Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 1 - Anubis Murders (7 page)

"One conclusion of a meaningful sort is at hand," the voice of Aldriss caroled. "We are about to drop anchor in the fair harbor of Caer-Mabd!"

All three turned and stared coldly at the bard. He hardly noticed because his spirits were so high. The Avillonian bards were truly only at home in their own isles, and clearly Aldriss was much affected by the sight of his native land. "Lady Rachelle is busily gathering your gear, Magister Inhetep. I'm off to do the same with my own now. Tallesian, Behon, aren't you going to pack up for immediate disembarkation?"

It was practical advice. The wizard-priest excused himself to see if there was anything he needed to do to assist the girl, and the three men of Lyonnesse likewise attended to gathering up their few possessions. Caer-Mabd was a thriving town of almost a hundred thousand people, the largest port in the country and second largest population center after the capital. Camelough lay a little over forty miles distant—a day's hard ride by horseback, and two days walk or travel by cart or wagon, though the fast coaches made it in one day because their teams went almost as swiftly as a single man on horseback.

Only a few minutes after the anchors had been dropped, the party was quickly whisked to shore and away from the port in a fast-moving coach.

"It is too bad," Rachelle remarked to her mentor. "I would like to see a little of Caer-Mabd, and I know you are always curious about strange cities. Is this matter so pressing that we couldn't spend even an hour or two? Some of the shops I glimpsed displayed very interesting wares."

He turned and stared at her, his hawk-like nose raised for a moment as if pointing at the girl. She looked only slightly haggard from the voyage—a surprising thing for one so poor a seafarer. "I can thank the bard for that," he said. Rachelle gave him a puzzled look. "I am merely noting how well you managed the long days aboard the ship on our journey here. Aldriss worked minor miracles . . . but that is not a response to your query. The Behon is our employer, in a manner of speaking. He desires our immediate presence in Camelough, so we go hence to that place. I, too, would normally enjoy a day or two seeing sights. Perhaps on our return. Would you like that?"

"Very much." She smiled. "Perhaps we can find a native to guide us."

"Have you anybody special in mind?"

Rachelle smiled again. "Let's wait until the prospect is actual," she sweetly told her hawk-faced associate. Then she turned and looked out the window as the coach bounced along toward the royal seat of the great kingdom of Lyonnesse.

The Behon and Tallesian were silent and tense. It was evident that the nearer they came to Camelough the more worried they became. Even the bard was nearly silent, only occasionally humming under his breath as he stared into nothingness or gazed out at the scenery rolling by. These three were definitely part of the affair, and the one calling himself the Master of Jackals meant to exact his demands in the city for which they were heading.

Jackals are basically nothing but moderately clever animals, Inhetep thought. Cunning, perhaps smarter than a typical dog or wolf, but never close to a human. The information garnered from witnesses in Ys, however, seemed to point to jackals—far bigger specimens, creatures the size of enormous wolves, which behaved with almost human intelligence. Then there were the supposed sea-jackals. Why all that showy business? After all, in the end it simply came down to a flawed summoning of the air elemental, so that instead a demon came and slew the so-styled Haut Omniurge.

Frontonac had actually gone to Egypt once. Setne recalled meeting him in Innu. That was thirty years ago now. More. The priest-mage had then been but a fledging practitioner, studying the laws of dweomercraefting. The Bretton had been a respected, if dark, invocator even then, and the half-dozen candidates studying to become kheri-heb had been brought out to hear him speak on the subject of the Pandemonium and the command of negative heka. It was a great demon, indeed, that could kill the master sorcerer Frontonac with such ease. Greater still the one who managed to cause it to come rather than a prince of aerial nature! Skandia, the hyperborean lands, the Hansa masters, Livestonia, Ys, and now Lyonnesse. Save for the realm of Norge and empty Lappia, its path might appear to be a circle drawn round a point—Brabant, Flanders, Albion, or further north . . . ?

"You seem most thoughtful, my lord," Rachelle whispered to Setne. "Is there something I should know? May I assist in any way?"

