by J. P. Ashman
‘Buddle’s Sirretan,’ Gitsham mumbled, as the three men followed the dog down the grand stairs of the house. ‘They calls ’em chien de something I don’t remember what, down there.’
‘Long name,’ Biviano said.
‘Funny,’ Sears said.
Biviano ducked out of the way of Sears’ fist and grinned to himself in triumph when his friend winced, moving his hand to his chest and the small hole in his maille hauberk.
‘Effrin and a night’s rest seem to have got ye almost fighting fit again, big guy…almost.’ Biviano awaited a retort, but Sears ignored the comment and nodded to the dog.
‘Ye get him from Sirreta then, Gitsham?’ Sears pointed at the hound and tried to act like he wasn’t in pain.
‘No.’
‘From a breeder in Wesson?’ Biviano asked, struggling to satisfy the itch under his maille.
‘No.’
Talkative bastard this one, both Sears and Biviano thought.
‘I hear he sniffs out all sorts, Gitsham, not just scent?’ Biviano said, raising his eyebrows – just visible under the rim of his kettle-helm – in anticipation.
‘Aye.’
Sears rolled his eyes before asking, ‘Well, what kind of other things does Buddle sniff out then, man?’
‘All sorts.’
Sears cursed and Biviano ducked. It hadn’t been necessary, but his arm was throbbing as it was, so he wasn’t going to take any more chances with the big guy, who’d been particularly angry since he’d woken up with Effrin hovering over him. The cleric had advised them against it, but as soon as Gitsham had arrived and Sears could physically stand, the trio and the bloodhound left the barracks and headed straight for Peneur Ineson’s house.
Buddle stopped at the front door of the house, which was shut.
All three men stood and looked at the hound, which turned and looked back at them, wet nose glistening.
‘What’s he doing now then?’ Sears said, looking from Buddle to Biviano and then to Gitsham, who stood picking his nose, paying little attention to his dog.
‘Gitsham,’ Sears repeated, ‘what’s the mutt doing?’
Buddle snarled at the red bearded guardsman and both Sears and Biviano stepped back a pace.
‘Eh?’
‘Yer lovely bloodhound,’ Sears said, his frustration growing, ‘what’s he doing now?’
Gitsham looked to Sears, then to Buddle’s drooping eyes before answering. ‘He’s waiting for ye to open the door and let him out.’
Biviano became animated at that and looked excited. ‘To chase the scent?’ he said in a high pitched voice that made Sears smirk despite himself.
Gitsham shook his head. ‘To piss and shit.’
‘Lovely.’ Sears gingerly reached over the bloodhound and opened the door.
Buddle squeezed through the gap as soon as it opened, ran outside and started to do his business to the side of the doorway. The three men followed him out, closing the door behind them.
‘Been too long to pick up the scent has it?’ Sears asked.
‘Nope.’
‘So he has found a scent to follow then?’ Biviano leant forward and rested his hands on his knees whilst staring at the dog, which was still crouched and hovering.
‘He don’t like being watched,’ Gitsham said, his finger still prodding up his nose.
‘Well I suppose not, I know I don’t,’ Sears said, turning away.
‘And who watches you then?’ Biviano asked, doing the same.
‘You!’
‘We watch each other’s backs, Sears, it’s what we do, ye big ape. Ye’d be squealin’ if some ganger jumped ye mid-shit wouldn’t ye?’
‘Hardly going to happen now is it, ye dick?’
‘Ye never do know, Sears, especially after what happened to ye in the street.’ Biviano mimed the shooting of a crossbow. ‘Be prepared, that’s what me da always told me.’
‘Ye never knew yer da.’
‘Must’ve been yours then, all’s I know is someone’s da telling me so…’
‘That dog finished yet?’ Biviano added whilst looking up into the sky, watching a flock of pigeons pass over.
‘Aye, finished just after ye both turned,’ Gitsham said, sucking something slimy off the end of his middle finger.
Sears and Biviano spun around then, to see the dog just sat there looking at them.
Turning from the dog to its handler, Sears shook his head in disbelief. ‘Why didn’t ye say so then, ye fool?’
