Joel Rosenberg - [D'Shai 01] - D'Shai (8 page)

 

I
STARTED WITH
the armory, and the body.

Crosta Natthan insisted on accompanying us, which didn’t bother me; I really wasn’t looking forward to pushing my way past the guards.

On the way over he was able to tell me about his discovery of the body, which he insisted on doing in a tone of voice that made it perfectly clear that he thought I was asking purely for effect.

The warrior guarding the door moved aside at Crosta Natthan’s scowl, and we slid in through the narrow opening.

Refle’s body hadn’t been removed. A carpet of flies lay thick on the corpse, leaving only for moments as we fanned at them. The room stank, even though the windows were open and two censers sent clouds of thick patchouli and pungent meryhm into the air.

I raised an eyebrow. “Is there any reason that thing is still here?â€

 

B
EING A PEASANT
and an acrobat is no particular help when you’re investigating something; it would be handier to be a swordsman.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to find out about Orazhi, and his daughter, and Arefai, with no success. The servants either didn’t know or wouldn’t answer directly, and the soldiers wouldn’t answer at all. Even old Crosta Natthan was close-mouthed on the subject.

Finally I presented myself at the entrance to the living quarters.

I guess I had been accorded some status; the servitor on duty—a warrior this time—didn’t argue with me: he simply nodded, then took a brush and ink and quickly painted a note in the elegant hand that all of Toshtai’s warriors had, and sent for an attendant to take the note to Arefai.

Only a few minutes later an ancient old woman in an equally ancient silk robe came up to the entrance. She scowled at me for a long moment. “He will see you,â€

 

T
HE ERESTHAIS HAD
set up the high wire to run from building to building, but the rest of us hadn’t been allowed on the third floor of the old donjon.

I looked across the wire at the old donjon, and wondered. The thumb-thick cable ran from building to building, now singing-taut. I tapped on it; it gave a deep but tight basso rumble.

I looked at the others, but mostly at Gray Khuzud, his face still a mirror to his pain. He tossed his head, his pigtail flopping limply.

“It will be fine, Kami Khuzud,â€

 

T
HE WHILE BEFORE
bedtime was our time, it was in some ways a quiet time as we all sat on Madame Rupon’s porch, looking out at the town, and at the flickering lights in the castle above the town, and at the stars above.

All
of us: the Eresthais, Large Egda, Fhilt, Sala, Evrem, Gray Khuzud, and even Felkoi.

A last time, for me. A time of little talk, if not as quiet as usual. The musicians were practicing loud and hard tonight; I could hear and feel the lead silverhorn player slip in and out of kazuh. We sat alone, under the flickering lanterns.

High above, the stars watched us, cold and uncaring.

Evrem was the first to leave; he gave a quick nod of goodbye, then headed off to have a few moments alone with his snakes before bedtime.

“There’s a last time for everything,â€