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"What's going on?"
Though no one directly answered the question, no one needed to. As naked as
when she'd frolicked with Radnal, Evillia stood by the table where Benter vez
Maprab and Dokhnor of Kellef had played war.
Dokhnor was there, too, but not standing. He lay sprawled on the floor, head
twisted at an unnatural angle.
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Evillia had jammed a fist in her mouth to stifle another scream. She took it
out, quavered, "Is is he dead?"
Radnal strode over to Dokhnor, grabbed his wrist, felt for a pulse. He found
none, nor was the
Morgaffo breathing. "He's dead, all right," Radnal said grimly.
Evillia moaned. Her knees buckled. She toppled onto Radnal's bent back.
* * *
When Evillia fainted, Lofosa screamed and ran forward to try to help. Nocso
zev Martois screamed, too, even louder. Moblay Sopsirk's son hurried toward
Radnal and Evillia. So did Fer vez Canthal and Zosel vez Glesir. So did Toglo
zev Pamdal. So did another tourist, a Highhead who'd spoken very little on the
way down to the lodge.
Everyone got in everyone else's way. Then the quiet Highhead stopped being
quiet and shouted, "I am a physician, the six million gods curse you! Let me
through!"
"Let the physician through," Radnal echoed, sliding Evillia off him and to the
ground as gently as he could. "Check her first, freeman Golobol," he added,
pleased he'd hung onto the doctor's name. "I'm afraid you're too late to help
Dokhnor now."
Golobol was almost as dark as Moblay, but spoke Tarteshan with a different
accent. As he turned to
Evillia, she moaned and stirred. "She will be all right, oh yes, I am sure,"
he said. "But this poor fellow "
As Radnal had, he felt for Dokhnor's pulse. As Radnal had, he failed to find
it. "You are correct, sir. This man is dead. He has been dead for some time."
"How do you know?" Radnal asked.
"You felt of him, not?" the physician said. "Surely you noticed his flesh has
begun to cool. It has, oh yes."
Thinking back, Radnal had noticed, but he'd paid no special attention. He'd
always prided himself on how well he'd learned first-aid training. But he
wasn't a physician, and didn't automatically take everything into account as a
physician would. His fit of chagrin was interrupted when Evillia let out a
shriek a hunting cave cat would have been proud of.
Lofosa bent by her, spoke to her in her own language. The shriek cut off.
Radnal started thinking about what to do next. Golobol said, "Sir, look here,
if you would."
Golobol was pointing to a spot on the back of Dokhnor's neck, right above
where it bent gruesomely.
Radnal had to say, "I don't see anything."
"You Strongbrows are a hairy folk, that is why," Golobol said. "Here,
though see this, ah, discoloration, is that the word in your language? It is?
Good. Yes. This discoloration is the sort of mark to be expected from a blow
by the side of the hand, a killing blow."
Despite Bottomlands heat, ice formed in the pit of Radnal's stomach. "You're
telling me this was murder."
The word cut through the babble filling the common room like a scalpel. There
was chaos one heartbeat, silence the next. Into that abrupt, intense silence,
Golobol said, "Yes."
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"Oh, by the gods, what a mess," Fer vez Canthal said.
Figuring out what to do next became a lot more urgent for Radnal. Why had the
gods (though he didn't believe in six million of them) let someone from his
tour group get murdered? And why, by all the gods he did believe in, did it
have to be the Morgaffo? Morgaf would be suspicious if not hostile if any of
its people met foul play in Tartesh. And if Dokhnor of Kellef really was a
spy, Morgaf would be more than suspicious. Morgaf would be furious.
Radnal walked over to the radiophone. "Whom will you call?" Fer asked.
"First, the park militia. They'd have to be notified in any case. And then "
Radnal took a deep breath.
"Then I think I'd best call the Hereditary Tyrant's Eyes and Ears in
Tarteshem. Murder of a Morgaffo sworn to the Goddess is a deeper matter than
the militia can handle alone. Besides, I'd sooner have an
Eye and Ear notify the Morgaffo plenipo than try doing it myself."
"Yes, I can see that," Fer said. "Wouldn't want Morgaffo gunboats running
across the Sleeve to raid our coasts because you said something wrong. Or "
The lodge attendant shook his head. "No, not even the island king would be
crazy enough to start tossing starbombs over something this small." Fer's
voice turned anxious. "Would he?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]