Free Dragon Precinct by Keith R. A. DeCandido

pursuing. “What about the others?”
    “What about ’em?”
    “Well, might they also be targets of the Elf Queen’s wrath?”
    The dwarf smiled. “None of us have any love lost for her, if that’s what you mean. Well, except for Mari and Nari. They didn’t have anything to do with the elven wars at all.”
    “Then what are they doing with your group?” Danthres asked.
    Ubàrlig laughed. “I been wonderin’ that myself, Lieutenant. But Brother Genero has a history with them, and they’re pretty useful, though pretty damn irritating when you get right down to it. But nah, the Elf Queen probably didn’t have a clue who they are. But they haven’t been targeted, either. The rest of us, though, she hated all our guts. One of those nutcases that followed her could’ve decided to get revenge on her behalf.”
    Just as Torin was about to ask his next question, a voice sounded from behind him. “General Ubàrlig, here you are!”
    The speaker had used a full sentence, so it couldn’t have been the guard. And indeed, it wasn’t; the man who spoke was half a head shorter than the guard—who had apparently let him in. He wore a hat that was the height of fashion at court in the castle, and that no one would be caught dead wearing anywhere but there or Unicorn. His silk tunic and breeches were covered by a billowing cloak that, Torin suspected, was mostly to keep out the filth, both inanimate and living.
    After a moment, Torin placed the face of the man as belonging to Sir Rommett, the chamberlain at Lord Albin and Lady Meerka’s court, and a man with sufficient clout that an errand to such a place as the Dog and Duck had to be beneath his station. He had people for that sort of thing.
    Which means that this case is about to get far more complicated.
    “It’s my room,” Ubàrlig said with a snort. “Where the hell else would I be?”
    “I’ve come to convey you and your friends—”
    If Danthres recognized Rommett, she didn’t show it—or, more likely, didn’t care—as she interrupted him. “Get this man out of here!” she snapped at the guard.
    “I beg your pardon! Don’t you know who I am?”
    “You’re not in uniform, so you’re not a member of the Guard. Are you a witness to either of the murders that took place in this inn?”
    Rommett drew himself up to his full height—which wasn’t much more than that of Ubàrlig. “Of course not! I’ve never set foot in this—this establishment before tonight, and I hope never to have to—”
    “In that case, you’re a civilian trespassing on a crime scene.” With a pointed look at the guard—who seemed completely uninterested in the proceedings—she added, “You should never have been let in here in the first place.”
    “Danthres—” Torin started.
    “My dear lady—”
    “I’m not a lady,” Danthres said, and Torin had to bite his tongue to keep from making a comment on that, “I’m a lieutenant in the Cliff’s End Castle Guard, and you’re trespassing on my crime scene.”
    “Not for much longer you aren’t.” Rommett reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out his seal of office. “I am Sir Rommett, the chamberlain of Cliff’s End. Your pet thugs let me into this pit of an inn because I carry this seal. I am here on official business of the city-state, which is to convey the general here, as well as Brother Genero and the rest of their party, to the castle, where they will remain as guests of the Lord and Lady until this matter is concluded.”
    “Good Sir Rommett,” Torin said quickly before Danthres got them into more trouble, “that stay will be indefinite unless we are allowed to do our work. We need to question General Ubàrlig as well as—”
    “Nonsense. He’s a victim here, not—”
    Danthres snarled. “He found the body.”
    Speaking as if to a child, Rommett said, “Then he obviously isn’t the perpetrator.”
    Ubàrlig chose that moment to speak up. “I’m perfectly happy to help the lieutenants