Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [65]
"You're wrong, dwarf," said Captain Flim. "I'm doing the same thing to the most powerful man in town, so shut your little yap before I do something I'll be sorry for."
"Little! He called me little! Did ye hear that?"
"Yes," said Flim wearily. "They all heard it, just as they hear me tell you now that if you don't pipe down, you're liable to be even littler-by a head." Shortshanks glowered but said nothing. "Besides," Captain Flim continued, "your worst troublemaker's already with us here, and not back at your tavern, so you've naught to fear. Ah… here's the last of our party."
Two more dragons came riding up on either side of a small carriage. Old Khlerat was driving the two horses, and Marmwitz was sitting next to him.
"Let's be getting out to Benelaius's then," said Captain Flim, and he spurred his horse and our caravan started off. The Dragons positioned themselves ahead and behind, left and right, to prevent any of the involuntary travelers from leaving the party, or so I assumed.
There was much to think about as we rode south toward Benelaius's cottage and the Vast Swamp. Captain Flim, Tobald, and the Dragons were there in their official capacity, but I wondered greatly about the others.
Barthelm might have had a motive for both slayings in fatherly protection. And Rolf could have slain both Dovo and Grodoveth out of jealousy. Shortshanks had little to gain from either death, unless, of course, Dovo had been driving customers away from the Swamp Rat at his behest and was threatening to talk about it. The dwarf could even have followed Grodoveth to the tomb. But then, so could anyone else.
Kendra was already at Benelaius's and I wondered if my master would have had the Dragons take her there if she were not. I doubted she would have gone voluntarily, and thought it fortunate, if she was a suspect, that she had suffered her wound the night before.
As for the presence of Marmwitz and Khlerat, I was at a loss. Two harmless old men, as far as I was concerned. But I would learn in my life that what appeared harmless might not necessarily be so.
30
It seemed like a funeral procession going through the night. We didn't speak or laugh or whisper. We rode, and the only sounds were the horses' hooves striking the road, the creak of the leather saddles, and the rattle of the carriage's wheels and boards.
In the strong company of a dozen Purple Dragons, I felt no fear as we passed the spot where I had seen the "ghost" and found its body the next day. In fact, I strained my eyes looking into that murky darkness at the swamp's edge, just daring a ghost or hydra or zombie to appear. I was tense and edgy, and felt as though I wanted to confront something. But I saw nothing except the darkness of the night and the edge of the swamp, a deeper blackness against the black.
The Swamp Rat was nearly deserted, but those who were there came out and watched us ride past. I saw old Farmer Bortas with his two cronies, Rob and Will, and he waved at me. Rob and Will didn't wave. I guess they still didn't cotton to me.
"Say there, young feller," Farmer Bortas called. "What's all this great parade, eh?"
"We're going to my master's house. Benelaius."
"Aye? I didn't fancy him as the partyin' type. Well, you all have yourselves a good time now, lad, and don't drink too much, eh?"
The others in our party turned a sullen look on the farmer, and he lost his smile. He turned to Rob and Will, and I heard him say softly, "Now that's a party I wouldn't give half a copper to go to. What are they cellybratin', somebody's hexycution?"
He didn't know how right he was. We rode on, toward Benelaius and the truth.
The final half mile seemed the longest. All the horses became nervous as we neared the body of the hydra, which had been