Murder of the Belvedere Eye

Intro and Chapter One

A tall man in a red summer cape walked through the estate garden. A silver circlet rested on his brow. He stopped and leaned over so that his assistant, a fair blonde woman, could wipe his forehead with a cloth.

“Our time here is ending. We traveled halfway across the empire for her,” the woman said. “She should be coming to you, king-brother.”

“You edge on blasphemy, Dorlien. The Belvedere Eye is frail. Her constitution requires soft cushions and warm air.”

“It is summer! There are fine cushions in the palace.”

“Are we to pay for all her needs? She only eats fruit from the islands, and only drinks wine from across the sea. She brings that healer with her, and he charges by the hour.”

“Why was Lord Harlen so inclined to host her for the summer?”

“He must be in need of answers.”

“Do you know your question?”

“Yes.”

“Is it about your brother?”

“I dare not say, lest I spoil the auras.”

They walked amongst the fragrant flowers. The mansion’s eastern and western wings flanked the garden.

“Do you have the gift?” the king-brother asked.

“Yes,” Dorlien said. She handed him a bottle. He tore off the covering and examined the thick green glass bottle. The wax was stamped with the king’s seal and the mark of the vineyard. It was Gooj White.

“She better be able to change fate for that,” Dorlien whispered.

“You’ve crossed into blasphemy, Dorlien. I won’t stand for it. I’ll take myself the rest of the way.”

“And what am I to do?”

“Go peel onions.”

“Onions?”

“Whatever the kitchen needs peeled.”

“Yes, Master.”

Dorlien stopped. They had reached the short tower where the seeress did her seeing. The king-brother looked up as he took the first stair. She noticed speckled flowers below. She had never seen baby’s breath pigmented with red spots. Then she noticed the liquid dripping off of the tower.

“Charles!” she yelled. She chased him up the stairs.

He was frozen at the top, looking down at a soft body clad in white. Blood pooled across the stonework, and the seeress’s hands gripped the hilt of a knife sunken into her gut.

Dorlien fell against the king-brother’s back.

“Call upon Lord Harlen. I’ll stay and make sure nothing disturbs her,” Charles said.

Dorlien turned.

The belvedere gave a stunning view of the grounds and the distant western mountains. She could see Harlen’s iron wall, and the ant-like guards patrolling it. Through the mansion windows, she could see figures moving about.

Something shaded the sun. She looked up.

Ravens circled in the blue sky.

1-      Pollick

Pollick, a guard from the lord’s estate, ducked into the low-ceilinged inn. I saw to my ale.

Two other patrons were in the tavern. One was hog-like, with ledgers and ink spread out between him and a sputtering candle. The other was a hobbled whistler. The guard leaned over to see the hog’s face.

“Edgar Rummy?” the guard asked.

“Big Joe. Get out of my face, spitter.”

“Edgar Rummy?” He asked the old man, who whistled a no.

“Edgar Rummy?” he asked again, shouting towards me. The inn-mother looked up from her stool. The guard had a hairless face and clothing so bright it would split gravy.

“Edgar Rummy?” the man asked again. The inn-mother reached for a fire poker.

“Why are you spreading my name about?” I asked.

“Found you! My lord heard rumors that you were traveling hereabouts, sir.”

“Who is spreading said rumors?”

“Word of your movements is tracked by all who know of your legacy,” the man laughed. “You must come at once. Lord Harlen requests it.”

“This ale is chilled by an underground spring. It will warm if I leave it.”

“Payment.” He pulled out a purse that was not his own. It clunked on the table.

I could feel the eyes of the inn-mother and whistler. Big Joe snapped the tip of his quill. He pulled out a knife. He flicked the blade and the quill gained a tip.

I opened the sack. Inside were twenty-four silver coins.

“Half now, half after,” the servant guard said, “and an extra silver if you make it to the estate today.”

“Harlen must have fallen down a pretty steep well.”

“It is urgent, Rummy.”

I tossed a silver to the inn-mother. She caught it and slipped it into her robes. I headed towards the door.

“None for me?” Big Joe asked.

“You’ve only had one drink. By the look of your books, you can afford more.”

“He who does not spend grows rich.”

Big Joe stood. His knife flashed and caught me across the cheek.

“Drop the coin, Rummy!” He swung. I ducked. The knife sliced over my head.

“No fighting!” the inn-mother shouted. She came toward us, raising her poker. Joe turned towards her. I cracked his candle across his face. He jabbed at me. I stepped back. He kicked the inn-mother’s stomach. She fell back against the dirt. The lord’s man drew his sword, but could not manage its length in the low-ceilinged room.

“Sirs! I must insist you stop!” the guard yelled.

“Coin’s mine, Edgar!” Big Joe moved to tackle me.

I kicked a bench. It hit Joe in the neck. He stumbled forward. I set my palm under his chin. I shucked him off his feet, and onto his table. He broke through it with a crack and bang.

He went to push himself up but fell back into the dirt.

“Street Cat Rummy,” he hissed, “I’m going to put your bounty in my books.”

“You and half the empire. Come on, spitter,” I said.

“Another silver for the damage!” the inn-mother gasped.

“I’m no charity,” I said.

“That was a fine table!”

“Talk to the man who broke it.”

I followed the promise of silver into the golden sunlight.

#

The Harlen Estate, made from the gray rock of the western mountains, rose amongst stepped hills. As we neared, it cut stars from the night sky. Most of its windows were alight.

