Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [40]
"None other," said Mayor Tobald, "than King Azoun's envoy. Grodoveth is dead!"
19
"Grodoveth?" I said. Speak of the devil.
"Yes, Grodoveth!" said Tobald. His usually ruddy cheeks were pale as ashes. "Murdered!"
"I'm so sorry, Tobald," Benelaius said. "I know he was a friend of yours. But come in, come in and tell me more about this dreadful news."
"But me shoes, sor…" said the gnome.
"Oh, that's quite all right, um…"
"Darvik's me name, sor," said the solemn little man.
"Well, how do you do, Darvik. I am Benelaius, this is Lindavar, and Jasper is the name of my servant, who will be happy to clean up any soil should you unintentionally deposit some on the interiors. Please, enter."
It would have been rude to refuse my master's gracious invitation, though I wished everyone were not so cavalier about my ability to obliterate swamp muck from carpeting. I winced at every messy step the gnome took. In spite of his muddy state, the cats thronged happily around him, though they remained aloof to both Tobald and Flim.
In the main room, Darvik seated himself on a wooden chair, for which I was thankful since it would clean more easily than upholstery, and at least two dozen cats settled in at his moist feet.
"Now," Benelaius said, "what happened?"
"I left Grodoveth last night at the Swamp Rat," Tobald began. "He was staying the night there because he was too tired to return to Ghars with me. He said he planned to ride south on his duties this morning, and going to Ghars would have meant backtracking as well, so we said farewell. The next thing I know, Captain Flim is knocking on my door to tell me that Grodoveth's dead-murdered."
"And where did this occur?" said my master.
"In the swamp," Captain Flim said."This gnome found him."
With a comforting smile, Benelaius turned to the little creature."Would you be so kind, Darvik, as to tell me about it?"
"Certainly, sor. I was out pickin' peat, y'see. I pick peat about once a month or so, since Missus Darvik and I use it in the stove, y'know. Burns a heap better than wood, it does, and almos' as good as coal even. Well, sor, there's this one spot that's got grand peat, foin and thick it is, and I've been there afore plenty o' times. You got to know how to get there, though. You don't know how to get there, you'll end up bein' sucked down fer sure, sor. But if you know where to walk, there's solid footin' the whole way. Well, sure there is, isn't there? Or I'd be at the bottom of the swamp now, wouldn't I?"
"Just get on with it, man!" said Tobald.
"Right, sor. Well, it takes a heap o' pokin' about with yer feet to find yer way there, but I done it, and there's a little rocky island there, sor, like a firm rock right in the midst of the swamp, covered with moss. Often had me lunch there, sor, when I'd be pickin' peat, and never thought a thing about it, just that it was nice it was there to have me lunch on…"
"Darvik, please," said the mayor.
"Right, sor. Sorry, sor. But anyways, I never seen it with its lid off before." "Its lid?" Lindavar said.
"Aye, sor. Like a big door it was, right in the middle of the rock where the moss had hid it. A door, only it opened up instead of out."
"A trapdoor, you mean," said Benelaius.
Darvik looked at him as though he had said something worthy of genius. "A trapdoor! That's the very thing, sor. A trapdoor it was. Well, I'd never seen a trapdoor in the middle of the swamp before, so I looked down in and there was steps, sor, leadin' down. I had a candle with me-always carry a candle and flint and steel along, I do, because you never know, no, you don't. So I got a little tinder goin' and lit the candle and went on down, though I don't mind tellin' you, sor, I was a trifle scared, I was. I've seen my share of funny things in that swamp, all right, even in daylight, but the peat's so good there, sor, that I just-"
"Will you please forget the peat and get to the paint… er, point," Tobald said.
"Beggin' yer pardon, sor. Well, I went down the stairs, sor, watchin' fer traps an' such, and halfway down I see