Balanced on the Blade's Edge (Dragon Blood, Book 1) by Lindsay Buroker Page B

again
first.
    “The murder… it doesn’t seem to have had
anything to do with magic.” Sardelle glanced at his eyes. “Or I
should say, the woman, Bretta, had nothing to do with magic. I
investigated the so-called magical tools that were, I believe,
planted under the blanket in her bunk. According to
Braytok’s Compendium of Sorcerers and Sorcerous
Artifacts
, a book that isn’t on your list but should be, since
it could clear up confusion due to ignorance, tools for holding
energy, souls, or for performing tasks or enhancing powers must be
made from a sturdy enough material to contain energy, generally a
metal alloy or diamond or other such gem. Hard rocks occasionally,
but not wood. The book says it would combust at the first pouring
of energy into it.”
    Ridge listened attentively, though it made
him uncomfortable to hear her speak so openly of magic. That book
she had mentioned… nobody outside of an academic setting would ever
dare be caught with such a thing. Even then, it made people
twitchy. It made
him
twitchy. He had never
cared much until the Cofah had started importing those witches or
wizards or whatever they called them, and putting them into the sky
where he and his squadron started encountering them. Since then, he
had lost… too much.
    “Forgive my rambling,” Sardelle said. Ridge
wondered if she had noticed a reaction in him. He hadn’t meant to
let anything show. “My point is that dolls made from twigs are
hokum. Someone planted those in her bunk to arouse suspicion—or
validate what he was going to do—and then sneaked into the barracks
when few were around and killed her.”
    “Any ideas on who?”
    Ridge didn’t expect her to have learned who
in the scant hours since they had last spoken, but when she
swallowed and gazed out the window, he realized she did know. So,
why the hesitation? He tried to read her face. It was a study of
concentration. She seemed to be wrestling with herself.
    “Are you afraid he’ll come after you for
revenge if you tell me?” Ridge asked.
    “I’m afraid… he might have genuinely thought
she was a witch, and in your—our culture, well, that would have
made killing Bretta justifiable, wouldn’t it?”
    Ridge leaned back, feeling the hardness of
his chair against his shoulder blades. He had noticed her slip-up,
and it put doubt into his assumptions all over again. More than
that, he sensed she was lying.
    “Who is it?” Ridge asked. “We’ll hear from
him and decide the rest.” We? It was he, wasn’t it? He would have
to be judge and juror here. A fact that hadn’t been mentioned on
his orders.
    “I don’t know for sure,” Sardelle said
slowly. “Gossip and hearsay and who saw what, when, you
understand.”
    “Yes… ”
    “But if you can find out if a man named Tace
was missing from his shift yesterday afternoon when this happened,
you might have your answer. He might have had help from a second
man. I didn’t hear the other name.”
    “Thank you.” Ridge wrote the name down. For
once a number would have been easier, but Captain Heriton ought to
be intimately acquainted with the archives by now. Maybe he would
recognize the man. “I’ll find him and have him questioned.”
    Sardelle nodded curtly. Her gaze was still
out the window. Ridge waited for her to inquire about the map—she
must have seen it rolled up next to his desk, but something was
bothering her. All the animation she had shown when reciting the
book summaries had drained from her. He felt an urge to comfort
her, the same urge that had taken him to the laundry room the night
before. This time, he made himself remain where he was.
    “Is there something else I should know?” he
asked.
    Sardelle shook her head and pulled her focus
back to him. “No, it’s just… a lamentable situation.”
    “Yes.”
    Ridge pointed his pen toward the map. “We
made a deal. There’s the map. There aren’t many up-to-date copies
around, so I trust you’ll understand if I don’t let