"Why, that's beautiful!" Gerard said. Then, stepping closer, he took a better look. Within the architectural details and the shadows cast by the building lurked vague, distorted images suggestive of grinning skulls and bloody shrouds, dripping daggers and gallows' ropes. "Oh!"
Usha jabbed her finger vexedly at the painting. "Don't worry. I don't know what all of this means yet." she explained. "I don't know what it has to do with Odila or a temple devoted to healing. I'm afraid maybe it foretells some unhappy event or disruption that is to befall during the dedication ceremony, but I won't be sure until the painting settles and is done."
Gerard was puzzled, knowing little of magic and less of magical painting of the sort Usha specialized in. The Knights of Solamnia had an almost hidebound objection to magic and even though Gerard was no longer a knight, he still shared this attitude. Magic made him uncomfortable, suspicious. "I don't understand," he said warily, intending no discourtesy. "How did those strange images get there if you yourself didn't paint them?"
"This is one of my gifts from the gods that I can't really explain myself," Usha said, gazing unhappily at her work. "Sometimes, when I'm painting a scene or portrait, my mind just goes kind of blank. When I come to my senses again, it's almost as if the painting has painted itself. Sometimes, I won't even notice until the next morning. Then I don't know whether the auguries appeared from my own hand or whether they were etched there magically overnight, in my absence. Often, it takes a while to see what is being revealed, although this example is less subtle, more legible than most. And sometimes the auguries vanish by the time the work is finished. Are they warnings to be heeded, or are they sent to cause the very things they show?"
"What do you mean?" Gerard said. He gestured vaguely at the painting. Palin, his hands clasped behind his back, stood there listening, without saying anything.
Usha was quiet for a while. At last, she began to speak. "Once, I was asked to paint a portrait of a wealthy businessman in Solanthus," she said softly. "He was an influential man, very powerful, and like other men of power, he boasted many enemies.
"All went well with the portrait at first, and the businessman was very pleased with my work. Then a strange thing began to happen. First, the eyes in my painting became glazed, as in death. I would restore their look of vitality each day, putting in the points of reflected light that characterize vital eyes, only to have them turn cloudy again each night. After that, I began to find the mouth open each morning as if in a silent scream. Finally, a bloody line started etching itself across his throat, opening further each day until the bloody line became a gaping wound.
"With great unease, I showed my client these omens and told him they might be warnings of what is to come, unless he took steps to prevent things. He concluded that his enemies were out to kill him, and immediately set out for Palanthas until such time as it seemed safe to return." Usha paused, as if unwilling to continue. "On the way, he was set upon by robbers," she added at last, speaking so softly Gerard had to strain to hear. "He was killed. His throat was cut." She looked Gerard full in the face. "So you see, I must have inadvertently caused his death by showing him what the picture revealed. In a way, I contributed to his death. And now I don't know whether to warn Odila of these portents, or whether it would be better for her if I keep silent."
"But she has to be alerted!" Gerard said vehemently. "We can't just sit by and let whatever it is befall-not if there's a chance we could stop it."
"Gerard, weren't you listening to what I told you? I helped cause that businessman's death!"
But Gerard wasn't listening. He stumbled back from the painting, his eyes wide with horror. "I had a dream a few nights ago," he said in a whisper. "I was standing in the new temple. The statue of Mishakal was holding a body, a corpse, and trying to tell me something, but I couldn't understand what Mishakal was saying. Nor could I tell whose body it was, for it was covered in a bloody sheet."
Usha gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.
"What?" Gerard said. "What is it?"
But it was Palin who answered. "I had the same dream. And I, too, couldn't tell whose the body was."
"It might have been Odila's!" Gerard declared, turning toward the door.
"Wait," Usha called. "Don't do anything that might cause this fate to happen."
"He must do what he thinks is right, dear," said Palin.
"I must go to Odila," Gerard said, hurrying from the room, "and at least tell her."
