Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [36]
Even though greatly fatigued, I was still disappointed not to hear what Benelaius thought of my work, and what conclusions he might draw. He sensed my dismay, and patted me on the shoulder. "Well done, Jasper. You've learned much. And on the morrow, we shall hopefully make much of it."
"May I ask but one question, master?" I said from the top of the stairs. "Go ahead."
"How were you so certain that I was at the Swamp Rat?"
"Your clothing," said he, "bears the odor of West Fennet Number Three, a pipeweed that the tobacconist in town refuses to carry because of its bitter aftertaste. Farmer Snaggard, having gathered a fondness for it in youth, grows a small plot of it every year for his own use only, and he has been an inveterate patron of the Swamp Rat since it opened. I assumed that, since you had not been likely to visit Farmer Snaggard, who lives far down the west swamp road, that you must have shared the closed air of the Swamp Rat with him."
Both Lindavar and I gaped open mouthed at him."That's… that's an incredible deduction!" I said.
Benelaius beamed at the compliment, then seemed to think of something else. "Oh, and, of course," he said, "you have a bit of something stuck to your shoe. Green is such an unseemly shade for pickled eggs, isn't it?"
18
I fell asleep upon the instant but had bad dreams all night long. They began with a nightmare about Dovo's corpse. I was alone and waiting for Lindavar to return with Benelaius, when Dovo's head started rolling back toward his body. As I watched in horror, it reattached itself to the sodden stump, and the armor-clad body pushed itself to its feet.
But the head was on backward, and the corpse crouched, moving like a blind man, its face toward the sky, feeling its way across the mushy turf until its gray fingers came in contact with-
The axe.
Dovo's corpse picked up the weapon and straightened up, and the gaze of the dead eyes fell on me. I could not move. Terror rooted me to the spot. The monstrous thing advanced upon me, but backward. It shuffled nearer, the dead mouth splitting in Dovo's idiotic grin, the axe upraised in the right hand. But since its body was facing away from me, it could not swing the axe down on me, and instead drew it in front of its body and swung backhand, whirling around-
And I awoke with a gasp, trembling in the darkness. I lit a candle and lay in bed watching its flame dance for a long time before I trusted myself to go back to sleep. 0 foolish trust.
The next dream was worse. In it I was riding at night on the swamp road, but there was a full moon so that I was able to see. Jenkus was trotting along, and behind me I heard again the da-da-BOOM I had heard coming home. I spurred Jenkus on, but although he tried to run, it was as if his legs were mired in quicksand. The sound of pounding hooves behind me grew nearer, and I turned my head to look.
There were four huge black horses, their shoulders twice as high as any man's head, their eyes blazing and their snouts puffing smoke and flame. They were riding so closely together that I could scarcely distinguish one from the other.
But if they were frightening, their riders were worse. They were people I knew, people who were among the suspects in Dovo's death, but these were full-fledged nightmare versions.
Kendra's red hair had become crimson snakes, and her mouth gaped wide, showing fangs. Rolf was a huge, brutal man-ape, like some troglodytic force of malevolence. Next to him was Barthelm, whose full features had grown into rolls of yellowish fat flesh that poured down over his steed. And finally there was Grodoveth, looking like some legendary warrior-king, helmeted and cuirassed, with both weapon-wielding hands raised above his head. In one hand was a sword, in the other an axe. There were axes in the hands of all of them, and they were closing quickly, looming over me.
I urged Jenkus on, but to no avail. As I watched, the four riders merged until they were but one creature,