“I’m sorry,” I finally said, shaking my head. “I can’t hear you.” For emphasis, I pointed to my ear.
Apparently, the man understood, because he stopped speaking and appeared to reflect for a moment.
“Let me get help,” I suggested. “One of the Incarnates can–”
At the mention of Incarnates, the man vigorously shook his head, not just indicating that I shouldn’t get them involved, but practically begging me not to. At the same time, I sensed dread and apprehension ballooning in him with frightening intensity.
“Okay, okay!” I assured him. “No Incarnates.”
The man seemed to relax somewhat, but then began to glance around wildly, as though noticing some change in the environment. It took me a moment to pick up on it, but then I realized what was different: the weird rumbling noise had seemingly come to a halt.
Almost in a panic, the man turned and practically leaped back into the painting. A moment later, he was gone, having disappeared into the illustrated undergrowth.
Chapter 29
I stayed put for perhaps ten minutes, hoping that the man would return and keenly scrutinizing the wall for a clue as to where he’d gone. I received satisfaction in neither regard.
On something of a whim, I extended an arm toward the fresco. To my shock and amazement, it met no resistance when it reached the wall and instead seemed to “enter” the painting and become part of it. Caught completely unprepared by this development, I went so far as to lean forward and put my head into the fresco as well, and found myself actually in the forest it depicted. Completely unsettled by what I was experiencing, I hastily withdrew, and was happy to find myself in the “real” world again.
At that juncture, feeling frustrated and eager to speak to Rune (not to mentioned just a little freaked out), I teleported back to our suite.
*****
I popped up in the living room — and in the middle of a conversation. Sitting across from each other on the couch and easy chair, respectively, were Static and Rune.
“–hy you roused me?” Static was saying grumpily. “To harass me over minutia that doesn’t even matter?”
They both turned in my direction.
“Uh…sorry,” I began. “I’ll just–”
“Don’t go anywhere,” Rune said to me, obviously anticipating that I was going to excuse myself. Turning back to Static, he remarked, “It absolutely matters. You’re a Chomarsus, so there’s no need to take shortcuts or do shabby work.”
“Fine,” Static shot back testily. “It’s a waste, but I’ll fix it.”
A moment later, he vanished.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“Static being Static,” Rune replied.
Not knowing what he meant, I simply stayed silent, and after a moment, he went on.
“You probably don’t see it,” he continued, “but despite everything that’s going on, we Incarnates still have duties. Responsibilities. Even while we’re stuck here dealing with a murder.”
“I take it someone’s not holding up their end?”
“Static,” Rune answered, “as if you couldn’t tell from what just happened.” I merely shrugged, at which point he continued, saying, “You remember Dalmion, who met us when we arrived?”
“The majordomo?” I said. “Sure.”
“Well, you probably couldn’t tell, but the uniform he was wearing — that all the servants here wear — is also a type of armor. Basically, they also have the job of serving as a fighting force if we’re ever attacked.”
I raised an eyebrow at this. “This place is at risk of attack?”
“I know, I know,” he droned. “Being outside of space and time, it doesn’t seem likely. But from my point of view, it doesn’t hurt to expect the unexpected.”
“Makes sense,” I conceded. “So what does this have to do with Static?”
“He was responsible for providing the current batch of uniforms. However, he’s inherently lazy, and therefore has a bad habit of taking shortcuts. In this instance, the uniform wasn’t armored. So when the servants were going through a recent training exercise, one of them was injured because his uniform — which was supposed to protect against weapons fire — didn’t do its job. Static’s excuse is that it takes a little longer and requires him to expend more sivrrut to make the armored uniform, and since we never come under attack here, he didn’t see the need.”
“But he’s going to fix it?”
“So he says, but this is typical of him. He’s like a chef who’s baking a cake and runs out of sugar. Instead of going out to get more, he’d rather just use salt because they’re both white and look alike.”
“Okay,” I mused. “I guess that does sound a bit indolent.”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg with him,” Rune stated. He let out a pent-up breath and then, apparently ready to move on, said, “Anyway, how’d it go with the laamuffals?”
“Less than stellar,” I replied, then gave him a quick overview of the interviews (although I glossed over the part about visiting the Relic Room).
“One thing Ursula said did get my attention, though,” I said.
“Oh?” muttered Rune, keenly interested.
“She said that Endow doesn’t lie. Can’t lie, in fact.”
Rune nodded. “That’s true.”
I gave him an incredulous stare. “Is there a reason you wouldn’t tell me that?”
“Because she needs to be vetted and eliminated as a suspect through the same process as everyone else — whatever that ends up being.”
“But if she can’t lie, I can just ask her if she did it and either eliminate her as a suspect or point the finger at her as the killer.”
Rune shook his head in a condescending manner. “Just because she can’t lie doesn’t mean she can’t equivocate.”
“Huh?” I muttered in bewilderment.
“She doesn’t have to give straight answers,” he explained. “For instance, many places have laws that allow murderers to be executed, right?”
“Sure,” I agreed, trying to figure