The road was pitted. I rode in the back of the guard’s wagon, in a barred cage meant for prisoners. “For your own safety,” the guard assured me when he shut the door. I gave him a look. He reminded me of the money to come. I sat on the stained wooden floor. 

Tents began spotting the sides of the path and grew in number as we got closer. Rabbled peasant folk watched us pass.

“I must see the Belvedere Eye!” a woman yelled. She ran towards the wagon. The guard snapped the reins. The horses whickered. The woman grabbed onto the bars of the cage.

“I am in great need!”

“Find another seeress!” the guard spat. “The Eye will not be seeing any rabble!”

“I can’t trust any other.”

“Go home! Your filth sours the road!”

“I need to know if-” a man came from behind and covered the woman’s mouth before she could disturb the auras.

More peasants began to follow the wagon. They reached at me, grabbing at my cloak.

“Guard Pollick coming to the gate!” the driver shouted.

A great iron wall stood in front of the estate, spikes facing inward and outward along its rim. Sconces were lit every ten paces. Five guards with pole axes edged through the gate and swept the road clear. Men looked down from two towers that rose from inside the wall. They half drew their bows. Guards patrolling the iron wall turned to watch.

The gate creaked further open and the wagon drove through. The guards kept the crowd back with their blades.

“Don’t know where they keep coming from,” Pollick said. We entered into a curving tunnel of trees, the branches touching above, shielding the wagon from the moon’s light. Night creatures shook branches as they raced after each other.

“That woman’s accent was of the western mountain tribes,” I said. “She must have traveled for a month to reach this place.”

“And it will be a full growing season wasted when she gets back to her village.”

“Does your seeress not take calls from the public? I thought there was an expectation of public courtesy.”

“She is not our seeress,” Pollick said, “she’s come to be hosted for the summer.” The wagon emerged from the trees.

Pollick threw the wagon’s break. The team jolted to a stop. The horses twitched and hoofed the ground.

He unlocked my cage. I stepped out and looked up at mammoth doors.

A servant welcomed us and opened a door. We entered a hall and the door was shut.

“Lord Harlen!” Pollick called out. He walked forward and motioned me to follow.

The grand hall ended in a vaulted roof. The walls were tiled with paintings of men and women, of yellow dogs and spotted horses. The wall at the end of the hall was glass. In front of the window, couches were arranged. One held a soldier. Another held a man and a woman in silk summer robes. On the third was a young man in red silk. They were eating olives off of ivory plates and drinking white wine from crystal goblets.

“Lord Harlen, I have brought the infamous Rummy!” Pollick called out again.

“Ah, yes,” the man in silk said. His back was bent, and he shuffled in short bursts, leaning on the arm of the younger man. His silk matched his gray slippers. The golden necklace with the mark of his authority looked like it was setting the curl into his spine.

“Edgar Rummy?” the young man sneered. “The Street Cat? I thought you’d be skinnier. Not like a fat tabby. They say you stole the flower of a princess. Is that right?”

“They say a lot of things,” I answered.

“How did you find him?” the woman asked from the couches. Her chest was pink. Her hair was covered in a shawl. She faced the large dark window, looking at her reflection.

“He came soon as I clinked the coin, Lady Harlen!”

“No need to shout, boy, the room is not made for such noise,” the old man said. He stepped so close to me that I could smell the prunes on his breath. He reached out with a gnarled hand and tugged at my cape.

“This is wool from Well Spring Province,” the old man said.

“It was a gift,” I answered.

“I spent my summers there as a child. Running the sheep up the cliffs. Those bastards don’t grow fat coats like the low-landers. Someone must have loved you dearly.”

“They loved my services. But their purse had only leather.”

The old man stroked his naked chin.

“If you bring him to a cell, we could turn him in and make a year’s profit,” the soldier said.

“Nonsense, Glastius. This man will not be harmed under my roof. He’s come to aid us.”

“What is the Street Cat supposed to do for us, father?” the lord’s son asked. “The magicians are evoking the spirit. We’ll have their answer by the morning.”

“I fear our people are too close to see the truth,” Lord Harlen said.

“What truth?” I asked.

“Follow me,” the old man said, “help me through the door, if you are willing.” He shook off his son and reached for my elbow.

#

The smell of night in the garden was a powdery dream.

We came to a paved square with a fountain. We had managed to put some distance between ourselves and the group.

“I fear it was one of my guests,” Lord Harlen said. “Lady Hallie blames the servants, as if she had lost a slipper. Glastius blames the peasants, as if a farmer had his skill in sneaking.”

“What-”

“She’s up there.” Lord Harlen pointed at a short tower at the end of the mansion’s eastern wing. Its top was ringed with merlons and shaded by a cloth roof on wooden poles. A figure was silhouetted by the moon, sitting on one of the stone teeth.

“Who is that?”

“Charles, the king-brother. He has been watching over the body since he found it this morning.”

“The king-brother? What body?”

“ The body of the Belvedere Eye.”

“This is a matter above my station, Lord Harlen.”

“The medicine men, who are supposed to handle this, do not seem to care. They conference in the dining hall. I listened in for a while. All they talked about was how the parts of her are to be divided up. I need your aid. And I know you need the coin. Here,” the lord removed his necklace and stuck it in my hand.

“This will get every mouth sworn to me talking to you and get you through every door of my home. Don’t let my son see you with it, or he’ll go mad.”

I looked down at the amulet. It was a ruby in the shape of an arrowhead, set into a heavy bar of gold.