Field of Death: Part III

The figure stepped out into the open and Ian recognized him at once. It was Adenilo, a messenger from the elven kingdom of Erathia who was passing through Camelot on the way to another elven court. "What are you doing here, Adenilo?"

The elf stepped further into the sunlight, drawing his cloak tighter about himself as he gave the body a troubled glance. "I was moving northwest across your forest, trying to avoid the thicker area to the east, when I heard horses and decided to investigate. I'm sorry if I have offended you."

"It's lucky I know you were still in the Hall last night when Fionn left, else you'd be a suspect." Ian regarded the elf with a thoughtful expression. " You may find the rivers impassable today. The rains have swollen them. If you do, come back to the Hall; you are welcome to stay as long as you need shelter."

Ian watched as the elf nodded and in a few steps seemed to vanish among the trees, then he turned to Evan. "Alright. Let's take Fionn back to the Hall."

*****

It was a subdued journey back, following the men who had fashioned a makeshift bier by interlocking their shields. Ian had them hustle their cloak-covered burden through the hall, grateful that Elspeth had apparently already left with Jesib. He stood to one side in the infirmary, watching as the healers cleaned the body, then waited to see if their examination could yield anymore information. When that hope failed, he gathered the discarded clothes and went out to the hall, taking a seat next to Skye. He quickly set bloodstained tunic aside, then the breeches, finally turning back to the coin purse he'd removed from the belt. Untying the strings, he emptied the contents out on the table.

"It's so sad," Skye murmured as she squeezed his arm.

"Aye it is, love." Ian poked at the small pile of objects: some coins, a piece of folded parchment, a key, and lastly a well worn stone with a streak in it, a lucky piece no doubt. He opened the parchment, having to smooth it out with his hand, then read. His lips tightened and he refolded the paper, placing it gently on the table. "And that, I think, is saddest of all. An unfinished love poem to Wilson's daughter; he'll never finish it now." Finally he picked up the key, regarded it silently, then set it down next to the toy block. The rest he put back in the pouch and placed with the clothes, sure they could not be of use in finding the killer. Once more he picked up the block, turning it around and around.

"That was on the body?"

He nodded. "Strange, heh? A child's toy; it has to have some significance, but what?" He stared at it in his hand, something about it niggling at his mind. Skye gave his arm another gentle squeeze.

"Ian, you'll find him. He won't get away with this, whoever he is."

He nodded, set the block down on the table and kissed his wife. But even then, his mind was wondering what the block could mean. Perhaps it was only a fluke, and had no meaning at all.

As it turned out, he was wrong.

*****

Marcus found him in his office, reviewing the latest dispatches on the movement of Zephyr's mercenary army.
"There's been another one, m'lord. "

"Another what?" Ian didn't look up, not realizing what Marcus was trying to tell him.

"Another killing. A small room behind some shops down where the Hook meets the Merchant's District."

Now he had Ian's attention in full. " A robbery?" But the look on Marcus' face told him it was more than that.

"No, m'lord. A man, killed in his own bed, and ..another block left, m'lord."

"Damn it! Ian stood, grabbing his cloak as he walked past Marcus for the door. "Get Timmons and some men, then follow me." He didn't wait for a reply, knowing Marcus would act immediately, but went down the stairs for the door as quick as he could. He stepped it into the bright sunlight of the courtyard and made for the gate and the path into the town.

The sun may have been shining, but it seemed to Ian a dark shadow was gathering.