted Mikos dead, he’s not likely to publicly congratulate you for doing the deed for him. He’ll be expected to want revenge, and appearances will require that he live up to that expectation.”
Then a thought struck her.
“Wait. Deepshaft was a member of the Aurum?” Though it wasn’t a requirement of the calling as far as she knew, most dwarf priests of Kol Korran gave up all claims to personal property when they entered into the service of the Sovereign, exchanging tangible wealth for spiritual, the better to serve his Vassals. For such a priest to be involved with the acquisitive and power-hungry Aurum would be highly irregular, to say the least.
“Actually, no. And the only time I ever met him was at Orin’s wedding. He doesn’t fit the pattern, but he was killed the same way as all the others, so of course I’m getting credit for it.”
“Whoever framed you got impatient, then. Good to know, but it doesn’t help us now.”
Quite the contrary. While Sabira had never been on this side of a trial before, she had testified in a couple of high-profile cases back in Sharn. She’d learned then that, when the verdict rested with a jury—in this case, the Council—the best bet for acquittal was having either a well-loved defendant or a well-known barrister.
Even if Aggar had been a popular figure before these charges, the death of the priest would have effectively obliterated any support he might have had on the Council, other than that of his own father and those members who might owe Kiruk favors. Big favors.
That left the barrister.
“Who’s your advocate for the trial?”
“It was supposed to be Barrut Blackiron.”
Good. Kiruk had spared no expense for his son. Blackiron was the best advocate in the Mror Holds. And a good barrister mattered more to a case like this than mere facts.
“But …?”
Aggar hesitated, his expression that of a student who knows he’s about to be severely chastised by his teacher.
“He’s dead.”
“What?” Sabira exclaimed. Olladra’s empty purse! Aggar must have done something to seriously offend the goddess of luck to have so many turns of fortune go the wrong way. “Please tell me he wasn’t forced to eat his own eyes before being beheaded.”
“That wouldn’t make much sense, would it—me killing my own defender? Why would the real murderer bother to frame me for that?” Aggar shook his head, and the beads in his beard responded with a musical tinkling, a sound incongruous and alien in this stark setting, in the midst of this grim conversation. “No. He drowned in Mirror Lake a little over two weeks ago. Fishing accident.”
Well, that was a relief, at least. Still, given the level of machinations within machinations they seemed to be dealing with, she felt compelled to ask.
“Are you certain it was an accident?”
“My father was with him at the time. Though I suppose there’s always the possibility he thought Blackiron’s retainer was too high.…”