Theft of Swords (The Riyria Revelations #1-2)

“Unnecessary will that be, for my own way I shall go.”


“Oh no you’re not. You’re coming back with me. I have a great deal to speak with you about. You were an advisor to the emperor and are obviously very gifted and knowledgeable. I have great need for someone such as you. You’ll be my royal counselor.”

“Nay, ’twill …” He sighed, then continued. “No, it will come as a shock to—you— but I did not escape to help with your little problems. Matters more pressing I must attend to, and too long from them have I been.”

The prince appeared taken aback. “What matters could you possibly have after nine hundred years? After all, it’s not as if you have to get home to tend to your livestock. If it’s a matter of compensation, you’ll be well paid and live in as much luxury as I can afford. And if you are thinking you can make more elsewhere, only Ethelred of Warric is likely to offer as much, and trust me, you don’t want to work for the likes of him. He’s a dogmatic Imperialist and a loyal church supporter.”

“I do not seek compensation.”

“No? Look at you. You have nothing—no food, no place to sleep. I think you should consider your situation a bit more before refusing me. Besides, gratitude alone should compel you to help me.”

“Gratitude? Has the meaning of this word changed as well? In my day, this meant to show appreciation for a favor.”

“And it still does. I saved you. I released you from that place.”

Esrahaddon raised an eyebrow. “Didst thou help me escape as favor to me? I think not. Thou—you freed me to save yourself. I owe you nothing, and if I did, I repaid you when I brought you out.”

“But the whole reason I came here was to gain your assistance. I’m inheriting a throne handed down by blood! Thieves abducted and dragged me across the kingdom in my first few days as king. I still don’t know who killed my father or how to find them. I’m in great need of help. You must know hundreds of things the greatest minds of today have never known—”

“Thousands at least but I am still not going with you. You have a kingdom to secure. My path lies elsewhere.”

Alric’s face grew red with frustration. “I insist you return with me and become my advisor. I can’t just let you wander off. Who knows what kind of trouble you could cause? You’re dangerous.”

“Yes indeed, dear prince,” the wizard said, and his tone grew serious. “So allow me to grant thee a bit of free counsel— use not the word insist with regards to me. Thou hast but only a small spill to contend with; do not tempt a deluge.”

Alric stiffened.

“How long before the church starts hunting you?” Royce asked casually.

“What dost …” The wizard sighed. “What do you mean?”

“You locked things up nicely in the prison so no one will know you escaped. Of course, if we were to return and start bragging about how we broke you out, that might start inquiries,” Hadrian said.

The wizard leveled his gaze at him. “Is it a threat you make?”

“Why would I do that? As you already know, I have nothing to do with this. Not to mention it would be pretty stupid of me to threaten a wizard. The thing is, though, the king here, he is not as bright as I am. He very well might get drunk and tell stories at the first tavern he arrives at, as nobles often do.” Esrahaddon glanced at Alric, whose red face now turned pale. “Fact is, we came all this way to find out who killed Alric’s father, and we really don’t know much more than we did before we set out.”

Esrahaddon chuckled softly. “Very well. Prithee, impart how ’tis—it is—your father died.”

“He was stabbed with a knife,” Alric explained.

“What kind of knife?”

“A common rondel military dagger.” Alric held his hands about a foot apart. “About this long. It had a flat blade and a round pommel.”

Esrahaddon nodded. “Where was he stabbed?”

“In his private chapel.”

“Where physically?”

“Oh, in the back, upper left side, I think.”

“Were there any windows or other doors in the chapel?”

“None.”

“Who found the body?”

“These two.” Alric pointed at Royce and Hadrian.

The wizard smiled and shook his head. “Nay, beside them, who announced the death of the king? Who raised the alarm?”

“That would be Captain Wylin, my master-at-arms. He was on the scene very quickly and apprehended them.”

Hadrian thought about the night King Amrath had been killed. “No, that’s not right. There was a dwarf there. He must have come around the corner of the hallway just as we left the room. He probably saw the king’s body lying on the floor of the chapel and shouted. Right after he yelled, the soldiers came and surprisingly fast, I might add.”

“That was just Magnus,” Alric said. “He’s been doing stonework about the castle for months.”

“Didst thee—you— see this dwarf approach from the corridor?” the wizard asked.

“No,” Hadrian replied, and Royce confirmed that with a shake of his head.

“And when you entered the chapel from the doorway, was the body of the king visible?”

Hadrian and Royce shook their heads.

“That solves it, then,” the wizard said as if everything was perfectly clear. The party stared back at him in confusion. Esrahaddon sighed. “The dwarf killed Amrath.”

“That’s not possible,” Alric said, challenging him. “My father was a big man, and the dagger thrust was downward. A dwarf couldn’t possibly have stabbed him in the upper back.”

“Your father was in his chapel, as any pious king, kneeling with head bowed. The dwarf killed him as he prayed.”

“But the door was locked when we entered,” Hadrian said. “And there was no one in the room besides the king.”

“No one you could see. Did the chapel have an altar with a cabinet?”

“Yes, it did.”

“They did a millennium ago as well. Religion changes slowly. The cabinet was likely too small for a man but could easily accommodate a dwarf. After he killed the king, he locked the door and waited for you two to find the body.” Esrahaddon paused. “That cannot be right you—two—to?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If this hast been done to language, I fear to know the fate of all else.

“With door locked, a night guard or cleaning steward would not find the body prematurely. Only a skilled thief would be able to enter, which I assume at least one of you is.” He looked directly at Royce as he said the last part. “After you left, the dwarf crept out, opened the door, and sounded the alarm.”

“So, the dwarf is an agent of the church?”

“No.” The wizard sighed with a look of frustration. “Not a dwarf alive who would carry a common dagger. The traditions of dwarves change even slower than religion. Given the dagger he was by the one who hired him. Find that person and you will find the true killer.”