“Ah, well. He was poisoned, then.” Perhaps not to death -- though he saw no other obvious cause. He turned his head, watching Tacitus struggle with the massive cat. “Sorry. I don’t think Bel can help it.” Calinic cats craved and devoured toxins even when they weren’t hungry. Bel happily disposed of all the poison garden’s trimmings and waste – as well as a few perfectly ordinary goats per week.
The knife seemed ordinary enough, if rather large to carry in town. In any case, Tacitus hadn’t been surprised by it. The handkerchief … Perhaps someone like Miss Jolfy might learn a great deal if she had it in her lab. Tiberius had no wish to handle it without, at the very least, some sturdy gloves.
“Alright.” The rain water drenching the cobbles posed some challenge when it came to drawing the appropriate runes. Usually corpses were more obliging; spilled blood was terribly easy to work with. Tiberius stood and stepped back, freezing the water into ice in a rough disk around poor unfortunate Konstance. Kneeling back down, he took Adamo’s knife and started to carve the spellwork into the ice itself.
Finally, he peered down at the dead man’s waxy face and let his magic pour forth into the empty vessel – an irresistible lure to all denizens of the Fade. If they were in luck, the dead man’s soul would be drawn through first.
Adamo’s eyes opened, lit with the sicky green of the Fade. He drew in a wet sounding breath and worked his stiff jaw.
“What–? My Lord, is that you?” The corpse twitched and struggled to stand but the ice held him fast, stuck belly up to the sky.
“I’m just a helper today, Guardsman. Please answer all of Seneschal Ursus’s questions.” Tiberius moved back to trade places with Tacitus. He did not have the raw strength to restrain the big cat, but scratches under her chin and along the bridge of her nose did much to calm her.
The knife seemed ordinary enough, if rather large to carry in town. In any case, Tacitus hadn’t been surprised by it. The handkerchief … Perhaps someone like Miss Jolfy might learn a great deal if she had it in her lab. Tiberius had no wish to handle it without, at the very least, some sturdy gloves.
“Alright.” The rain water drenching the cobbles posed some challenge when it came to drawing the appropriate runes. Usually corpses were more obliging; spilled blood was terribly easy to work with. Tiberius stood and stepped back, freezing the water into ice in a rough disk around poor unfortunate Konstance. Kneeling back down, he took Adamo’s knife and started to carve the spellwork into the ice itself.
Finally, he peered down at the dead man’s waxy face and let his magic pour forth into the empty vessel – an irresistible lure to all denizens of the Fade. If they were in luck, the dead man’s soul would be drawn through first.
Adamo’s eyes opened, lit with the sicky green of the Fade. He drew in a wet sounding breath and worked his stiff jaw.
“What–? My Lord, is that you?” The corpse twitched and struggled to stand but the ice held him fast, stuck belly up to the sky.
“I’m just a helper today, Guardsman. Please answer all of Seneschal Ursus’s questions.” Tiberius moved back to trade places with Tacitus. He did not have the raw strength to restrain the big cat, but scratches under her chin and along the bridge of her nose did much to calm her.
08-19-2024, 08:50 AM
