Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [80]
"No. It nearly ruined his business. An axe-swinging ghost is hardly a drawing card." We traveled another hundred yards as I thought through the scenario. "Grodoveth or Tobald would give Dovo the information, either in town or at the Swamp Rat, and then Dovo would ride out to where the path led into the swamp, hide his horse, scare away any passersby who might have seen him, and then go off with his lantern into the swamp." I looked at Benelaius, suddenly puzzled. "But why then did I find his cloak and hat at the Bold Bard?"
"Why do you think? Would he have left them there?" "No," I replied after a moment's thought. "But Grodoveth or Tobald might have." "And why?"
"To throw suspicion on Shortshanks perhaps, or at any rate to draw it away from the Swamp Rat. But why the whole plot in the first place, master? Why couldn't Grodoveth just pass the information on himself?"
"A king's envoy is an important person, and important people are under far greater scrutiny all the time than are mere blacksmith's assistants. Grodoveth could disappear long enough to speak to Dovo, or perhaps the lad came to Tobald's house after dark and received his information there. But it was necessary to have a third party. Too, if Dovo was caught, he could easily have said he was playing ghost for fun. Whatever Grodoveth and Tobald were paying him would have been worth the mild punishment he would receive. Now come."
Benelaius turned Stubbins off the road and down the hill toward the spot where I had found Dovo's corpse. "We are here. We'll tie the horses and then walk in to the tomb."
"Can you… I mean, do you think you should, master?"
He answered petulantly. "I did before, didn't I? In the darkness of early dawn and followed by a traitor. I suppose I can do so now in broad daylight followed by"-his tone abruptly softened-"a friend and helper."
"How did you find this place?" I asked as we started back into the swamp.
"The same way Grodoveth did. In his studies into the legend of Fastred, undertaken at first in order to provide a cover for his messenger, he learned more and more of the tales of Fastred's tomb, and the treasure that was supposed to be there. By comparing dozens of cross-references, and by a few leaps of intellect, he was able to pinpoint not only the location of the tomb, but also how to open it.
"When I learned from you what books he had consulted, I simply did the same reading in my own library and came to the same conclusion. I solved the riddle early in the morning of the day Grodoveth was found dead, and rode Stubbins out here, tying him where he wouldn't be seen."
I remembered hearing the cottage door close that morning. "That was you then, returning about seven thirty. And out here is where Stubbins got the mud on him."
Benelaius nodded. "I'm afraid I'm not very adept at rubbing down horses. At any rate, as soon as it was barely light enough to see where my feet would land, I started in on the path that was visible to one who knew where to look.
"But very shortly I began to hear footfalls behind me. At first I thought it was a creature of the swamp, and that I might have to resort to a protective spell, which would have been an admission of defeat after going all these months without using magic. Fortunately, I didn't have to. But I'd better tell you why a bit later. As you can see, there is a thornslinger just ahead."
I didn't need to be reminded. I remembered the terrible violence of the tree all too well. We passed it in near silence, the only sound the soft sucking of our boots on the muddy surface of the path. When we were a good distance away, Benelaius resumed his tale.
'When I heard someone following me, I walked faster, naturally. In fact, I was running, not a frequent occurrence, I may tell you. Before long, I came upon the mere… ah, there it is just ahead of us. At least a half mile across, wouldn't you say? I have a theory that we should test when we have more time. Across that mere is another path, else the Iron Throne agent never should have gotten there. I suspect it leads