"What are you saying?" Myrmeen asked.
Walcott shrugged. 'The man knew the streets could be dangerous at night, yet he never traveled with guards of any kind. He obviously felt safe from any mundane threat."
“That's true," Myrmeen said, recalling the testimony of several other shop owners she had questioned while waiting for the mages to complete their task. "Unless, of course, he carried some of these objects of power on him, so that if he were attacked, he'd be able to defend himself." She paused. "But when we went over his body and his clothing, we found nothing."
"Perhaps that's what the killer was after," Volney said, hoping to reclaim his faltering position of authority. "Some object Othmann carried on his person."
"If he had a weapon, why didn't he use it?" Myrmeen asked.
"He may not have had the chance," Walcott noted grimly. "Not if his murderer was a powerful mage."
Myrmeen found it very warm in the shop. She wiped away the sweat that was starting to fall into her eyes. "So you think this was a matter of theft? Then why bring Othmann to the gardens? The wards protecting this place were already undone. Why not drag him back inside and kill him here? They could have cleaned the shop out."
"If his murderer was a true master of the Art," Walcott said, "he wouldn't have been interested in most of the shop's contents. Like we said, this stuff is all pretty standard."
Volney nodded sagely. "And to a high-powered wizard the wards at the gardens would have been child's play to undo."
All three were startled by a knock at the door. Evon Stralana appeared and ushered an attractive woman into the room. Myrmeen had sent the minister of defense to fetch the owner of Elhazir's Exotica for questioning. The woman had honey-blond hair, doe eyes, and a hardness about her mouth that seemed incongruous. She was overdressed, her wardrobe overwhelmed entirely by the cheap, flashy jewelry she sold. Her dress was a poor imitation of Myrmeen's latest formal gown.
Scurrying in behind the woman was a young girl with wide, frightened eyes and a simple white dress. The child looked beyond her mistress, to Myrmeen, and her eyes widened.
"Lord Lhal," the first woman said. "I am Elhazir. This is my assistant, Andreana."
The girl bowed and opened her mouth to speak, but Elhazir cut her off. "Is there some service I may perform for you, Lord Lhal?"
Myrmeen stared at Elhazir's red, bleary eyes. The woman's heavy makeup had been applied recently, but it couldn't hide the fact that she'd been crying for hours. "Perhaps if you could answer a few questions…."
"Of course."
"How did you know Penn Othmann?"
"He came by now and then to talk. Lots of the other merchants did. Business has been slow."
"You also had a financial arrangement with him."
"Yes, but it was a rare occasion when I had cause to send one of my customers to Penn."
"Did you hear or see anything suspicious last night?"
"Nothing."
"Did he seem anxious or frightened lately?"
"No, he seemed quite normal."
Myrmeen placed her hand on the shoulder of the young girl. "Did you see or hear anything?"
Andreana shrugged. "I never paid much attention."
"Yes," Elhazir snapped, "that's your problem. You never pay attention to anything, you little halfwit."
Myrmeen watched the girl's hair fall into her eyes as she looked down. It did not disguise the hurt she saw there. Turning to Elhazir, Myrmeen asked, "Would you have any objections to my men searching both your house and your business?"
"Do what you like," Elhazir said. "I'm not hiding anything."
"Of course not, but maybe you're overlooking something important. One other thing. We've heard from several parties that Othmann was involved with a red-haired woman about my age," Myrmeen lied. "Do you know anything about her?"
Elhazir was stunned. She flinched, then bit her lower lip. "No, I can't."
"He also had a wife in Suzail," Myrmeen added. "We're thinking she may be our prime suspect."
"A wife," Elhazir said flatly. "How interesting."
"If the wife found out about the mistress-or mistresses-she might have hired a mage to kill him."
"A mage? He was killed by a mage?"
"Yes. You didn't know that?"
"I didn't."
Myrmeen nodded. "I see. And about the wife?"
"He never said anything about being married."
"Thanks for your help," