The Queen's assassin

Chapter Thirteen

Lord Elakar’s body lay sprawled on the vast four-poster bed. A dagger protruded right up to the hilt from the heart. Blood stained his nightclothes and the sheets. Someone had written Death to the Invaders on the wall using some of it.

“He did not have a very good end to his evening,” said Rik. As soon as she had seen the room, Asea sealed the doors and performed a number of arcane rituals in it. Rik could sense their power, but he had no understanding of what she had done. When they were finished, they went to the chamber where Quinal was holding the servants. It was a bare room with a few wooden chairs. Soldiers in the uniform of the Queen’s Own Cavalry, Lord Elakar’s regiment, guarded the door.

“Who saw him last?” Asea asked as soon as she walked in.

“Answer her Ladyship,” said Captain Quinal. He was a rather sinister looking Terrarch with glints of grey in his hair. According to Asea he was very high up in Intelligence.

“Manfred — his body servant, Milady,” said a tall, thin spare-looking human male, doubtless the chief butler. He gestured to a frightened looking middle-aged man with a well-trimmed goatee beard. Manfred was under no illusions as to where suspicion was likely to fall for this killing.

“I would appreciate it if the rest of you would leave,” Asea said. Manfred looked as if he was going to faint. He obviously had no desire to be left alone in a room with this infamous sorceress, her bodyguards and the terrifying Captain Quinal.

“Please be seated,” she said, indicating to Manfred that he should take one of the chairs.

“I could never do that, your Ladyship. Not while you are standing.”

“I insist, Manfred. This is not a matter of good manners. It is a command.” Manfred gulped and sat down. Asea strode over to him and removed one of her Elder Signs. She held it on a chain, so that it swung in front of the servant’s eyes. As it swung back and forth she murmured the words of a spell. Rik was surprised to feel the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. He sensed the flow of energy within the room, and saw a faint nimbus of magical energy gather around the sign.

Manfred’s eyes locked on the swinging symbol. The veins stood out on his forehead. He swallowed again and again as if his mouth were filling up with saliva. His eyes glazed over. After a minute or so, Asea seemed satisfied. She stopped her chanting.

“Did you kill Lord Elakar?” she asked. Manfred shook his head.

“Please speak aloud when you answer my questions,” she said.

“No, Milady. I did not kill him.”

Her voice was soothing. “I thought as much, but it’s the obvious question to ask. Did you see who killed him?”

“No, Milady. I did not.”

“Did you have anything to do with his murder? Did you help his killers in any way?”

“Certainly not, Milady. Why would I do that? Lord Elakar was the best master a man ever had.”

“When did you last see him alive?” she asked.

“When I bade him good night after helping him disrobe.”

“Did he do anything unusual or abnormal?”

“No, Milady. He had a last glass of wine and went to bed, as he always did.”

“Did he say anything unusual?”

“No.”

“Do you know of anybody who would have wanted him killed?”

“Only those Kharadrean scum as did it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They hate us, Milady. They don’t want us here. You should hear what some of them say to cook when she's out buying stores.”

“Is that all?”

“There’s the dagger, Milady, and the message on the wall.”

“Anyone can write a message,” said Asea.

“In blood, Milady? What sort of person would do that?” The servant sounded genuinely shocked. Rik was not. He had seen far worse things in his time.

“You will talk of this matter to no one save myself, Captain Quinal, Lord Azaar or our authorised representatives,” said Asea. She muttered a word of command, and Manfred stirred like a man coming suddenly awake.

“You may go, Manfred,” Asea said. The servant departed. Asea slumped down in the chair and gestured at Quinal.

The rest of the servants were called. The inquisition continued.

Asea looked at Quinal as they talked to the last of the guards who had been on duty the previous evening. “Do you have any more questions, Captain?” she asked. “If so, please ask them quickly; using such magic is quite fatiguing.”

“I can’t think of any, Milady.”

“The wards are all in place. Nothing disturbed them,” she said. “It was not a summoning that did this.”

“It is quite baffling,” said Quinal. “No one saw anything. No wards are disturbed. No summonings were performed in the night, and yet General Elakar is dead with a Kharadrean dagger in his breast.”

“You think the dagger is significant, Captain?”

“It bears a dragon rampant, the sign of the Brotherhood of Kharadrean Patriots. Who are exactly the sort of league you would expect from their name.”

“Are they connected with any wizards?”

“You never know with the Brotherhoods, Milady. It’s the usual sort of group with all the trappings. Dressing up in cowled robes. Code names. All of the old secret society marks. You suspect a wizard is involved?”

“The killing was done without disturbing the wards. No one seems to have seen the killer. It all smacks of magic, Captain.”

“With all respect, warding spells have been known to fail, Milady. Sometimes they are even miscast.”

“I am aware of that. These ones seem to be functioning perfectly.”

“As you are no doubt aware, Milady, sometimes wards have flaws which can be exploited.”

Asea nodded. “You are quite correct, Captain, and I am very tired. Is there anything else you wish of me?”

“The servants will not talk?”

“Nor the guards I have spoken to, Captain. They are placed under a deep compulsion. It would take a mage of considerable skill to undo it.”

“Then I thank you for your help, Milady. I will continue with my investigation.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” said Rik, once they were back inside the coach, and clattering over the cobbled streets. He was a little unsettled. Only a few hours ago, Lord Elakar had been alive, sitting in state in his Palace, supervising the ball. Rik had not known him, and had never cared about him one way or another, but it was jarring that he was gone. He had become used to death in his life, but he expected it on the battlefield and in the back alley, not in the palaces of the powerful.

“It’s very bad, Rik,” she said. “And whoever did this knows it. They have killed one of our Generals in his own mansion, and they have left no clues.”

“No clues. Is that possible?”

“You saw me perform the rituals, Rik. I looked for residual auras in the room and on the weapon. There were none. Sorcery was used, of a very powerful type. It would be needed to prevent me from making a connection.”

Glancing out the window, Rik saw that many in the crowd were looking at them with resentment. Their coach bore the marks of foreigners and the mob here was developing a well-honed hatred of foreigners. And it seemed like they were losing their sense of fear.

“It will get worse once word of this gets out. One of our highest has been killed, apparently by one of their Brotherhoods. It will embolden those who resist us and give heart to Kathea’s enemies.”

“You don’t think the Brotherhood did it?” Rik had encountered the secret Brotherhoods, those multiple interlocking conspiracies woven through all the lairs of society, before. One of them had been partially responsible for the terrible events at Deep Achenar.

“They might have, Rik. And they have picked a good time to strike. Winter is coming. Food is short. Resentment is high. Our own men are feeling displaced. This will not help morale.”

She sounded thoughtful and not a little homesick. It was rare to see Asea look vulnerable but she did so now.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s starting again, Rik, I can feel it.”

“What is?”

“Inexplicable killings. Unexplainable murders. Untraceable assassins. I have seen this before. On Al’Terra and after the old Queen was killed. It sickens me, and this time I am going to put an end to it.” She sounded very determined. He did not doubt that, if it was possible to find a way to do it, she would then the significance of her words sank in. Untraceable killers.

“I did not do it,” he said. “I was in the Palace.”

Asea looked at him carefully as if measuring his trustworthiness. “I believe you,” she said, but he was not entirely sure that she did.

If it was someone like him there might be some connection to his long lost father, to another Shadowblood. Once again it occurred to Rik that she was using him as a kind of bait, but now it seemed she might be seeking bigger and more dangerous fish. She might be looking for someone who could kill the Lord Governor in his own Palace surrounded by his guards.

Who would that person try for next, he wondered? He had a terrible feeling that he was going to find out.