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Authors: Marshall Ryan Maresca
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sharp instruments.”
“We already knew that,” Satrine said.
Leppin sneered. “You suspected it. But now you know . The point is, the killer knew exactly what to do, where to cut. Look at that.” He pointed to the hole in the dead man’s chest.
Satrine moved closer so she could see what Leppin was showing them. “What is it that I should be seeing?” The wound was nothing but a mess of blood and cut flesh to Satrine’s eye.
“Not a single wasted stroke. It’s clean and perfect. That said, I think this is the first time he actually did this.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Satrine said.
“You might think so.” Leppin snapped his fingers, and the boy grabbed a heavy lens and a lamp. He placed it over the wound and waved Welling over. “Look at that, Minox. The beginning stroke of the first cut.” Leppin pointed out the specific location.
“Indeed,” Welling said, looking through the lens.
Satrine turned to the other two. “Gentlemen, I haven’t made a practice of studying bodies, so I have no idea the significance of this is.”
Leppin sighed, giving Satrine the distinct impression he was disappointed in her. “Here. The first incision has more bruising around it, and starts thicker than any other.”
“Meaning?”
Welling answered. “Meaning the killer held the blade in place, pressed against the flesh, for a short time before he began the incision.”
“Hesitation?” Satrine asked.
“That was my thought,” Leppin said. “So you just have to ask yourself, who would know how to make the precise cuts to remove a heart, and have the steady and practiced hand to do it perfectly . . . but might still hesitate with a live human being? You’re looking for a doctor.”
Two other answers leaped to Satrine’s mind. “Or a butcher. Or a barber. The very shops on either side of the alley.”
Welling nodded. “Valid points, but what’s the motive? Who is the victim?”
“We still don’t know,” Satrine said.
Leppin coughed to get their attention. “But we have that Circle tattoo. I don’t have a complete listing of all Circles and their marks, but—”
“You don’t?” Welling asked. “That strikes me as the exact sort of record we should have.”
“Should, won’t get any argument from me,” Leppin said.
Satrine couldn’t help herself. “Welling, do you know how many Circles there are in just the city, let alone all of Druthal?”
Welling shrugged. “I’d imagine twenty, perhaps thirty.”
So he did have significant holes in his knowledge, especially in this subject. “More like a hundred twenty,” Satrine said. “Am I right, Leppin?”
“Ayup. And most of those don’t have more than a handful of members.”
“There are that many mages in the city?” Welling asked, shaking his head. This was information he clearly had never considered.
Leppin went on. “You got your bigger ones: Lord Preston’s Circle, The Grand Chalice Circle, Brave Sun.”
“Red Wolf Circle,” Satrine said. Any mage or telepath she had met in Intelligence were Red Wolf, the onlyCircle she was aware of that worked directly with the government.
“So those I know, and a few others that have major presence in the city, especially this neighborhood.” He folded back the skin showing what remained of the tattoo. “Flaming eagle, it looks to me. So if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say the Firewings.”
“Then they’re who we need to look at first,” Satrine said. “They’re our best suspects.”
“If your theory holds,” Welling said.
“We have a theory?” Leppin asked.
“Several at this point,” Welling said. “Inspector Rainey has one that this was a magic ritual performed by the victim’s own Circle.”
“Do you have a problem with that, Welling?” Satrine asked. “If anything, Leppin’s information supports it. That moment of hesitation may be because the victim was a close friend.”
Welling gave a slight nod of his head. “I’m skeptical of any
“We already knew that,” Satrine said.
Leppin sneered. “You suspected it. But now you know . The point is, the killer knew exactly what to do, where to cut. Look at that.” He pointed to the hole in the dead man’s chest.
Satrine moved closer so she could see what Leppin was showing them. “What is it that I should be seeing?” The wound was nothing but a mess of blood and cut flesh to Satrine’s eye.
“Not a single wasted stroke. It’s clean and perfect. That said, I think this is the first time he actually did this.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Satrine said.
“You might think so.” Leppin snapped his fingers, and the boy grabbed a heavy lens and a lamp. He placed it over the wound and waved Welling over. “Look at that, Minox. The beginning stroke of the first cut.” Leppin pointed out the specific location.
“Indeed,” Welling said, looking through the lens.
Satrine turned to the other two. “Gentlemen, I haven’t made a practice of studying bodies, so I have no idea the significance of this is.”
Leppin sighed, giving Satrine the distinct impression he was disappointed in her. “Here. The first incision has more bruising around it, and starts thicker than any other.”
“Meaning?”
Welling answered. “Meaning the killer held the blade in place, pressed against the flesh, for a short time before he began the incision.”
“Hesitation?” Satrine asked.
“That was my thought,” Leppin said. “So you just have to ask yourself, who would know how to make the precise cuts to remove a heart, and have the steady and practiced hand to do it perfectly . . . but might still hesitate with a live human being? You’re looking for a doctor.”
Two other answers leaped to Satrine’s mind. “Or a butcher. Or a barber. The very shops on either side of the alley.”
Welling nodded. “Valid points, but what’s the motive? Who is the victim?”
“We still don’t know,” Satrine said.
Leppin coughed to get their attention. “But we have that Circle tattoo. I don’t have a complete listing of all Circles and their marks, but—”
“You don’t?” Welling asked. “That strikes me as the exact sort of record we should have.”
“Should, won’t get any argument from me,” Leppin said.
Satrine couldn’t help herself. “Welling, do you know how many Circles there are in just the city, let alone all of Druthal?”
Welling shrugged. “I’d imagine twenty, perhaps thirty.”
So he did have significant holes in his knowledge, especially in this subject. “More like a hundred twenty,” Satrine said. “Am I right, Leppin?”
“Ayup. And most of those don’t have more than a handful of members.”
“There are that many mages in the city?” Welling asked, shaking his head. This was information he clearly had never considered.
Leppin went on. “You got your bigger ones: Lord Preston’s Circle, The Grand Chalice Circle, Brave Sun.”
“Red Wolf Circle,” Satrine said. Any mage or telepath she had met in Intelligence were Red Wolf, the onlyCircle she was aware of that worked directly with the government.
“So those I know, and a few others that have major presence in the city, especially this neighborhood.” He folded back the skin showing what remained of the tattoo. “Flaming eagle, it looks to me. So if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say the Firewings.”
“Then they’re who we need to look at first,” Satrine said. “They’re our best suspects.”
“If your theory holds,” Welling said.
“We have a theory?” Leppin asked.
“Several at this point,” Welling said. “Inspector Rainey has one that this was a magic ritual performed by the victim’s own Circle.”
“Do you have a problem with that, Welling?” Satrine asked. “If anything, Leppin’s information supports it. That moment of hesitation may be because the victim was a close friend.”
Welling gave a slight nod of his head. “I’m skeptical of any
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