Goblin Precinct (Dragon Precinct) (17 page)

Everyone shut up then, though he did notice a knowing look on ban Wyvald’s face. He’d been on the receiving end of that yell any number of times in the old days.

“I don’t know the specifics as yet, but I do know that we must deal with that, and right away. We’re going to Auburn Way to find out what happened—including you, Boneen.”

“Hardly.” Boneen put his hands on his hips. “This woman must be questioned immediately.”

Fanthral stepped forward. “Since the death of this Lieutenant Hawk, while tragic, has nothing to do with my mission, I will remain and question this woman and her dwarves.”

“I ain’t ‘her’ dwarf!”

Osric ignored Kempog. He thought quickly, not about to let Fanthral loose in the squadroom without adult supervision. Besides, the king and queen themselves were pressuring Albin to cooperate with Fanthral, and Osric couldn’t afford to completely ignore that. “Fine. Tresyllione, you’ll stay with him and question these three.”

“What?” Tresyllione said raggedly from her desk chair, onto which she had collapsed after throwing up.

“Captain—” Boneen started, but Osric cut him off, speaking in a very low, even tone.

“Understand something Boneen, and understand it well. Someone killed one of my lieutenants, and there is
nothing
happening anywhere in this city-state, or anywhere in all of Flingaria, that is more important to me than finding the shitbrains who did it and putting them in the hole. That means that you will come with us to Auburn Way and cast a peel-back on the bank
right now
, so we can learn everything we can about them and bring them before the magistrate. Do I make myself clear?”

 With a sigh, Boneen said, “Oh, very well. But I will meet you at the bank—I’ll teleport there after I have informed Gunderson.”

“Boneen—” Osric started, but this time the M.E. did the interrupting.

“When this great a violation of the brotherhood’s bylaws occurs, I
must
report to the local representative
immediately
. Failure to do so will, I assure you, have far greater consequences to me than anything
you
could do.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Osric muttered. One of the reasons why the Castle Guard was able to function as a law enforcement agency at all was because everyone in Cliff’s End knew that you did
not
harm anyone wearing that leather armor, and woe be to anyone foolish enough to do so. The two sailors who were responsible for Linder’s death were brought before the magistrate, condemned to be hanged, and executed within a day of the event, the fastest such had ever happened in the demesne’s history. If Osric had his way, Hawk’s murderer would feel the hangman’s noose even sooner.

However, he did understand that Boneen had people to report to as well—people who could easily turn Osric into a farm animal.

Regarding Boneen harshly, Osric said, “You will be at the bank within the hour, Boneen, or the brotherhood will need to send us a magickal examiner who hasn’t had his throat slit.”

“Worry not, Captain, I have no desire for this conversation to go on any longer than necessary.” He gazed disapprovingly at Morenn. “I hope you appreciate the mess you’ve started, young woman. I was hoping not to have to go through this again.”

“There have been other female mages?” ban Wyvald asked.

“More than the brotherhood would have you believe,” Morenn said with a fine sneer of her own.

Boneen shook his head. “Last time, I suggested that we simply make the woman into a man—such spells
do
exist, after all—but the notion was soundly and, if you ask me, unfairly rejected.”

Osric looked over at the guard holding Kempog. “Kellan, you and Micah stay here and help Tresyllione in whatever way she needs. Everyone else, with me.”

As he exited the squadroom, trailing his subordinates behind him, Osric found himself once again remembering
why
he reveled in those rare instances of peace and quiet . . .

SIXTEEN

DRU HAD NO IDEA HOW LONG HE’D BEEN SITTING ON THE FLOOR OF the Auburn Way branch of the Cliff’s End Bank, cradling Hawk’s head in his lap.

He was going to have to tell his wife. Worse, he was going to have to tell Hawk’s father. That old man was actually going to have to stop pretending he couldn’t support himself. True, he’d get his son’s pension, but Hawk hadn’t even been with the Guard for a full ten years. You needed twenty to vest any kind of pension, twenty-five for a full one. The twenty-year pension was sufficiently meager that Iaian was hanging on long past his desired retirement date so he could get the twenty-five. A nine-year pension was basically nothing.

But that was the old man’s problem, and not Dru’s. Besides, all that coin that Hawk had been saving up for that stupid boat was probably under a mattress somewhere in his flat. The elderly bastard could live on that.

Not that Dru cared. What he cared about was that his partner was dead.

After everything they’d been through, to have it end like this. So many times they’d had each others’ backs: their first case together, stopping those grifters who’d been working the docks, when Dru had almost drowned, and Hawk jumped into the water and saved him. That shitbrain who was kidnapping rich girls and killing them after the ransom got paid, who nearly slit Hawk’s throat before Dru got the drop on him. The drunken soldier who tore apart the Stone Kobold, and almost did the same to Dru and Hawk both. The elf and dwarf who got into that fight during midsummer. And, of course, the Corvin case. That one nearly got both of them killed.

And now he was dead.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Dru looked up to see Torin’s kind face looking down at him. “I’m sorry, Dru, but you need to get up.”

“I can’t leave him, Torin. I just—”

“You must. Boneen just arrived to cast the peel-back.”

Dru nodded, understanding. The peel-back wouldn’t work if there were any living beings in the range of the spell besides the spellcaster.

Of course that meant that Hawk didn’t have to move at all.

Torin held out a gloved hand, and Dru clasped it, letting his fellow detective pull him to his feet. As he steadied himself, he saw the body on the ground, a Guard-issue longsword sticking out of its chest. When he first ran into the bank, the only thing Dru even noticed was his partner dying on the floor, so he didn’t really take in the rest of the scene.

“That the thief?”

