Erosan's Tears

by Jason Scott Gleason

  They arrived at a large row house, and Raelyn saw a writ posted on the front door barring entrance from any but the city’s men. Two of Corlwyn’s men were there waiting for them, saluting them with an almost military professionalism. You certainly have changed things since I was in the Watch, Raelyn thought. A few years ago the men would have treated us just like anyone else. I wonder, do these men salute you because they respect you, or because they’re afraid of you?

  Corlwyn produced a key and unlocked the door, stepping inside. The entry way was large, with a tall ceiling and a stair case running up the right side. “The Widow Millson is staying with her sister for the next few days,” Corlwyn informed Raelyn. “The house has been empty since he was found.” He led Raelyn up the steps and into a hallway. They passed by a few doors that opened to bedrooms, and the old wooden floor creaked as they walked to the end of the hall. The walls were decorated with a weave fashionable among the Oervan wealthy, who could afford to have cloth plastered to the walls. A painting of a pastoral scene was hung on the wall opposite the master bedroom, one of many paintings in the house.

  At the end of the hall was the study, which the two men entered, Corlwyn stepping to the side so that Raelyn could take in the scene. There was a large stain of blood on the rug that covered the floor, and next to the stain was a candle which had apparently fallen and gone out. A glass paneled door led to a balcony overlooking the street, giving the room excellent light, and two large windows sat above a large, ornate desk of red oak. The drawers of the desk had been pulled out, and there were papers strewn about the room. On the floor in front of the desk were the broken pieces of an empty picture frame. Against one wall stood a book case. Books and ledgers had been pulled out, some having been shaken so badly that pages were coming out of them.

  “This is as the room was when I found it,” Corlwyn explained to Raelyn as he was taking it all in. “He was found in the early morning by the housemaid. He was accustomed to taking his tea and toast in his study. She came in to make sure he was here and found his body on the floor.”

  Raelyn crouched, looking at the dried pool of blood in the middle of the rug. He glanced around the room, noticing that there was no spray on the furniture or the walls. “Was the balcony door locked when you came here?”

  “Yes,” replied Corlwyn. “The only thing that’s changed is the body. We took it away so that he could be given his funeral rites.”

  Raelyn crouched, mulling over a half formed thought. “What did the widow say? Does she have an idea of how long he had been here?”

  “She’s a light sleeper. She says she remembers him waking up in the middle of the night and leaving the room, but that’s all; she went back to sleep. It’s common for him to get up in the early morning and go to the study to write. He usually rises before her. He was found dead in his nightgown.”

  “How was he killed?” Raelyn began to walk around the room, inspecting the items strewn about.

  “He was stabbed through the heart with a thin blade. One thrust. The wound was narrow, only about an inch wide. The sort made by a rapier or a stiletto.” Raelyn stopped and turned, looking at Corlwyn, who had a bored expression on his face. There’s something that doesn’t seem to add up here. I just can’t put my finger on it. He glanced at the door to the balcony, at the books on the floor.

  “So what do you think happened here, Corlwyn? What’s your theory?”

  Corlwyn looked at him, his face growing grave. He seemed to consider for a moment whether or not to speak with Raelyn, taking his measure. Raelyn waited, patiently. Believe me, he thought, working with you is just as painful for me as it must be for you.

  Finally Corlwyn spoke. “I think that someone broke in here, either coming through the house or in through the balcony door. I suspect the balcony door; the hook latch is simple enough to open from the outside, but it would suggest an accomplished burglar. He came in early in the morning and searched through the contents of his book case and desk. He lso took a rather valuable painting by Vennen Storbrin, the master artist. It was the only object of art that had clearly been taken. Sir Aertis, as is his custom, came into the room early in the morning and startled the thief, who then stabbed Sir Aertis and fled through the balcony door. There’s no way of knowing if he found whatever else he was looking for.”

  Raelyn considered this for a long moment, working backwards in his mind. He had never considered himself terribly bright, having grown up the son of a washer woman and only learning how to read and write when Lord Perinor had taken him in. But he had a gift for seeing things that others overlooked. He had been given a Sergeant’s rank in the Regulars because of it, and had been Lord Perinor’s most trusted scout because he had an ability to think like his adversaries, often anticipating ambushes and figuring out how the enemy would take the field. When he came home to Galavan’s Port it served him well as a Man of the Watch, where he had been an investigator into crimes.

  Now he was investigating a murder, and he was beginning to see the pattern of the way things were played out here. He looked at the door, thought of the hallway and the stairs, looked through the windows. He made his way to the balcony door, looked at the simple brass latch, walked out and looked over the railing into the street below. Down the street children were playing, rolling a large wooden hoop with sticks; in the other direction was a square with a fountain and small public garden, and people were milling about in conversation. He could hear the cry of gulls in the far off distance, and he closed his eyes and inhaled, imagining the smell of the water of the bay. What did you see when you looked out on this street, Aertis? What did you think when you sat at that desk? What were you expecting when you came into this room, like you had so many mornings before?

