Филип Этанс - The Death Ray

“I indulge my father as well,” Maelani said. “I daresay we both got what we wanted today. It was especially heartening for me to hear that you will be granted a title. After all, your service to my father has guaranteed that we will all live under his protection for many good years.”

Regdar nodded to the girl, but was confused. Title?

“The Lady Maelani gets ahead of herself,” the duke said, with no little irritation evident in his voice. “More importantly, she gets ahead of me.”

Maelani only smiled at the duke’s stern countenance and said, “By moving sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, the duke makes it difficult not to sometimes pass him, or lag too far behind.”

The two nobles shared a knowing stare, making Regdar feel like he should excuse himself.

The duke finally turned to Regdar and said, “Be that as it may, in light of recent events it is not only my pleasure but my duty to grant you the title of Lord Constable of New Koratia. You will assume this post immediately.”

Regdar opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat.

Maelani leaned toward him so that their faces were only a foot apart. Looking into his eyes in a way that made Regdar even less comfortable, she said, “Welcome to the club, Lord Constable.”

“Thank you,” Regdar said. He knew it would take a while before he could sort out his thoughts enough to feel appropriately honored, but he added, “I serve at the will of the duke.”

This elicited a girlish giggle from Maelani, who stood in a swirl of fine silk and finer jewelry. Regdar hastened to his feet, as was customary, but the duke remained seated.

“I was told,” the girl said, “that I would have to leave you both once that announcement was made. I hope that whatever mysterious business you strong men have will not keep you too long.”

Regdar bowed again, and Maelani swept from the room, leaving a pleasing draft of perfume in her wake. Regdar allowed himself a relieved sigh, and sat.

“As you know,” the duke began without preamble, “another murder has been committed.”

“Another?” Regdar asked.

The duke sighed and said, “The fifth in less than two weeks. All five of the victims died the same way, and all are of similar age and similar station.”

“I know about the murder last night, but I heard of no other,” Regdar said.

“We didn’t realize they were murders at the time,” the duke replied. “Now, well…some things are best left to the proper circles.”

Regdar nodded and said, “I take it the victims were important people.”

“They would have been,” the duke replied, “eventually. All five of them were still young, all were heirs to sizable family fortunes. All five came from some of the finest families in the duchy.”

“I assume, Your Highness,” Regdar said, “that you have named me Lord Constable and informed me of these crimes so that I can bring the murderer to justice.”

The duke smiled. “Well said, Lord Constable.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Regdar replied, “surely there must be someone more qualified than I to assume this post. I am a commoner by birth and a soldier by profession. There must be officers, trained men from the watch, who’ve spent a lifetime working toward that post.”

“Indeed there are,” the duke said. “The problem is that all of those men, and there are a few, are sons of the aristocracy. They’re more politicians than soldiers, more merchants than guardsmen. They also know every one of the victims, as all of the victims knew each other.”

“But that means—”

“That someone is killing the sons of the aristocracy,” the duke finished for him, “and I suspect the murderer is likely a noble himself. I need someone I can trust, Regdar, and I trust you. I need someone who will not be on this murderer’s list of victims. I need your common blood as much as your soldier’s training.”

“But the title…”

“The title will permit you to command the guard,” the duke said. “You will have men and resources at your disposal, but you will remain outside the political circles, at least for now.”

Regdar took a deep breath and nodded.

“The man who was killed at the Thrush and the Jay,” he said. “I was questioned by the guards, but no one would say how he died.”

“Heartstop,” the duke answered. “At least, that was the determination of the Temple of Pelor.”

“Heartstop?” Regdar asked. “How was it determined that it was murder then?”

“The young victim,” the duke answered, “Serge d’Allion, was only twenty years old.”

“Twenty?”

“Yet he died of an affliction more appropriate to a man of my own advanced years,” the duke said. “The other young men—the oldest only twenty-three, the youngest a mere eighteen—died the same way. And it isn’t merely that. My examiners tell me that the convulsion began in the heart but quickly coursed through them so rapidly, and with such force, that it broke every bone in their bodies. That, with no outward sign of violence.”

“And the priests?” Regdar asked. “Was no effort made to return them to life?”

“Indeed,” he duke replied, “in all cases. The families paid a pretty penny, called in favors, but the priests were stymied. Something not only killed these young men but sent them to oblivion, never to return.”

Regdar sighed, contemplating that dark, empty, infinite fate.

“Why these five?” Regdar asked.

The duke shrugged and said, “That’s something our new Lord Constable needs to find out.”

“They all knew each other?”

“I have to assume so,” the duke said. “This is a big city, but the noble class is small and something of a closed community. They all went to the same balls, the same weddings, the same funerals.”

“To kill is easy,” Regdar said, “but to kill without leaving a connection so that even a god’s power could bring body and soul together again…that’s hard.”

“Again,” the duke replied, “I couldn’t agree more. Whoever is committing these crimes is taking great pains to make them stick and expending no little magical power in the process.”

“These five families,” Regdar asked, “were they allied with each other?”

“No,” the duke replied, “and that only makes it more difficult to understand. Some of them were bitter rivals. Still, in the circles these families move in, alliances and animosities blow like the wind. At some point they all find themselves competing over the same resources—the same land, skilled artisans, or bits of magic and treasure.”

“Then why not kill the fathers?” Regdar asked. “If it’s business, why not kill the businessmen?”

“A good question,” the duke said with a shrug. “Precisely the sort I’d expect the Lord Constable to ask.”

Regdar nodded and considered his position. A commoner, a soldier loyal to the duke but with hardly two gold coins to rub together, and he was going to investigate the murders of young men who might have been killed over age-old family grievances or fleeting matters of commerce. He would have to question men who could buy and sell him a thousand times over and be accountable to the same men for the lives of their sons. All the while he’d be commanding men he’d never met over officers whom he’d just leapfrogged into a position of authority he never sought.

He needed to learn to stay away from the city.

Maelani stopped in the short hall that connected her father’s office with the anteroom and gathered herself. She sighed and made a show of waving fresh air onto her flushed face. Maelani knew that a contingent of guards was watching her every move from concealed murder holes in the walls and ceiling. They would be some of her father’s most trusted men, but even they weren’t above a bit of court gossip. She had no doubt that they would take the locations of the spyholes to their graves under even the most baroque of tortures, but what would it matter that the duke’s daughter was all flustered at the sight of the new lord constable?