by Martin Scott
“You must be tired after the long journey. We have prepared food and your rooms are waiting. Please follow us.”
They head for a tree. Lying flush with the trunk is a ladder that goes upwards for a long way. I look at it doubtfully and turn to Makri.
“How do you like heights?”
“I’m not wild about them.”
“Me neither.”
We grit our teeth and start to climb. We climb a long way. I try not to look down. As a man who can have difficulty mounting the outside steps to my office, I don’t find it the most convenient place for a home. I’m relieved when we reach the top and step on to a platform. The Elvish house stretches over the highest branches of the tree, and over to the next tree. We’re on the very outskirts of the large central township of the Elves, and from here to the centre of the island houses are strung over most of the forest, increasing in density as they approach the centre. From here it should be possible to walk all the way to the centre of the island without once touching the ground.
Once we step inside we find a comfortable and welcoming dwelling place. The rooms, though simply constructed, are brightly lit, decorated in warm colours with tapestries and rugs. There are pitchers of water and we are invited to wash and make ourselves comfortable before our meal.
“Nice house,” says Makri after they’ve left us.
I agree. “Pity it isn’t on the ground. I’d have a hard time making it up that ladder every day.”
It is now late in the afternoon. After eating I’m planning on heading out quickly to investigate.
“I’m going to see Elith. Time to question the suspect and get things moving. I figure if I can clear her name quickly I might be able to get a bit of rest before heading back to Turai. I need a rest, I’ve been working way too hard recently.”
Vas has arranged that his brother will take me to the place where Elith is held and I’m keen to set off as soon as I can. Camith, slightly younger and less distinguished than the healer, is pleased to find I’m eager to get started.
“No one in our family believes that Elith is guilty of this terrible crime.”
Leaving Makri to look around, I accompany Camith on the long journey through the walkways over the trees towards the centre of Avula, where Elith is incarcerated. He tells me that she is held in a rarely used prison building at the rear of Lord Kalith’s Tree Palace.
“Have you considered a jail break?”
Camith seems shocked by the suggestion. “No. We are presuming that her name will be cleared.”
“Don’t presume. After all, she might be guilty. I’m planning on knocking a few heads together to find out the truth. But it never hurts to have a back-up plan.”
The wooden walkways lead us past more houses. Elves stare as I pass. I’d imagine it’s a long time since they’ve seen anyone with my impressive figure. They’re a thin race, the Elves. Even in old age they rarely seem to settle into comfortable obesity. I ask Camith if there are any taverns on Avula. He tells me that there is nothing that would actually qualify as a tavern, but they do brew their own beer and gather in glades to drink it, which doesn’t sound too bad. I tell him that I have now run out of beer, and instruct him that I must have some as soon as possible.
We pass over a large clearing, the largest open space I’ve seen since we reached the island.
“The tournament field,” explains my guide. “It is often in use—Lord Kalith likes to keep his Elves well prepared. It is here that the plays will be staged. There will also be a tournament, for the younger Elves. Will you be staying for the whole festival?”
“I’m not sure. Depends how the investigating goes.”
“A curious way to make a living,” ventures Camith.
“Not in Turai it isn’t. Where I live you can’t turn round without bumping into something that needs investigating.”
“Are you paid well for the service?”
“No,” I reply, truthfully. “But I make up for it at the chariot races.”
Camith laughs. I like him, he’s affable like his brother. He’s heard about my triumph over Lord Kalith at the niarit board and has the good grace to tell me that the Avulans cannot remember when their ruler was last defeated at the game, which pleases me immensely.
The evening is cool and pleasant. Walking through the tree tops isn’t so bad when I get used to it and the journey takes less time than I anticipated. Camith comes to a halt, pointing out to me a large wooden construction visible a short way ahead.
“The Tree Palace,” he informs me.