  He turned to Corlwyn, who had come to stand by the door. He was looking at Raelyn, an irritated expression on his face. “Something’s bothering me, Corlwyn,” Raelyn began, turning and gazing back out over the railing. “Someone came in here, through the balcony door. He raised the latch with a wire or pick—you can see where the metal scratched at the wood, on the door frame. Then he began looking through Aertis’s things—papers, ledgers, things that were written on. He broke open the picture frame to take the painting, but he didn’t take anything else. Look around the room. There are any number of things of value here. A silver goblet on the desk, untouched. An ivory quill case for writing. A jade carving of a lion. If anything else was stolen, it’s clear that a lot of valuable objects were left.

  “So it was a professional, with a specific purpose. An ‘accomplished rogue,’ as you say. He came in early in the morning, looking for something, and he was caught in the act by Sir Aertis himself, who had the misfortune of surprising him. The thief slew Aertis and fled back through the balcony, and Aertis was left here to bleed out on the floor.

  “Here’s a question, though. The thief was professional enough that he knew what he was looking for, and approximately where to find it. The goal was to take one specific picture, and to find a letter or ledger, and it was important enough that he ignored everything else of value. He had the skill to climb the outer wall to the balcony, lift the latch from the outside, and slay a man with a single thrust before he was able to raise an alarm to his wife who was sleeping in a room down the hall, even while surprised.

  “Now, put yourself in the thief’s shoes. You’re focused on your mission, taking exactly what you’re looking for. You plan this out, figuring out what window you have to come in to get to Aertis’s study. You gather the tools you’ll need, come in the dead of night, and sneak up the outer wall to the balcony. You lift the latch and let yourself in. You see the painting that you’ve come for and pry it out of its frame. And then you begin going through the room, turning it upside down, looking for some sort of records. But you’re doing it quietly—so quietly that his wife, who’s a light sleeper, can’t hear anything. And although you’re being quiet, you’re strewing papers all about, tearing books up in the process.

  “You’
re looking for something in particular, so you have to have light. The night before last, the moon would have set hours ago. You need candles, a torch, a lantern, something, because there’s certainly not light to read by coming through those windows in the wee hours of the morning. But look at that door. Candle or lantern light in the room would have shed light through the crack at the bottom, and Aertis would have seen it, unless the thief took the time to stuff a rag or cloth under the door to block the light, and there’s no evidence that he did that. He could have shifted the rug under the door, but it hasn’t been moved.

  “On top of that, Aertis came down the hall to the study. When I walked down that hall, the floorboards creaked pretty loudly. If you’re a thief, breaking into a house, moving pretty quickly to try to find something in particular, your senses are keyed up. You’re listening for every sound, anything that would tell you to run. But you don’t hear anything, even though a fat merchant is walking across the creakiest floor in the district, only a few steps away.

  “So you’re surprised by the fat man walking on the creaky floor, you spin around, draw a blade, and plunge it into his heart. All before he can cry out in surprise or alarm. You drag his body to the middle of the floor, half way into the room, making sure not to get any blood anywhere. You lay him down gently so that he doesn’t make a loud thump when he falls. You also make sure to grab the candle so that it falls six feet into the room rather than right at the door, where it would have been had he dropped it when you stabbed him. Then you’re sufficiently panicked at the prospect of being discovered that you get out of there as fast as your legs can carry you, but you take the time to lock the balcony door behind you.

  “It just doesn’t add up.” Raelyn thought for a minute, turning the events over in his mind. Corlwyn was looking at him, admiring his reasoning. There was a look of surprise on his face.

  “No, it doesn’t add up,” Raelyn repeated, his thoughts gathering strength. “Here’s what I think happened. The thief wasn’t here just to steal from Aertis; he was here to murder him. He wasn’t surprised by Aertis. He had studied his target well, and knew that Aertis went to his study early in the morning, while everyone else slept. He came in through the balcony door, but he didn’t tear through the room looking for things. Instead, he waited in the shadows. Eventually, he heard Aertis coming down the hall and took his place behind the door. Aertis came into the room and turned to close the door behind him, only then discovering his attacker, who stabbed him through the heart and lowered his body there, where he was killed. Once the attacker slew Aertis he closed the door, lit a lamp, and pried apart the frame of the painting. Then he set about methodically searching the room, but he made it appear as if the search was haphazard. Once Aertis was dead, he wouldn’t have to worry about the light from the lamp drawing any attention. Everyone would just assume it was Aertis in his study, like he always is. After he’d found what he came for he left, locking the door behind him.”

  Raelyn thought it over again, considering the possibilities, playing the scene out in his mind slowly, step by step. There’s no blood spattered about, none on the doorknobs, so the murderer couldn’t have gotten it on his hands. Nothing was disturbed but the letters and ledgers, and the only thing of value taken was the painting. This sequence of events seemed most likely. Finally he turned from the railing, breaking his reverie. Corlwyn was standing, staring at him, unable to mask his amazement. The normally unflappable High Inquisitor had been rendered speechless. Raelyn looked at the man, fully appraising him again for the first time since resigning from the Guard. He had known him before he had his fearsome reputation, and he saw now the same man whom he had met years ago. Small minded. Unimaginative. You do your job by scaring people into confessing. How many innocent men have you convicted, Corlwyn?

