Heppelthwaite Alething hurried through the fog-shrouded streets of Carenburh. He cursed the dank climate of Gwenddon. Dalibor liked it hot and sunny. Cold permeated their small frames too easily. At least, his tailor made warm overcoats.
A constable of the Guard had knocked Hep up not a half hour before. He had quelled, with difficulty, the desire to curse at the woman. She was only performing her duty. Hep’s relationship with the commander of the city constabulary was strained. For the Major to call Duke Kronberg’s lead investigator for help meant that she had a problem that was either very political or very messy. For her to summon him well before dawn probably meant that it was both.
It took Hep longer than he would have liked to get to Greyfont Drive. He had not accepted the constable’s offer to escort him. He knew the city well enough. At least, he thought he did. Greyfont was a fair distance from his flat in the Silver, and he had taken a wrong turn twice in the fog.
Greyfont was in a neighborhood not far from the Palace. The wide street was lined with townhomes belonging to anyone from a Vice President of an ancient mercantile house to the third son of an Eoarl. Affluent, but not wealthy. Close to the halls of power. Definitely political.
536 was not showing a light. The fog enshrouded the house like the veil of a priestess of the Gray Mother. As he approached, a cloaked figure that could have been the Gray Mother herself slipped out of the mist.
“Quench your lantern. Then inside. Quickly.” The command sounded like it had been hissed through clenched teeth. When Hep normally heard that voice, it was much louder. Not the Gray Mother. Hep admonished himself for letting his weariness and disorientation from the fog befuddle him.
He had not expected Major Gorkla Strongthighs to be at the scene herself. That she was waiting for him herself, rather than a rank and file Guard, meant that she was trying to attract as little notice as possible. Very political. Very messy.
The cloaked figure led Hep up the stairs to the house’s front landing. No light escaped as she opened the door. Hep followed her into the darkened vestibule. Only after she had closed the door behind them did the Major remove the hood from a glowglobe in a sconce on the vestibule wall.
“Glad you could come so…promptly, Inspector.” The Major doffed her cloak and nodded towards a hook for Hep’s overcoat.
Worse and worse. Not only had the Major used his title, she was pretending she had not noticed his tardiness. In her best mood, the Major barely tolerated the dalibor who frequently, in her view, interfered with Guard business. This was only the second - no, third - time she had addressed him as “Inspector”. The other two times were in the presence of the Duke himself.
Now that she had removed her cloak, Hep could tell that she was more frustrated than alarmed. The physical appearance of the shape-changing zlobra often reflected their emotional state. Living amid fixed-form humans had not totally broken the Major of this habit.
The Major was wearing a feminine aspect, which was not surprising. She always did when on Guard business. She was athletic but not overly brawny. That was good. It meant that she was not expecting any imminent danger. Still, the breadth of her shoulders strained the seams of her commander’s uniform. Her skin was a slightly darker green than she normally put forth. Her tusks were also longer. She could not, or would not, completely suppress the outward signs of her unease.
The zlobra faced him, mouth a thin line and arms crossed in front of her. Hep raised an eyebrow and waited. After a few seconds, she turned away from him. She let out a loud sigh, and her shoulders narrowed and sagged noticeably. With a deep breath, she straightened and turned back to him.
“We have a big problem, Alething. You’ll need to report this to the Lord Steward immediately.” Not she, not the Guards, but we. The Major was already starting to share responsibility.…or blame.
When she did not elucidate, Hep just raised his other eyebrow. Raising one eyebrow had shown polite interest. Raising the other meant she should stop dilly-dallying. His continued silence would also annoy her. She had relaxed enough he could poke at her some. Restoring some normalcy to their interplay would make them both feel better.
She gave a low growl. “The scene’s upstairs. We were waiting for you.”
Hep followed her out of the vestibule into a carpeted hall that stretched much of the length of the house. She turned right and went up a set of broad, carpeted stairs. At the top was another hall, almost the twin of the one below. This one, however, was as crowded as the other deserted.
Two constables stood at attention to either side of a door at the far end. Fridich Garton and Amila Marzeant, the Guard’s senior evidence collection team, sat on the polished wood floor. Hep caught some grumbles shared between them about being called out in the middle of the night and then not being let into the crime scene. The final two occupants of the hall were the Guards’ own investigators, Evard Lepen and Hugh de Clare. Lepen and de Clare were having an animated, whispered conversation. The only words Hep could catch were “little freak” and “respect”.
The Major called the detectives over to them with a flick of her head.
“Brief Alething. Quickly.”
“We got a double murder. Lady Ambassador and Lord Naram of Polarma, ‘cording to some letters we found in the office downstairs,” said Lepen. “The earliest ones we could find were from about six months ago. Copies of letters of introduction to the Duke, other ambassadors, heads of the major guilds, and so forth. Didn’t find the originals.”
“We were lucky to have found the Lord and Lady so soon,” said de Clare, picking up his partner’s story. “This is a fine house, but it does not come with servants quarters. Any servants would come in during the day. We found contracts for a cook and a char. The bodies might have lain there for hours, evidence drying up. Poor sods.”
“No less than three Prognosticators with splitting headaches come running into Central close behind each other, just after two,” said Lepen. “All had the same tale of a right powerful surge of infernal energy from this area. Only one could narrow it down to this address, though.”
“Evard and I had the duty,” said de Clare. “We sent a runner to wake up the Major and flew up here with those constables.
“The front door was unlocked when we got here. We did not want to wake the neighbors by announcing ourselves too loudly, if this were nothing. So we let ourselves in. We did call out once we were all inside.”
“Nobody answered,” said Lepen. “We, very respectfully, started looking around. Didn’t take long to find them. That much blood, we shut everything down upstairs and waited for the Major.”
“I think you should see the rest for yourself.” The Major strode past the pair to the guarded door. They silently fell in behind her and Hep.
“You need to tell me if this is what it looks like,” she said over her shoulder to Hep. She pushed open the door and stepped aside.
To be continued….
Den of the Red Wolf 