The Star of Morcyth_ Book Five of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [74]
“That’s terrible,” James says.
“We better get out of here before anyone starts asking questions,” he says.
Nodding, James gets his pack and stands up. “Yeah. Good idea.”
As they leave the room they begin to hear yelling coming from downstairs and they rush down to find Qyrll encircled by an angry crowd. His hood has fallen back allowing all to see his extensive tattoos.
“Monster!” one woman cries as she breaks down into tears.
“He is not to blame for the death of the young girl!” Jiron shouts to be heard above the noise of the crowd.
He and Qyrll have their backs to the wall as they face the angry people. They haven’t yet pulled their weapons out, but James can see he’s about ready to if they get much closer.
One man draws his sword and says, “He killed my little Elenda!”
“He was with me all night,” responds Jiron.
James can see the situation beginning to blossom out of control. If he doesn’t do something, it’s going to escalate into a flat out riot and all these people are going to get hurt. Jiron and Qyrll could wade through them like a hot knife through butter.
Summoning a little bit of magic to magnify his voice, he yells, “Enough!”
His voice rolls over the crowd and Jiron looks to him in relief. As one, the onlookers turn to face him. Their anger is plain on their faces and he hasn’t long to diffuse this situation.
“This man is not to blame for the death of your daughter,” he says to the innkeeper as he makes his way through the crowd to stand before them. “I have known him to be only a gentle man. Let not his visage frighten you. From where he comes from, these markings are a sign of manhood. His people are not bloodthirsty killers.” Well, they are but not in this way.
“Before you kill an innocent man, make sure of the facts!” he hollers to them. “You say that whoever killed your daughter walked away through blood?”
Several heads in the audience nod in agreement.
Turning to Qyrll, he says, “Remove your boots.”
While he’s removing his boots James turns his attention to the crowd and says, “If he did in fact walk through blood, then there should be some indication on his boots that he did.” He’s thankful to see a couple people nod their heads at his logic.
“Here,” Qyrll says as he hands him his boots.
James examines them and with profound relief finds them completely devoid of any blood. He didn’t know what he would do if there had been any on them. Holding the boots toward the crowd, he says, “See. There is no blood!” He moves them first one way and then another as everyone in the crowd presses forward to see.
Unconvinced, the innkeeper says, “He could’ve cleaned them off!” Several, people grunt their agreement.
Despite the fact that some of the crowd are unconvinced, he begins to notice the overall mood has changed from one of mob violence to restless curiosity. He has to keep this going or that innkeeper will stir them up again.
Pulling an idea from a crime drama on television, he says, “Let’s go and compare this boot with the one which walked away from the scene, to see if he could even have made the tracks.”
“Alright,” the innkeeper says. “But if they’re the same, he dies.”
James isn’t too worried about that, this Parvati is larger than most and it’s unlikely his boot is going to match that of the killer’s. Unless of course he really is the killer. There is a kernel of doubt in his mind, he remembers the deaths back in Cardri that seemed to have occurred around the time they were all there. He knew Parvati’s were not murderers. Killers, yes, but not murderers.
Leading the crowd out to the scene of the crime, he carries the boots. Qyrll and Jiron follow along behind him.
“The tracks are over here,” one person says.
James follows him and they come to three very clear imprints in the dirt. Bending down near the clearest of the three, he says, “Now, let’s see.” Putting the boot on the ground next to the print, he lines