by Scott Lynch
“I’m gonna cut your throat, you Imperial bitch,” he said. His breath smelled of whiskey and shit, and Salia gagged as she eased her right hand off of his wrist. He tried to lunge forward again, pressing his advantage, but she quickly jerked her hand hard to the right, and a pistol on a heavy spring shot out of her jacket sleeve. She snatched the grip of the small gun and slammed the barrel hard into Scar’s cheekbone. The blade and the breath both disappeared as he rolled off of her.
Salia slowly stood up, pointing the pistol at the men as she went to check on Freeder. He was unconscious, but his pulse was strong. The rest of crowd was gone, including Tobas. She gritted her teeth and walked back to Scar.
“I have a question in our mutual interest,” she said, gently putting the barrel of the pistol against his forehead. “Where would a lady such as myself find the town doctor?”
Dr. Dauna adjusted her glasses and looked Salia up and down. “You seem to have damaged our deputy,” she said, her voice clipped and sharp with irritation.
Salia helped Freeder, now conscious but still wobbly on his feet, into the doctor’s office. He slumped into a chair, holding a bloody hand to his head. “Wasn’t me, doctor,” the detective said. “It was the three men lying in various states of injury near his office.”
“Are they in serious danger?”
“Not as long as they keep away from me, they aren’t.”
The doctor slipped on some magnifying glasses and started looking over Freeder’s wound as she talked. “And I take it you are responsible for their current condition, Miss...?”
“Detective. Detective Salia Madweather.” She took off her hat and set it on the desk, keeping her leather bag in her hand.
“The Twin Eagle woman. I had heard you were in town.” She looked up from Freeder and slipped off the glasses. “It’s just a cut, deputy. A few stitches, and you’ll be fine.”
“I got a headache a league wide, doc,” Freeder said with a slight slur to his words.
“Take a sip of poppy. You’ll feel better.” She turned and looked at Salia again. “I take it you’re here to see the Magistrate?”
“Just the dead one.”
The doctor frowned at the witticism. “Well, until my other new patients come in, I have a few moments to spare. Please come with me, and keep your comments strictly relevant, if you please.”
Salia smirked. “I like you already, doctor.”
The doctor turned and opened a door to a back room. Tendrils of cold slid out from the open door, and Salia could just make out huge blocks of melting ice inside. Then the smell slapped her in the face, making Salia’s eyes water. She coughed involuntarily and dug in her bag for a silk mask before tying it over her nose and mouth.
Dauna watched the detective carefully. “I haven’t seen a mask quite like that one. I commend you on your preparations.”
Salia pulled her photographic goggles out of the bag as well and put them on before setting the bag down at her feet. “I’m surprised you hadn’t seen them before. They must have come into use just after you left the Empire.”
“How did you...?”
The detective put her hands up in a placating gesture. “Relax, doctor. I’ve already got a sense of how much this town doesn’t like the Empire, so it’s not like I’ll be telling everyone. Your accent is worn down over the years, but it’s still there. Besides, I don’t expect there are all that many medical colleges outside the Periphery.”
The doctor stared at Salia for a moment before answering. “Pardifall was a place to escape the Empire, at least for a while. But not all of us begrudged having some more law in town.”
Salia nodded and pointed at the corpse. “So let’s live up to that. Tell me his story.”
Both women looked down at Taliwar’s body. He was a heavy-set man, with black and gray hair carefully groomed into the queue common to Imperial Magistrates. Most of him was modestly covered with a thin sheet. The precise hole in his head seemed small, almost like an afterthought.
“Magistrate Taliwar was shot in the forehead. The bullet exited in the rear of the skull.” Despite the smell and the cold, Dauna’s voice was becoming more animated. “Notice the area of the initial wound.”
Salia leaned over and looked where the doctor pointed. “No powder burns.”
“Correct. So he was shot at a distance at least.”
“Which rules out a suicide.” Salia toyed with the goggles, and the room was flooded with light and the smell of burning sugar.
