Murder in Halruaa by Richard Meyers

Cunningham’s phrase, “it had to be done! As terrible as it is, they were dead, and we’re still alive. I wish I could do something about the former, but I intend to maintain the latter. It was the only way.”
    “But—but—”
    “You tell me. What else could I have done?”
    They walked, empty-handed, through the dark night. The barrels of ale and mead they had carried out were left at the Mark of the Question in lieu of bodies.
    “We could have buried them,” Wotfirr said wearily.
    “Where?” countered Pryce, “And for how long?” He was talking fervently as they tramped down the gem-studded road to the Lallor Gate. “You know as well as I do that a freshly dug grave
    would be child’s play for any wizard or inquisitrix to find. I couldn’t take the chance. It would mean my life.” Pryce could see Wotfirr was still despairing, so he tried another tack. “It was too late to help them, Gheevy. I hate to admit that, but there it is. In order to avenge their deaths, I have to stay alive long enough to do it. This was the only way!”
    The halfling looked at Covington with begrudging acceptance. “You know, you are probably correct, but, my stars, you can be pretty egotistical.”
    Pryce looked at him with a purposely blank expression. “What’s your point?”
    Wotfirr laughed in spite of himself, although the sound ended in a wheeze. “You are amazing.”
    “Looks as if I have to be,” Pryce said with resignation.
    They trudged on for a few moments more, shuffling their feet along the road. Finally Gheevy grunted, “Well, you did save my life, I suppose____”
    “Don’t forget,” Covington replied miserably, “I also put it in danger in the first place.”
    “But I was the one who said I knew where the jackal lair might be.”
    “And I was the one who dragged you out here in the first place.”
    Wotfirr suddenly pulled up short. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you trying to get me to blame you?”
    Covington stopped a few feet farther on and turned to face the halfling. “I’ll admit it, Gheevy. I feel guilty. Terribly guilty. I’ve already involved you enough. The going might get even more dangerous from here on, so it’s not fair to take your company and your valuable assistance for granted.” He studied the winemaster’s face but saw no reaction. ‘Tell you what,” he suggested. ‘You made me a promise, so I’ll make you one. If I’m caught and found out, for any reason, I will never divulge your part in it.”
    Pryce sighed, letting his head and shoulders droop, feeling
    helpless, persecuted, and alone. “Now let’s get back inside the wall. As soon as we’re inside the city, I’ll go one way, and you can go another. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wished to see me again.”
    They walked silently to the gate, where the big eye blinked and peered at them intently. Covington fought the urge to do a dance routine for Berridge Lymwich’s benefit. Instead, he silently marched past the eye, then purposefully turned to the right and kept going.
    Gheevy Wotfirr stood in the opening. His body leaned a little toward the left. But then his right leg moved, and he followed Pryce into the east side of the city.
    Covington looked back at his new friend and found himself smiling with relief.
    The halfling shrugged. “I couldn’t very well go west,” he said. “I live on this side of the city.” But then he smiled and said, “Frankly, I wouldn’t miss seeing what happens next for all the precious metal in Durpar.”
    Pryce shook his head in amazement and grinned at the halfling. “What happens next, my dear Gheevy, is that we both get a good night’s sleep so we can follow up on the jackalwere’s clues in the morning.”
    “Shall I meet you at your new place?” Wotfirr asked eagerly.
    Pryce shook his head. “You have your job to consider. I’ll come to Schreders At Your Service and let you know what the plan is. All right?”
    The halfling nodded, and the two parted