A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

(Authors Note: Any medical mistakes or mistakes regarding horse-riding equipment are my own and nothing to do with anyone else's mistake. However thanks to a nurse of my acquaintanceship who told me some stories about the kind of thing that happens at a death bed so thanks to her.)

“What does this mean Freddie?”

“I don't know Sam, I really don't,”

Sam was pacing nearby while I sat with my head in my hands. I was feeling more than a little bit light-headed and I had once been told that sitting down with your head between your knees was a good way of helping with all of that.

Emma's office is not very big but Sam was using the entire length of it to pace. He was holding his sword hilt hard enough to turn his knuckles white and I can't say that I blamed him. My own head was spinning and I felt as though I was speaking through a tunnel and looking at things that were a long way away while at the same time being really really close.

Have you ever been stood next to an explosive fireball as it goes off? Neither have I but I understand it's very similar. My ears were ringing and people's voices had a hollow and tinny kind of quality. As though they were speaking through a muffling sheet or it was echoing off a thin piece of metal.

Or both.

I felt sick.

Kerrass had showed me what he had wanted me to see in the stables and I had started to feel the outlying reaches of my brain shut down. Kerrass took charge and we picked the stuff up and carried it up to the castle, Kerrass talking our way past the guards at the various gates but he was pretty well known by now and could get away with most things with a joke, a wave and the promise of some dice-playing later.

We had found my sister at her paperwork and when she saw my pale face and Kerrass' stern expression she chased her assistant/maid out and scooped the letters that were on her desk off to a corner of the room so that we could put down our burdens.

We were each sent to fetch a person. I found Sam fairly quickly as we'd passed him on the way back to the keep while Kerrass went to get Mother and Emma went for Mark on the grounds that she had done the least to piss him off recently. I wasn't entirely convinced by her logic but at the same time I'm not sure I could have faced those guards on his door at the moment.

My head was spinning and now that I had stopped and sat down it all threatened to overwhelm me.

“By the Holy Flame that protects us all, what's happening?” Sam demanded, helping himself to Emma's secret stash of Skelligan whisky.

“I don't know Sam,”

He went back to pacing having knocked back the generous measure of spirits in one gulp and had resumed pacing giving no indication that he had heard me at all.

Very carefully and slowly. With a deliberate and measured motion, Emma came back in to the room. She must have seen the question on my face because she shook her head. It would seem that Brother Mark would have been protecting us from his sanctimony today. Possibly better for everyone.

She sank into a chair and, not for the first time since I came home, I was reminded how much older she is now. She looked very tired as she took the drink that Sam offered her, all the while her eyes stared into the middle distance as though she was looking at something horrifying.

Kerrass came back afterwards. He had an extra chair to seat himself as there weren't enough chairs in the already crowded office for everyone.

“Can I have one of those?” He gestured at the whisky decanter.

Sam poured as Kerrass lowered himself carefully into his seat.

“I take it mother isn't coming down either?” Sam asked as he handed the drink over.

“No, Not wishing to be indelicate but she said that she was concerned that things might come to a head if she leaves your fathers bedside at the moment. She also said that Emma can act for the family.”

“Is she right about Father?”

“No,”Kerrass stretched a little, “I give him another day at least looking at that injury but I'm not an expert. In fact it's what the experts have been saying that brings me to the point.”

He made a face of appreciation as he sipped at the spirit.

“Yes, finally. What is the point here and why all this secrecy?” Sam demanded.

I glanced at Emma who said nothing.

“What is going on her here?” Sam wasn't done with his questions. “What's this all about?” he gestured to the desk and what was on the desk.

On the desk was a couple of horseshoes, a few nails, a saddle and a full set of horse-tack.

Kerrass took a breath and carefully place the Whisky glass off to one side. I noticed that he hadn't really drunk any.

“What this means is that your Father was murdered. Or is being murdered depending on your point of view. There are a few things that I want to check and I do need permission for him to be examined by a friend of mine just to be sure. But I'm pretty confident about my conclusion.”

“You were hired, forgive the term and forgive me if I'm talking down to you and treating you as a servant or merchant of some kind but I'm a little out of sorts at the moment.” Sam was blathering. Not that great a sign. “But you were hired to solve a mystery. Not make another one.”

“I didn't make the mystery, I found it. And I do think that it is part of the mystery of your brothers death.”

“Why?” Emma looked at Kerrass for the first time. I had seen faces like it before on corpses. People for whom life has already happened and death is the final insult. “Why do you believe my Father was murdered?”

I saw Kerrass nod. It was a little thing and I wasn't sure if I saw it properly but looking back I am sure of what I saw. I think he was confirming something in his head, as though life was getting back on track.

“Fredderick has already seen these things so I won't hand them all round. I'll start with the saddle.”

He turned the saddle over and laid it on the floor so that we could all see it. “If you look here, and here,” he pointed, “you can see small holes in the saddle where something has been inserted. I opened one and found a small blade inside. Given enough time it would have worn through the saddle and gouged into the horses back causing it pain and discomfort.”

We all made a play of examining the saddle.

“Sir Samuel. You're a knight and know about horses.” Kerrass went on. “Your Father's hunting horse, how would it react if it had been shod with one of these shoes?” Kerrass tossed one of the horseshoes at my brother who caught it automatically. He turned it over a few times.

Kerrass also handed over a nail. “The stable-master pulled that one out of the foot with that shoe at my request.”

Dawning horror crossed Sam's face. “No wonder,” he breathed. “This explains a lot.” He slotted the nail through the shoe. “That poor thing,”

Emma frowned curiously which Sam saw. “The shoe is crooked, the wrong size and the nail is at a slant. If given enough time the horse would have gone properly and catastrophically lame.” He turned back to Kerrass. “That horse has been limping and acting all out of sorts since I came back. We had assumed that it was mourning Father or something which horses do some times. It wasn't really a limp or anything that we could lay our fingers on as to why it was happening. The shoes had been put on by our own blacksmith who shoe's all our horses. His work is beyond reproach so we never thought to check.”

“Nor would you, nor would your father probably saying something like. “She seems a bit restive this morning.” or something similar. So far, all of these things prove that someone was interfering with your fathers horse gear. But that didn't kill him. The thing that killed him was this.”

Kerrass pulled out a section of reins.

“The reins broke.”

Sam's mouth hung open.

“But reins don't break.”