To one side there is a tree so large and impressive that it has to be the Hesuni Tree. It seems healthy enough, with plenty of golden foliage. Beside it are two pools of still water, one large and one small. We walk over a narrow suspended bridge towards the Palace, but when we’re almost there a commotion breaks out and several Elves appear at the doorway, talking together in an agitated manner. When they see us they run up and start speaking to Camith accusingly. He looks confused, and turns to me to explain, but I need no explanation. Elith-ir-Methet has vanished from her prison.
“Escaped?”
The Elvish guards nod. They recognise Camith and they find it very suspicious that her uncle just happens to be strolling by at this very moment, but before they can pursue it further a great wailing breaks out from the direction of the Hesuni Tree. Camith and the other Elves are taken aback and peer over the walkway in an attempt to find out what is happening. Sensing that his niece may be in trouble Camith starts to run in the direction of the Palace. I follow him as best I can, though I have difficulty keeping up. All around Elves are shouting, torches are being lit and the general uproar grows ever more furious. Close to the Tree Palace Camith spots an Elf he recognises on a walkway some way below us and leans over to shout at him, trying to find out what is happening.
“It’s Gulas-ar-Thetos,” shouts the Elf. “He’s dead. Murdered beside the tree. Elith-ir-Methet has killed him.”
Camith almost falls off the walkway, such is the shock that this intelligence gives him. For a while he is incapable of speech and gasps for breath as the outcry intensifies. The Elves’ Tree Priest has been murdered and I don’t need to be told that this is the most sensational event ever to happen on Avula.
“Elith!” gasps Camith. “How could she?”
“We don’t know that she did,” I tell him harshly. “Now, take me to the scene of the crime, and quickly. If I’m going to sort things out I’ll need to know a lot of things and I’ll need to know them fast.”
I give him a push, none too gently. It’s enough to get him back into action. We hurry round the outskirts of the Palace and make our way down a ladder to the Hesuni Tree, where already a great many Elves are congregating, and everything is noise and confusion.
I pat my sword, secure at my hip, and take out a small flask of klee I’ve saved for emergencies. As it burns its way down my throat, it strikes me that for the first time in over a month I’m feeling properly like myself. Thraxas the Investigator. I’ll show these Elves a thing or two when it comes to investigating.
Chapter Eight
By the time we reach the ground about fifty Elves are standing in a circle between the large pool and the towering Hesuni Tree, and they’re making enough noise to wake Old King Kiben. Camith hangs back but I barge my way through. Standing forlornly in the centre of the circle is a tall young female Elf I take to be Elith-ir-Methet. Lying next to her is another Elf, this one dead, with blood seeping from an ugly wound in his chest.
Elith is holding a blood-stained knife.
“Elith-ir-Methet has killed the Tree Priest,” say the Elves over and over again, horror and incredulity in their voices.
Things are looking worse for my client.
The surrounding Elves seem at a loss. No one is making any moves to drag the culprit away, examine the body, or do anything really. I stride forward.
“Thraxas,” I announce. “Investigator, guest of Lord Kalith.”
I examine th
e body. The light is fading and I’m not as familiar with deceased Elves as I am with murdered Humans, but I’d say he’s only been dead for a matter of minutes.
“Did you do this?” I ask Elith.
She shakes her head. Then she faints. I curse. I was hoping for a little more information. Three tall Elves wearing the nine-starred insignia of Lord Kalith’s household arrive on the scene and start to take control. When the crowd apprises them of the facts one of them departs immediately, presumably to inform Kalith of events, while the other two pick up Elith. Her long golden hair trails to the grass as they start to carry her away.
“Where are you taking her?” I demand.
They decline to answer. I follow them. The crowd troops along in our wake and I lose sight of Camith. I notice that one Elf in particular seems to be doing a lot of wailing, something about his poor brother. Before we reach the great wooden ladders that lead up to Kalith’s Tree Palace more of his household appear. While their manner holds none of the undisguised hostility that the Civil Guards in Turai would display in similar circumstances, they make it clear that this matter is now in the hands of their Lord and the crowd is not to advance any further.
