Part 11 (1/2)

'What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?' I shucked the s.h.i.+eld and felt around for a lamp.

'Curiosity. Thought I'd see what was happening.'

I got the lamp going and the door shut. 'You just walked in?'

'Anybody could. They don't lock the doors.'

'How'd you find my suite?'

He tapped his nose. 'Followed my honker. We elves have a good sense of smell. Your suite is so heavy with the stink of meateater, it's easy to pick out.'

He was putting me on. 'You're here. What do I do with you?'

'Any developments?'

'Yeah. There's another dead one. While I was in town this morning. So tonight the old man calls a meeting, tells everybody who I am and says I'm going to nail hides to the wall. Meantime, he burns his will. Anything from town?'

'Saucerhead made some rounds. Didn't find much. Some of those medals, you know how many they handed out? Every hock shop in town has a bucket full. The only ones worth anything are the silver ones. People on the Hill are worried about their silver supply.'

The Hill is TunFaire's heart. All the biggies live there, including a gaggle of witches and wizards and whatnot who have to have their silver if they want to stay in business. Silver is to sorcery as wood is to fire. Since Glory Mooncalled whipped up on everybody in the Cantard, prices have soared.

But that was of no concern now. 'What about the candlesticks and stuff?'

'He found a couple of things. Maybe. The people who had them didn't remember where they got them. Literally. You know Saucerhead. He can be convincing.'

Like a landslide. You didn't talk when he said talk, chances were you would real quick. 'Great. There's a dead end.'

'He's going to try again tomorrow. Pity your thief didn't take something special so somebody would remember him.'

'Thoughtless of him. Look. I've got an appointment with a man who says he knows the killer. Maybe. I'd like to see him before he changes his mind about talking.'

'Lead on, n.o.ble knight.' Morley rags me about being romantic and sentimental. He has his moments himself-like turning up here. He'd never admit he was concerned about me swimming in a school of sharks. He'd just claim he was curious.

'This is a real haunted house,' he muttered as we stole downstairs. 'How can they stand it?'

'Maybe they're right when they say there's no place like home. Maybe you don't notice after a while.'

'Who's the brunette I spotted when everybody charged out of the hall across the way?'

'That's the daughter, Jennifer. A dead loss, near as I can tell.'

'Maybe you don't have what it takes.'

'Maybe not. But I think it's bad chemistry.' We hit the bottom of the stairs. n.o.body was around. We headed for the back door. There was a sliver of moon out, just enough to keep me from stumbling over things. Morley had no trouble. His kind can see inside a coffin.

'At least it's straightforward. No dead G.o.ds. No vampires. No killer ogres. Just greedy people.'

I thought about the woman in white and hoped she wasn't supernatural. I didn't know how to deal with spooks.

Morley grabbed me. 'Somebody moving over there.'

I didn't see anything.

Somebody tripped over something.

'Heard us,' Morley said. He took off.

I went to the stable, called, 'Snake? Where you at? It's Garrett.'

No answer. I stuck my head inside. I didn't see anything. The horses were restless, muttering in their sleep. I decided to circle around outside before I risked the inside.

Wavering light spilled between boards on the north end, near the west corner. It was feeble, like the light of a single guttering candle. There was a narrow door. I'd found Snake's hideout. 'Snake? You there? It's Garrett.'

Snake didn't answer.

I opened the door.

Snake wouldn't be answering anybody in this world again. Somebody had stuck a knife in him.

It wasn't a good job. The thrust had gone in on the wrong side of his breastbone, piercing a lung. The tip of the dagger had lodged in his spine.

Morley materialized. 'Lost him.' He looked at Snake. 'Amateur work.' Always a student, Morley. And always a critic.

'Pros make mistakes if they're in a hurry with somebody tough. This guy was a commando, way I hear. Be hard to take him clean.'

'Maybe.' Dotes dropped to his haunches, toyed with a cord twisted around Snake's neck. The killer had finished it the hard way. 'Interesting.'

I'd started looking for physical evidence. A killer in a hurry could have dropped something. 'What's that?'

'This is a Kef sidhe strangler's cord.'

'A what?' I squatted beside him.

'Kef sidhe. They have strict religious injunctions against spilling blood. They think if you spill blood, the murdered man's spirit can't pa.s.s on till he's been avenged. So they kill without spilling blood because murder is part of their religion, too. Using the cord is an art with them.'

I looked at the cord. It wasn't just a piece of rope.

Morley said, 'The master a.s.sa.s.sin makes his own cords. Making your own is the final rite of pa.s.sage to master status. Look. The knot is like a hangman's knot, except the noose is round so it can be drawn with the hands pulling apart. These knots in the cord aren't really knots, they're braided over cork cones. They work like barbs on an arrowhead. The cord can be pulled through the knot in only one direction.'

It only took a second to see how that worked-with an example right there. I felt one of the tapered bulges in the cord. Morley said, 'The cork crushes down going through the knot, expands again on the other side.'

'How do you get your cord off?'

'They don't. They use it only once, then it's tainted. I've only ever seen one before. Cut off his own throat by a man I knew years ago. Excepting you, he was the luckiest guy I've ever known.'

I looked around, less interested in Snake than he was. If our killer wasn't good he was lucky. There wasn't a spot of physical evidence. 'Kind of sad,' I said.