“It’s time we were going. We have done our duty and delivered the queen to her last resting place. Tomorrow, master craftsmen will begin work on her statue. When they have finished, we will visit one last time, then the crypt will be sealed until the next time a member of the royal family passes.”
“You mean, we can’t visit in between?” Relam asked, surprised.
Narin shook his head. “Yes. That is the way it has always been. The dead are only disturbed when it is time to commend another ruler to their care. It also helps to keep people from despoiling the tombs.”
Relam nodded, understanding the reasoning behind the custom. “Very well. Let’s go back.”
Narin turned back towards the center of the crypt. The eight guardsmen, some rolling their shoulders now that they were free of the coffin, formed up around Relam and his father. Then, they were marching back towards the center aisle. They turned right at that point, and began the short walk back out of the crypt.
As soon as the last guard had passed through the entrance to the crypt, the two guards in black slammed the doors shut. Narin halted the column at the top of the ramp and smashed his staff into the ground again.
“The queen is no more,” he called to the assembled mourners. “She has been laid to rest with the past monarchs of this kingdom, commended to their care.”
Then, raising the staff overhead, he cracked it against the ground one last time. The clear, hard sound washed over the assembled people with an air of finality. Slowly, the mourners began to disperse. A few moved forward as though they wanted to speak with Relam or his father, but Narin and his guards kept them at bay with stern gazes.
“Shall we return to the royal suite, your majesty?” Narin asked Relam’s father.
The king nodded wordlessly.
The guards formed up once more and the royal party retreated into the palace. As they did, the swollen clouds overhead burst open, and rain began pouring down in great silvery sheets, battering the gardens. Those mourners who were still straggling away from the funeral were caught in the deluge and driven from the site. Soon, all that remained was the stone table, still bedecked with flowers and blossoms.
On their return to the royal suite, Relam sank into one of the armchairs by the fire. His father stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, as though unsure where to go to continue his silent, stoic grieving. Narin turned to go, but Relam stopped him before the door swung shut.
“Please, stay.”
The guard commander turned around, surprised. Apparently, he had thought that the prince would prefer to be alone with his grief. Relam gestured to one of the empty chairs.
“Have a seat. We need to talk.”
“Now, your highness?” Narin asked uncertainly.
“Yes. And help my father to a chair as well please,” Relam added, for the king had yet to move.
Narin shut the door, then ushered the king to one of the chairs near the fireplace. Once this was done, Narin took a seat as well, leaning forward. “Is something wrong, your highness?” he asked curiously.
“No, I just wanted to know if you had anything to report on my mother’s murder.”
“Not yet,” Narin replied grimly. “But we’re working every angle. I have men combing the list of party guests and I’ve spoken with a few of my informers to see who might gain power from a vacancy on the throne. It’s interesting what you can learn from people that always have an ear to the ground.”
Relam nodded thoughtfully. “But no suspects?”
“Oh, we have many suspects,” Narin said, snorting. “At last count, four-hundred and twenty-seven. That’s every noble who was at the banquet the other night, minus children.”
“You can cross off the ladies present as well,” Relam said. “The two voices Aven and I heard were obviously male.”
“Oh,” Narin said, nodding. “In that case, we probably have around two hundred and fifty suspects. Still not a good situation, your highness.”
“But better than it was,” Relam pointed out. “Is there any chance that this is connected to the other assassination attempt a year ago? Would the remaining prisoners know anything?”
“It’s a long shot,” Narin said, shrugging. “But it can’t hurt, I suppose. I’ll ask D’Arnlo if I can question them at the Citadel again. The two remaining assassins are still under the watch of the palace guards. They’re alive, but barely, and they don’t say or do very much.
“So, nothing’s changed on that front,” Relam observed. “What about the previous commander’s killer?”
“Nothing,” Narin said bitterly. “No witnesses, no suspicious persons, no bloody murder weapons showing up after the fact. Whoever organized the attack was extremely careful and extremely lucky.”
“Unfortunately for us,” Relam muttered.
“We’ll get them, your highness. Never fear.”
“I hope so,” Relam replied with a heavy sigh. “I promised my mother we would find her killers.”
“Murderers,” the king whispered suddenly.
Relam turned, surprised. “What was that?”
His father turned slowly to face him. “Murderers,” he said again, growling this time.
“Well, yes,” Relam agreed cautiously. “That would be another word for them.”
“They murdered her.”
“Yes,” Narin agreed patiently. “We’ve covered that already, your majesty.”
The king’s glare switched to Narin now. “Commander,” the king sneered. “Commander of the guard, trusted with protecting the royal family.” He raised an accusing finger slowly. “You have failed me.”
“Yes, your majesty, but-”
“You did not fail us!” Relam interrupted. “No assassin passed through those doors. We still don’t know how my mother died. All we know is that she was killed. Whoever organized this was extremely patient and extremely skilled.”
“She’s still gone,” the king replied, with growing conviction. “Someone must be held responsible.”
“We are working on locating the killers even now,”