“Precisely.” Kerrass said. I saw the pleasure there, he was being proven right. “The people around probably never realised as they were too busy worrying about your badly injured father. But...” he held the leather for us all to see. “These are the bits that broke. Notice how they stretched before breaking? But also notice this discolouration here and here. Then look at the ends of the broken piece.”

I had seen this moment from the other side of the fence. That moment where you saw the people that you are speaking to realise what you are saying.

“See how the leather has been partially cut through with a knife that produces that neat, uniform and shiny cut to the leather?”

We all nodded.

“Then the rest was allowed to break which is what tipped your father off the horse.”

“But Father would have checked. Dad wasn't stupid. Remember all of those times he lectured us on checking our own gear?” Sam asked Emma and I, “He would have checked.

“Unless he was in a hurry.” Emma piped up. “Or was angry about something.” Her head had fallen into her hands and she was speaking to the floor. “And he was very angry that morning. I was going to check when he got home. DAMMIT!”

“Sometimes it takes an outsider to see things that people do not see normally.” Kerrass put in gently. “I can demonstrate all of these things if you wish. The discolouration comes from an acid that weakened and dried out the leather making it easier for it to snap and the knife gave it a start to get going. Then the killer just had to make sure that your father was agitated enough to not check his own gear. Was he angry often at that point?” He asked Emma.

“He was. He didn't want to tell me what it was about which isn't unusual but he was angry. A lot.”

Kerrass nodded.

“So he was being provoked on a consistent basis. All the killer had to do was bide his time and wait for your father to have an accident while maintaining your fathers rage.”

“But what if the injury was healed or got better?” Sam asked.

“That's the part I have to check but I'm pretty sure I'm right. Your Father was poisoned afterwards,”

We all stirred in our seats then.

“Poisoned?” Emma cried.

“Impossible,” Sam yelled.

Kerrass held his hands up for calm.

“As I say, I'm not sure. But think about it... A fall from a horse, even a serious one is hardly ever instantly fatal. You can probably think of many people who have fallen, including yourselves but those people who have been killed doing it are rare enough to stand out in your memory. Especially horsemen of your Fathers skill and experience.”

We nodded.

“So lets take it further. This,” he gestured at the saddle and tack. “Is evidence of a calm considered mind. It took planning and implementing. So whoever your Father's killer was, would have taken that into account and would not have allowed such things as how serious a fall was to be left to chance. I think they were poisoned. I think that your Fathers injury was serious but I don't think it was immediately fatal until someone poisoned them. Furthermore I think it was a slow poison that looked like a wound infection so no-one would look for an alternative.”

“Can you prove that?” Sam asked.

“No, but the person who can lives in Oxenfurt. I have already sent a message that she should come here as soon as she is able.”

“Who is it?” Emma asked.

“A university graduated, army medic called Shani. Nice girl, you'll like her even though calling her a girl now is almost an insult as she must be in her mid to late twenties by now. You might not have heard of her because she has a stupid thing called a “sense of duty,” which means that she signed up for the Redanian armed forces and served at The Miracle of Brenna. Unfortunately for her she is also “common born” and a woman meaning that people don't exactly encourage her to progress. Given that though she got through the university on merit and is good enough that Redania regularly sends for her when they have a medical problem that needs fixing. If it gives you a measure of the lady's character. She was one of the few who travelled into Temeria when the plague broke out in Vizima.”

Emma nodded. “So she won't be political which would be the problem in any of the other doctors that we've used.”

“Who may also be suspects.” I said. “Especially if they are the ones that were called first of all.”

Emma looked horrified at that but then nodded sadly.

“I suppose you're right. When will she arrive?”

“I sent the message early this morning so she might be here by evening or first thing tomorrow.”

“I have another question,” Sammy started. “Why do you even think of poison?”

“Precisely because your father has stayed alive for so long. Physical strength and the stubbornness that Fredderick describes will only help you pass an injury for so long but your father has been languishing for weeks now. That's a long time to be natural.”

Sam nodded his acceptance of that point.

“How did you find these things?” Emma asked. “You're the first person in the castle to even vaguely suspect murder.”

Kerrass took a breath.

“It's a good question and I do want to answer it but first of all there is something else that needs doing for which I need Sir Samuel and Freddie as well as a contingent of your guards. I shouldn't think that they need to be heavily armed though.”

Sam, Emma and I exchanged glances.

“Why?”

“Because of the former stable-master. He must have known something and he fled almost immediately after the accident.”

Light dawned on Sam's face and he left.

“Also Milady, it now becomes vital that I see your Fathers itinerary and will so we can narrow down who might want your father dead. For this I absolutely understand that you will need to consult people and I would not wish to do so without your Accountant,” his mouth twitched again at that. “And your Father's Lawyer, or Notary being present. I can answer the rest of your questions later as I suspect those fine gentlemen will not be as.... expedient as the medic.”

“I understand. I shall send messages directly.” She pushed the rest of the leather off the table as though they might be contagious and pulled over a sheet of paper, a quill and some ink.

Kerrass and I left but I stopped him in the hallway.

“How did you find those things?”

Kerrass shrugged and for a moment he was my friend again.

“I went looking for them,” he said before striding off.

The explosion of activity was exhilarating and intoxicating at the same time. I fairly ran off to my room to collect my armour and equipment and was down to the courtyard with my horse saddled and ready long before I needed to be. Then I was chafing at the lack of activity wanting to yell at people to hurry them along even though I knew that they couldn't go any faster. Putting chain-mail on properly is long and careful work if you don't want to get unfortunate bits of yourself tied up in it.

We were going to be carried by five men and a standard bearer so that no-one who saw us would think that we were anything other than official Barony people. The far too real danger of people running away specifically when we wanted to talk to them was foremost on Kerrass' mind and rightly so.

In the end we managed to get everyone sorted out and left the castle heading Southwards.

Sam was unhappy.

“Why Southwards?” he demanded after about half an hours worth of riding.

“Why not?” I countered.

“Don't get picky with me,” he snapped.

I sighed. “You get used to it after a while,”

“Used to what?”

“The direction seeming random.”

“That's lovely and everything but why are we heading southwards? Byarby's family is to the north, surely he would go there before starting to look for help?”

“Which is precisely why he didn't go in that direction,” Kerrass murmured.

“What?” Sam's face got red. “Are you calling me...”

“Sam,” I held up my hand to slow him down. “Don't take it so personally. As I say, you get used to it after a while.”

Sam took a breath. “I don't want to get used to it Freddie. I want to know what's going on.”

