Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [25]
As I entered the dark, dingy room, the smell of mildew struck me, and as always I feared for those books against the damp outer wall. "Good afternoon, Mr. Marmwitz," I said, but the thin, wizened old man waved his hands in the air and made a hissing noise through his teeth intended to shush me.
"Please, quiet," Marmwitz said in a stage whisper with a voice as dry and papery as his books. "We have a patron." And he pointed with a bony hand to a corner near one of the small windows.
A patron was a rarity, and I was surprised to see that it was none other than Grodoveth, king's envoy and ladies' man, though not too hot at the latter. He looked up at me for a moment, apparently saw nothing worth further consideration, and plunged back into his reading.
I set the brachiopod book down on the counter. Marmwitz opened it suspiciously, glanced at the due date as though he had expected it back years before, then with a nod acknowledged grudgingly that it was on time. I couldn't resist. "Get anything new in lately?" I asked him.
He gave a proud little smile. "A town history of Juniril," he said. "A splendid volume, published forty years ago. Been looking for it for ages."
"Forty years ago," I mused. "Not too new. Still no Camber Fosrick mysteries, eh?"
His face shut up like a clam sucking lemons. "We circulate only serious literature here, young man."
"Ah, right. I forgot." I turned to go out, when I remembered that Benelaius had asked me to query Grodoveth about seeing any highwaymen. I wouldn't have done it in the library, but I didn't know if I would see the man again, and there was another reason, too.
"Mr. Marmwitz," I said quietly, "I want you to know that I do what I do now at the behest of my master Benelaius and with the authority of Mayor Tobald." Then I turned to Grodoveth, who still had his nose buried in his book. "Sir," I said in a normal tone of voice, which boomed loudly in the quiet room, "I wonder if I might have a word with you."
I thought Marmwitz was going to become apoplectic. I turned back to him. "This will only take a minute, Mr. Marmwitz." Ignoring Marmwitz's stammering protests, I went to Grodoveth's table and sat across from him.
He slammed shut the book he was reading, covered its spine, and glared at me, making me wonder if he had somehow found an erotica section and was annoyed at being discovered. "What is it?" he asked brusquely.
"I was wondering, sir, if you may have heard of the death of one of our residents."
"Who?"
"Dovo. The smith's assistant."
"Why would I have heard about it?"
I shrugged. "I didn't know but that it might be the talk of the town by now. Anyway, sir, he was killed south of town, near the Great Swamp, and my master asked me if-"
"Who's your master?"
"Benelaius, sir. Used to be one of the War Wizards of Cormyr?"
"I've heard of him. What's he want?"
"He wonders if you, in your travels about the realm, might have heard of any bands of brigands who would kill their victims in that manner."
He looked at me slyly. "What manner?"
"Oh, I forgot to say. He was beheaded, sir. With an axe. We think he was pretending to be the ghost that's supposed to haunt the swamp."
"Ghost?"
"Yes, sir, the ghost of Fastred."
"Listen, I don't know anything about any brigands who cut people's heads off, and I couldn't care less about ghosts. Now why don't you get out of here and let me read in peace?"
I could take a hint. Thanking him for his cooperation, I left the library, to Marmwitz's great relief, but I waited outside until Grodoveth left a few minutes later. Then I went back in. I wanted to see what book there could possibly be in Ghars's library