Death & Magic (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Death & Magic chapter 10

Chapter 10

Tagahra ordered one of his men to take Adramal to an inn. When the maid showed her to her room, she flopped onto the bed without bothering to undress.

The next morning, as she sat in the bar eating breakfast, the Watchman who had brought her here came in. He bowed and said, “Good morning, Lady. Captain Tagahra requests your presence at his office in the Government Buildings.”

She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to see him again. “What’s it about?”

“Officers generally don’t explain the reasons for their orders, Lady,” the Watchman said, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

Adramal sighed. “Give me a minute, then we’ll go.”

The term “Government Buildings” had suggested something grand and imposing, probably in white stone, with sweeping staircases and wide balconies. Adramal was disappointed, therefore, to find it a haphazard collection of wooden and brick structures, few of them bigger than the inn she had just come from. The Watchman led her through alleys between them.

The place thronged with people — priests of Mathran, Watchmen, and young men and women in grey, almost all of whom carried wooden boxes. The latter class tended to be in a great hurry, and didn’t pay much attention to what was right in front of them. After the third or fourth near-collision, Adramal asked her escort who they were.

“Civil servants,” he said, as if that explained everything.

I thought servants were supposed to be civil anyway. And this lot are anything but.

Abruptly, they left the huddle of small buildings and moved into an open area to the north. It was the biggest space Adramal had seen in Kyer Altamar, easily a hundred yards across. To the north of it lay the River Aglos, a few barges drifting downstream. In the middle of the square stood a statue, perhaps twice life size, of a portly, regal-looking man on horseback.

The Watchman pointed to a three-storeyed grey stone building that filled the eastern side of the square. “This way, please.”

A broad staircase led up to the entrance on the first floor. Two Watchmen with long spears stood guard at the top of the stairs, but let them pass without comment. They ascended a staircase to the second floor. A torch-lit corridor ran along the length of the building, and closed doors led from either side of it. Each door had a little metal plate that bore a name. At the one marked “Captain Tagahra,” the Watchman knocked.

“Come in,” called Tagahra.

The Watchman opened the door. Tagahra stood with his back to them, looking out of the window. After a few moments, he turned around.

“Adramal,” he said. He looked as though he’d had even less sleep than her. “Thank you for coming. I hope this won’t take long. Watchman, you may return to your duties.” The Watchman saluted and closed the door. “There are a couple of things I want to discuss, but before that, I’d like to thank you, properly, for your help yesterday. We were in quite a rush, and I don’t think I made clear how grateful I am to you.”

Adramal felt herself blush. “I’m not sure I did anything, really...”

“You’ve ruled out some possibilities that I would otherwise have had to spend several days investigating. The reason I asked you to come here is that the Watch have to keep records about all the crimes we investigate.”

“That must be a lot of records.”

He sighed and gave her a knowing look. He picked up a slate, about a foot square, from a pile at one end of his desk. “This is a draft of a report about what you did yesterday, and the conclusions you reached. I’d be grateful if you’d read it and tell me if there are any mistakes, or if I’m misrepresenting you.”