“We all do,”

“So why are we heading South?”

I took a breath and glanced at Kerrass' back. He seemed oblivious to what we were saying or the armed men riding behind him, his eyes were wandering from side to side, occasionally he would tilt his head back with his eyes closed and take a good deep breath of the summer air before riding on.

“I don't know Sam. But he's right.” I cocked my head at Kerrass. “Byarby (which was the name of our Stable-master. My family do occasionally fall into the noble privilege trap of only knowing people by their position and rank rather than their actual given name. Odd really as there is nothing that made Father quite as angry as when he was greeted with the phrase “Ah, there you are Coulthard”. It had a tendency to make him all....irrational) was never book smart but lets face it, he was cleverer than Froggy and Cook put together.”

“So?”

“So, where would anyone look for him and his wife.”

“Oh,” we rode in silence for a while. “I feel really silly now,” Sam admitted.

“Don't, otherwise you will always feel silly. It took me ages to break the habit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Much though we would both like to think otherwise our habits of thinking are ingrained. I think like a scholar and a nobleman. You think like a knight, or a soldier and a noble.” I grinned at a sudden thought. “Look, I'm already lecturing you,”

A short burst of laughter barked from Sam's mouth. “You do have a habit of doing that.”

“Even though I spend all my time trying not to. Anyway, Kerrass here is one of the greatest hunters in the continent. He can think like whoever he's tracking. It's a trick, it's hard and it makes my head hurt just thinking about it, but it's a way of thinking. The other thing is about the Witcher mutations meaning that he might actually still be able to smell old Byarby.”

“All of which are good theories,” Kerrass piped in having obviously been listening. “But at the end of the day, he told Cook, who's name is Agatha by the way, that there was work for an experienced horse breeder away South and that's where he was going to head. Now if I could just have some quiet so that I can concentrate.”

Sam and I giggled like schoolboys before schooling our faces to proper steadfastness.

Unfortunately it wasn't long before we found what we were looking for.

Byarby had made it just out of sight of the castle before he had made camp well of the road in the trees. Kerrass found it first, his head jerking up just a fraction of a second before his horse started to protest along with mine. He took a deep sniff turning his head from one side to another before deflating a little.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“Oh no,” I groaned. I dismounted and tied my horse to a nearby tree.

It was a fairly large camp for two people. They had been camping in summer so a tent was made out of an oilskin pegged out over a line tied between two trees. There was a small fire surrounded by larger chunks of firewood and there was a cooking tripod over it with a metal bowl resting over what would have been flames. There was some evidence that some dirt had been kicked over the fire.

Byarby was on the edge of the camp, he had a stout club near one hand a knife in the other, neither of which had any blood on them. When Kerrass had had a look around he told me to examine them and I quickly found a stab wound in the chest where he had been run through. That had practically killed him but then the killer had cut his throat, presumably to make sure.

We found Byarby's wife some distance away. She had obviously been running and then tripped over her skirts where she had backed away before being killed rather inelegantly by being stabbed a few times through the chest.

I closed their eyes as gently as I could.

I almost didn't recognise Sam when I got to the main group. His face seemed, odd somehow. He certainly looked angry, but also upset, afraid maybe. He looked as though he was torn between sobbing and snarling.

He saw me looking at him and turned away.

“Anything unusual?” Kerrass asked as he approached me.”

“Not really,” I explained what I had found about the stab wounds and the throat slitting.

“Are you sure she fell?” Kerrass asked.

“Oh yes,” I let myself smile a little bit. “Your lessons are beginning to pay off. There are scuff marks on the floor and plenty of dirt, bits of leaf and twig on her skirts. I also found a bit of her dress on a root. I would even go so far as to suggest that she might even have got away if she hadn't tripped.”

Kerrass's eyebrows rose. “Interesting,”

“Isn't it,” I tried to probe him a bit further. “Does that tell you something?”

“It might. You're not going to be offended if I check what you found?”

“No. Animals have already been at them so...” I trailed off and Kerrass gripped me by the shoulder before heading off in the direction of the ladies body.

It was a slow procession back to the keep with the two bodies. Sam had wanted to burn them so that they could be given the final blessings of the flame. Kerrass put his foot down though saying that he wanted/needed the two bodies to be examined.

Many of the men were openly weeping as all had known Byarby for a long time, many some since they were children running around underfoot in the kitchens.

I was one of them and I rode in silence, lost to a thought pattern that I can no longer remember.

No, that's a lie.

I was thinking about Ariadne and wondering if she would understand what I was feeling. The thought that my father would never meet her and that the castle of my childhood, for all of it's faults and problems had been the sight of much laughter and joy over the years and now it was irrevocably changed. I found myself immeasurably sad that I would not be able to take her riding in Byarby's paddock or formally introduce her to my Father. I suddenly found that I had been looking forward to watching her destroy Edmund as he met her for the first time.

The constant fretting of the last few days had kept my grief at bay for a long time and slowly now, very slowly I could feel that grief beginning to settle in to the back of my brain and my heart began to ache. Not for those people that I had lost but for the holes that they would leave now that they were gone. The circumstances and events that would no longer happen. The dreams and fantasies that had once seemed out of reach would now definitely never happen and all the things that I thought I should have done would now never be done.

I had not been one of Byarby's darlings. I was far too clumsy, ungainly and impatient to be a good horseman. I learnt to ride and care for my horse as I was supposed to but it didn't hold my interest the way it had for Emma who still loves riding, or Sam who became the martial master of the joust that Byarby had long wanted to train a steed for so I had not associated with him much and I could certainly not claim a friendship with him. But I liked the way that he treated his horses and the way that, even though he was the master of his domain, he still checked to see if anyone was looking before feeding his horses a peppermint or an apple.

We were a sorry little procession as we came into the castle as the sun was setting and I didn't object even remotely when Sam took charge of the two covered stretchers and took them off. Instead I set about seeing to my own horse and Kerrass' as well as he had sped off. Obviously with things to do and places to go. I took solace in the simple chore and it felt like a fitting tribute to the dead man to spend some time doing a relatively simple chore in the presence of those beings who he had spent his life caring for.

It was only afterwards as I put the brushes and things away that I saw that there was an extra pair of horses in the “guest” part of the stable.

I made my way up to the keep slowly trying to sort out my feelings. I had time to change and clean myself up a bit before dinner and it was as though we all had an agreement not to talk about the dead man that night, or the fact that there was another strange medic upstairs examining our Father for signs that his descent towards death was anything other than as a result of a stupid accident.