  Finally Corlwyn spoke. “You gathered all that from what you see here?”

  Raelyn nodded. “Pretty much. I just look for the things that don’t fit, and then ask myself how I would have done it.”

  “I’ve misjudged you, Raelyn. You must have been a good investigator.” It was a backhanded compliment, and it stung Raelyn as if he had been slapped.

  Corlwyn turned and called down the hall to summon one of the lieutenants. A short, dark haired man walked in, glancing briefly at Raelyn. He had a broad face and the olive skin common to Coscans, but his long nose and hazel eyes looked Oervan. He must be mixed, Raelyn thought, wondering where his loyalties lay. He had known a number of half-Coscans over the years, especially growing up in the Wharf District, and in his days in the Fourth Division he had served with a number of men with Coscan blood. His years as a member of Perinor’s Knaves had changed that, though. Endless nights raiding Coscan villages along the Ravenspine Mountains had given him mixed feelings about them, and when he returned to Galavan’s Port he found he had trouble trusting those he didn’t already know.

  “Archeo, tell the men to cooperate fully with Raelyn,” Corlwyn ordered. “He has insight into this matter that may be of value.” The lieutenant nodded sharply and turned with military precision and walked back down the hall.

  Raelyn considered the command for a moment. It was apparent that, in spite of Lord Elotarn’s insistence, Corlwyn had not told his men to let Raelyn help with the investigation—nor to share what they had discovered. You still don’t trust me. What I did has made your opinion of me so strong that you can’t imagine that I could be trustworthy. He remembered his orders to infiltrate the prostitution ring in the Wharf District, as well as the scandal that had ensued. Corlwyn had been ambitious then, out to make a name for himself. I don’t suspect that you’ve mellowed over the years, have you?

  Corlwyn had turned to Raelyn, the slightly disdainful look once again affixed on his face. “Archeo is my second in this matter. If you need anything and I am not available, look to him; I have him kept abreast of all aspects of the investigation.” He seemed to mull over a thought for a moment. “I believe you’re right about the murder. I had suspected what the murderer wanted me to suspect—that he was caught in the act of robbery. Now I believe what you do, that Sir Aertis was targeted by a murderer, marked for death.

  “I do not know why Sir Aertis was killed, but there are not many reasons why someone would have it done. This was done by a professional, someone who possesses the skills of both a cat burglar and an assassin. There are few within the city who possess such skills, and of those who would bear Sir Aertis ill will, there are few who have the coin to provide for his murder. I suspect that we will discover the culprit in short order.”

  “Are you so sure of that?” Raelyn asked, careful not to sound too confrontational. “I know you’ve had success in a lot of investigations, but this one might be a bit different. We’re not just talking about merchants and craftsmen here. We could have a member of the Council or Chamber hiring an assassin here, and those people will be much more shrewd in covering their tracks than most of the people you investigate.” Besides, you can’t scare them into confessing or naming others to be hung, like a lot of the people you question in the Gatehouse. Raelyn had a bad taste in his mouth, thinking of the horror stories that had come out of the Gatehouse of the Watch ever since Corlwyn had been using it to employ his less subtle interrogation techniques. He had spoken to the men who had survived—and seen the scars.

  “I am sure that there are men in the Chamber who would resort to murder,” Corlwyn answered. “But I doubt that anyone in the Council of Lords would stoop so low. There is too much for them to risk, especially for those with long family lineages.”

  “I’m not sure about that. There are plenty of men of noble birth who may see murder as the best of a number of bad options.” Raelyn immediately thought of Lord Perinor. He’s done his share of killing out on campaign, with little thought for who or how. We terrorized mountain villages, slaughtered boys before they could grow up as men. How many of the lords hide a dark side like he does? “Besides, not all of the Lords of Galavan’s Port were born nobles. There have been
a few titles bought, along with their land holdings.”

  Corlwyn started to respond, and then stopped himself. It was obvious to Raelyn that he had thought of something. “Perhaps you are right. It would be wise to rule no one out at this point. But it still leaves few people as suspects in the city. I think that this matter will be concluded in a few days.

  “I know that you have contacts within the Wharf District.” It was a statement, but Corlwyn looked at Raelyn expectantly. He nodded, unsure of how to respond. “You should begin there. It is difficult to enlist the aid of a professional murderer without attracting attention from someone. Whoever is responsible had to find someone who was a capable burglar and murderer, and there are few who possess both talents.”

  “I can do that,” Raelyn replied, his mind already thinking. Corlwyn turned to leave. “What about you? Where will you be looking?”

  Corlwyn stopped, appraising Raelyn yet again. Raelyn could see that the High Inquisitor was still unsure of how much to trust him. He felt his frustration begin to mount, although he wouldn’t betray it. Damn it, Corlwyn, we’re on the same side here.

  “Lord Elotarn has asked us to work together,” Raelyn explained, hoping to prompt Corlwyn into responding. “I’m to share everything that I find with you and your men. He also told me to expect full cooperation from you.”