Gitsham pointed at himself. ‘Me?’
‘Never mind,’ Sears said. ‘What’s he found then and why ain’t he following it if it’s a scent?’
Gitsham looked at Buddle and the dog tilted its head, before it yawned and lay down, licking its left paw. ‘No point following no scent,’ Gitsham said, ‘culprit’s no longer a threat.’
Biviano and Sears looked to one another, frowned and then looked back at Gitsham. Both went to speak at the same time, stopped then did exactly the same again, so Sears punched Biviano in the arm, grimaced at the pain the action caused him and then spoke whilst the smaller man cursed repeatedly.
‘Explain what ye mean, Gitsham. Ye need to be more specific and maybe explain how ye seem to know anything at all from just looking at a damned dog.’ Gods only know, Sears thought, I wish I could talk directly to the bloody dog, I think I’d get a lot more back.
Buddle raised his head and growled at Sears again.
Or not!
‘He knew who done the killing as soon as he entered the house,’ Gitsham said in his monotone voice, ‘but the killer’s no longer a problem to ye, or anyone else for that matter, so I guess we’re done.’
‘Woah there, sunshine,’ Sears said, holding his arm out to stop Gitsham leaving, ‘we certainly ain’t done and I don’t think ye know the meaning of specific.’
Gitsham sat down on the floor and scratched behind his ear repeatedly as he looked again at Buddle, then back up to Sears and Biviano, the latter finally standing upright again after being curled over in pain. The smaller guardsman glared up at his friend, before locking eyes with Gitsham, who sighed and continued.
‘He’s looking at the reason the killer’s no threat right now, and it’s behind ye both.’
Both men turned and looked up the empty street. There were black crosses on two front doors down the row of tall houses, and apart from a carriage in the distance near the park, there wasn’t a soul in sight. More and more people in all districts were staying indoors, trying to avoid the now confirmed plague.
‘What am I looking for?’ Biviano asked, whilst still scanning the street.
‘Up,’ Gitsham said, returning to his nose picking.
Both men looked up and as they did, their eyes naturally followed the thick, black smoke rising from the north-west corner of the city.
‘Smoke?’
‘Aye, Sears,’ Gitsham said, chewing on something, ‘smoke!’
‘What about it?’ Biviano asked next. ‘They’re burning plague victims all over the city now, where ye been, Gitsham? Ye not heard? It’s all been confirmed and announced.’
Buddle seemed to huff at that, and rested his head on his two front paws.
‘But that ain’t smoke from the fire burnin’ those bodies. That’s the smoke from the fire burnin’ his body.’
‘Whose?’ Sears shouted, finally losing his temper and narrowly missing a fast side-stepping Biviano with his huge fist. He sucked in through his clenched teeth against the pain the movement brought to his chest.
Biviano’s mouth dropped then and his eyes slowly moved to Buddle’s as he spoke.
‘The murderer’s body?’
Buddle’s head lifted and his tail started to wag.
Biviano looked up to Sears, who looked back whilst gently prodding at his wounded chest, frowning all the while. ‘Lord Severun?’ he offered, unconvinced.
Biviano nodded, eyes wide, and Buddle let out a single bark.
Sears’ eyes widened too and he sat
down suddenly, next to Gitsham, turning round once he had to look at the thick column of smoke once more. Biviano shrugged and followed Sears to the floor, removing his helmet and placing it in his lap, then having a good scratch underneath his coif; behind one ear, then the other.
After a couple of moments of them all sitting there and the news sinking in, Biviano looked back to Gitsham – who seemed to be in a world of his own – to ask another question. ‘How do you, know that he,’ Biviano pointed his chin at Buddle, ‘knows that Lord Severun, Grand Master of the Wizards and Sorcery Guild, killed Peneur Ineson, a previously small-time trader of foreign shit?’
Sears added, ‘And does Master Investigation know why the wizard did it?’
‘As for how I knows he knows,’ Gitsham said, without looking at either of them, ‘I don’t really know. I just do, and as for the why, that ain’t for us to figure out, so no, we don’t know, although it has something to do with this plague and that’s all I can tells ye on that. I do know, however, that whatever it was the wizard killed the merchant over, well, it scared the shit out of me hound, and he ain’t for sniffing out any more on this case.’
