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By Root 705 0

reached to a spot in midair, as if she were pulling apart an invisible set of curtains. A shining rift appeared in the air, and, from that opening, a sparkling black gown leaped over her shoulders, slimming itself about her thin waist, generous breasts, and perfectly proportioned hips. Her headdress followed, along with her gloves, jewelry, and shoes. Another mage had given her this gift-a beautiful dresser that existed half in this plane of existence, half in another. She could also use the dimensional rift to make a hasty retreat from her quarters if the Citadel were overrun by attackers. The amorous sorcerer had assured her that only she could open or close the gate. “Enter!” she called. The door opened, and Myrmeen turned to face Evon Stralana, Arabel's minister of defense. The tall, wiry, dark-haired man seemed quite troubled. His already pale skin had gone pure white. “The delegation,” Myrmeen said, smiling. “I'm late.” “It's not that,” he said gravely. Her stance changed suddenly. This was no trivial matter, she sensed. Something was terribly wrong, something that had broken through Stralana's cool, reserved shell. 'Tell me,“ Myrmeen snapped. ”There's been a murder.“ ”Who was killed?“ ”A merchant. Penn Othmann. I don't believe I've ever seen his name on your appointment schedule.“ ”No, the name doesn't sound familiar.“ She waited. There had to be more. Stralana wouldn't have been this concerned over a murder. Arabel was a large city and violent death was not uncommon. ”What else?“ ”The body was found in the gardens.“ Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms with enough force to draw blood. ”Was the man killed there, or was the body dropped there?“ ”He died in the gardens.“ Myrmeen felt her skin grow cold. ”What about the guards?"

“They were found this morning, ensorcelled but unharmed. They have no memory of what occurred.” “The spells protecting the gardens?” “Stripped away.” “I want to see.” “Yes,” Stralana said. “I thought you might.” * * * * * The fiery tongue of sunlight darted between the leaves high above the central gardens near the Citadel. Gazebos, rose-entangled archways, and topiary renditions of various gods and demigods surrounded the two figures who stood at the center of the gardens, where Othmann's head had been discovered. Soldiers had been posted to keep out the curious. “By all the denizens of Hades,” Myrmeen whispered as she turned to Stralana. “There are pieces of this man strewn from one end of the garden to the other. Whoever- or whatever-did this obviously hated him with a passion.” “Yes,” Stralana said flatly. As she studied the carnage, Myrmeen began to shake; the gardens had once been a private retreat for her and her husband. “I want to know who did this.” “I understand. Procedures have been followed, but the body resists all forms of divination and spirit magic. His soul has taken flight and cannot be reached.” “Then other means must be applied. Have our hunters gone over the tracks?“ ”Of course. They claim the murderer-or murderers- covered any traces they may have left behind. It's impossible to tell how many were here, if they were men or women, if they were even human.“ Myrmeen frowned. ”He was a merchant you say?“ ”Yes. He sold artifacts. Some magical, some not, His shop was near Elhazir's Exotica.“ ”I've heard several of the cleaning staff talk of Elhazir's. They display the fake jewelry they find there proudly, as if it were the real thing. Elhazir sells copies of my best dresses. She peddles trinkets she claims were blessed by the gods with fearsome power.“ Myrmeen paused. ”Was Othmann in competition with Elhazir? Could this have been a case of professional rivalry?“ Stralana shook his head. ”I sincerely doubt it. As with everything else, the magic items Elhazir sells are cheap fakes. Othmann sold genuine objects of power.“ The minister cleared his throat and added, ”On a related matter, several youths came upon the open door to Othmann's shop during the night. They went in, unaware that a series of magical wards had been set in place. Two of the boys were