Dauna started to protest, but the detective rolled the Magistrate’s head to the side to look at the exit wound. “A bullet this small probably didn’t come from the sheriff’s gun.”
“You are likely correct.” Her lips pursed together in a thin line as flash powder fell again. She turned and opened a small wooden chest sitting in one corner, pulling out a bundle of clothing. “You may find these of more interest.” Dauna carefully put the clothing on the edge of the table. “All of the Magistrate’s personal effects.”
Salia carefully looked through the clothes. She found a gun hidden in the bundle – a small caliber pistol, similar to the one her attacker with the broken collarbone had carried. “Does everyone in Pardifall carry a pistol?” she asked.
“Not everyone, but many do. It’s not uncommon or even illegal to have them on your person, but generally civilians only carry them if they’re worried something will happen.”
“So he was expecting something bad to happen. And yet the bullet wound is clean in the center of his head. He didn’t move or duck – he was surprised. Why would he be prepared to shoot someone if he needed to, and yet be surprised when it happened?”
The doctor leaned over and pulled the sheet over Taliwar’s face. “You’ll have to ask Sheriff Norna about that. Agent Jarl seems to think he’s the one who killed him.”
Salia tapped on the edge of the table, deep in thought. “Yes, I really should meet this Agent Jarl.”
The Thrice-Blessed Watering Hole Saloon was busy when Salia walked in. Round tables were scattered all over, with grizzled men and worn-out women hunched over tin mugs or cards. A low murmur filled the room, and the familiar odor of stale beer and sawdust filled her nose as the door swung closed behind her. The whole place didn’t suddenly become quiet when she walked in – that kind of thing only happened in bit novels – but she got her share of curious stares as she made her way to the bar. “A pint of the regular, and some information,” she said, putting her bag and a couple of bits on the bar.
The bartender gave her a quick glance before reaching for a clean mug. “The first will cost you two bits. The other depends on what you want.”
“I’m looking for Agent Jarl. Do you know where I can find him?”
The bartender nodded to a tall man standing at the end of the bar before setting down the mug, scooping up the bits, and moving to other customers.
The man had smooth skin and a strong jaw, and his body held a casual grace. This was clearly a man who was used to physical activity, but not a laborer. Salia tried to assess him dispassionately, but she kept noticing how handsome he was. The man looked her over carefully as she grabbed her bag and walked up to him. “Who are you?” he asked, friendly but suspicious.
“I’m Salia Madweather, Twin Eagle Security Agency, looking into the murder of Magistrate Taliwar.” She held out her hand – sideways, to be shaken, not palm down.
“Sorsen Jarl, at your service.” He turned her hand and kissed the air over the top of it, just as if they were in some Imperial salon.
“Looks and manners. You’ll be the death of me, Agent Jarl.” Salia let her lips pull into a lazy smile that has gotten her out of as much trouble as it’s put her into. “But neither are as good to me as answers, so if you don’t mind I’d like to focus on business before moving on to pleasure.”
“Of course, Miss Madweather.”
“Detective, please. Or Salia if you think we can be friends.” She tried the smile again, and this time Jarl copied it.
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“Of course... Salia. What would you like to know?”
She pulled her notebook and pencil out of the bag. “Why are you so sure that the sheriff was the murderer?”
His smile dropped into a soft scowl, and Salia noticed that this was just as attractive on him. “That man has done nothing but badger the Magistrate for months. They were always fighting. Personally, I suspect he resents the Empire’s attempts to bring some civilized law into this town, instead of his own level of casual thuggery that passes as justice.”
She started tapping her notebook with her pencil. “I’m not sure ‘thuggery’ is the right word, Agent Jarl....”
“Sorsen, please.” That smile again.
She returned it. “Agent Jarl,” she said, putting particular emphasis on the title, which caused his smile to fade, “a man that puts himself in a jail cell while protesting his innocence knowing full well that he’ll likely be killed by an Imperial Marshal doesn’t strike me as a man that normally plays fast and loose with the law. And he certainly doesn’t strike me as someone likely to murder an Imperial Magistrate.”