‘Well the plague link makes sense,’ Biviano said, ‘seein’ as that’s why the church just burnt the poor bastard wizard, but ye see, Gitsham, that ain’t good enough for us to—’
‘For we need to know a motive,’ Sears interrupted, ‘as well as where and why all this started, for that’s the only way we know how to get it sorted ye see?
‘Also,’ Sears continued, ‘there’s another murder down the road there, by the park, so we need yer mutt—
‘Quit yer snarling!’
‘So we need Buddle to sniff it out, as we believe they’re both—’
Sears stopped as Gitsham held up his hand to stop him.
‘That one was even easier for Buddle, and he had it when we passed the site on the way here.’
Sears looked to Biviano, who’s eyes hadn’t moved from Buddle’s, looking for some sign of communication from dog to handler, but finding none as of yet.
‘Go on then,’ Sears said, rubbing his hands together.
‘Witchunter.’
‘What?’ Biviano said incredulously ‘A Samorlian witchunter killed Master Joinson, an agent for a small-time merchant of foreign shit?’
‘Aye, Biviano, that’s what I’m saying and after he came through here too,’ Gitsham said, nodding to Peneur Ineson’s large house. ‘But got no answer he didn’t, the witchunter, on account of Ineson already being dead.’
Sears stood then and pulled a wincing Biviano to his feet by his bad arm, whilst wincing himself.
‘Right then,’ the big man said, ‘that’s why the bastards attacked us on the street. I knew it and I don’t care how Gitsham knows he knows whoever knows what and all that cock and bollocks, we can go off that can’t we, officially like, for the captain and the magistrates?’
‘Aye, we bloody well can,’ Biviano said, grinning at Buddle, who he could have sworn winked at him.
‘That means we can go back to the barracks then, lads? Leave ye to it?’ Gitsham asked, climbing to his feet and groaning at the effort, Buddle doing the same. ‘I don’t like being in the streets with this plague afoot.’
‘For now man, aye.’ Sears patted Gitsham’s back and moved to stroke Buddle. He stopped short at the bloodhound’s bared fangs.
‘Alright ye miserable dog, I’ll leave ye be, because us two have business with the bastard Samorlians,’ Sears said, a wicked grin splitting his red beard.
Buddle turned then and slowly plodded down the street, Gitsham in tow, his hand held up as a farewell.
‘What a flaming strange old pair them two make,’ Biviano said, whilst placing his helmet back onto his head and then scratching underneath it.
‘Aye, that’s true. Now come on, ye weasel, we’ve witchunters and inquisitors to interrogate. Ha!’
‘Ha, yeah, ye laugh now Sears, until we end up on the other side of said interrogation. Any other guardsman would’ve left it be after hearing all that.’
‘Any other guardsman would’ve shit it when they attacked us in the damned street, ye prick, so it’s a good job for these two dead bastards they got us two on the case, eh?’
Sears pulled Biviano into a headlock and began walking him towards the great cathedral in the distance.
Bit late for them, Sears. It’s us I worry after mate, but aye, we’ll interrogate ’em alright and that’s just for starters.
Chapter 20: In The Dark
The thick wooden door at the end of the darkened chamber crashed as it swung open and collided with the stone wall. Two tall figures strode into the room, one of whom had a black cloak billowing out behind him, which rested at the back of his legs when he and the other man stopped. They both nodded to the large man behind the ancient desk before taking a seat opposite.
‘Were you born in barns, gentlemen?’ the Grand Inquisitor said.
Neither man stirred at first, then they looked at each other before the taller of the two left his chair, strode across the room and slammed the door, causing the room’s beeswax candles to flicker.
‘Thank you, General Comlay. Now, I take it you and your southern counterpart have something you wish to discuss, or are you both in a habit of bursting in here unannounced for no apparent reason?’ The Grand Inquisitor took great pleasure in watching the two warriors squabble like children, and so occasionally fed the fire of their mutual hatred for one another, rather than berating them as he supposed he should.
