Weapon of Blood by Chris A. Jackson Page B

right about
that.”
    “What about the
locks inside the house?”  Norwood looked from one man to the other.
    “ Those were
mage-locked,” Woefler explained, “designed to open only to Vonlith’s touch.”
    “So, if they
couldn’t be opened by anyone but Vonlith, how did you open them?”
    “I didn’t say that
Vonlith had to open them, Captain,” Woefler said.  “I said that opening them
required Vonlith’s touch .”
    “So how did you—” 
The look of disgust on Tamir’s face told Norwood what they must have done. 
“Oh, you did not!”
    “Yes, sir, we did. 
Master Woefler insisted that we parade around the house with the corpse, soiled
nightshirt and all, touching its finger to every single locked door, cabinet,
chest and bin.  Like a bloody funeral procession it was.”
    “Well, it worked.” 
Woefler grinned boyishly and shrugged.  “And it was much quicker and more
efficient than my trying to unravel every rune-spell.  And as you have often
said, Captain, time is of the essence in these investigations.”
    “Marvelous.” 
Norwood rose from his chair and paced the floor, hoping that the Duke didn’t
hear of the grim spectacle.  “Well, what about Vonlith?  What did he do to earn
a dagger in the brain?”
    “He’s got some nice
stuff.”  Tamir shrugged.  “We might look into who gets it all if he kicks the
bucket.”
    “Have someone track
down his next of kin.  Start a list of suspects: relatives, or anyone else who
might be in line to inherit.  I assume he had a will, so let’s get a look at
it.”  He looked to Woefler again.  “What about his guild affiliation?”
    “He paid his dues
on time, but was not politically active.  His membership was in good standing,
and has been for a very long time.  Vonlith was quite a lot older than he
looked.”
    “Lots of time to
make enemies,” Tamir noted.
    Woefler wagged his
head equitably.  “He had few close friends, but he seemed to be on decent terms
with his fellow guild members.  I had met him several times socially at the
guild lodge, and he was agreeable, though rather reserved.  It’s the way some
of these fellows get, you know, when they practice in isolation for too long. 
For myself, well, I prefer—”
    “Master Woefler.” 
Norwood gently tried to steer the wizard back to the subject at hand.   “You
said he was a proficient runemage.  Proficient enough to make other mages
jealous?”
    “Possibly.  He’s
been practicing rune-magic at a level that I have not seen in many years.  He
was a specialist, and quite adept.”  Woefler made a face halfway between
wistfulness and jealousy.  “It is amazing what you can craft with the right
arcane runes.  Some of his things…”
    “Like what?”
    “Like a box in his
study into which he could place items that he did not wish to be affected by
time.  It was empty when we found it, so we have no idea what he used it for. 
He also had a rune-etched knife in his laboratory that would cut through
virtually any material, including diamond.  Even his bed was magical.  The
runes inscribed in the headboard ensured calm, dreamless sleep.  These things
alone are quite valuable, and we still have not completed an inventory.”
    “Don’t forget the
wagon,” Tamir put in.
    “Wagon?”  Norwood
looked at them both again.  “What wagon?”
    “Vonlith had a
wagon in the stable behind the townhouse.”  The wizard laughed heartily.  “Your
guardsmen were quite surprised to discover that it is a good deal larger on the
inside than the outside.”
    “Really?” 
Norwood’s eyebrows arched.  “That would be handy.”
    “Indeed!  It was
quite impressive.”  Woefler looked around the expansive office.  “This entire
room would have fit nicely inside, with enough additional space to add a large
closet.  It’s elaborately decorated, resembling a tinker’s wagon more than a
wizard’s conveyance, but the decorations are all actually rune