Palimpsest

The grey order does not train its own. It takes them from the foundling houses of the northern cities, always the ones no family came back for, and it takes them young enough that they keep no memory of a name before the one the order gives them.

A healer of Nirali, then, is a person the world has already lost once. The masters hold that this is why the work suits them: they have grieved themselves early, and come to the dying without the fear that makes the rest of us clumsy at a deathbed. Whether this is wisdom or only a convenient thing to believe about children nobody wanted, the order has never troubled to decide.

— from a traveler's account of the northern cities

Chapter 47 Anatomy of a Murder

Darian had tried to work out how they could keep this place so cold in the warm season, the moment he stepped into the wide room behind the infirmary. But nothing that looked like a device or a mechanism caught his eye, and at a time like this, in a place like this, he didn't want to be disrespectful by asking. For there were a few more cold bodies lying covered on the shelves. What's more, the healer in charge here was trying to finish the paperwork in his hands with an utterly blank expression on his face.

"What are we still waiting for?" Elis whispered, standing right beside him and waiting along with him. Rather than being troubled by the cold in the room and the lifeless bodies, she was looking around as though she were bored.

"Shh," Darian said, hushing her, and for a moment met the eyes of the healer, who had glanced at them. There was no anger on the man's face, but that blank look was exceedingly irritating. When the man went back to the papers on his desk, Darian answered in a whisper far quieter than Elis's: "We came into a place we shouldn't be by giving the Domina's name. I think at this point we don't have any choice but to be agreeable." Then, though he tried not to let it show that he was cold, he reflexively rubbed his own shoulders.

"You said the morning's murder, didn't you?" the man said at last, cutting through the silence in the room like a knife as he gathered the papers on his desk and drew them aside. "Master Trenkish?"

"Yes," Darian answered, unable to gauge his tone after the long silence, in a strange voice. Then he cleared his throat and made to go on, but the man didn't let him.

"Normally no one is allowed to see the bodies until they're sent off, but the order comes from high up," the healer said, plainly showing that he was uncomfortable. As he spoke he moved toward the shelves on the wall.

"Sent off?" Elis asked reflexively, all of a sudden, but the man, ignoring her entirely, approached one of the bodies on the shelves, covered with a white cloth.

He drew the cloth aside a little and revealed the face of the lifeless body. Darian and Elis, unable to see the body's face, watched him, curious as well about what he was doing. "Are you a healer?" the man asked suddenly, without turning to them.

Darian paused for a moment, but answered, "How could you tell?"

"The herbs in your bags and the smell of the medicines give a hint, but even without them I usually notice a healing energy right away. I get a feeling like that from you too." After saying this he sighed and, looking at the colorless face, went on, "Can I trust you to approach this body with respect and care?" He turned around and looked at Darian, but this time there was a faint, half-formed sorrow on his face instead of blankness.

"I can give you my word on that," Darian answered, at the same time bowing his head slightly.

"Thank you," the man said, and returned the gesture the same way, and drawing back toward the foot of the body, he lowered the shelf with a pulley system to Darian's height. Then he invited them to his side with his hand.

Darian approached the shelf with calm steps and finally saw the uncovered face—that graceful face that had spoken with such passion just the night before. When he came up beside it he paused for a moment and studied Nivela's face. Taking in her faded skin and her lips that were no longer red, he examined the whole face. Elis, right beside him, was looking the same way at both Nivela and Darian. The healer was still at the foot, beside the pulley, but with his back to the corpse he was looking at the other side of the room.

Darian closed his eyes and sighed, and the moment he felt ready he opened his eyes more sharply and began to draw the cloth back. When he'd pulled the white cloth down as far as the feet, Nivela's small body was fully revealed. Her skin faded like her face, her features, a few small old scars, and the deep dagger wound in the middle of her chest… disturbingly, every detail of her body was laid out before his eyes, and though Darian, being prepared, stayed unmoved, Elis turned her head away and looked at the healer beside them. It took her a few seconds to look at the body again. Meanwhile Darian had drawn even closer to the corpse and begun looking more carefully at the wound the dagger had opened. Once her eyes had adjusted, Elis too bent over his shoulder to examine the wound.

"By the look of it, she knew the killer," Darian murmured to himself after making a careful examination for a few minutes, his head still down, still looking at the corpse.

"Very likely, yes," said the healer, confirming him, still looking the other way.

"What are you talking about?" Elis asked, surprised, looking from Darian to the healer.

"The dagger was driven into her chest exceedingly cleanly, straight in," Darian explained.

"Meaning?" Elis went on asking.

"Meaning it went in with a single thrust, without difficulty. That shows there wasn't any struggle. And there's no other mark of a blow on her body either."

"She saw the killer but didn't defend herself. Because she knew them," Elis whispered, as if explaining this deduction to herself.

"And I can also tell you whoever did this wasn't a gnome or a dwarf."

"How?" Elis asked, surprised again.

"If it had been someone her height, they'd have had two options: hold the dagger at waist level and drive it in suddenly, or hold it reversed and swing it down with the back of the hand from above. In the first, the wound would be at waist level; it couldn't go any higher."

