Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [83]
"So for all Tobald knew," I said, "whoever killed Grodoveth might be targeting him next."
Benelaius nodded. "And the faster that person was executed, the less he would be able to reveal about Tobald and Grodoveth's connection with the Iron Throne, assuming he knew about it. No, Vangerdahast's order played right into Tobald's hands, or so he thought."
"Because," I went on, "the last thing he expected was to be accused himself, especially with the wealth of evidence that you provided." I gave a dry laugh. "He must have been doubly furious at you, for he knew that you had manufactured much of it."
"But I did not manufacture his intent, nor his treachery. I feel no guilt for what I did, Jasper. Justice triumphed. 'Bought with blood, paid for with blood.' That is the legend in this tomb, and it provides an apt epitaph for Grodoveth and Tobald."
I eyed Benelaius thoughtfully. "You talk a good talk, master, but you're not as bloodthirsty as you let on. You wanted Tobald to escape."
That produced an elevation of his bushy eyebrows. "And what makes you say that?"
"That eight cats would accidentally overturn four braziers at once strains the limits of credulity. You had them do it on purpose, signaling them in some way. That was why you had Tobald sit by the opening off the piazza."
Benelaius's face grew wistful. "I dislike bloodshed, Jasper. I would have particularly disliked the sight of a man-any man-hanging from a tree near my cottage. Yes, I would have preferred Tobald to escape, for to whom would he have fled? The Iron Throne? Even if he could have gotten through the swamp, he would have been of no further use to them. On the contrary, he would have been a failure, and they might have killed him because of it. In truth, I expected him to flee into the swamp, where he would eventually be pulled down by the mire. That it happened the way it did was, I must confess, a surprise to me."
The memory of Fastred's ghost made me think once again of the tomb in which we stood, and I realized that there was still one more unanswered question. "The treasure," I said. "You took it, didn't you?"
Benelaius waved a dismissive hand and smiled beatifically. "Put the treasure from your mind as I have from mine. You need know only that Dovo's long-suffering family will suffer no longer. They will shortly receive an extremely generous inheritance from a distant relative of whose existence they were not even aware. And to add to their happy ending, two traitors have been punished, a plot against Cormyr scuttled, and the haunting of the swamp at an end… at least from Fastred."
Just as we turned to walk back up the stairs, we heard a sound from within the inner tomb. It was a dry rattle, like a fortune-teller casting the bones onto a tabletop over and over again.
Or like an ancient skeleton, walking for the first time, and swiftly.
37
"I think someone's awake," Benelaius said softly, but I could hear the concern in his voice.
I was more than concerned. My eyes felt as though they were the size of saucers, and my sudden freshets of sweat had just doubled the normal humidity of the swamp. But I couldn't move until Benelaius grabbed my arm and started up the stairs. "I suggest we leave," he said, and I didn't have to be told twice.
By the time we had grappled our way up the slick and mossy steps, abandoning our lanterns in our rush, I heard the clattering bones at the bottom. In spite of myself, I turned and looked down.
It was the skeleton of Fastred all right, clad in armor, helm, and rotting boots. The gray day illuminated him poorly, but twin fires burned in the hollow eye sockets. The glare held me