the veranda I noticed immediately the state he was in. Normally meticulous in his appearance, Brandt’s hair was unkempt, his clothes dirty and crumpled, while his
eyes betrayed a lack of sleep.
‘My boy, whatever is the matter?’ I exclaimed upon seeing him this way. ‘Come sit down. Danc, fetch some wine and food.’
While my manservant bustled out I directed Brandt – by then Commander Brandt Toquin of the City Watch – to a seat, and prised the bundle of papers from his grip to set them down on a
table.
‘Sir . . .’ he began, in his distraction slipping back into the routine of my assistant that began when he was but fourteen winters.
‘Ah Brandt, enough of that! You forget your station’s higher than mine ever was. Take a moment to breath there. I’m in no rush, and I expect this case will wait another
minute.’
He looked up and nodded. Straightening his jacket and smoothing back his hair restored some of the composure that characterised the man in my eyes. I settled myself back into my chair and
started things off as I saw them, affording him time to get his thoughts in order.
‘So let me guess the facts I can. There has been a death, possibly more than one since single deaths are generally simpler. You’ve hardly slept so I assume the victim held office,
rank or title – title being the most likely. You look like you’re being harried by your superiors and that won’t happen often to a brother of Suzerain Toquin. Lastly, you’ve
a puzzle that requires a different direction, so this was no jealous lover or assassination.’
Brandt smiled and nodded, helping himself to the rosehip tea I’d been drinking before speaking.
‘I’d be impressed if that one-handed crony of yours hadn’t been at the watch-house yesterday. But you’re right; there is something I need a twisted mind for.’
At that I joined his smile. His superiors on the City Council had often commented that my company over his formative years had produced rather less of the tractable public servant some had once
hoped for. During one well-publicised argument with the Council, my influence had been described as that of a ‘twisted mind’.
‘We have two dead, early two nights past. A marshal named Tirelir Calath and his wife, who happens to be niece to Count Antern. You can imagine that the Watch is rather anxious to find
more answers than we have currently.’
I sat back with a sigh, my world feeling a little darker and colder. I had scant love for Count Antern, but a great deal of respect. His niece was an attractive and gracious woman as far as I
could remember. The two were recently married and children expected soon; a union born purely of love and one I had found a joy to behold on the single occasion I had seen the couple together.
‘I know little of the marshal, other than his family is from Inchets. They’re wealthy, but I don’t believe Marshal Calath is a man of politics or trade – a man with less
conflict in his life would be hard to find.’
It was, in part, a lie. I had met the marshal on numerous occasions, though only ever in passing. We were both members of a private gentleman’s club, one that Calath used only infrequently
and such time as he did spend there was passed in the extensive library. I knew some of his activities, many of the club members being academics who gossip worse than watchmen, but nothing that
seemed applicable to murder.
‘Well we can find no evidence of a suitor for the Lady Calath – Lady Meranna – no evidence of very much, to tell the truth. At present we don’t even know how the killer
entered the house. There is something I think you’ll recognise, but perhaps you should read these reports first.’
As he spoke, Brandt reached over and gave the papers sitting on my side table a sharp tap. Scratching the stubble on my chin I picked up the first of the stained pages that harked back to my
days of servitude for the city. It was a constant source of private
eyes betrayed a lack of sleep.
‘My boy, whatever is the matter?’ I exclaimed upon seeing him this way. ‘Come sit down. Danc, fetch some wine and food.’
While my manservant bustled out I directed Brandt – by then Commander Brandt Toquin of the City Watch – to a seat, and prised the bundle of papers from his grip to set them down on a
table.
‘Sir . . .’ he began, in his distraction slipping back into the routine of my assistant that began when he was but fourteen winters.
‘Ah Brandt, enough of that! You forget your station’s higher than mine ever was. Take a moment to breath there. I’m in no rush, and I expect this case will wait another
minute.’
He looked up and nodded. Straightening his jacket and smoothing back his hair restored some of the composure that characterised the man in my eyes. I settled myself back into my chair and
started things off as I saw them, affording him time to get his thoughts in order.
‘So let me guess the facts I can. There has been a death, possibly more than one since single deaths are generally simpler. You’ve hardly slept so I assume the victim held office,
rank or title – title being the most likely. You look like you’re being harried by your superiors and that won’t happen often to a brother of Suzerain Toquin. Lastly, you’ve
a puzzle that requires a different direction, so this was no jealous lover or assassination.’
Brandt smiled and nodded, helping himself to the rosehip tea I’d been drinking before speaking.
‘I’d be impressed if that one-handed crony of yours hadn’t been at the watch-house yesterday. But you’re right; there is something I need a twisted mind for.’
At that I joined his smile. His superiors on the City Council had often commented that my company over his formative years had produced rather less of the tractable public servant some had once
hoped for. During one well-publicised argument with the Council, my influence had been described as that of a ‘twisted mind’.
‘We have two dead, early two nights past. A marshal named Tirelir Calath and his wife, who happens to be niece to Count Antern. You can imagine that the Watch is rather anxious to find
more answers than we have currently.’
I sat back with a sigh, my world feeling a little darker and colder. I had scant love for Count Antern, but a great deal of respect. His niece was an attractive and gracious woman as far as I
could remember. The two were recently married and children expected soon; a union born purely of love and one I had found a joy to behold on the single occasion I had seen the couple together.
‘I know little of the marshal, other than his family is from Inchets. They’re wealthy, but I don’t believe Marshal Calath is a man of politics or trade – a man with less
conflict in his life would be hard to find.’
It was, in part, a lie. I had met the marshal on numerous occasions, though only ever in passing. We were both members of a private gentleman’s club, one that Calath used only infrequently
and such time as he did spend there was passed in the extensive library. I knew some of his activities, many of the club members being academics who gossip worse than watchmen, but nothing that
seemed applicable to murder.
‘Well we can find no evidence of a suitor for the Lady Calath – Lady Meranna – no evidence of very much, to tell the truth. At present we don’t even know how the killer
entered the house. There is something I think you’ll recognise, but perhaps you should read these reports first.’
As he spoke, Brandt reached over and gave the papers sitting on my side table a sharp tap. Scratching the stubble on my chin I picked up the first of the stained pages that harked back to my
days of servitude for the city. It was a constant source of private
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