Read Online Murder in Tarsis by John Maddox Roberts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Maddox Roberts
Ads: Link
protests stilled instantly.
The guards and the tavern crowd clumped off across the plaza leaving scores of dirty footprints in the snow. When they were gone the lord turned his attention to the still figure they left behind.
“Torches here,” the lord commanded. With suitable iUumination thus provided, he studied the bizarre sight.
The body lay on the base of the statue, which was a block of hewn marble the height of the lord’s eyes, and the Lord of Tarsis was a tall man. The corpse rested on its
back with the booted feet protruding beyond the edge of the pedestal, snow slowly gathering on the pointed, upturned toes. The face of Yalmuk Bloodarrow bore a look of great distress, which was understandable considering the great gash that lay across his throat all the way to the spine. Blood, now slowly freezing, had cascaded down the face of the pedestal. The stream ended at the fur-trimmed hat, which lay trampled and bedraggled on the pavement. Yalmuk’s hands were atop his chest, the fingers clawed like those of a cat fighting on its back.
Above the corpse towered the statue of Abushmulum the Ninth. The old king stood crowned and wrapped in his royal mantle. It seemed to the lord that, judging from the king’s expression, he was embarrassed to be caught in such company.
“Get this carrion down and take it to the palace,” the lord ordered. “Turn it over to the official embalmers and tell them to prepare the corpse the same as they would for a state funeral. He was an ambassador, even if he was only a barbarian and a nomad. His chief may want the body back.”
As his guards did his bidding, the Lord of Tarsis studied the pedestal. How had the murderer lifted the body so high? The late Yalmuk had been burly and heavyset. It was a job for an exceptionally strong man. Or else there had been more than one murderer. No matter. What was important was that the fool Yalmuk had shown the great discourtesy of getting himself killed within the walls of Tarsis, as if he had deliberately wanted to dishonor the city and its lord. It was intolerable.
To make matters worse, Kyaga Strongbow was due to arrive on the morrow, and he would surely demand to know what had happened to his ambassador. Was there any real hope that he would not learn about the murder?
The Lord of Tarsis knew these to be vain thoughts.
Travelers had thronged the Tavern of the Bottomless Barrel, and many of them, having seen the body, might have hurried away to the nomad camp to spread the news. Under his war security orders nobody was allowed to pass through the gates after nightfall, but that probably meant that the cost of a bribe to pass had gone up from one copper to two. Had there been any real likelihood that the murder might be kept hushed up, he would have kept all the witnesses under arrest and dumped the body outside the walls. As it was, such a course of action would only make things worse.
As he strode toward the Hall of Justice and a rigorous interrogation of the witnesses, it seemed to the lord that a shadow passed across him, darkening the slushy, grayish plaza. He looked upward, and for an instant he fancied he saw something flickering, as of a long serpentine shape darting into a cloud bank. Unexpectedly, he felt a great, unexplained sense of dread fall over him. He looked back and saw the statue of Abushmulum, distance and uncanny light and perhaps something else lending it almost a semblance of life. The old king seemed to glare at him in anger, as if blaming him for the sorry state of the once glorious city.
The lord shook himself as if to dislodge this illogical mood. I am allowing these peculiar events and the maun-derings of that magic-besotted fool Alban unhinge me, he told himself. There is notiung wrong. But why, he wondered as he gazed at the likeness of Abushmulum, did the killer haul that corpse up to the base of the statue?
Chapter Jour
The sound of drums came to them, drifting across the dry harbor bottom, from beyond
The guards and the tavern crowd clumped off across the plaza leaving scores of dirty footprints in the snow. When they were gone the lord turned his attention to the still figure they left behind.
“Torches here,” the lord commanded. With suitable iUumination thus provided, he studied the bizarre sight.
The body lay on the base of the statue, which was a block of hewn marble the height of the lord’s eyes, and the Lord of Tarsis was a tall man. The corpse rested on its
back with the booted feet protruding beyond the edge of the pedestal, snow slowly gathering on the pointed, upturned toes. The face of Yalmuk Bloodarrow bore a look of great distress, which was understandable considering the great gash that lay across his throat all the way to the spine. Blood, now slowly freezing, had cascaded down the face of the pedestal. The stream ended at the fur-trimmed hat, which lay trampled and bedraggled on the pavement. Yalmuk’s hands were atop his chest, the fingers clawed like those of a cat fighting on its back.
Above the corpse towered the statue of Abushmulum the Ninth. The old king stood crowned and wrapped in his royal mantle. It seemed to the lord that, judging from the king’s expression, he was embarrassed to be caught in such company.
“Get this carrion down and take it to the palace,” the lord ordered. “Turn it over to the official embalmers and tell them to prepare the corpse the same as they would for a state funeral. He was an ambassador, even if he was only a barbarian and a nomad. His chief may want the body back.”
As his guards did his bidding, the Lord of Tarsis studied the pedestal. How had the murderer lifted the body so high? The late Yalmuk had been burly and heavyset. It was a job for an exceptionally strong man. Or else there had been more than one murderer. No matter. What was important was that the fool Yalmuk had shown the great discourtesy of getting himself killed within the walls of Tarsis, as if he had deliberately wanted to dishonor the city and its lord. It was intolerable.
To make matters worse, Kyaga Strongbow was due to arrive on the morrow, and he would surely demand to know what had happened to his ambassador. Was there any real hope that he would not learn about the murder?
The Lord of Tarsis knew these to be vain thoughts.
Travelers had thronged the Tavern of the Bottomless Barrel, and many of them, having seen the body, might have hurried away to the nomad camp to spread the news. Under his war security orders nobody was allowed to pass through the gates after nightfall, but that probably meant that the cost of a bribe to pass had gone up from one copper to two. Had there been any real likelihood that the murder might be kept hushed up, he would have kept all the witnesses under arrest and dumped the body outside the walls. As it was, such a course of action would only make things worse.
As he strode toward the Hall of Justice and a rigorous interrogation of the witnesses, it seemed to the lord that a shadow passed across him, darkening the slushy, grayish plaza. He looked upward, and for an instant he fancied he saw something flickering, as of a long serpentine shape darting into a cloud bank. Unexpectedly, he felt a great, unexplained sense of dread fall over him. He looked back and saw the statue of Abushmulum, distance and uncanny light and perhaps something else lending it almost a semblance of life. The old king seemed to glare at him in anger, as if blaming him for the sorry state of the once glorious city.
The lord shook himself as if to dislodge this illogical mood. I am allowing these peculiar events and the maun-derings of that magic-besotted fool Alban unhinge me, he told himself. There is notiung wrong. But why, he wondered as he gazed at the likeness of Abushmulum, did the killer haul that corpse up to the base of the statue?
Chapter Jour
The sound of drums came to them, drifting across the dry harbor bottom, from beyond
Similar Books