“One of them,” Torin said. “According to the witnesses, there were four. That one was the ringleader, and was apparently named Gavin. Hawk killed him, and his friends killed Hawk.”

Dru stared at Torin. “We gotta get these shitbrains. I knocked one of ’em down, but they all got away. We gotta get ’em, Torin!”

“We will—as soon as we get out of here and let Boneen do his work.”

Nodding, Dru said, “Yeah. Yeah, right. Okay.” He let Torin guide him out of the bank just as Boneen came in.

The next half an hour was the longest of Dru’s life. Various guards kept walking up to him and expressing condolences and declaring that they’d “get the bastards” and so on. They were mostly a blur of platitudes and nonsense. Grovis’s, in particular, seemed to go on for weeks.

Then Captain Osric walked up to him.

“Dru.”

“Cap’n.”

“I just want you to know, Dru—”

The lieutenant held up his hands. “Look, Cap’n, I appreciate what you wanna say, but I’ve been listenin’ to everyone tell me they’re sorry. I don’t think I can stand anymore, and I don’t want you tellin’ me how much you want me to go home and not worry about nothin’, and—”

“I’m not saying any such thing, Lieutenant.”

That brought Dru up short. “You’re not?”

Osric shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you what to do right now. I am going to tell you that, whatever you decide you have to do next, I’m behind you. And so is the rest of the Guard. You understand me?”

Relief spread over Dru. He had truly feared that the captain would send him home.

Torin walked up to them. “I just spoke with Allard and Brenn. They’ve been going door-to-door to see if anyone saw where the remaining three thieves went. They have a woman who assures them that the thieves went into a small hovel at the end of Yocane Way.”

“Good,” Osric said.

“It gets better.” Torin smiled grimly. “One of Afrak’s informants says that Gavin was in the midst of putting together a very large deal—
and
that he and his crew have been using a hovel at the end of Yocane Way for their base.”

“So what the hell’re we waiting for?”

“Me, for one thing,” came Boneen’s voice from the bank entrance. Turning, Dru saw the wizard walk slowly out. He seemed very tired—not the fatigue he usually affected in order to get people to feel sorry for him, or at least not ask him to do anything, but genuine exhaustion.

“What did the peel-back tell you, Boneen?” Osric asked.

“Four men wearing glamours entered the bank and took the half-dozen or so occupants hostage. Hawk entered, also wearing a glamour.” He scowled at Osric. “A rather bad one, I might add. You really should give your people
good
glamours.”

Osric ground his teeth. “Get on with it, please.”

Boneen folded his tiny arms over his chest. “In any event, the dead one had a dagger to an employee’s neck, so Hawk didn’t act until everyone was out of immediate danger. Then he dropped the glamour and attempted to talk the thieves down. But the dead one kept moving closer, and finally Hawk ran him through.” Boneen then opened his mouth and shut it again.

When Boneen’s hesitation threatened to go on forever, Dru said, “Just get on with it, Boneen!”

“Yes, well, after that, the other three did rather pile on.”

“Do you know which one killed Hawk?” Osric asked.

Boneen nodded. “One did run him through with his sword. I was able to penetrate the glamours this time—the Bliss in their system was all gone, for some reason—so I have descriptions of all of them. I’ll transfer them to gems to distribute to the guards as soon as I can get to a scrying pool.”

“Do that,” Osric said.

“I will, and then I must speak to Tresyllione and that idiot elf.” Boneen sighed. “The brotherhood is not pleased about this Morenn woman.”

“She seems to be quite an accomplished mage.” At Dru’s confused expression, Torin added, “Bliss was created by a female wizard.”

Dru blinked. “There are female wizards?”

“Apparently.”

“Not according to the brotherhood.” Boneen sighed, then spoke as if quoting something. “‘Women do not have the requisite strength of will to perform the disciplines of magic.’ Why do you think we call it the
Brotherhood
of Wizards?”

“And yet,” Torin said, “there she is, creating drugs and teleporting a dozen people at once.”

“Yes, well, it’s an imperfect world,” Boneen muttered. “I’ll have Jonas send someone with the gems once they’re done.”

Then, after a few gestures, Boneen was gone in a flash of light.

While Dru blinked the spots out of his eyes, Torin said, “Captain, I see no reason to wait for Boneen’s gems. We have a location, and with their ringleader dead, those three might not remain there for long.”

Osric nodded. “Agreed. Let’s go.”

Dru watched as Osric and Torin gathered up Grovis and Iaian and the guards from Goblin who were hanging around waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

Within minutes, they were all walking in force down Yocane Way, passing the assorted ramshackle structures that the poorer folks of Cliff’s End were forced to live in. Each guard had his sword unsheathed, which was not standard procedure. Osric had given no order to do so, nor had he told anyone not to do it—it was simply something everyone did as soon as they were en route.

All the people on the streets got out of their way. Dru recognized a couple of shitbrains from his days walking patrol in Goblin, the type of guys who’d eyefuck a guard just to show that they didn’t give a shit about anything, and were tougher than the armored guys carrying swords.

But not today. Right now, those guys ran inside, praying to whichever god they believed in, and probably a few that they didn’t, that they weren’t going to be on the receiving end of their wrath.

Afrak was leading the way, and the short guard said, “This ’ere’s the one.”

Dru looked at Osric. “Cap’n?”

Osric pointed at the hovel’s front door. “All yours, Lieutenant.”

His sword firmly gripped in his gloved left hand, Dru thought about knocking on the flimsy wooden door, then rejected the notion.

Instead he kicked at it, and it flew completely open. Dru ran in, raising his sword, ready to take out whoever got in his way.

Nobody said anything. Nobody responded to his actions.

He ran into the hovel’s only real room, a large area that had a bunch of throw cushions, a basin, and a wood-fire stove.