That sounded more like his faithful assistant, and the Egyptian smiled a little. It was more in mockery of himself than for any other reason. "I analyze even my own thoughts, Rachelle," he said quietly. "But I am pondering this entire matter now, for soon enough we'll be up to our necks in it. There is more to learn. Tomorrow morning, early, when we are fresh and rested."

"Now?"

"You have been trained, seen much, and what is known about the Master of Jackals and his murderous ways you have heard as I did. Please mull over the whole business. Look for anything unique, anything unusual taken in context of the whole bizarre nature of it, and search for some inconsistency. Before retiring, you and I will meet privately and compare our notes."

Her face was stony as she replied, "Of course.

And thank you, Setne, for your confidence in me.

"You're welcome—but I always rely on you, Rachelle," the wizard-priest added.

The girl shook her head a little, making her dark ringlets bounce even more in the rattling carriage. "No. You include me as a sounding board, a bodyguard, a useful agent at times. This is actually the first time you have asked me to think and share my opinions on an abstract level."

"Bless me, Rachelle," Inhetep murmured, looking away and then back at her as he thought about what she had just said. "You are right! It must be that this is the first time we have actually had so much time to consider information before having to take action."

"Really? Well, shaved-pate, as you are the one renowned for your thinking capacity, it must be as you say. Now, I had better cogitate, if you don't mind."

"Remarkable," Inhetep said before turning away. "My amazonian warrior plays with words as she does weapons. Such fine puns she displays! I believe that now either I am in for trouble, or else the Master of Jackals is doomed. . . ."

"Both," Rachelle whispered.

JACKAL'S MIND

"Why aren't we housed in the castle?" Rachelle asked petulantly. "Is it because we're foreigners?"

"It's because I specifically requested rooms in a quiet place," Setne explained firmly. "Anyone in the royal castle is under constant scrutiny. We need privacy and freedom from observation."

"Oh, but it seems so dreary here, and there's no opportunity to ... to ... You know what I mean!"

Inhetep was tempted to smile, but he decided not to anger her. "Rachelle, we will have ample opportunity to socialize with the court nobility after the problem of this murderous 'Master of Jackals' is solved. Let's put our minds to that."

"I'm sorry, Setne. I guess I am still a foolish little girl at times," Rachelle said with sincerity. "Of course you're right, and we need to be as unobtrusive as possible. This small inn is perfect in that regard. What is it you'd like me to do?"

There was the Rachelle he was used to! Setne began to outline the case as he saw it up to then, asking the girl to follow his own analysis point by point with her own. They agreed on the major features. The one masterminding the extortions and murders was certainly very powerful.

The targets were the great rulers. No victim could be revivified, and that meant a great deal of magick was used in the killings. From what they knew, no duplicate means of murder had been used. The demon in Ys differed from the other "weapons" as markedly as each instrument of death employed previously. The murder had been expected, yet it occurred despite all precautions. Once accomplished, the victim was always beyond any means of magickal restoration to life. Thereafter, the surviving individuals concerned had evidently complied with the demands of the killer or killers and paid over the ransom, tribute, blackmail—whatever the extorted payments might be called.

"We need to know exactly what was demanded from each victim," Rachelle said.

"That's just about impossible," Inhetep replied. "If these folk would agree to speak of the matter at all, most would certainly refuse details such as that. State secrecy, loss of face, and fear that the assassin or organization calling himself or itself the 'Master of Jackals' would take reprisals—all mitigate against our gaining such information."

"The power involved in each murder is also unknown."

"Not entirely, Rachelle. We know that there were aural readings in two cases, at the Acade-mie Sorcerie d'Ys, and the report from Gothenburg in Svergie seems reliable, too. In the first certainly, and the second probably, we have unquestioned Entital energy, heka of the most powerful sort."

The girl frowned. "You said that Set, let alone the good and noble Anubis, are not the perpetrators of these crimes. Now you say that the highest magicks were used. Isn't that admitting you are wrong?"