It was oddly peaceful, the only sound being for someone to ask to be passed the salt or the wine. We had decided that other than having the food brought up tonight that we would give the rest of the servants the night off for their own rituals of grieving. I don't remember anything being said but I remember not... noticing it and when I did realise what was happening I remember thinking that it was right.

Normally we obeyed the old custom that the ladies of the house would retire through to a drawing room after dinner and that they would be followed by the gentlemen at a suitable interval. Apparently it was so that the men could discuss business while the women were sent away to discuss whatever it was that women talk about when the men aren't around. I remember the first time I was invited to join the other gentlemen and thinking that I was ever so grown up but I also remember choking on the strong tobacco and struggling to stomach the brandy. I have since formed the opinion that the reason that the men retire separately is so that the women can't disapprove of us while the men get quietly sloshed and then the women can get on with fixing all the problems we've made over the course of the day without our input.

In quieter moments I have wondered who first started the custom and whether or not it was first invented by a woman rather than a man.

Food for thought.

But that night we all retired together and sat around in silence. Mother wasn't present as apparently she had wanted to be there while the examination was being carried out.

The rest of us just sat there. Sam and I were sat on a sofa, Kerrass was sat with his legs stretched out and staring at the fire. He looked so relaxed and at ease that I found myself hating him for a moment. Emma sat with her maid, the absurdly beautiful woman, and the two were playing a kind of quiet game of Gwent although they seemed to be playing according to rules that I didn't recognise.

“Is Mark coming down?” Sam asked suddenly.

It was a jolt, jerking us all out of our own reflective hazes. My resentment shifted over to Sam from Kerrass.

It seemed somehow sacrilegious to break the silence.

Emma looked up and I finally saw that she had been crying. She shook her head and returned to looking at her cards. Her maid tried to look at her, an expression of concern on her face.

It hadn't seemed odd that she should be there before, but then it did seem strange, but then it was explained away by that concern. She was keeping an eye on my sister.

How very proper.

I felt myself chuckle rather than do anything else and the maid glared at me.

Silence returned and wrapped us all up in the blanket.

I don't know if I've spoken about it often but in these moments before action while we are waiting for the next thing to happen are frustrating more than scary. Nervous energy spreads through me, my arms and my legs jittering in an effort to keep moving, to do something, anything at all that might be of use.

This time though it was …. Instead I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to stir instead I felt as though this moment was peaceful and that it might not be peaceful again. That we would look back on this moment and wish that we could come back here before anything had happened.

Kerrass reacted first, of course he did. With his heightened hearing he would have heard her coming down the stairs. He straightened up, waking from the drowsiness that seemed to have affected us all and looked at the door just a second or two before it opened to admit the tiny red-haired medic.

Shani, what can I say about Shani that you don't already know?

OK, well lets start with this. Anyone who only knows her from the Tales of the Bard I have to tell you that you run a serious danger of not getting the whole story. Or rather you run the danger of grabbing only a small part of the story and to her, not a very important part of the story either.

Shani is possibly the most complex, mature, chaste, worldly, naïve, romantic, cynical, intelligent and moral person that I know.

Yes, I realise that there are some contradictions in that sentence.

Shani is one of those people that when you are not in her immediate presence you find that you remember her different than she actually is.

Shani is quite short. I wouldn't dare try to measure her from head to toe but she is certainly shorter than me. I think that she was meant to be quite slight and delicate as well but unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your point of view) she has a not inconsiderable amount of muscle tone from her years serving in the Redanian military. She keeps her startlingly red hair cut short as she claims that it stays out of her eyes better but I'm not convinced of this truth but I am not satisfied with any answer that I have ever come up with.

I should also say that the reason I can talk about Shani in this amount of detail is that I was a student at Oxenfurt university and that she has her medical practice in Oxenfurt. It's also as a result of a certain amount of.... research on my part as I will not deny that I had a huge crush on Dr Shani from almost the first moment that I met her.

To all of the people who live and work at the university Shani has been Daughter, Sister and Mother. She is fiercely intelligent and I think it's an amazing shame that she is not a fully accredited Doctor of the University.

She's... I have seen Shani drink two dwarves under the table. But I've also seen her blush at a relatively small lewd jest.

She is a complicated woman.

I once saw her rebuff the unwanted advances of some kind of mercenary until he got physical in a way that she wasn't comfortable with. Her hand moved in three sharp jerks and then he was on the floor cradling a broken arm and with blood running from the cut on his head. Then she crouched next to him, set his arm, splinted it, cleaned up his head injury and all but carried the man off so that she could “properly have a look at him.” She did all of this without help from anyone else. Nor did any of us that were there think that she needed that help.

Shani is one of those hero's that you don't read about in the saga's. From the works of the Bard you will know that she served on the field at the miracle of Brenna. You may not know that when an outbreak of plague was declared in Temeria she was one of the few, and by few I mean handful, of people who marched towards the place where the plague had broken out.

The plague that makes most of us, including me, piss ourselves with terror and check our armpits frantically for the black swellings that signal it's onset whenever we sneeze. That plague and Shani walked towards it.

I like Shani, now that I feel that I have grown up a bit and moved on, (Not to mention the attentions of a certain terrifying Vampire,) I can look at Shani in a different light.

Shani is also lonely. A lonely, helplessly romantic and cynical patriotic woman. One day some Shining knight is going to sweep her off her feet. Once upon a time I had hoped that it might be me. Instead I hope that that person will come soon and make her smile.

And yes Shani, when you read this I will come to your wedding and laugh at the funny faces you make when you get drunk.

I may even dance.

That night though she was deathly tired, pale and with large rings under her eyes.

She came in through the door, looked around and very carefully walked over to the drinks cabinet where she, equally as carefully poured herself a large brandy.

Father would have been incensed as she gulped it down and made a face at the taste. Then she poured another one.

None of the rest of us had moved. We were watching her as though she was some kind of axe waiting to fall onto our heads.

Kerrass had stood though.

Shani brought the second drink to the group and fell, rather than sat down, into a plump armchair and closed her eyes.

After a long moment Kerrass cleared his throat.

She snapped awake and was back to being Dr Shani again.

“Yes,” she said rubbing her eyes, “I'm awake, what?” She blinked blearily at Kerrass. “Oh, right. Yes, well. Definitely is the answer. I have already recommended to her Ladyship that the Von Coulthards change their family physician.”

