The guild had rearranged the furniture in the member’s lounge for the hearing. The couches and arm chairs had been pushed back against the walls, and there were now four rows of chairs in the center of the room. The refreshments table hadn’t been moved, though. It was still off to the side, covered with …
“So it all hinges on Ismena’s testimony.” Ellison leaned over the hand-written statement from Gus’s girlfriend and sole alibi. “Do you think she’ll be credible?” Matilda shrugged, then raised her self on her elbows so she could look over at the paper, her head almost touching Ellison’s. “Look here,” she pointed. “She writes her letter …
Ellison met up with Matilda again back at the Barley Mow Inn. And she immediately started in about the elephant. “It’s a smallish elephant, but no, I don’t know how they got it in there,” he said. “I didn’t ask, and I don’t care. For all I know they chopped it up into pieces and …
“Hey!” Just outside the doorway, Gus threw up his hands. “Warren already told you that he didn’t see who attacked him!” The chancellor grudgingly nodded. Or perhaps the chief assassin did see who attacked him, but was too embarrassed to admit that he’d been caught out. Saying so out loud, though, especially without any evidence …
Ellison had never been inside the Paladins of Death guild hall before. The entry hall was two stories high and was a museum of artifacts and successful assassinations. The focal point was a giant elephant. It’s glass eyes followed Ellison across the room. Was the elephant itself the target of an assassination, or its means? …
There were two guards on duty at the assassins’ guild house. They’d beefed up security a bit since the murder. Ellison didn’t recognize either of them, but figured that the one with the wooden leg had been on duty the previous night. “Nimble Wind?” he asked the female guard while the other went to fetch …
“Have you heard the latest?” Matilda Scarletstrike took one of Ellison’s greasy, overly-salted deep-fried skirrets. The skirret was a stringy, pale root vegetable about the size of a pinky finger. A bitter, anemic carrot. Or maybe a zombie pasnip. She pointed the skirret at Ellison. “The head of the assassin’s guild has been assassinated.” She …