"It is always possible to err," the wizard-priest said without humor, "but all entital force doesn't spring from the pantheon of Egypt, let alone the Font of Wickedness or the righteous Lord Anubis. We face a killer able to summon great beings, or to actually draw heka from the greater planes. That doesn't contradict my assertion that the Master of Jackals has no connection to Anubis—or even to Set, save in evil-doing."

She pondered that a moment, then nodded her understanding and agreement. "So we have virtually no information as to who is responsible, what the motive is, or how the murders are accomplished. And since there is no possibility of returning the victim to life, we can't learn the killer's identity. What do we go on?"

"The connections between the crimes. There must be more than mere greed involved, I think. The pattern circles this area: northwestern Europa." Inhetep stood up and went to his leather trunk. He rummaged around, drew out a flat case, and from that extracted a large parchment which was folded into sixths. "See here," he said, showing Rachelle the beautifully inked map of the continent. "Here is where the first murder occurred—Gothenburg. There is Poh-jola, there below it lie Finmark, Kalevala, and the rest. Now south and west, and we come to Riga, capital of Livestonia, where we know another appearance of the Master of Jackals occurred. Next the cities of the Hansiatic League . . . here, here, and here." Setne pointed out the dots as his finger moved westward.

"And there is the Bretton peninsula of Ys," Rachelle supplied. "There is a crescent-shaped pattern."

The Egyptian's coppery skin shone in the vaguely iridescent rays of the witch-lamp as he pointed out a place. "Not quite, my dear girl. See here? There are a few gaps in the circle."

"Circle? I see only a portion of a ring."

"From Ys to Camelough, and there is only the place I pointed out already and the Kingdom of Caledonia."

"Then the Master of Jackals will strike in . . ." Rachelle paused a moment to peer at the chart. ". . . Brabant, Flanders, or the northernmost of the Five Kingdoms of Avillon."

Inhetep gave her a look of doubt. "That assumes that I—we—will fail here in Lyonnesse, and that our slinking villain will then be at large to work his evil elsewhere."

"Oh, sorry, Setne," Rachelle mumbled abashed. "It came out the wrong way. What I meant was that the criminals
plan
to strike one of those three places next."

"Apology accepted." Inhetep smiled. "I wasn't actually serious, for I got your meaning. However, I am not so certain about your theory. You might be correct, Rachelle, but the gap seems altogether too convenient to be accidental. Let's suppose instead that this Master of Jackals provided for the possibility of being traced down in just such a manner as you and I have done now. Wherever he moves next there will be a gap. Think of our dilemma should the grand count of Flanders next receive the attention of the killer!"

The girl looked at the Egyptian's sparkling green eyes. He was enjoying this challenge. "Worse still," Rachelle countered, beginning to get involved, "what if the Jackal Master moves his base of operations?"

"That's a dreadful prospect, girl," Inhetep fairly growled. "No need to worry about it yet, though. He hasn't yet finished here in Came-lough. Tomorrow morning early we meet with the Behon and whomever sent him to bring us here. We might actually have an idea as to who our extortionist-killer is thereafter—and how to put the fellow out of his nasty business."

"Sensible." Rachelle yawned. "I'm worn out, and tomorrow is certain to be a demanding day. Time for me to retire," she informed Setne, heading for the door to her own bedchamber. "I'll awaken you at dawn," RachelJe added over her shoulder.

"For once, amazon, I won't object to your early rising habits," the priest-mage replied affably. "We must be in the palace at the eighth hour for breakfast."

Aldriss came to the inn to gather Inhetep and Rachelle for their short trip to the castle, which was the royal seat of the kingdom. Setne was very quiet, not even querying the bard as to whom they should be prepared to meet inside that palatial stronghold. Rachelle made up for it by doing all the talking. Astonishingly, Aldriss was not his usual loquacious and charming self. Instead, the Kellt responded in clipped sentences and monosyllables. Rachelle continued on airily without seeming to notice, until the ten-minute journey by closed carriage was over and the three descended into a small inner courtyard somewhere inside the extensive fortress. "Please come this way, Magister, Lady Rachelle," the bard told the two strangers.