“Incompetence or something else?” Kerrass asked.

Shani took a small sip as she considered before shaking her head. “No, definitely incompetence, or ignorance and laziness which is more likely. The long and short of it was that they simply didn't look for it.”

Kerrass nodded.

“What do you mean?” I asked having the strong feeling that I was only hearing half the story.

Shani jumped as though she was seeing me for the first time.

“Of course you're here, how stupid of me to think that you wouldn't be.” She sighed and visibly fought off the urge to rest her head on the back of the chair. “In all accidents of this nature the main concern is whether or not something has been punctured by any kind of broken bones. Not just the lungs although that is one of the main killers meaning that blood can go into the lungs and drown the patient, but also liver, kidney's or any of the other exciting bags of poison that we all carry around in our guts.”

Sam was looking confused and Shani noticed.

“You would be amazed at the amount of poisonous shite is in the water that you're drinking Sir knight. Let's just say that there is a reason that we add wine to water before it gets drunk.”

Sam's eyes goggled as Shani got up again and added some water to her glass. Only a little though I noticed.

“That had happened with the Baron and there was not a great deal of things that had been done to the injury by your physicians to eke out their fee but there was absolutely no reason why a healthy individual would not have survived that injury without disaster.”

She sat back down and answered Emma's and Sam's unspoken questions without really thinking about it. Another of Shani's problems is that she would be much more famous if she actually stayed at the university and lectured rather than running off around the country wherever the armed forces sent her. Otherwise she is a good teacher and is used to talking to Laymen and women. If you ever get the chance to hear her speak at the university, even if it's just a seminar rather than a lecture then I would recommend it.

“Those disasters are most commonly an allergic reaction to whatever herb is used in the bindings, a foreign body such as clothing dirt or twig trapped inside the open wound if there is one or the patient not doing what they're damn well told and getting up and running around the place before they are ready. Also medical incompetence cannot be discounted in these matters.”

She sighed and this time did rest her head back and close her eyes.

“These problems cause something called “infection”. You can tell that infection is happening because the injured area can turn black, or one of many wonderful shades of green. It swells, smells bad and any open injury leads to pus, a clear or more often creamy discharge that... well... Lets just say it's not pleasant.”

Emma nodded gratefully. As did Sam, and the maid I noticed.

Interesting. I would have thought that Sam knew about these things.

“In the event of injury it is more often these things that are responsible for a persons death as this infection causes the nearby organs to shut down or stop working properly. That infection moves to the heart, or the brain or something else equally as unpleasant and then the body just throws it's hands up and surrenders.”

Shani leant forward suddenly.

“Your Surgeons and Physicians know this. As soon as they saw it they prescribed a treatment that would combat the infection. This was correct. What they didn't do was check to see if there was anything else causing the infection symptoms?”

She stood up then and started to pace.

“There are also substances that can be introduced to a person that can increase the rate of infection. They can be introduced in varying doses to accelerate that infection, decrease it's progress or even balance it with the other treatments so that the patient seems to stay in limbo for too long. Your physicians didn't think to look for them. I did and I found the presence of some of those chemical agents.”

The ripple of that went through us all visibly.

“Is there anything you can do?” Emma asked timidly.

Shani locked eyes with her. She didn't believe in the thing about sugaring the medicine.

“No, he will see tomorrow but he will not see tomorrow night. The best I can do is make him comfortable with some proper pain management.” The word “proper” was slightly emphasised. “Speaking of which I should get back to my patient.”

She got up to leave, just as Sam was getting to his feet.

“Why should we take your word for it? I've known Dr Gannomack my entire life. He helped deliver my baby sister.”

I started to speak, to defend my friend. But she pinned me back to the chair with a glare. She hates being defended.

“Tell me, Sir Samuel is it?”

Sam nodded.

“Do you know what Suckrose and Aakwa is and what it's used to treat?”

“No,”

“Neither does Dr Gannomack. I have no doubt that Dr Gannomack was a very good Doctor about ten years ago but medical science is moving on at a rate that is astonishing. I've been a fully qualified Doctor now for five years and was serving my apprenticeships in surgery, herbalism and trauma before that. I have been studying medicine for about fourteen years now. I still attend more lectures than I give as new things are being discovered and tried every day. Many fail but some succeed and produce astonishing results that save lives. I continue to work hard at my job whereas Dr Gannomack believes that he knows everything that he ever needs to know.”

She shrunk then and subsided.

“In the meantime I am tired and don't have the energy to put your opinions right. I was up at dawn this morning to help with a case of dysentery up at the university and then I've come here at the request of a friend which was not a short or easy journey pulling another horse that carried what I need. Your brother knows me and my expertise, as does Kerrass and I presented my findings to your Mother who saw my prognosis and agrees with it. I suggest you take it up with them.”

She turned to go.

“What is Suckrose and Aakwa?” I asked. I knew she wanted to explain and I was indeed rewarded with a smile as she turned.

“Crystallised honey shaped into a pill and water. It's called a placebo. You give it to people who feel ill but there's nothing wrong with them and they feel better but it physically does nothing. No-one knows why. Go figure”

Her smile was tired though as she walked back through the door.

Kerrass went after her and could be heard speaking to her in the hall for a couple of moments before he came back in.

“Is she any good?” It was Sam's question.

Kerrass looked up. “What?”

“Is she competent? Can we trust her?”

“Oh yes. Dr Shani is one of the best as I'm sure Frederick will agree.”

“Flame,” Sam got up and poured himself a stiff drink. If nothing else happened it meant that we were all doing some serious damage to our families collection of alcohol. “Don't take this the wrong way Freddie but I'm really beginning to wish that you had just left well enough alone,”

“What and let a murderer get away with it?” I retorted.

“I still want to know,” Emma asked quickly jumping in before the whole argument started up again. Her maid was clearing up the card game, clearly having given it all up as a bad idea.

“Know what?”

“Why did you even look in the first place? Why did you think that Father had been murdered?”

Kerrass smiled, a little sadly I thought.

“You'll be disappointed I'm afraid. People generally are when you point out this kind of thing. It's like a

magic trick.”

“Never the less I...”

“I wasn't trying to get out of it.” Kerrass sighed and rubbed at his temples before accepting the offered drink from Sam. “I'm afraid it seemed fairly obvious to me that this entire thing started with your Father's death. Without wishing to speak ill of the dead your brother Edmund was not a nice person.”