Without further ado, he made for the stairway that would take him to ground level, the bridge-walk trembling beneath his frantic steps, and there he met up with a panting guardsman rushing in his direction. "At the temple!" the guardsman gasped, bent forward with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "A terrible accident… Must tell the mayor."
"Was anyone injured?" Gerard asked, already feeling a tight foreboding.
"At least one dead." The guardsman straightened.
"Who?" Gerard demanded to know. "Who is dead?" But the guardsman merely shook his head and resumed his sprint in the direction of Palin's house.
Gerard raced toward the temple, fearing the worst.
CHAPTER 12
Gerard burst onto a scene of chaos and panic. On one side of the temple grounds, the scaffolding that had supported workmen had partially collapsed and swung away from the building at a crazy angle. There, people were swarming about aimlessly, trying to help and mostly getting in the way. The few individuals who appeared to possess some sense of purpose were digging among the rubble of fallen beams and stone, evidently looking for victims.
Several injured workmen and clerics had been taken aside and were grouped in a cluster at one edge of the site. Some of them sat dazedly, favoring hurt arms and legs. Others lay stretched out on the ground, moaning occasionally. Odila moved among the injured, offering what comfort she could.
Gerard hurried over to her.
"Are you all right?" he asked, noting with concern a bad scrape above her left eye where oozing blood was congealing to form a dark crust.
She nodded, her face still blank with shock.
"What happened?"
"Some sort of accident. The scaffolding just gave way at one corner."
Gerard scanned the ranks of injured. "An accident! Is anyone badly hurt?"
Odila shook her head, her braids coming loose and spilling hair down one side of her face. "Just one person, and unfortunately that is Salamon Beach," she said, nodding to a figure completely covered with a tattered cloak. "He was right underneath the structure when it collapsed."
Gerard strode over to the figure and peeled back a corner of the cloak. Salamon Beach gazed up at him with milky, sightless eyes. His features sagged with the weight of death. Blood pooled on the ground beneath his head, the back of which had been crushed by falling debris. Gerard covered the dead man again, then started in sudden recognition.
Salamon Beach, cloaked like this and cradled in the arms of Mishakal's statue, plainly evoked the bloodied figure in his dream.
So was this what the dream, and for that matter Usha's painting, had been trying to tell him? That there would be some sort of accident here? If it actually was an accident.
More people arrived on the scene as word of the tragedy spread throughout Solace. Kaleen led Argyle Hulsey, the local healer, over to attend to the injured. The healer moved swiftly and professionally among them, assessing the extent of the various injuries.
"How is Stonegate?" Odila asked Kaleen. "Was he badly hurt?"
Kaleen shook her head. "Shaken up, and his arm badly bruised, but he's all right."
"Who is Stonegate?" Gerard asked, coming up behind them.
"The chief foreman on the project," Odila explained. "He works-worked-directly under Salamon."
"So he would stand to benefit from this misfortune."
Odila stared at him. "No! What do you mean?"
"Just that this Stonegate might not have liked being the architect's underling. Maybe he wan
ted to be in charge and saw this as his only opportunity for advancement."
Odila shook her head. "Gerard, you are too wrapped up in the pressures of being sheriff. You don't know Stonegate. That's not like him at all."
"Maybe," Gerard said, chastened. But he made a mental note to question this Stonegate as soon as the possibility presented itself.
Kaleen watched Argyle Hulsey proceed through the ranks of the injured. "Maybe I should see if I can help, even if it's only to offer those who are hurt some tarbean tea." She moved off to consult with the healer.
"I don't know what I'd do without her," Odila said with a sigh, watching Kaleen stride purposefully away. "She's become my right hand in the preparations for the dedication, and she's not even one of my clerics."
"She's certainly a competent young woman," Gerard said, staring after Kaleen as well. She had a saucy step, even in the midst of this unhappy scene, that was a pleasure to behold.
