Free The God Tattoo: Untold Tales from the Twilight Reign by Tom Lloyd Page A

force required to damage the door as they had. The nature of his injury was mysterious. I could find no wound save cuts to his knuckles where he had apparently broken the
mirror. His breathing was shallow and laboured, his pulse weak but constant with no sign of fever. I tried to rouse him with smelling salts but he was caught in a state deeper than some mere
faint.
    “The marshal’s condition appeared to be stable. I concluded he would only benefit from rest and instructed his lady wife to massage his head to encourage the flow of blood. I
could only presume his injury was one born of the imagination, something I knew to be powerful for I had on more than one occasion been privileged to hear the ghost stories of his own
devising.
    As the first rays of dawn touched his bed the marshal began to stir. Evidently he had been greatly disquieted by his experience, but I knew my place well enough not to intrude on a
wife’s work. As soon as I was sure he was well enough, I took my leave.”’
    ‘Well, what more?’ I asked, taking advantage of the fact that Danc’s blade was currently not at my throat.
    ‘That’s all the good doctor says in his statement. He didn’t dawdle in the house and paid no attention to what the marshal said as he was roused. We have to rely on the
testimony of the manservant, one Imah Veser, for the next part, but I found him to have little imagination and a distinct fondness for his master so I believe it’s faithfully told.’
    ‘Good, but wait. I believe you need the attentions of this razor more than I. Danc can read the next passage while you become presentable for my wife.’
    Brandt acceded to this, knowing that my wife’s fondly sharp tongue would delight in his appearance. He took the mirror and blade offered by my man with a smile, propping the mirror against
a vase and touching it slightly to the left in search of the best light. As a nobleman he had grown up with people to do such things for him – as a watchman he preferred to wield himself any
blade at his throat.
    Danc made his way around the table and took the seat I had indicated to him, much accustomed to reading and writing on my behalf now that age and past injuries make the two difficult.
    ‘“My master awoke with a pale and shaken appearance, but the presence of Lady Calath seemed to calm him and he relaxed under her touch. While I attended him and
helped him dress, my lady gently questioned him on what had happened. He seemed unwilling to speak freely in my presence, which I found strange if you don’t mind me observing. I’ve been
with him for years now, since long before he married, and believe myself trusted entirely regarding all of his business and personal affairs. What he did say was confusing. I think his dreams must
have been unpleasant since he spoke of taking fright at his reflection. I overhead something of ‘a face in the mirror that was not his own’, which made me think that he had seen a face
at the window though I cannot see how an intruder could have scaled the wall.”’
    ‘That’s true,’ interjected Brandt with a flourish of the razor. ‘We investigated the entire building after the murder. It would have taken a man with
unnatural skill to climb the blank face and peer in. The servants also remembered the drapes being closed and the window fastened on the night of the murder, despite the warm evening.’
    This information imparted, Danc took up matters once more.
    ‘“For the next few days the master of the house lay abed, recovering. Lady Calath gave instructions for the other two looking glasses in the building to be
covered – such was my master’s dread of a reoccurrence. He gave no explanation for the laughter other than blanching at his wife’s mention of it, which prevented further
discussion of the matter. Once his health – always a somewhat tentative circumstance in my experience – was restored, life returned to normal and we spoke of the incident no more.