“That's putting it mildly,” Emma commented. Sam glared.

“So the question is no longer “why would someone kill him?” It instead becomes “Why now?” or Why hasn't it happened before?”

Kerrass took a long drink.

“Having spoken to all of you about the events around the day of the murder there is nothing out of the ordinary, no thefts or supplies missing that aren't taken into account as part of the normal run of the mill things. Nor has anything more exciting than a round of cheese been taken from the kitchens.

“Your brother was murdered by a simple Kitchen knife. Kitchen knives go missing all the time. Your cook insists on clean and well sharpened knives being on hand at all times. In fact your mother has even had cause to complain to the cook about the number of knives that have been used up due to over-sharpening. So everyone knows that they are there and as such, if they need a sharp knife then they take one from the Kitchen.”

Kerrass shrugged.

“In a murder investigation, regardless of whether it's in this case or whether it's in the case of something supernatural happening you need to look for a murder weapon. As such we can identify that such a weapon would not be hard to find, or hide. Simply clean it thoroughly and leave it where you found it. Even if we found which knife it was, that wouldn't help us.”

“So then you look for capability. Who could actually do this deed? Your brother was sat at a chair and leaning back, probably with his hands clasped behind his head and his feet up on the desk. Like this.”

Kerrass demonstrated in one of the smaller chairs that were around the room.

“He would have been looking up at his assailant like this meaning that his throat would be exposed to the killer. The killer then approached, your brother didn't react suggesting that he knew the killer and he was stabbed, probably with some force. So first of all who could approach your brother without causing him upset or distress?

“The answer is, anyone. Your brother's character was remarkable in the amount of arrogance that he displayed.

“A sharp knife will make the blow easier so all that is left is knowing where to stab.

“I did spend a bit of time looking around to see if there were any signs of someone practising. A dressing dummy had gone missing from the Seamstresses quarters but again, I understand that this is a relatively common occurrence and not to be remarked upon. Also there are regular training dummies in the yard for someone to practice on or to be used as a pattern for making a similar dummy. That discounts anyone who already knows where to stab to kill someone.

“So what that leaves us with is the question of why. Why would someone kill Brother Edmund in the hope that the answer will lead us to the killer. Well, as we've said, there are plenty of reasons for someone to kill brother Edmund so the question becomes “Why now?”

“The answer is obviously “Because of your Father's accident,”. Running through the various scenarios as to why someone should kill your brother. A wronged person be they, husband, brother, son, or indeed victim of his lusts,”

My sister stiffened. I'm sure I wasn't the only person who noticed the concern in her maids eyes.

“In which case the question was, why now? I checked. Your brother has been on remarkably good behaviour for the last six months. Meaning that the motive and the Method don't measure up.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked.

“A crime of vengeance is a crime of passion, of opportunity and often of considerable violence and unpleasantness. One, simple and precise stab wound? In the middle of a well guarded castle? Why not on the road to Oxenfurt where he keeps rooms, or in Oxenfurt itself which, although it's no Novigrad or Vizima, still has it's own underbelly? This was not a crime of passion it was a crime of... necessity is my reading of it or maybe the work of a professional but we're not finished there.”

Kerrass topped up his drink.

“There is some room to think that he was taken in by those who he might be in debt to but I don't think that argument holds water given what we know at the moment. He was about to inherit one of the largest inheritances known on the continent. Any creditor, or blackmailer for that matter, would be rolling in potential wealth when Edmund comes into his own. So there must be something else. The answer? Your Fathers death.

“Why would your Fathers death trigger the death of his older son?

“I don't know, yet but there are several possibilities. The most obvious one would be that Edmund was about to inherit. Someone wanted to stop that.

“Even so that means that your Fathers accident was the triggering point. It was that moment that caused your Brothers death. It was made even more suspicious when I learned that it was a riding accident. I knew that your father was a well practised rider and yes I know that even the best rider in the world can fall off at any given time. But, when you couple that with the fact that your stable-master has also left suddenly?

“That looked suspicious.

“So I went to have a look at where the accident happened. There was nothing there that would spook a horse into throwing it's rider. Therefore it was something wrong with the horse. You know the rest.”

“Why would someone kill Father and then Edmund?” Sam asked.

Something clicked in the back of my head and I groaned.

“It's not the same person.” I said.

“What?”

“Think about it. I said.” Father's murder was well thought out. It was planned and implemented over time.

The only reason anyone looked into it being anything other than an accident is because Edmund died. Edmund's death was a sudden, maybe even spur of the moment thing.”

“I doubt that,” Kerrass interrupted. “I think someone decided to kill Edmund and then acted on it. But this is what I think was that chain of events. Someone planned and carefully went about killing off your Father. When that was achieved your Fathers killer realised that the Stable-master knew, saw or suspected something, hunted them down and killed them. That was their part of it done and I agree with Freddie that this was one person. They wanted to install Edmund as Lord of the Manor giving him access to the money, trade and therefore power that comes with the name of Baron von Coulthard. That is what that aim was. Then someone else, working against the first party realised that the weak link in the chain is Edmund and killed him, either for their own reasons or to counter your Father's murderer.”

“So why kill Father in the first place?” Emma asked. “Edmund was still going to inherit eventually.”

“Precisely. Why now? Again I don't know but I can guess. I think your Father changed his will. Or, I think your Father found something out and he was being silenced. I'm hoping to know more when I meet your Notary and accountant tomorrow.”

Emma nodded, finished her drink. “In which case, Gentlemen?”

We stood and she left, followed quickly by her maid.

“I think I'll head to bed myself,” Sam said, clapping me on the shoulder with a tired looking smile. “From the sound of things it's going to be a long day tomorrow.”

I nodded back to him and he left leaving Kerrass and I alone in the room. He was staring into the fire as though he could see things dancing in the flames.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

Kerrass sighed again before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now? We do nothing. Shani is of the opinion that your Father will not make it through the day tomorrow so I would suggest that you get some rest. I've never stood a family death vigil before but I would guess that there will be too many emotions. Before you ask, no, you cannot help me. The things that I want to be told and want to be shown tomorrow will not be given in your presence, nor should they.”

“But,”

“Dammit Freddie...”

Kerrass shook his head in what I thought was exasperation.