“Thraxas of Turai,” I say imperiously as they bar my way. “Assistant to Deputy Consul Cicerius.”
I try to look important. It gets me through. My weight can lend me a certain grandeur. Elith is carried up the ladder and I climb up right behind her.
We ascend a long way, past platforms decorated with carvings of eagles intertwined with ivy and woven with streamers of golden leaves. The trees that support the Palace seem to reach up forever and my limbs are aching by the time we reach the top. As we clamber on to the final platform Kalith is there to greet us.
His attendants place Elith in front of him. She stirs. Lord Kalith glares down at her.
“You have killed Gulas-ar-Thetos, Priest of the Hesuni Tree!”
Elith blinks, and makes no reply. She appears dazed, maybe just from shock, but maybe from something else. Her pupils seem to me to be dilated, though with Elves it’s hard to tell, the whole race generally having such big eyes anyway.
“Well, so it is alleged,” I say, moving to her side. “But nothing has been proved against her.”
The Elf Lord is positively displeased to see me. “Leave my Palace.”
“I never desert a client. And shouldn’t someone be getting her a healer? She looks as if she could do with some attention.”
“What sort of attention did she give my brother?” roars an Elf behind us, and he makes an effort to rush at Elith. His companions restrain him.
I don’t like this at all. My client is surrounded by a horde of hostile Elves and the ruler of the island seems in no mood to listen to pleas on her behalf. Simply because Elves have a reputation as just and tolerant, it doesn’t mean that Kalith won’t decide that the best thing to do with the murderess is to throw her off the highest platform and have done with it. I’m relieved when Vas-ar-Methet arrives. He doesn’t do much except stand there looking anguished, but I figure that his daughter is at least less liable to summary justice with him in the picture.
Kalith orders Elith to be taken to a secure place and guarded well. He allows Vas to go with her, to minister to her sickness, then tells his guards to bring him witnesses to the event so that he can have the full story from people who saw what happened. Then he orders me to get out of his sight.
I depart without an argument. I could do with talking to some witnesses myself. I’m about to fortify myself with klee for the journey back down the ladders when I get a mental image of the Elf falling from the rigging, so I put the flask away and make the descent sober.
Back at the Hesuni Tree the crowd is still gathered. A few of them are wearing the white robes that denote their status as actors.
“More evil has befallen us,” moans an Elf to her friends, and they moan back in agreement.
I can understand why they’re upset. If the most important religious official in the land has to get murdered, you really don’t want it to be right at the moment you have a host of foreign guests to impress. No wonder Lord Kalith is furious. That, however, is a problem for the Elves. My problem is gathering information and clearing Elith’s name. Unless she turns out to be irredeemably guilty, in which case I’ve a jail break to plan. For desecrating the Hesuni Tree, Elith was facing banishment. For murder of the Tree Priest, she’s facing execution. I will not allow Elith to be convicted of murder. For one thing, I owe her father. For another, Lord Kalith has really started to annoy me.
I introduce myself to a group of Elves and ask them if anyone actually saw Elith sticking the knife into Gulas-ar-Thetos. They don’t know. It all happened before they arrived on the scene. The next group gives me a similar reply. Some Elf—no one knows quite who—arrived to find Gulas dead and Elith lying beside him with a knife in her hand.
I’m hindered in my investigations by the activities of the Elves sent by Kalith to gather witnesses, and more than once I’m just about to question someone when he or she is hustled off to the Tree Palace, but at least the attendants don’t send me away, or threaten me with arrest. As darkness falls I’ve learned about as much as I can and I decide it’s time to talk to Vas-ar-Methet. I head back towards the Tree Palace but in the gloom I bump into an Elf coming the other way. He raises his head and beneath the hood I see a face I recognise. It’s Gorith-ar-Del, and he doesn’t look any happier to see me now than he did during the voyage.
“Interfering again?” he demands.
