“No,” Kelder said, still unoflended. “I was at Sardiron of the Waters when Lady Sarai’s messengers arrived, looking for information about cults or conspiracies, maybe involving surviving Northerners, and I thought I might be able to help.” Tikri glanced at Sarai. “You thought we might be dealing with Northerners? My lady, they’ve all been dead for two hundred years!”
Sarai shrugged. “We think they’ve all been dead for two hundred years,” she said. “The World is a big place.” “Oh, I think they have,” Kelder said. “So, sorcerer,” Tikri said, “you know something about cults and conspiracies?”
“No,” Kelder said, “but I know forensic sorcery. So I came here and studied the places where the killings occurred—I confess, it wasn’t until I followed you and those other two women today that I was sure I had located them all. And of course, I was too late to study the bodies, unfortunately.”
Sarai looked at him with renewed interest. The funny little man with the northern accent was full of surprises. “You followed us?” she asked. The sorcerer nodded.
“Do you think you learned something?” she asked. “Yes, my lady,” he said.
“And what might that be?” Tikri asked. “Was sorcery involved in these crimes?”
“Not that I know of,” Kelder said, “but that doesn’t mean very much. Sorcery doesn’t always leave traces. But I did learn that there were four people who had, prior to today, been in each room where a person was murdered.” “Four?” Sarai stared. “So it was a conspiracy...” “Yes, four, my lady, two men and two women, but it was not necessarily a conspiracy. I could not determine the exact times that these people were there, only that they had been. And I have identified one of the four as the final victim, the witch Kelder of Quarter Street—I assume that he visited the rooms in the course of investigating the crimes. One or more of the others might have been legitimate visitors as well, perhaps even among the other investigators. Should all three prove to have been there for other reasons, then perhaps that will prove that there was more than one murderer. Have your investigations found anyone who visited all those places?” Sarai blinked. “Well, I did, after the killings.” “Yes, of course,” Kelder agreed, “I should have expected that. Then I assume one of the two women was yourself—might I test that hypothesis, please?” “How?” “With this talisman.” He drew a flat silver object from inside his tunic and held it out. A circle of milky crystal was set into the center of a metal oblong roughly the size of Captain Tikri’s hand. “If you would be so kind as to touch your fingertip to the white disk...”
Sarai glanced at Captain Tikri, who shrugged. Then she reached out and touched the crystal.
“Thank you. And do you perhaps...”
“I was in all of them,” Tikri interrupted.
“Ah. Then could you...?” Kelder held out the talisman again.
Tikri glanced at Sarai.
“Do it,” she said.
Tikri obeyed, tapping one forefinger lightly on the white crystal.
“Thank you, sir.” Kelder pulled the talisman away and closed both his han’ds around it, holding it near his chest, not quite touching the fabric of his tunic. He stared down at it for a moment, stroking the metal with his thumbs, clearly concentrating hard.
Sarai watched with interest; she had rarely seen sorcery in action before, and nothing at all like this.
After roughly a minute and a half, the little Sardironese looked up at Sarai again.
“It’s definite,” he said. “You, Lady Sarai, were one of the women, and the captain here was the other man. There is evidence that the two of you, and my late namesake, all visited the sites after the other woman. I therefore suspect that this other woman is connected with the crimes. Unless there was another...”
Sarai shook her head. “I can’t think of any other woman who visited all the rooms before I took Teneria and Luralla around this morning,” she said. “Mereth saw some of them, but she didn’t go to every room. Can you tell us anything more about this woman?”
Kelder glanced down at his talisman. “She has black hair and brown eyes,” he said. “And is not tall, certainly not as tall as you, though I cannot specify her height any more exactly than that. She is thin and light on her feet, with a rather square face, a wide nose, and pale skin. She usually wore black clothing and may have gone barefoot. Beyond that...” He turned up an empty palm. “Beyond that, I’m afraid I know no more.”
“That isn’t Mereth,” Sarai said. “The height’s right, but not the rest of it. Are you sure of this? ”
“Oh, absolutely. A woman fitting that description visited each murder site within a sixnight or so of the killings.”
Sarai looked up at Tikri. “That description doesn’t bring anyone immediately to mind,” she said. “Does it for you?”
“No.” Tikri frowned. “I’m not sure how much we should trust this information.”
The sorcerer tucked his talisman back in his tunic. “That’s entirely up to you, of course,” he said, “but I give you my word that it’s reliable information. I don’t know that this woman killed anyone, but she was very definitely there. If I had been able to see the bodies, I could have told you whether the same knife was used in every case...” Sarai waved that aside. “We already know that,” she said. “The wizards tested that for us. It was the same knife every time.”
“Oh.” Kelder essayed a quick little bow of acknowledgment.
Sarai smiled at him. “I’m not disparaging your information, Kelder of Tazmor,” she said. “Thank you for bringing it to us. If you learn anything more, please come and tell us.”
“Of course.” Kelder bowed again, and stepped away.
Sarai looked up at Tikri. “Do you think mis woman is the killer?”
Tikri shook his head. “No woman smaller than you could be strong enough to have committed these murders single-handed. Perhaps she’s the high priestess of a cult that’s responsible for this—if she exists at all.”
“I think she exists,” Sarai said. “Why would the sorcerer lie?”
“To throw us off the track,” Tikri suggested. “Perhaps he’s part of the conspiracy.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Sarai admitted, staring at Kelder’s back and chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. “We could check his story, though.”
“How?”
“Witchcraft. Where’s Teneria?” Sarai turned, peering out the door as if she expected to find the young witch standing in the hallway.
Thin, black hair, light on her feet, usually wore black—that described Teneria, Sarai realized. The height was probably wrong, though; the journeyman witch stood very close to Sarai’s own height. And her long, narrow face, with its pointed jaw, hardly looked square, and while her nose was noticeable, that was because it was long, with a bump in it, not because it was wide. Her complexion wasn’t particularly pale. And weren’t her eyes green?. She wasn’t there to check.
Sarai snorted with sudden annoyance. Was she going to be matching every female she met against the sorcerer’s description, from now until the murderers were caught?
She debated sending Tikri to fetch Teneria, but before she could decide, Teneria actually did appear in the doorway. “Just the person I was looking for!” Sarai called. Teneria entered and bowed before Lady Sarai, then asked, “How may I be of service?” “You don’t already know?” Sarai asked wryly. The ghost of a smile flickered across the witch’s rather somber face. “No, my lady,” she said. “Not at the moment.”
“I need to know what’s true and what isn’t,” Sarai said. “You witches are good at that.”