“I'm not going to stand here and tell you that I know how you feel. I don't. My blood relatives are long gone and I didn't know them well enough to care. My brothers die. Every year I hear about another Witcher who dodged left when he should have dodged right or was told incorrect information about a monster and so prepared for the wrong thing. So no, I don't know how it feels. What I do know is the feeling of longing for something to do to distract you from everything else that is happening. I know that feeling all to well.”

He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Go to bed, get some sleep.” He gestured towards the brandy. “Take something to help you if you like but tomorrow you need to spend it with your family. They need you and although you might not know it yourself or even want to acknowledge it. You need it too. You will regret it for the rest of your life if you don't...make your peace.”

“How do I make my peace if he won't talk to me.”

Kerrass blew out his breath.

“I don't have the answer to that as well you know it. So don't get on your high horse, or look for an excuse to get angry at me.”

I nodded. He was right and I turned to pour myself another drink. By the time I had turned back, Kerrass had quietly made his exit.

Since I started my travels with the Witcher I have spent longer nights without sleep, waiting for the dawn. The night before the journey into the woods at Ambers crossing is a good example. Indeed, if I'm honest with myself I have spent longer nights not being able to sleep before important exams during the long years of my education.

But this one was no picnic.

With a certain sense of victory I managed to drift off to sleep somewhere around midnight but I was awake a few hours later. I remember waking up and looking out of my window to see the eastern sky turning a slightly lighter shade of blue and thinking to myself,

“Well then, this is it. The world changes today.”

I went down to the bath house and gave myself a thorough cleaning before returning to my rooms to arm myself for the day. I have watched and helped knights, soldiers and Witchers prepare before a fight and a certain hysterical flutter at the back of my throat made me laugh at myself as I prepared for the day. I was not in mourning yet but it would not do to be too gaudy or decorated. I laid out my clothes, inspected them carefully for wear, tear and dirt before putting them on piece by piece.

Shirt followed by trews, vest, boots and so on and on. Settling each one and examining myself before a mirror before moving onto the next one.

Despite my expert level procrastination The sky was only just beginning to turn towards Orange by the time I was done.

Breakfast was next.

It was still early, even for the castle kitchen but despite that there was a feeling in the air today, servants and bondsmen were already up and about, going about their business and I was able to eat a quiet breakfast in the corner, guarded by one of the cooks assistants who turned well wishers away with the threat of a beating with a ladle. No set of crown jewels was ever guarded so well.

I ate, making sure to eat every last morsel before I stood up and walked slowly upstairs towards my Fathers Deathbed.

There were no guards. There didn't need to be and as quietly as I could I let myself in and shut the door behind me.

It had not changed really from the last time I had described it.

Mark was kneeling at his prayer book stand and was mumbling to himself. From a quick listen he was reciting one of the psalms, one of the more cheery ones about what it's like to cast off this mortal shell and how, although the body itself will turn to dust, the soul will fly, loosed of it's bonds and rise towards the light.

He looked up at my arrival and nodded a greeting to me. Our brief enmity forgotten in the wake of what was going to happen. He was wearing his plain red cassock and his holy symbol was in his hands. I put my hand on his shoulder and he covered mine with his for a moment before he shuffled sideways a bit to make room on his kneeling mat. After a brief moments thought I shrugged.

Why the hell not?

I knelt down and started to recite the familiar verses. They were a comfort after all.

The other difference was that Shani was asleep on a small cot over in the corner. Still dressed she was covered in a blanket and was snoring gently. She looked so tired that a flash of tenderness towards the small Doctor flashed over me. I was glad it was her who had come to care for my father on his deathbed. She would look after him at the end.

Mother came in a short while later. It turned out that Shani had summarily ordered Mother off to get some rest and had already arranged that the drink that was brought would be laced with something to help her sleep so now, Mother looked as though she wanted to be angry but found that she couldn't really argue that what had happened wasn't done for her own good.

I stood to make room for her on the cushion and moved to a chair near the bed and examined the dying man on the bed as Mother's voice joined Mark's.

When I had first returned home after my sisters message I had thought that Father had looked close to death then. But I had been wrong. He still had a long way to go regarding that.

This was not a man that lay before me. This was a corpse.

A corpse who by some miracle or some curse was still breathing.

He just lay there, flat on his back with his arms out of the covers next to him. His eyes were closed but we could all tell that he was still alive because we could hear his breath rasping in his throat.

A fire started in my gut then.

It looked so neat and orderly. As though he had been arranged to look as perfect as he could when he died.

Just so that people would be able to say that “It was beautiful,” and “He died so peacefully.”

There was nothing peaceful about this. This was robbery as a poison, a disease and an injury were taking my father from me.

He looked so old. That was the thought that kept coming back to me. When had my father gotten so old? He looked ancient. Pale, blotchy skin stretched over a skeleton which, although it looked tiny to me then, looked as though it was to big for the amount of skin it had been given to cover itself.

I found that I could no longer look at him and I let my head sink until I was staring at my boots.

Sam came in next. He was dressed in his Barony uniform. Someone must have spent an age pressing that thing for him and for the first time I seemed to remember that he was a knight and wondered who his squire was. More than that, why hadn't I thought of that before. He came in, looked around the room before choosing his post next to the door. Then he placed his helm on his head and drew his sword before placing the point on the ground and resting his hands on the pommel. I had seen this before as men stood the death watch for fallen comrades on the field of battle. I thought it a little inappropriate at the moment but if this was his way of coping with what was going to happen then who was I to argue.

Emma was last. She looked tired and pulled up a chair sitting next to me at the bed side.

It was a long day.

I hope you will forgive me if I don't talk about that day very much. I suspect it wouldn't be very interesting to anyone and the other thing is that it was quite a private affair. Anyone who's had to do something similar will know what I mean. Standing or sitting there is a constant struggle between wanting to be somewhere else, thinking up reasons to be somewhere else and then thinking up reasons to stay. The man on the bed didn't care whether we were there or not as he was so delirious from the infection that was killing him along with the amount of potions and herbs that were stuffed into and down every orifice that he was probably existing on another level of consciousness as it was.

If father had been awake then it might have been a different story and I would have sat there talking him into his grave and providing comfort where I could but this... This was another beast entirely. This was...maudlin and incredibly depressing. I longed for something to do, something, anything to do, shout at, help with or hit. Instead I stayed in that room. Sometimes sitting, sometimes praying and sometimes pacing backwards and forwards.

