The Death Ray

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."

Regdar nodded and said, "Go ahead."

Naull called the spell to mind. This one was just a bit more difficult than the last, requiring a very peculiar cadence to the incantation and an overly precise dip of the left ring finger. She performed the spell adequately, though, and was reassured by a smaller, nettling feeling in her eyes. She scanned the room, concentrating on the uncomfortable sensation.

Regdar was smart enough not to disturb her, even after she'd made a full circuit of the room without giving her report. She concentrated more deeply and was rewarded by a growing pull on her senses that made her turn her head to the left, and tilt down. She felt like something was gently but firmly pulling her face to the floor, through it, down, deeper. When she closed her eyes, the pull was broken.

Naull shook her head to clear the spell from her consciousness. She needed a few seconds to focus again on Regdar, who was approaching with a hand extended and a worried look on his face.

"I'm all right, Your Lordship," she said, stepping away from him.

Regdar pressed his lips together and sighed.

"There's a secret door," she said, breaking the uncomfortable moment she was happy enough to have instigated. "Not in this room, but somewhere at least a couple floors down-likely the basement or the wine cellar."

Regdar nodded and said, "Handy spell."

Naull shrugged and replied, "I have my moments."

"What else have you got up your sleeve?" he asked.

Naull looked around and her eyes settled on a cloak that was draped over one of the chairs at the table. It was a fine cloak.

"Was anything stolen?" she asked.

Regdar shook his head, then stopped to think about it.

"I don't know," he said.

Naull crossed to the chair and touched the cloak. It was made of very expensive silk and quite masterfully tailored. She patted the length of it and felt something not only swing against the chair behind it, but she also felt lumps in one of the cloak's pockets.

"Something in there?" Regdar asked.

Naull slipped the cloak off the back of the chair, and said, "I guess so."

Under the cloak, hung on the back of the chair, was a thin leather belt on which was suspended a stunning jeweled rapier and a long dagger of matching design. Even Naull recognized them as a significant pair of weapons, likely a family heirloom.

Regdar stood next to her and pulled the weapons belt from the chair. He examined the rapier closely with a soldier's eye for both form and function, then drew the dagger. The blade was so highly polished that it sent up a flash of reflected candlelight that made both Naull and Regdar blink.

"It's a safe bet these belonged to the victim," Regdar said. "That's an aristocrat's weapon if I ever saw one."

Regdar slid the dagger back into its sheath and returned the belt to the chair.

Naull turned her attention to the cloak, fishing around in the pocket instead of looking at Regdar. Her hand closed on something made of cool metal and she drew out a long, thin vial of brushed electrum, stoppered and sealed with wax. There was something else in the same pocket, and Naull reached in again, still holding the vial. She wrapped her finger around a length of soft cord and pulled out a small, suede pouch.

She set the vial and the pouch carefully on the table. The telltale sound of coins rattled in the pouch. Naull hung the cloak on another chair as Regdar examined the contents of the purse.

"Gold," he said, "and platinum."

Regdar dropped the pouch on the table and stepped back, examining the newfound riches with a creased forehead.

"If you were going to murder someone," he asked, "would you leave this kind of loot behind?"

"I'll bet you double or nothing for that pouch of coins that at least some of this stuff is magical, too," Naull said.

"Can you find out for sure?"

Naull nodded, and brought a third spell to mind. Regdar took a few steps away from the table.

"It's all right," she said. "It's not a fireball."

Regdar smiled sheepishly and gestured for her to continue.

Naull cast the spell-again, not the most complicated casting. She was rewarded immediately with the presence of magical auras sprinkled about the room.

She narrowed her gaze, kept her breathing even, and concentrated.

"The vial," she said in a distracted monotone, "the rapier, the dagger, and the cloak."

She took a deep breath and narrowed her focus again, keeping calm, waiting, and it all started becoming more clear.

"Something in the vial," she whispered, "not the vial itself. It's an enchantment, I think…a potion…"

Her voice trailed off, then she looked up, scanning the rest of the room. Regdar's magical accoutrements glowed in her vision, as did her own-and there was something on the door.

She didn't risk stepping closer, just let her mind concentrate on the door. It was a weak aura typical of old signs.

She closed her eyes, let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and let the spell fade.

"The door," Naull said. "A spell was cast on the door."

"What kind of spell?" Regdar asked.

"An abjuration," she said.

"What does that do?"

"All sorts of things," she answered. "It's a school of magic, not a specific spell. It's very weak now, and it looks like it was never very strong to begin with. I'd bet it was designed either to hold the door shut or make the caster aware of someone passing through it."

"Like an alarm?" Regdar asked.

Naull nodded.

"What about the rest of it?" he asked.

"The potion is likely meant to make you do something," she said, "or think something…I don't know. The cloak, the rapier, and the dagger, I have no idea. Other spells could tell me, but I would need a few days at least to get through all of them by myself."

"We should take them with us, then," Regdar said.

"The murderer wasn't interested in all this valuable magic or gold and platinum coins," Naull replied.

"Apparently not," Regdar said.

"So," said Naull, "it's personal, then."

Regdar nodded, then picked up the weapons belt, the pouch, and the vial. He nodded at the cloak and Naull picked it up, draping it over one forearm.

"Can you cast a spell," Regdar asked, "like the one that sealed the door, if that's what it did?"

"I can," she answered. "Actually, I have one in mind that'll likely do a better job of it. I'll be able to open it, but it'll be a tough one for anyone else."

"Good," Regdar said. "I think we've seen all we need to see here for now."

Regdar stepped back, gesturing for her to precede him to the door.

"So, Your Lord Constableness," she said, not moving, "is your high and lofty office going to cover the twenty-five Merchants in gold dust-twenty-five each go, mind you-that I'll need to cast the identify spells?"

Regdar rubbed his chin with his big, callused fingers.

"You know what?" he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I don't know."