I decline to answer, but as I hurry away I’m struck by the murderous look he had in his eyes. There is an Elf who hasn’t been spending much time singing in the trees. There’s something about him that doesn’t quite add up and I make a mental note to check him out later.
Back at the ladders that lead up to the Tree Palace I have the good fortune to arrive just after Prince Dees-Akan and his entourage. The guards part to let them through and I hurry after as if I’m part of the official party. Making the climb for the second time tonight I develop the strong conviction that it is a mistake to live up in the trees. My limbs wouldn’t take too much of this. Prince Dees-Akan catches sight of me.
“Were you invited to the Tree Palace?” he demands.
“Yes, your highness,” I lie, and saunter past. The doormen look doubtful. An Elf with drooping shoulders and downcast gaze comes towards us and I march past crying out Vas’s name.
“I’m here. Take me to the patient.”
I grasp the startled Vas-ar-Methet’s arm and steer us through to the first courtyard.
“Where is she?”
“Thraxas, it is all so terrible, I cannot—”
I interrupt him impatiently. “Never mind that just now. Just take me to her. If I don’t get to speak to her now I might never get the chance.”
Vas nods. Back in the War he wasn’t an Elf to hang around dithering when action was needed. He leads me through the courtyard and up another ladder to a higher platform. From there a walkway stretches over most of the length of the Palace. Lord Kalith’s attendants are dotted around, but no one tries to get in the healer’s way.
“She’s being held in a building at the back of the Palace. I can get us close, but I doubt they’ll let you in.”
“I’ll think of something.”
We are now high above the Palace, further from the ground than I would wish to be. I look down at the blanket of trees below us, and imagine how easily I would plummet down through them if I lost my footing. We reach the end of the walkway and descend into another courtyard, this one darker and less ornate than those at the front of the building. Vas points to a door in front of which three Elves are stationed, each of them armed. These are the first Elves I’ve seen on Avula to carry swords openly.
“They are guarding Elith,” whispers Vas. “I didn’t want to leave her, but Lord Kalith sent word that I was to be dismissed before he came to question her himself.”
“Where is he now?”
> “Hearing the accounts of those who witnessed the affair. I imagine that he will be here before long. The death of our Tree Priest is a catastrophic event, Thraxas. I will not wish to continue living if my daughter is found to be guilty of his murder.”
“Well, don’t do anything rash,” I tell him. “I’m going in.”
The guards challenge me. I speak the one solitary spell I’m carrying with me, the sleep spell. It works well, as it always does. The three guards sink gently to the ground. Vas-ar-Methet gasps in amazement at my action.
“You worked a spell on Lord Kalith’s guards?”
“What were you expecting? A few cunning lies? I need to see Elith and I need to see her now.”
“But when Kalith—”
I don’t stay around to listen to the rest but hurry into the cell, where Elith is sitting on a wooden chair, gazing out of the barred window.
I greet her and introduce myself as a friend and wartime companion of her father.
“Why are you here?”
“Your father hired me to investigate the damage to the Hesuni Tree. He says you’re innocent, so I believe him. Now there are a few more things I have to deal with. Fine, I’ll deal with them. Tell me everything and make it quick. What happened to the Tree and what’s the story of you not remembering anything? How did you escape from prison, and why were you found with the knife right beside the dead Priest?”
Elith is taken aback. Since the ministrations of her father she’s looking healthier but, not surprisingly, she’s extremely distracted. I look her straight in the eyes and tell her to snap out of it.
“There’s no time for rambling, so get to the point. Lord Kalith is on his way here; three of his guards are outside sleeping off a spell, thanks to me, and he’s not going to be very pleased about it. So in the brief time we’ve got I need to know everything. Don’t sigh, don’t cry and don’t stray from the point. Just tell it like it happened.”
At this, Elith-ir-Methet manages a weak smile.
“I remember Father speaking of you now,” she says. “You appear in many of his war stories. It was good of you to come. But really, you can do nothing to help me.”