Horler Comlay took his seat and sighed, gesturing for the southern Witchunter General to speak.
Exley gladly took the rare opportunity of getting a free word in without Horler trying to stop him. ‘Grand Inquisitor, as you know, Severun has been executed and the gnome, Orix, is under house arrest for the rest of his living days.’
‘Yes… and?’
‘Well sire, your Wesson General here insists not only do we break into Tyndurris and kidnap the gnome, to burn, but we also kidnap the sergeant-at-arms that released the plague and put him to the flame as well. May I remind General Comlay where that sergeant is and how difficult and pointless both exercises are?’ Exley looked to the other General, but swiftly continued before Horler could interrupt. ‘With the fate of both already decided by King Barrison, I don’t see any point in taking this matter further. The enactor of the arcane magic which caused the plague is rightfully dead – a death dealt by fire; a fire that still burns as we speak no doubt, and the other two aren’t likely to be a threat to this city ever again.’ Horler went to speak, but Exley continued hurriedly. ‘And that’s not mentioning the fact King Barrison has ordered us to cease such activity in the city immediately, and to report to the Constable of Wesson before we take any actions in future.’
Horler Comlay rolled his eyes, and the Grand Inquisitor had to strain to hide a smirk.
‘May I remind you, General Clewarth,’ the Grand Inquisitor said, ‘this is not your region of command, and what we decide to do here is our business not yours. You were ordered here to assist in the investigation of the guild’s treachery, and up to now you’ve done your job well. We have dealt with the ring-leader of this attempt to overthrow the city, but as General Comlay has pointed out to you, there are at least two more who were involved, both of whom should also rightfully be put to the flame.’
Exley Clewarth’s mouth dropped open as he looked from the Grand Inquisitor to Horler Comlay and back. ‘You agree with him?’ Exley jerked his thumb at Horler, who now sat a little straighter in his chair and grinned. You smug bastard, Exley thought, irritably.
‘That I do, General Clewarth, and I suggest you don’t take that tone with me again. I want that shite of a gnome dragged from that tower kicking and screaming, and the sergeant killed using any means necessary. I don’t see the use in troubling ourselves with burning him, so ridding Altoln of him is all we need do… filthy tattooed foreigner.’ The Grand Inquisitor spat on the floor.
Exley
Clewarth shook his head slowly before asking, ‘Am I to return to the south then, or assist here, sire?’
The Grand Inquisitor slipped into thought for a few moments, twisting on his finger what looked like a new addition to his collection of rings. ‘General Comlay,’ he said eventually, ‘you will rid us of the sergeant. General Clewarth, you will take the gnome from Tyndurris and burn him. Both of you will use any means necessary to get the tasks done. I don’t want either of you in my sight again until both are dealt with. Am I understood?’
Aye, I understand, Exley thought. I should’ve kept my mouth shut and perhaps I’d be back off down south this evening.
Both men nodded and the Grand Inquisitor continued to read an old looking tome. Both General’s took it as their dismissal and so strode from the room, saying nothing to one another nor looking each other in the eye. They had their orders and were determined to carry them out. If not for the Grand Inquisitor and Sir Samorl, then to best the other and get one step ahead in their constant fight for bragging rights and supremacy, and although Exley Clewarth didn’t like the idea of what he'd been ordered to do, for many reasons, he was just as determined as his Wesson counterpart to succeed.
***
Fal opened his eyes. His head was thumping but he saw nothing. His eyes had definitely opened, but might have well stayed shut for all the good it’d done. Fal’s nose twitched at the sudden and strong smell of excrement, and he reached up and felt his head for a blindfold, although it hadn’t felt like there was one there. Another spell like Lord Strickland used when we were brought in front of King Barrison? He winced when his hand brushed a tender lump on his forehead. What happened to me? He couldn’t remember how he got wherever he was or what had happened to get him there.
‘Hello?’ Fal called out softly, hoping for a reply from someone he knew.
‘Fal?’ a nasal but familiar voice said.
‘Sav, mate, where are we? Where’re you?’ Fal was a little relieved upon hearing his friend’s voice. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his eyes still unadjusted to the darkness all around.