Free Weapon of Blood by Chris A. Jackson Page B

Maybe as a signature or
personal trademark.  Whatever it is, I don’t like it.  Once you’re finished
here, search the archives for similar methods and circumstances.”
    “Yes, Captain.”  Tamir scratched more
notes.  “Professional, no doubt, but I’ve never heard of a wizard earning a
visit from a pro.  Can’t even remember the last time a wizard got murdered. 
They’re dangerous targets, even for a pro.  This one’s a puzzle, all right.”
    “That’s why we’re here, Sergeant.”
    “That, and the fact that it happened on
our side of the river.”  Tamir chuckled.  “You know the joke; all the devils of
the Nine Hells can rampage south of the river, and they just call the City
Guard.  But if a rich merchant or noble gets so much as a hangnail north of the
river, the Royal Guard will be there with a bandage.”
    Norwood cast a withering glare at Tamir. 
“I despise that joke, Sergeant.”
    However true it might be, he resented the
implication that the privileged classes received greater consideration from the
duke’s Royal Guard than the lesser got from the less prestigious City Guard.  The
river that forked in the center of Twailin split the city into three pieces.  The
portion north of that split included Hightown, the Bluff District, and the
duke’s palace, which sat right on the promontory overlooking the river’s fork. 
The two southern portions made up the vast majority of the city’s population,
but only about a tenth of its wealth.
    “Yes, sir.”  Tamir bit his lip and
scratched more notes.
    “Wait for Woefler and have a good look
around, but if the killer was this careful with the body, I doubt you’ll find
much.  If Vonlith let him in, that explains why there are no broken or jimmied
locks.  Tell Woefler to check with the Wizards Guild.  I want to know more
about Vonlith.  I’ll be in my office.  You can both give me your initial
reports there.  Now, find out why this man’s dead.”
    “Yes, Captain.”
    “And be careful!  Wait for Woefler. 
That’s an order.”
    “Don’t worry, Captain.  None of my people
are dumb enough to poke into a wizard’s stuff on their own.”
    “Good.  He should be here soon.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    Norwood left Tamir
to his business.  He had other things to attend to, one of them his belated
breakfast.  But as he left Vonlith’s opulent townhouse, he noticed a number of
curious neighbors clustered along the street.  Lords and ladies with their
walking sticks and parasols paused to cast concerned glances and whisper behind
their lace handkerchiefs.  The rumors were already spreading.
     

     
    Lad strode across the courtyard from the
inn to the barn, leaving the aromas of blackbrew and oatcakes in his wake. 
After working out the stiffness in his strained shoulders with some quick
morning exercises in the privacy of their room, and a hearty breakfast, he
considered the chores ahead of him before he headed off to the Golden
Cockerel .
    He stepped into the quiet barn and
stopped.  Something was wrong.
    The sun was up, and the entire inn’s
staff was awake and working.  Tika and Ponce should have been busy with the
barn chores, but they were nowhere in sight.  Closing his eyes, Lad stretched
out his senses: heart beats, shallow steady breathing, the rustle of straw from
his right, a creak of rope overhead.  Two assailants lay in wait for him.  From
their positions, he deduced that they would attack as soon as he ventured
beyond the first horse stall.  He quirked a quick smile, made a discreet noise
to announce his presence, and walked into the trap.
    Their timing was good.
    Tika leapt from the stall to his right,
vaulting over the railing to launch a flying kick right at Lad’s head.  At the
same moment, his twin brother, Ponce, swung down from an overhead rafter,
leading with the edge of his foot aimed at Lad’s back.  Either attack would
have been a telling blow, painful or even incapacitating, but neither