Read The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers Page 4

  Chapter 4. A Dead Shelt’s List

  Maijha Minor has been a thorn in the side of the High Priestess time out of mind. It is the only place left in Wefrivain where shavier, gazumelle, zeds, and other non-grishnards are allowed to live in relative freedom. It is also thought to be a sanctuary for Resistance pirates. Again and again the wyverns and their representative have sought to have the inhabitants of the island exterminated, but ironically grishnards themselves have prevented the wyverns from doing so. The situation is a political minefield. Maijha Minor is a holding of Maijha Major—arguably the most powerful of the six great island kingdoms. For ages, perhaps since the dawning of grishnard dominance in the islands, the kings of Maijha Major have maintained Maijha Minor as a game park. Like their griffin mounts, grishnards take a deep pleasure in hunting. This pleasure is not totally sated in the tame killing of captive fauns. Wealthy grishnards will pay a high price to hunt free, armed fauns in a natural environment. The risks make the venture all the more exciting. Grishnards disappear every year while hunting on Maijha Minor, but this never seems to stop the flow of traffic, and the island is a source of both income and prestige for the kings of Maijha Major.

  —Gwain, The Truth About Wyverns

  Gerard followed the guard back through the cells to the entrance of the dungeons. He wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing with the prisoners, but he didn’t think he had the stomach for Silveo’s style of interrogation. His subordinates would have been called in—shelts who did not yet know him—and it would not be wise to appear weak in front them. The Police were often dredged from the lowest reaches of society and might decide to dislike him for his background, just as Lamire seemed to. Besides, Gerard knew that shelts lied under torture. He had an idea that intimidation, if handled correctly, would produce better results.

  The guard unlocked a door in the antechamber of the dungeons. “This is the traditional office of the captain of Temple Police. If it is not suitable, other arrangements can be made.”

  “I’m sure it’s suitable,” said Gerard. The guard preceded him into the room, lighting lamps. Gerard saw a small, cluttered office, bookshelves, a desk.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Marlo Snale, sir.”

  The lamps were burning brightly now, and Gerard stared with dismay at the piles of paper and roles of vellum around the edges of the room. “How long have you worked in the dungeon?” he asked.

  “I was recruited as a child of six,” said Marlo, who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties.

  Gerard frowned. “Better than starving?” Better than being hanged as a pickpocket, more like. At least you seem to know when to keep your mouth shut, and you aren’t afraid of Lamire.

  “As you say, sir.”

  “Are you interested in working for me, Marlo?”

  Marlo looked momentarily confused. “I already do, sir. All the dungeon guards are part of the Police.”

  Gerard nodded. Obviously, I don’t know much about my new command. Hopefully I was right about this one keeping his mouth shut. “What I meant is that I will need a secretary. All this paperwork should be catalogued, preferably by someone who knows the history of the Police better than I do.”

  Marlo inclined his head. “I would be happy to assist, sir. As a matter of fact, I did something of the kind for your predecessor on occasion.”

  “On very rare occasions by the look of it.”

  Marlo smiled crookedly.

  “Let me look through the papers first,” said Gerard, “and then I’ll tell you what I want done.”

  “Very good, sir.” Marlo withdrew and closed the door.

  Gerard went to the desk. Montpir… He would not have even remembered the name of his predecessor, had Silveo not mentioned it. What kind of shelt were you? Just a thug to strike at random? A rumor of fear to keep shelts obedient? Or were you smarter than that? Did you know what you were looking for?

  On an impulse, he called Marlo back into the room. “How many captains have you had in the last five years?”

  Marlo thought for a moment. “I believe we’ve had six, sir, and more than a dozen since I’ve served in the Police.”

  Gerard shook his head. “More than one per year. And how did they all die?”

  Marlo considered. “Perhaps half were killed openly in fights with the Resistance. The other half…” He shrugged. “The Police investigate, sir. They go into hostile places. Sometimes they don’t come back.”

  “Were any of these captains killed in non-hostile places? I mean, were they murdered?”

  Marlo hesitated. “Captain Ranon was shot in the streets of Dragon’s Eye two years ago. Captain Hal died in a brothel on Sern, presumed poisoned, last year. Captain Ando died in his bed in Dragon’s Eye. No one can say what took him, except that he was not ill a few days before.” He paused. Gerard was pacing the room, his black tufted tail twitching. “Am I distressing you, sir?”

  “No. What about the Police themselves? Are they dying in unusual numbers?”

  Marlo looked uncomfortable. “Being in the Police is a dangerous job, sir.”

  “You seem to have survived.”

  “I’m…careful, sir.”

  “Does anyone leave the Police alive, Marlo?”

  “There is Arundel, sir. He was our captain four years ago.”

  Gerard was surprised. One of Silveo’s lieutenants. I did not know. “And he was transferred into the Sea Watch?”

  Marlo nodded. “Some viewed it as a promotion.”

  “What happened to my immediate predecessor, Montpir?”

  “He disappeared on Maijha Minor. He was part of a registered hunting party, so no investigation was made.”

  Gerard snorted. “Was he really hunting, or was he looking for something?”

  Marlo shrugged. “Montpir was a very private person. He did like to hunt. His family was from Maijha Major.”

  Gerard nodded and dismissed his new secretary again. He sat down at the desk and began sorting through the stacks of paper.