Death & Magic (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Death & Magic chapter 41

“Lorgrim and Rakbanorath stand accused of the crime,” said Eskalyn. “The Watch Captain was certain Degoran had been poisoned. He checked Lorgrim’s private garden and found a blue oleander was missing. One plant has more than enough poison to kill a man.

“The reason Rakbanorath is accused as well is that the ceiling of Degoran’s bedroom has a trapdoor, dating from when Kyturil was still a fortress. The trapdoor was unlocked, so that must have been how the murderer got in. Of course, a man as old and frail as Lorgrim couldn’t have made that climb. But there’s a wardrobe underneath the trapdoor, and in the dust on top of it was a handprint, exactly the same size as Rakbanorath’s.”

Everybody started talking at once. When Shendar had calmed them down, Eskalyn said, “I’m certain — quite certain — that Degoran died by his own hand, or else from his illness. In any case, we need look no further for the cause of his death, and I’m sure that Lorgrim and Rakbanorath are wholly innocent. The Council are doing all we can to have them released, and the accusations withdrawn.” A barrage of questions followed, but Eskalyn refused to answer any.

When the gathering dispersed, Adramal and Perinar wandered around the outer ward. The ashes of Degoran’s pyre had been swept away, leaving only a black patch on the ground.

“Something’s not right about this,” said Perinar. “The priests have got the wrong man.”

“Only one of them?” said Adramal.

“Well, maybe both of them. I can just about believe Lorgrim had some reason to harm Degoran. But Rakbanorath? He’d never hurt anyone.”

“Both of them know a lot about poisons,” said Adramal. “More than anyone else here. Lorgrim could have made the poison, but he couldn’t reach Degoran to administer it.”

“But Rakbanorath wouldn’t poison anyone.”

“How well do you know him?” she asked. “Or Lorgrim, for that matter? Have you ever spoken to Lorgrim about something other than herblore?” she said. “Or said anything to Rakbanorath except, ‘this is where it hurts’?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “But there must be something we can do.” He waved his hands, clawing the air. “Those priests who carried them off. I heard they were from the External Inquisition. They’re supposed to punish heresy and blasphemy. Murder is outside their responsibilities.”

“The Watch alone wouldn’t have been able to take Lorgrim, if he didn’t want to go, or the other teachers didn’t want to let him,” said Adramal. “The priests were there in case we decided to put up a fight.”

“But the case is so flimsy. Anyone could have taken the plant. And Rakbanorath has the same size hands as the murderer — well — not even that — the same size hands as someone who touched the top of Degoran’s wardrobe. It’s insane! A servant could have left that print there fortnights ago.”

He’d have needed arms that came down to his feet, she thought, which would make him stand out a bit.

She sighed and moved her hand to his shoulder. “I know you mean well. But you don’t have all the facts.”

“But you do,” he said, his eyes bright. “Tell me.”

She shook her head.

He scowled and lifted her hand. “It doesn’t matter about keeping things secret any more, surely. The investigation’s over. The trial could happen today. If they’re found guilty, they could be executed tomorrow.” He gripped her hand tighter. “If you know something that could save them, you have to speak up.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked down, finding it too hard to meet his gaze. “The Captain didn’t say I could talk about it once he’d accused somebody. He said I couldn’t talk about it at all.”