[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.‘So.We know that everyone in this room has at least some reason to think himself better off with Baron Morray dead, and we don’t even have to consider the possibility, for the moment, that the real target was Lady Mondegreen, and that one of her other lovers–if indeed she had other lovers–decided that he’d rather she be dead than warm and alive in another man’s bed, eh?’Argent didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything.Yes, his affair with Carla had had its intense moments, but he had always known that he was not the only one, and as fond of her as he was, he had no cause to resent her having chosen Morray, as he had known that she would.He hadn’t even been sure that their own relationship would have ended with her marriage to Morray; Carla Mondegreen had had a very Eastern view of the bounds of marriage being more of a guide than a border.And even if he had missed her, even if he never again smelled her perfume as she lay warm in his arms, even if the image of her in another man’s bed had haunted him (though it wouldn’t) would he kill her for that?Never.‘So let’s move along and consider the question of opportunity and, just for the sake of argument, let’s consider that it was the Swordmaster himself who decided to kill the two of them, and stalked down from his quarters in the Aerie, a hidden knife on his person and murder on his mind.‘It seems a rather strange coincidence that he would see the watchman asleep, doesn’t it? Unless, of course, he arranged it himself with the watchman, and this talk of Erlic falling asleep was merely a conspiracy between the two of them.Which wasn’t the case.’ Pirojil shook his head.‘My friend Durine is capable of being very persuasive in his own way, and he’s certain that Erlic, who now is locked up down in the dungeon, is as shocked as anybody else about these two murders.‘No.It was the sleeping watchman that turned a desire into an opportunity, and the murderer had to be in a position to see that sleeping watchman, and quickly–very quickly; I’ll get to that in a moment–take advantage of that rare opportunity.‘Steven Argent, maybe? He’s in charge of the castle and the entire earldom while Earl Vandros is away, but that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t seem out of place prowling the hall outside the guest quarters, for any reason, much less waiting for a once-in-a-lifetime chance to find the watchman asleep.‘Baron Viztria was quite right–I know it wasn’t the Swordmaster, and indeed I’m more than slightly gratified that he is the only other man in the room beside myself with a naked blade in his hand.‘No, the killer was one of you barons, residing in the guest wing, somebody whose presence in itself would not have drawn any particular attention to him, simply because he–like the rest of you–belonged there.’ He nodded.‘In my own profession, I’ve always thought it important to take advantage of surprising opportunities, and in a way, I’ve got to admire how the killer did that.He couldn’t be sure that the sleeping watchman would remain asleep, mind you, so he had to be ready to kill him, too –and quickly, before his outcries could summon anybody, and then disappear back into his own room, only to reappear with the rest of the barons who had gone to bed, apparently every bit as surprised as the rest.’ Pirojil looked up.‘Visualize it yourself, my lords, as I’ve been spending the afternoon doing.The killer hears Morray in the hall and glances out of the door.He sees the Baron enter the Baroness’s chamber.He ponders his choices.He has the two of them alone and vulnerable.He waits.Later that night he looks out of the door again and he notices that the watchman is asleep.Seizing the moment, he quickly dresses himself–’‘Dresses himself?’Pirojil nodded.‘He can’t stalk across the hall in his nightclothes, after all, not with a knife in one hand and a sword in the other–he might need the sword, after all, to kill the guard quickly on his way back to his room, should the guard awaken or be awakened.If, before the murders, he’s seen in such a strange condition, it’s going to be clear to all that his intentions were bloody, although perhaps not quite clear what those intentions were, and why risk anything prematurely? He’s a vile piece of shit, begging the pardon of all but one of you, but he’s not an idiot.‘So, as I was saying, he dresses himself, and takes the opportunity to go over and open the door to Lady Mondegreen’s room, perhaps having spent a moment listening outside, for sounds of sleep or–well, or for other sounds.‘And then he opens the door, sees them asleep on the bed, and steps inside, then closes the door behind him.From this point on, he’s committed, and while he’s fast with a knife–he’s about to demonstrate that as he stands over their bed, he can’t quite be sure to slit first one throat and then another without the thrashing about of his first victim awakening his second.‘So he draws his sword, and holds it back, the point over, perhaps, the eye of his second victim, ready to run the point of that sword through and into the brain to silence his second victim, if the first one’s death is a little more violent and dramatic than he hopes for.‘But he’s lucky, as well as fast and good at what he does, and his knife is very sharp and his hand very steady, and a few seconds later, blood is fountaining from the throats of both Baron Morray and Lady Mondegreen.‘And now, he’s in a rush, and his heart is pounding, thumping in his chest.He’s done his deed, and he has to get out, and back to his room.‘He blows out the lantern–if somebody has heard something and walks in, he wants that somebody to walk into darkness, and his sword point; besides, he wants the room dark when he opens the door, for the obvious reason–and then he’s back at the door, pulling it open only a crack to see if the watchman is still asleep, which he is.‘So he goes down the corridor, with his sword already drawn–remember, the guard could wake up suddenly, even at his quiet footfalls–and back to his room.’ Pirojil finally looked up.‘But I’ve left something out, haven’t I?’ he asked, smiling.He turned to Baron Langahan.‘Excuse me, my lord, but would you be so kind as to slide over your swordbelt?’Langahan did just that, with no more than the slightest of hesitations, and with the hint of a scowl.‘What are you leaving out, Pirojil?’ Steven Argent asked.‘Why, the knife, my lord,’ Pirojil said, extracting the knife from Langahan’s belt.He held it up.It was a usual sort of belt-knife, its stacked-wood grip fancier than Steven Argent would have preferred, and its single-edged blade gleamed from both polish and oil.‘When a throat is cut–and I can tell you that I’ve cut a few throats in my time–blood doesn’t just ooze out.It spurts.He would have been lucky if the blood didn’t coat the whole blade, and perhaps his hand as well.‘He could hardly go out into the hall with a blade dripping blood, could he?‘Now, if he wasn’t rushing, he could have spent a few minutes carefully cleaning the knife off–perhaps using the sheet from the bed, or tearing off a piece of the sheet, although that would have made a loud noise.‘But my friend Kethol examined the room very closely, and he reported that there were no bloody rags left–just some spots on the sheet, where, perhaps, he quickly cleaned his blade as well as he could in a few seconds
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]