"But swinging from above, they could have driven it into her chest," Elis jumped in, as if caught up in it.

"Yes, but then the dagger would have gone into the body at an angle, not straight in."

"True," the healer agreed with Darian again. And a faint shift in his tone began to show, one that suggested he was starting to respect him.

"So the person we're looking for is someone who got close to Nivela without drawing her attention, stabbed her with one quick motion, and is at least of human height. Since Nivela's body is relatively delicate, it's hard to gauge the killer's strength. If she'd been a dwarf and been stabbed the same way, I could tell you the one who killed her was a man. But a gnome woman is one of the most delicate bodies there is, so it isn't possible to guess the killer's sex."

"I never would have thought you could work all that out just by looking at a single dagger wound."

"Only the experience of a healer who's seen a great deal of injury and death," Darian answered, but there was a bitterness in his voice rather than pride. "Poison or something to dull her?" he said, turning to the healer beside them without giving Elis a chance to speak.

"I couldn't find anything to suggest poison, but I think she may have been given something to slacken her. There's a trace in her blood of the kind that weakens the muscles. If I'd been able to run a test at the moment she died, I could have confirmed it for certain, but it's too late now. There are a few plants that bring on that effect, but we can't know which one it was. "

"If the killer was someone who could get close to her without arousing suspicion, why would they need to drug her at all?" Darian murmured to himself, but aloud. Neither Elis nor the healer made any attempt to answer this mysterious question. With these thoughts Darian had begun to cover the body again. Before covering it completely he looked one last time at Nivela's colorless face, and then covered the face too. As he let the cloth down over her head, his hand struck a hard object. Touching this object wrapped in cloth over her head, he asked, "Can we examine the dagger as well?"

"Without touching it too much, yes," the healer answered, and finally headed back to his desk.

Darian lifted the cloth and looked carefully at the dagger. Elis too, right over his shoulder, ran her eyes over the dagger with the dried bloodstains on it. Darian looked more closely at the dagger's grip and, to himself, said "Huh" in surprise.

"What?" Elis said, again as if she hadn't quite understood what he was looking at.

"The dagger's grip isn't wood, it's metal like the rest of it. And there's no carving or any other mark on it."

"Meaning?"

"They usually give this kind of dagger to soldiers. When smiths are producing weapons for a great many people, they don't bother with wooden grips or carving. It comes cheaper for whoever's having the weapons made too."

"So the killer's a soldier?" Elis jumped in.

"We can't be sure of that, since they could have stolen it from someone. And though the dagger doesn't look too worn, it's a fairly old design. I'm sorry, but there isn't much this can tell us for now." Then, "We'd better get going now," he said, gesturing toward the door. As Elis nodded and headed for the door, Darian turned and closed the cloth over the dagger and came along behind her. When he reached the door, before going out, he said "Thank you" and bowed his head in farewell to the healer sitting at his desk. The man returned it the same way with his head. Then, without drawing too much attention, they left the infirmary.

Having finally gotten away from the cold inside, Darian had warmed up again, but out in the stone courtyard at the building's entrance the midday heat quickly managed to make him miss being inside. Standing with Elis under an apple tree in the courtyard, as they looked at the building behind them, Darian said, "We need to tell the others about all this."

"I think we can find the way to the archive by asking around; they should still be there," Elis answered, under Darian's looks glancing enviously at her for not sweating. "If they got in, that is."

"One way or another, I'm sure they got inside," Darian said, and added, "Can you go on ahead? Before I come, I want to look in on Kaelin one more time while we're still close."

Elis looked at Darian for a moment without answering, then, smiling, said, "Of course." Then, leaning in, she smirked, "You can kiss her for me, too."

"I don't think it works that way," Darian said, giving her a pointed look. "I'd better go before you spoil the mood." After saying this he turned off in the opposite direction.

"There was no need to get so worked up," Elis called after him, laughing. Darian, walking on with his back to her, gestured with his finger. This pleased Elis all the more, and she watched him until he turned the corner. After that she checked herself over, gathered her hair, and started walking toward the couple sitting on the stairs on the other side to ask where the archive was.

◈◈◈

"We've already gone up and down the corridor twice, and there's nothing here but books. I'm worn out from trying to keep up with you," Tivver said, out of breath, sinking down where he stood and leaning against the narrow ladder right beside him.

The bookcases lined up at set intervals along the corridor were at least ten paces wide, and between every two bookcases there was only a narrow gap taken up by a large vase. Each bookcase had a ladder on six wheels, made for reaching the top shelves. To get to the upper floor you had to go all the way to the entrance and use the spiral stairs there.

"They can't have gone to the exit from here. There has to be a passage somewhere here," Veylith said, and though she'd stopped for Tivver, she went on examining the bookcases obsessively. "The only exit that comes to mind is the bridge we saw outside. But for that they'd have had to escape by the bridge on the upper floor."