Jarl waved his hand dismissively. “How can I possibly know what these yokels think? I’m surprised they managed to live this long, to be honest.” He seemed oblivious to the stares he was attracting as he continued. “But that man had guns on him, and the Magistrate died of a bullet wound. They had fought before about the Empire’s laws. He was alone with the Magistrate. That means he had the means, the motive, and the opportunity.”
Salia looked Jarl over, much more clinically this time. “That’s a nice sidearm you have, Agent Jarl. It’s not a military model – it’s one usually bought by civilians looking for a little more protection.”
He glanced down at the gun on his hip with a start, as if he had forgotten all about it. “I... well, of course. There must be dozens of people who carry these in Pardifall alone.”
“It’s also a smaller caliber of weapon compared to the one the sheriff carries.”
He stared at Salia for a moment in silence. “You aren’t seriously looking into the sheriff’s innocence, are you?”
“Deputy Freeder is my client. You’ll have to ask him as to my intentions. I’m not at liberty to say.”
Jarl stepped close to Salia, his face inches away from hers, causing her to back up against the bar. “You don’t want to be on the wrong side of me, Detective. I have a duty to the Empire, and I will do whatever it takes to carry that duty out.”
“Including keeping me from looking at the Magistrate’s office?” she asked, playing for time as the wheels turned in her head.
“Especially that. There are important Imperial secrets kept there, and you are just a private investigator.” He paused to look her over again, and his temper mellowed. “Although I’m sure I would enjoy a woman such as you trying to change my mind.”
Salia nudged Jarl’s stomach with her notebook, causing him to instinctively take a step back. She used the moment to grab her bag and slip past him.
“Unfortunately, my obligation is to my client, and to the honor of Twin Eagle.” At the door she turned to look at Jarl once more. “And I would hate to have to ruin you before I had a chance to properly appreciate your many… assets. Sorsen.”
She flashed the smile one more time, and pushed open the saloon door. It wasn’t until she was on the street that she regretted not having her beer.
The Twin Eagle badge got Salia into Magistrate Taliwar’s luxurious office, but not into his records.
“Sorry, ma’am, but Agent Jarl left specific instructions that the Magistrate’s office and possessions are not to be disturbed until the Marshall arrives.”
Salia leaned over the clerk’s dark, well-organized desk and stared hard at the pale bureaucrat. “Look, Mr....”
“Penkins. Josah Penkins.”
“... Penkins. I’m here at the request of Deputy Freeder to investigate the Magistrate’s murder, on behalf of the Twin Eagle Security Agency. I would like to look at the Magistrate’s records, and I would like you to give me access to them.” She paused and reached into her jacket pocket. “I can show you the badge again if you like.”
“And I’ve told you, Agent Jarl...”
“... is irrelevant.”
Salia and Penkins both turned to look at the new voice. Tobas Laers waddled into the office, guiding his ponderous bulk with an ornate walking stick. “The Empire holds no more power over us, and its tedious bureaucracy will be swept away in the enlightened new age of Pardifall.”
The detective stood up and put her hands in her pockets, conveniently pushing her long jacket away from her pistols and sword. “Mr. Laers. I’m surprised to hear a scion of your house so dismissive of the Empire.”
“I am not beholden to my father’s outmoded views. I care only for business, and this town will thrive and grow under new management.”
She looked out of the corner of her eye, and noticed that Penkins had slid under the desk for cover. “I don’t much give a damn about your political opinions, Mr. Laers. I’m just here to investigate a murder.”
He spread his hands expansively. “To what ends? To give the Marshal more evidence to hang our beloved sheriff? Even if, for some reason, you are inclined to find the sheriff innocent, how does this benefit us… or you?” He tried to look hard at Salia, but his watery eyes and florid face just made him look like he was about to burst. “I can easily double your fee and let you walk away from this dreadful situation, Miss Madweather.”