"As for doing without someone, now I don't know what I'm going to do without my architect," Odila said ruefully, turning back to Gerard. "It's a sad loss. And I fear it'll put us days behind." Across the way, someone had apparently organized the workmen into tackling the job of dismantling the damaged scaffolding. The scaffolding swayed precariously, but held together as men began removing the pieces plank by plank and strut by strut. "Salamon Beach certainly seemed like a, uh, valuable person," Gerard said, searching for tact. "But difficult."
"Yes, he could be difficult," Odila agreed. "Although he and I were able to get along all right. And he was worth all the extra bother of dealing with him."
"Did he have any enemies that you're aware of?"
"Salamon? No, not enemies exactly." She paused, then hurried on. "There was something strange that happened a few nights ago. I had almost forgotten, until now."
"Go on," Gerard urged when she fell silent again. "Well, I was coming out of the temple after dark. Everyone else had gone for the night, and I don't think Salamon knew I was still here. I spotted him arguing with a couple of men. They were really pushing him around and abusing him. Then they finished their business and took off into the night. When I asked Salamon about it, he tried to laugh the matter away, but something was wrong. I just couldn't tell what." She shook her head. "For that matter, I still don't know."
Gerard frowned, thinking about the curious incident. On the side of the temple, the attempt to dismantle the scaffolding had hit a snag. Gerard stared in that direction but couldn't make out what the difficulty might be. "These men," he said, "did you recognize them?"
Odila shook her head again. "Never seen them before. But I did get a good look at one of them. It was only by moonlight, but I wouldn't soon forget a face like that." She described the thick, brushlike mustache that obscured the man's upper lip, and the vicious scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down to somewhere under his shirt.
Gerard scratched at his beard, self-conscious about disfiguring scars that left their bearers immediately recognizable. "Could they have rigged an accident of this sort?"
"Oh gosh, I don't know." Odila shrugged. "It is probably nothing more than an inopportune accident. A construction site like this is certainly a dangerous place. This just serves to remind us all of that fact. We all of us need to be more careful, I suppose."
"I suppose." Gerard let the matter drop. Judging by the worried expression on her face, Odila had enough to fret about right now. He decided not to pester her anymore that day about Salamon Beach. And now was not the time to tell her about Usha's painting either. A dwarf with his right arm in a makeshift sling hurried over just then, a sheaf of pages rolled under his left arm. "Lady," he said, bowing to Odila.
She acknowledged the greeting with a nod and turned to Gerard. "This is Stonegate." Then, addressing the dwarf, she asked, "Do you have any idea how long it'll be before we can get started again? And will we be able to complete the project without Salamon to oversee the design?"
"We're clearing away the debris, Lady. It's difficult to be certain at this point, but I believe we'll soon be able to resume work and be back on schedule in a day or two. Of course I would not presume to fill the architect's shoes," he added seriously. "But fortunately, he had brought us to within sight of completing the project. I believe I can get us the rest of the way."
Odila dipped her head in a grave nod, then absently tucked the loose end of her braid behind her ear. "Thank you."
The dwarf's barrel chest swelled with pride. "Lady," the dwarf said simply. Gerard had to admit he seemed an upstanding fellow, not the suspicious type. Stonegate started to turn back to the construction site, then paused and added to Gerard, "I almost forgot. Someone who says he works for you wanted you to come see something before we proceed with any further repairs."
"Oh? Was it Vercleese uth Rothgaard, my deputy?" Gerard asked, falling into step with the dwarf.
Stonegate shrugged, wincing at the discomfort that caused to his injured arm. "Humans are hard to tell apart, forgive me for saying so. Except for Lady Windlass, I cannot distinguish one of you from another."
His words were meant kindly, but his manner remained indifferent. Privately, Gerard thought all dwarves looked alike, too. But clearly, this Stonegate viewed all humans with scorn. Gerard resolved, later, to learn all he could about the dwarf, and whether he might have had anything to do with causing the accident and the death of Salamon Beach.
