“What’s she talking about, Oray?”
“Sturm’s daughter was found dead three months ago, the morning after her Maiden’s Dance,” Oray said.
“Gods,” Sorrows said.
Ga’Shel leaned forward. “No signs of struggle. And the family didn’t hear any shouts or other noise during the night.”
“So we started thinking about motive,” Oray said. “Started asking questions. Maybe someone had a grudge against the victims. Perhaps the family.”
Sorrows shook his head. “You wouldn’t find that. Trailswell’s a good dwarf. My guess is the same holds true for his family.”
Oray nodded. “You’re right. We couldn’t find anything that made sense. Then a month later, Brightle’s twins were found the same way. Dead the morning after their Maiden’s Dance.”
“All three bodies showed no signs of struggle.” Ga’Shel said. “All three were left in the same position.”
“Clues?” Sorrows asked.
“One,” Ga’Shel said.
“Orchole,” Davrosh said, staring at Sorrows.
“The killer knows what he’s doing,” Ga’Shel said. “He gets in and out without being seen. He leaves no traces behind, save one. An arrow in the center of the victim’s forehead.”
“The wound is clean,” Davrosh said. “Precise. He knows how to kill. Like he’s been doing it for most of his life. Like he’s had a lot of practice.”
“And we think we know the motive,” Oray said. He spread his hands wide. “All the pieces are coming together.”
“Vengeance of the gods-born,” Davrosh said. “Inescapable.”
An arrow moves fast along its arc, like a bolt of lightning beneath the storm. If you’re paying attention and know what to look for, you might catch the hint of its passing. But for the target, the arrow is near invisible. A single point that rises and falls mere inches once released. The snap of the string is heard, the impact is felt. No time to react.
Eldrake nodded. “Inescapable.”
She tapped her finger twice on the table then flattened her hand, rested her palm on the glossy, honey-colored surface. Slowly, like fire spread across parchment, a ribbon of warped light writhed and spread, turned the table to gray stone. The ribbon moved faster, slipped beneath Sorrows. His chair became weathered oak, the floors turned to pitted granite, the walls crumbled, revealed more room beyond. A host of twenty or thirty elves watched in silence, all donning the black and gray raiment of the Mage Guard.
“We have three dead daughters, Solomon. That’s a big problem indeed,” Eldrake said. “And as you were so quick to point out earlier, you are bigger than any of us expected.”
Davrosh leaned forward, spat on the table in front of Sorrows.
“Orchole.”
He stared at her. Felt the arrow’s point pressing into his chest. Let the scent of orange blossoms fill his nostrils as he considered his options.
Chapter 6
“YOU’VE GOT A bigger problem,” Sorrows said.
“What’s that?” Eldrake asked.
“You’re mistaking means for motive. And ignoring opportunity entirely.”
“You have ties to all three families,” Oray said.
“That’s orcpiss, Oray,” Sorrows said. “I’ve fought beside hundreds of dwarves. Thousands. How many elves have joined the war against the Cursed? I’d bet my bow you did at one point.”
Oray said nothing, just stared at Sorrows. Sorrows turned to Ga’Shel, who shrugged, then Shen, who nodded.
“There’s bound to be an elf somewhere who knows the same three families,” Sorrows said.
“But an elf wouldn’t envy a dwarf for settling down, building a family,” Davrosh said.
“Envy?” Sorrows asked.
“Envy.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Which is the elf, Davrosh, your mother or your father?”
“That’s none of your gods-shunned business.”
“I’m guessing mother, from the way you do your hair and from the little bit of elf magic you manage. I’m guessing she tired of raising you, because elves are like that. Fickle. I’m guessing by the time she gave you back to your father, he’d married and started his own family. I’m guessing his wife didn’t think too highly of having the evidence of his indiscretion joining her household. Guessing you lived on the outside of her affections. Rejected by two mothers. I’m guessing envy has been a close friend most of your life.”
“Solomon,” Eldrake said. She was looking hard at him. Eyes burning. Shut your mouth. He ignored her.
“People envy what they could have, but don’t. I lost my chance at envy before you were born. So keep it to yourself. I’ll have no part in it.”
Davrosh clapped once. Waited. Clapped again. Waited. Clapped again and leaned back in her chair.
“Almost convincing, orchole,” she said. “Almost. But we know about Julia. And if your whole argument against envy is based on impossibility, well, then Julia presents a problem, don’t you think?”
“If you knew about Julia, you’d know better than to mention Julia,” he said. “You’d tread carefully. You’d know the past is still the past, and regret is a far cry from envy. But here you are blustering and distracting and speaking names best left unspoken. Which tells me you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We know enough,” Ga’Shel said. “We know you’ve had that bow for over a year. That’s a long time to hold on to a soul.”
“Too long,” Davrosh said. “Made us wonder whose soul might be trapped in the bow. Oray suggested it might be someone who had been close to you. Ga’Shel found the name Julia buried in some ancient tome.”
“So, we guessed. But judging by your reaction, it was a good guess. We’ll leave the motive as it stands for now, if that’s fine by you,” Oray said.
“And even if it’s not,” Davrosh said.
“Which brings us to opportunity,” Oray said. “Tell us about Fen.”
Motive, means, and opportunity. Three strands of a braid. Without one, the rope unravels. When all three come together, the bond is strong. Stronger than any single strand.
Sorrows knew two Fens. Elyan and Costenatti. Both goblins. Both friends. And one was a Walker. Not a Hammerfell-in-ten-daysWalker, but not much slower than that. And with the killings spaced a month apart, the elves had him on opportunity.
And if they had already