She tried to keep her face neutral, but a small snarl slipped out. “Detective Madweather.”
“I am only trying to...”
“Maiden’s Tits, will you shut up and listen, you overbearing ass? I am a detective of the Twin Eagle Security Agency. I don’t work for the Empire. I don’t work for you. I work for the honor of my clan, and at the behest of my client. Right now, that means I work for Deputy Freeder. So if you’re done trying to intimidate me, Mr. Laers, I’d like to get back to intimidating Mr. Penkins here so I can continue my investigation.” She turned to look back at the clerk’s empty chair, pointedly turning her back on Tobas.
The grocer gave a dry chuckle, as it if were something he wasn’t used to doing. “Bravo. Well played, Miss Madweather. But I have heard that you have been talking to Agent Jarl, and I suspect your interests are far more… complex… than you make it out to be.” Tobas consulted a silver pocketwatch. “Why don’t you come to my home tomorrow morning, and I’ll explain the whole nasty affair to you?”
Salia frowned. “Why not tell me now?”
“It is getting late, and I do have other appointments to keep. But tomorrow, I will reveal everything I know.”
“Fine. I’ll be there at 8 bells.”
“I look forward to it, Detective.” He turned and waddled out of the room.
Salia watched him leave before turning back to the clerk. “You can come out now,” she said, trying to keep the smile from her face.
Penkins slid out from under the desk and back into his seat with as much grace that he could manage. “What a deplorable man,” he said. “I suppose I should thank you for your assistance.”
“I suppose you should. The best form of appreciation, though, would be to show me what brought him to this office. I’m sure it wasn’t just to talk to me.”
“As I previously explained to Mr. Laers, an open investigation by a Magistrate is a very sensitive issue.”
“Investigation?”
The clerk continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “The Empire frowns heavily on such secret documents being shared with just anyone. Even Agent Jarl himself hasn’t seen the papers yet.”
“But you wouldn’t be sharing them with just anyone,” she said. “You’d be sharing them with me. And we’re a long way from the Empire.” She smiled a little at him. “Besides, I’m much nicer than Mr. Laers.”
Penkins glanced at the door. Sweat stood up on his brow. “I couldn’t possibly let you take them from the building, ma’am...”
She picked up her bag and set it heavily on his desk. “Who said anything about taking them?”
Salia sipped at a chipped mug of hot galao, her elbows on the sheriff’s desk. The Castalan drink kept her exhausted mind working as she tried to spell out the details. Freeder sat on the edge of his desk across from her, his head wrapped up in a new silk bandage, while Norna sat in his cell watching her. He tried to look unimpressed (that damned Far Western honor, she thought), but Salia noticed a gleam of hope in the sheriff’s eyes. She set the mug down and continued.
“The Magistrate’s documents were all too clear. Past all of the Imperial speech and flowery legal details, it’s all pretty simple. Pardifall is sitting on top of an untapped jade deposit worth millions.”
Freeder whistled softly. Norna frowned – the first real show of emotion she’d seen from him. “So Jarl and the Magistrate were trying to get it for the Empire?”
Salia shook her head. “That doesn’t add up, though. If they were in it together, why would Jarl kill the Magistrate?”
Norna got up and started pacing his cell. “To keep all the glory for himself. He kills the Magistrate, frames me, tries to keep the records under lock and key, and hands the whole town over to the Empire.”
“It’s possible, but why did the Magistrate ask for you in private?”
“Maybe he got cold feet?” Freeder said. “Could be he wanted the Sheriff to arrest Jarl?”
“That doesn’t work either,” Salia said. “The Empire doesn’t need a local Sheriff to handle their disputes. If the Magistrate really felt he had something on Jarl, he’d call in a Marshal. If he didn’t, why not just take care of it himself?” She tapped her pencil on the photographs of Taliwar’s reports. “No, there’s something in here that we’re missing. Taliwar was pretty vague in some of his notes, but the phrase ‘Old Lion’ kept popping up. Any idea what that that refers to?”