Stonegate led Gerard to the base of the scaffolding, where the workmen now stood milling about, waiting to resume their tasks. Gerard was surprised to see Blair standing by the scaffolding rather than Vercleese. The sergeant nodded to Gerard in greeting and indicated one of the main struts, where the rope lashing that had secured part of the structure now hung in pieces. "I wanted you to see this, sir," he said in a low voice, indicating the segments of rope.
Gerard stepped closer. He expected to see the rope frayed from whatever wear and tear had caused it to break. Instead, he saw the clean edges of a careful cut, each strand neatly severed.
"Looks like it wasn't an accident," he said.
"My thoughts exactly," said Blair. "Someone did this deliberately. The question is who and why did it collapse just when it did-when Salamon Beach was standing underneath the structure?"
"You think he might have been targeted?"
Blair gave him a faintly contemptuous look. "Don't you?"
Gerard refrained from telling the sergeant just what he thought, although he intended to upbraid him on a more private occasion, letting him know that his impertinent tone was not appreciated and would not be tolerated. "Did anyone witness the accident?"
"A couple of the workmen noticed two rough-looking men they hadn't seen before hanging around shortly before the collapse occurred. One of the men he described as having a thick, coppery mustache and a prominent scar down the left side of his face. No one saw where the pair went or even when they left. They seem to have vanished in the commotion."
Gerard raised an eyebrow. The descriptions matched those of Odila's strangers who had assaulted Salamon Beach a few nights before. Their confrontation must have been more serious than the architect let on-serious enough, perhaps, to get him killed. Gerard nodded. He'd have to see whether anyone else in town could identify these two men. "Well done, Sergeant," he said, clapping Blair on the shoulder. The sergeant shrugged, as though to say it was all in a day's work.
Vercleese arrived just then, and Gerard showed him the rope and filled him in on the "accident," including what Odila had told him about the incident a few nights earlier. Right after that, Palin hurried up to the group, and Gerard explained everything all over again.
Meanwhile, Stonegate stood impatiently to one side, huffing and snorting, clearly anxious to get work started up again and resentful of the humans' wasting of time. The death of his former boss seemed to matter less to him than putting the whole project back on schedule. Finally, Gerard turned to the dwarf. "All right, we're through here for now. But I expect you to inform me if you come
across anything else suspicious or see anyone loitering about whom you don't recognize. Is that understood?"
Stonegate hesitated.
"Lady Odila would want you to cooperate in this," Gerard added.
"Oh, well, in that case, of course I'll let you know immediately," the dwarf said, bowing his head before the mere thought of the lady who evidently held him in thrall. Then Gerard and the others walked slowly back to the area where the injured had been grouped.
"So we have another possible murder," Palin said quietly to Gerard. "Do you think it could be related to the death of Sheriff Joyner?"
Gerard scratched his chin. That thought had occurred to him as well. "It does seem unlikely there would be two such unusual murders so close together in time, unless there was some connection," he said cautiously, "although the methods used in the two cases were very dissimilar. Until we get more information on this latest killing, however, we can't know for sure."
Kaleen and Odila were waiting for them where the injured were being treated. Odila looked more her usual self, the color having returned to her face, but Kaleen was beginning to show the strain of having been exposed to injury and death. Gerard thought that she herself could do with one of the mugs of tarbean tea that she had been distributing to the victims.
Only a couple of the injured workmen remained, most having returned to their jobs with minor cuts and scrapes, Odila explained. A few had been taken by Argyle Hulsey to her shop in town for additional treatment. "And she wants to see Salamon's body as soon as we can bring it to her," she continued. "She wants to examine it more closely than she was able to do here."
A crashing noise caused Gerard to spin around nervously, but evidently it was only the controlled demolition of the damaged scaffolding, which now lay in a heap beside the temple wall. Dust from the crash swirled about the men who stood there, to one side. When the dust cleared sufficiently, they swarmed about the ruined woodwork, dismantling it and salvaging any useable timber. Stonegate was back in his element, now that the petty disruption of death and injury was over with. He was barking orders and consulting the rolled pages with drawings of the project.
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