A Flight of Ravens by John Conroe (thriller books to read TXT) 📗

the testing issue. I pushed up both sleeves and turned my arms over to show my testing marks. “The guards all apply the urmak to the same spot on our inner forearms.”

Most of them looked at their own forearms—except Brona, who gave me a wicked bright smile.  She always appreciates it when I demonstrate I’m not just a sharp spear, waiting to be thrown at the enemy.

“I don’t think it would be hard to come up with some kind of prosthetic fake inner arm pad,” I added.

Erser grimaced and swore while Slinch wore a thoughtful expression.  I could tell Fontina was looking at me from my left side, but I couldn’t see her face in my peripheral vision. The doctor was nodding.

“Colonel,” King Helat said.

“I’ll update all the guards immediately and prepare my resignation letter, Your Majesty,” Erser said.

“You don’t have my permission to resign, Colonel,” the king said.  “Just get our procedures updated.”

The colonel saluted the king and left the cell.  King Helat turned his eyes back on me.  He didn’t have to say a word.

“Where are the guards’ bodies and why were they moved?” I asked.

Slinch answered.  “We moved them to the cell on the end of this row.  It was considered wise to test each one to be sure it wasn’t a shaper pretending death, you know, with the king and crown princess headed here,” he said, his tone carrying a little bite, like sharp cheddar cheese.

I turned while he was still speaking, walking to the aforementioned cell.  Three bodies laid next to one another, each bloody and smelling of death-loosened bowels.

“Savid, I want you to Find who did this,” the king ordered.  His meaning was clear to Slinch and Fontina, both of their eyes lighting up at the emphasis on Find. The doctor’s expression didn’t change, so he might not have understood.

“That will depend on what evidence has been left behind,” I said, wincing internally at the king’s release of my secret. “And so far, I haven’t seen anything useful.”

“I have only conducted a cursory examination, but I did spot a shine of metal in the mouth of the last guard killed,” the doctor offered, demonstrating that he’d clearly understood the king’s comment.  “The strike came up through the bottom of the jaw, glanced off several teeth, and then punched through the roof of the mouth.”  He moved up next to me and pried open the mouth in question.

Brona, herself, held a torch over top of the guard so that I could see the tiny glimmer on the poor man’s gumline amid the shards of broken teeth.  She looked fascinated as the doctor pulled clever metal tweezers from a pocket inside his white smock and, with a completely steady hand, extracted the sliver.  I held out my silk pocket cloth and he dropped the speck of metal on it.

“Is it enough?” my princess asked.

“I won’t know till I try.  Death leaves an impression on weapons that can cloud things, and if it was a new weapon to the killer, there might not be much to work with,” I said, trying to ignore my discomfort at this open conversation.

“I had heard rumors, from members of your own family, that you were uncommonly good at finding lost items, Savid,” Slinch said. “But this speaks of a much more… refined Talent.”

“Which you will keep to yourselves,” the king said, pinning first Slinch and then the doctor and Fontina with his stare.  As much as he might think his royal word inviolate, I knew better.

“If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty, Your Highness, I will see what I can do with this,” I said.

“Oh, but I wanted to watch,” Slinch said, almost joyous.

“Not a spectator sport, Neil,” Brona said suddenly.  “Leave him to his trade.”

I moved to an empty cell, worried that there wasn’t going to be much of my trade.  I was right.  The metal yielded nothing of value.

“Why?” King Helat asked when I reported back.

“Likely it was a very new weapon for the killer.  Probably first-time use.  The violence of the killings easily overpowered any impressions of the killer themselves.”

“What do you propose?” he asked.

“Old-fashioned tradecraft.  We start with who has been in to see Lady Dominick.  Word of her jailing is pretty recent information,” I said.

“A group of seven High Family representatives were cleared by His Majesty to visit her early this morning,” Neil Slinch said, holding up the guards’ logbook.  “This afternoon’s visitor page was ripped out.”

“May I see that?” Brona asked.  Slinch dutifully handed it over.  Rose looked over her shoulder.

“This morning’s party consisted of Ladies Olden and Kardian, your father, and both of your brothers, Savid,” the princess said, “Lord Hatch, and Steven Grantell.”  She let the hand holding the book to fall to her side and Rose gently tugged on it.  With a surprised look, Brona released it to the young girl, who brushed her fingers over the page from the day before.

“What is it, Rose?”

The girl tore a piece of paper from her own notebook and laid it over the guards’ book.  “The guards seem to write with a lead hand.  There is an impression on this page of what was written on today’s page… Your Highness,” she added quickly.  She took a stick of drawing charcoal from her bag and rubbed it sideways on the paper.  Then she blew off the dust and held it up to the light for a second before handing it to Brona.

“It’s hard to read—jumbled with the letters already on the page, but it looks like a G, R, A, then a straight line that could be an I or an L,” Brona said, looking at the rubbing.

Rose peeked over her shoulder again and pointed at the page.  “Oh, good eye, Rose.  It has a little peak at the top, like a capital A or an N.”

“Grantell?” King Helat asked.

“Possibly,” Brona allowed.  “At least three of the Grantells were logged through the outer gate this afternoon. As well as Lord Grainge.”

The king turned to his chief Raven.