"I don't think they'd take the risk of going all the way to the door," Tivver answered. "They must have slipped out somewhere here. But where?" he said, and with a sigh rested his head against the narrow ladder. In that moment something caught his eye, and straightening where he sat, he looked at the ladder more carefully. Then he looked first up, then at Veylith. "Come here," he whispered to Veylith.

"I don't want to sit down," Veylith answered, waving him off.

"Shut up and get over here!"

At this Veylith turned to him and, without answering, went over and knelt beside him. She looked at the rungs of the narrow ladder Tivver was pointing to and finally saw the clue that would show the way. On the inner side of one of the rungs there was a piece of dried dirt. Seeing this, Veylith, just like Tivver, reflexively looked up at the ceiling but couldn't see anything. "They must have escaped this way, but I don't see any passage. You?"

"I don't see one, but there's no need to," Tivver said, and got up from where he was sitting. Then, climbing the rungs of the ladder one by one, he came all the way to the top and, though it was hard, managed to touch the wooden floor of the mezzanine. He looked down at Veylith. "Slide me across slowly," he said, and closed his eyes. At this Veylith, without answering, gripped the ladder and began slowly sliding it on its wheels toward the other side. As Tivver slid along with his hand rubbing against the ceiling, he tried to feel for the presence of a hatch or any mechanism. Just as Veylith had nearly reached the end of the bookcase, Tivver suddenly said "Stop" and halted her. "Come back just a little."

"What is it?" Veylith whispered upward, as though they were doing something secret.

Tivver rubbed the ceiling with his hand a few times, feeling it out, then pushed the ceiling up with both hands with all his strength. A little dust rained down from the ceiling, and at last a small hatch lifted up and opened toward the floor of the upper level. The width of the opened hatch was so small that even Veylith would have to squeeze a bit to get through. Having opened the hatch, Tivver said "Come on," threw himself upward, and climbed through the hatch to the upper floor. Veylith too came quickly behind him, scrambling up the ladder and putting her head through the hatch. By the look of it there was a carpet over the hatch, and when they'd opened it they had folded the carpet back and thrown it aside. That there was a window narrower than the hatch beneath it made a passage that could only be pushed open from below and required no handle. The carpet on the upper floor also removed any risk of the hatch being seen from there.

"Good catch," Veylith said, throwing herself onto the floor of the upper level, and then closing the hatch again and straightening the carpet.

"I told you you needed me. Forget finding this passage with Ravah—you couldn't even have gotten her through here."

"There's no need to be so modest," Veylith answered, getting up off the floor and looking around. Then, "There!" she said, pointing to the gap between two bookcases. This width was far greater than the others, and by the look of it held a door made of metal.

"Wait for me," Tivver said, running after Veylith, who was heading quickly for the door.

When they came to the door they saw that the long, thin metal door was the same color as the wall and fixed to it with exceedingly solid hinges. Veylith searched for a handle to open the door but couldn't find one. There was only a keyhole. At this she tried to force it open, pushing the door in both directions. But the door didn't budge even enough to make a creak.

"Are you done?" Tivver asked, with a look on his face that was part weary, part condescending.

Veylith turned to him and, turning all her anger at the door entirely on him, looked at Tivver. As they held each other's eyes for a moment without saying anything, neither of their expressions changed. Then Veylith drew back from in front of the door and, with a pointed gesture of her hand, motioned toward it as though inviting him in. Tivver, for his part, made a curtsey like a princess holding out the skirts of her dress, and then headed for the door.

For several minutes Tivver worked the keyhole, taking different tools out of his pocket and going on trying. As time passed Tivver too began to get irritated, even to sweat. Meanwhile Veylith examined the corridor and bookcases of the second mezzanine. Putting her head out from between the bookcases on the side that looked into the building, she ran her eyes over the wide space in the middle, over the corridor that continued on the far side, and over the upper floors. As she looked for other possible escape routes she examined the central area more carefully, and with one eye kept watch on the entrance. At last a sound of a lock was heard, and Tivver managed to get the door open.

"There was a woman I convinced to marry me in less time than this," he grumbled, opening the door wider, and the long, thin bridge stretching to the other building finally came into view. Veylith immediately headed there and made a move to go out the door, but Tivver stopped her before she could, saying, "Not so fast."

"Now what?"

"There's another door on the far side, of course—do you plan to go through it too?" Tivver snapped in a whisper. "If you stand over me while I work the lock, everyone outside will notice us. Wait here while I open the lock and keep the door open, just in case."

Veylith only nodded and, while she held that door, Tivver went bent over to the door on the far side. Thanks to his short height the bridge's low sides hid him from eyes on the ground. When he reached the door he began forcing the lock the same way, and this time he got the door open far more quickly. As he opened it he turned to Veylith and signaled, then threw himself straight inside. Veylith, quietly closing the other door, crossed to the far side in three lightning strides. She threw herself in through the ajar door at once, and the two of them closed it together.

"You can thank me by buying me a beer whenever you like," said Tivver, out of breath.

"Solve this thing and I'll buy you a barrel of beer," Veylith answered, right beside him.

But in that moment a voice was heard behind them: "What are you looking for in here?"