I won't talk about the small and ridiculously cheerful conversations that we shared before we realised that they were inappropriate. Nor will I talk about the small amounts of bickering that happen whenever you put together an extended number of siblings in the same room for an extended period of time. I won't tell you about the small jokes that were made and the sudden outbursts of laughter, or that period where Emma started to weep and nothing any of us could do could stop that so gradually we all joined in, sitting there, or kneeling there and the tears flowed freely.

Before they dried up and left us feeling numb.

I won't detail the debate that I struck up with brother Mark, all of our previous enmity over the investigation forgotten as we stood the vigil, about the prophet Lebioda and the location of their final resting place.

Nor will I mention the desultory lunch that we shared. Small pastries and sandwiches that had been put together by a Kitchen that was clearly as on edge as we were.

What I will talk about is the curious sense of pride I had in the old man.

He didn't go easily.

He fought it every step of the way.

His constant wheezing breath became a battle. As we all arrived it was an accompaniment to what was happening, slow and relatively steady despite being a bit ragged on occasion.

But slowly, so slowly that we barely noticed, it began to lessen, becoming more ragged. Then every so often he would miss a breath. We would look up, exchange glances, conversations would stop, we would all look up at Fathers bed, then over to the small medic who would shake her head and then the breathing would start again.

I judge that it was around three hours after noon when something changed in that breathing. I don't know what it was and I would imagine that you couldn't either. But Shani knew. She was playing a strange variant of patience with a set of Gwent cards that I didn't recognise and her head shot up to look at her patient. She cocked her head on one side and listened for a moment before declaring “Not long now,” and returning to her game. I can only imagine that it was an instinct that was bred out of long hours sitting next to the beds of dying men and women but she knew.

Then we listened. We all returned to the bed side, kneeling and sitting. Mark started to pray audibly as we listened to those last few breaths. But still Dad fought it every step of the way.

Breath,

Breath,

Emma was crying again, silently this time as she watched the blankets covering fathers chest rise and fall.

Breath,

I could feel dampness on my own face and could no longer look at the other people in the room.

Breath,

Breath,

Then he gasped, Shani was there, the only sound was Marks mumbling prayers

Breath,

Breath,

Then he sighed. A long drawn out sound. I had heard it before, as had Shani, Sam and Mark too I think. But mother and Emma looked at Shani.

Shani held the mirror over Fathers nose and mouth and examined it before shaking her head.

We all sighed a gradual expulsion of tension.

It was Sam that broke the tableau moving to raise the sheet to cover Fathers face but Shani stopped him,

“Not yet,” she whispered. “He isn't ready.”

We waited a little longer watching as the already pale man started to pale even further.

Shani shivered and I saw a similar quiver go through us all and in the end it was Shani who pulled the sheet up and over to cover his face.

Sam stood first, furiously brushing tears from his face and left quickly. With a gentleness that surprised me, Mark led Mother away soon after that. Shani had already vanished without me noticing leaving Emma and I together in a room with our Fathers corpse.

I don't know how long we stayed there together, sitting and staring at the corpse without speaking.

“Are you Ok?” She asked after a long while, I don't know how long.

I took a long breath and considered.

“No,” I said after a long while. “No I'm not.”

I stood up and stalked to the window where I threw aside the drapes to let what remained of the day in.

“I'm angry,” I said. “I'm furious, I'm so fucking... Flame but I want to smash something.”

The fire in my belly that had started earlier in the day had grown, slowly at first and entirely without my noticing but it had grown to the point where it was leaking out. The same way that fire gradually escapes from the charcoal burners mounds to lick up and consume the hillock.

“I'm raging, I'm, I'm burning up. I want to scream and shout. I want to yell at him. At you, at mother, at Mark, at Sam and especially I want to yell at my sweet ass fucking self. Selfish Cunt that I am.”

To my shame I spun and started screaming at my father's corpse.

“Are you happy now you bastard? Are you happy now? You're dead you piece of filth. Are you happy? Flame of heaven you couldn't even do it now could you? You couldn't find a way to tell me that you were proud of me. That you loved me.”

“Freddie?”

“Flame,” I turned away. “I know that he did. I know that he was even.” I yelled at him again. “I knew it, I saw through you you withered up old wreck. Couldn't even stay on your own fucking horse when someone was trying to... Flame damn it but they were trying to kill you and you fell for it.”

The sobbing came then and I didn't try to hold it back.

Emma just stood there.

“I knew it but he never told me. Not once you know that? He never told me he was proud of me. It was always you, or mother or some servant. All I could ever see was the disappointment when I got clouted in the practice yard by Sammy's sword. All I could ever see was how much he praised him and not me. All I could here was him telling me how utterly stupid it was to try and be scholar.”

“Who ever heard of a man of learning?” I mimicked fathers voice. “No man ever attracted a bride with a quill and ink-spattered robes.”

“Freddie?”

“You know it too. You heard it all the time and I came running to your...Flame damn you to hell old man. Flame damn you and here you are, lying there all nice and wrapped up in your fucking blankets and it's me. Me and the friends that I made.....”

“Freddie?” Emma put her hand on my shoulder and I flinched away from her at first. “I miss him too Freddie.”

Slowly, as though she was coaxing some wild animal to her hand, she wrapped her arms around me

“Flame, I'm sorry,” I managed as I sobbed into her shoulder.

We stayed there for a while sobbing quietly together.

When we did pull apart we examined each other.

“I've got make-up on your shirt,” she said.

“Well that's alright. I've got snot on your dress.”

She laughed and I laughed with her.

“He did love you you know.”

I sighed. “I know. I've always known but Flame curse me I wanted him to tell me that himself.”

“He just didn't understand you.”

“I know that too. Made even worse that I never understood him either and I really tried.

I found a cloth and blew my nose loudly.

“You ready?” she asked and I nodded.

We left together, I held the door open for her to find Kerrass waiting outside. He had a chair and had found a small table that had some papers on it and he stood to greet us.

“Allow me to offer my condolences,” he said formally.

“Thank you, Now it's just a matter of doing the proper mourning period and getting him interred along with Edmund.” My sister said formally. “Speaking of which, have you heard anything?”

“I have,” said Kerrass, his eyes gleaming which normally means that someone's about to get murdered.

“Your lawyer has told me some very interesting things and has given me written permission to look into some other things which includes, but is not limited to, your brothers quarters in Oxenfurt as well as his vault. A place where I have not yet been able to go. So tomorrow I go to Oxenfurt to yell at people, find things out and maybe, just maybe, bust some heads.”

He turned to me,

“You wanna come?”

“Oh yes,”