Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [59]
"But why?" I asked, echoing Lindavar. "I don't understand. I think that the king would want a trial of such a person, to make an example of what happens to those who would so openly flout his authority and kill his envoy."
"Unless," Benelaius said, "that envoy was a member by marriage of the royal family… and if the solution to the mystery cast aspersions on that envoy's honor. And, by extension, upon the honor of the king himself."
"Then Vangerdahast is trying to protect the king?" Lindavar asked.
"I think it likely," the old wizard said. "He loves his king more than he loves his magic, and Azoun is a good man and a good king. I doubt that he himself would make such an order as this that hints of self-protection." He removed his pipe from his teeth and tapped it on a metal bowl. The dottle dropped out, and he set the pipe next to it.
"But this command," he went on, "is contingent upon our finding the perpetrator in the first place, and that we have not yet done, though I fancy we have all the information we need. It is merely a matter of placing that information in the proper context and viewing it from the correct perspective." He smiled at me. "I suppose your Camber Fosrick would have done so far more quickly. Of course, he has the benefit of being a character in fiction, while we, unfortunately, are saddled with mundane reality. Still, we shall do our best."
"So what are your thoughts, sir?" I asked him, desperate to know what synthesis he had made of the disparate parts of this mystery.
"Still forming, I fear," Benelaius answered. "But even such infant musings would not have been possible without your diligence and hard work, my good Jasper. You have done superbly. But you must be very tired from all your labors, and the night has grown late. I suggest you retire to your bed. Kendra will be quite comfortable on the chaise for the night, and I wish to speak with Lindavar for a short time."
I had no choice but to obey. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall, listening to their conversation, and when I was in my room, I tried to hear their talk, but since my quarters were at the opposite end of the cottage from Benelaius's study, I heard only a low droning, out of which I could distinguish no separate words at all.
So I lay in the darkness and decided that I would not fall asleep until I had done what Benelaius had suggested was within the realm of possibility. I would determine who had killed Dovo and Grodoveth. I would come down with that information in the morning and dazzle them with my ratio-cinative wizardry, and glory at the look of wonder and admiration in Benelaius's eyes.
And so I exercised my brain feverishly for all of three minutes, when exhaustion caught up with me and bashed me over the head.
But my concentration on the solution to the murders came with me into my dreams, and I remember waking up, convinced that I had the solution and the killer. In the darkness, I sleepily fumbled for the note pad and pencil with which I had taken notes for my master, and scribbled down several words that held the key to the mystery that had gained the attention of even the king himself. In the morning, even if I had forgotten the amazing revelations that came to me in my sleep, those words would still be there, and my sharing them with the world would bring me fame, honor, and riches. I fell back on the bed, smiling as sleep claimed me again.
I awoke at eight o'clock and had nearly finished my morning ablutions before I remembered that I had solved the murders in the middle of the night. And sure enough, as I had feared, I had no memory of the solution. So I dashed to the paper, snatched it up, and read:
Sunfirth-D made mess-fight-G-spilled? no tip?
Well, there it was then, all neatly wrapped up. I was sure that Benelaius would be happy to hear that Sunfirth, the five-foot two-inch, hundred-and-ten-pound barmaid, had beheaded both Dovo and Grodoveth with a single blow because