Paul Crilley - Night of Long Shadows

“What did you do?” asked a vacuous-looking young elf.

His companion, a female elf who was not at all vacuous looking-rather tasty, in fact-rolled her eyes.

“The only thing I could do. I wasn’t about to risk any of my men, so when darkness fell, I snuck behind enemy lines and killed the Karrn general myself. Slit his throat.”

The elf gasped and put a delicate hand to his mouth. “No!”

“It was war. These things had to be done.” “Tell me,” said Wren. “Where did this confrontation take place?”

The young man narrowed his eyes at Wren. “Outside Karrnath.”

“Really? Would this be outside Karrnath in the Talenta Plains, or outside Karrnath in the rather unfriendly mountains of the Mror Holds?”

“Uh-”

“Or maybe it was in the Mournland? Yes? No?”

“I … I can’t remember.” The man put a hand to his forehead as if he had a headache. “It’s the trauma, you see. It sometimes makes me forget things. But you wouldn’t know about that.”

“I would, as a matter of fact. And I also know that during the War you were nowhere near the frontline. How did you get in here, anyway? I didn’t invite you.”

“This is your party?”

“It is.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Obviously.”

They stared at each other. Finally, the young man looked away, flushing with embarrassment. “Uh, maybe I’d better go …”

Wren waved his hand dismissively. “You’re here now,” he said. “You may as well stay. Have some wine. It’s from Aundair.”

“Um, thank you.” The young man glanced at the girl, hesitated, then shook his head and wandered off. The girl stared at Wren, eyebrows raised.

“That was rather cruel.”

“Was it?” Wren scratched a pointed ear-a gift from his elf father-and frowned. “I didn’t notice.”

“No, I imagine not. You were too busy staring at me.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, not really.” The elf grinned, taking a small sip of wine and staring at Wren over the rim of the crystal glass.

Wren smiled back. Maybe things were looking up after all. He took her by the arm and gently guided her away from the confused elf who had been so impressed by the war stories. “Should we go somewhere a bit less … boring?”

“Didn’t you say this was your party?”

Wren shrugged. “I’m afraid it hasn’t lived up to the hype.”

“I see. So, where should we go?”

“Well, my place is not far. We can enjoy the view of the park and enjoy some wine from my cellar.”

“You have apartments in Skysedge Park?”

“I do.”

“May I ask-what do you do for a living?”

“Oh. Forgive me.” Wren bowed low, almost touching the grass with his trailing fingers. “Abraxis Wren. Master inquisitive of House Medani. At your service.”

“You’re an inquisitive?”

“I am.”

“Following philandering husbands and tracking down missing children obviously pays a lot better than I was led to believe.”

Wren chuckled. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t. But then, I don’t take on those types of cases.”

“Is that so? And what types of cases do you take on?”

“Ones that interest me. Ones that pose some kind of challenge. I’m easily bored, you see.”

“Forgive me for prying, but how can you afford such an extravagant lifestyle?”

“Extravagant?” Wren laughed. “Oh, my dear, you should have seen how my father lived. Now there was an elf who knew how to throw a party. No, my needs are humble. I inherited my apartments and some money when my father drank himself to death. Something my human mother had been warning him about for years. I-”

Wren froze mid sentence and peered over the elf’s shoulder. She turned to see what he was looking at.

“What?” she asked.

“Forgive me, my lady. I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone that drink. I smell something interesting.”

He handed his glass to the woman and hurried past her. He thought he heard her swearing at him but he couldn’t be sure. A shame. She looked like she would have been fun. But better things awaited. He targeted a group of important-looking men clustered around the tall figure of Master Larrien ir’Morgrave, the head of Morgrave University. Judging from the urgent hand gestures and the upset look on Larrien’s lean face, something dramatic was afoot.

“Larrien,” Wren said, approaching the group. “Enjoying the party?”

Larrien looked up in surprise, his features rearranging into a smile. He smoothed back his fine white hair. “Truth to tell, Wren, it’s not up to your usual standards.”

Wren looked around wistfully. “I know. I don’t know what happened. I think I’ll hold the next one in the Cogs, maybe combine it with a hunt. What’s the problem?”

“No problem. Why would there be a problem?”

“Larrien, I’ve played cards against you. I know your stonewalling face. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to find out myself?”

Larrien sighed. “Actually, I could use your help on this one. It appears that a murder has been committed back at the university.”

Wren frowned. “A murder? What were they fighting over? A book or something?”

“I have no idea. I’ve just been told about it myself.”

Wren clapped his hands together. “Let’s be off, then. Let’s see if we can catch ourselves a killer!”

Wren strode briskly down the dark, wood-paneled corridors of the university, Larrien stumbling to keep up with his longer strides. When he saw this, Wren slowed down a fraction.

“What information do we have?” asked Wren.

“Not much. The person who stumbled onto the murder has kept everyone out of the rooms.”

“Smart. Who was that?”

“An acquaintance of yours, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Larrien’s tone took on a slightly accusing note. “Wren, I’ve asked you before to clear it with me when you need access to the libraries. I won’t turn you down.”

Wren stopped walking. Larrien forged ahead before realizing he was on his own. He turned back.

“Are you saying Torin discovered the body?” asked Wren.

“Not just discovered the body. He interrupted the murderer.”

“Excellent.”

Wren started walking again. He rounded a corner and found his dwarf partner lounging against a closed door while four members of the ordained clergy from the Hall of Aureon tried to get him to move. Torin grinned when he saw Wren.

“You know, I was cursing your name all night, making me do research while you were off partying.”

Wren waved his hand dismissively. “You didn’t miss anything, believe me. The party was a flop.”

“That’s because I wasn’t there.”

“No. Because you weren’t there, we still had some drink left over and there were no fights.” He shooed the clergy away. “Don’t you have some praying to do? Go on, move, move.”

The clerics spluttered and glared at Wren, but Larrien just sighed and nodded at them to leave.

“What happened to your face?” asked Wren, indicating the bruise that had spread over Torin’s right eye.

“Bastard got a blow in while I was trying to get my knife.”

“Makes you look prettier.”

“Very funny,” said Torin.

“Right. Are you going to move or should we stand out here all night?”

Torin pushed himself up from his lounging position and stepped to the side. “After you, O Great One.”

Wren opened the door. “Everyone else stay outside till I’ve had a look around.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Wren closed his eyes and breathed in the silence, opening his mind and letting his senses probe. He felt-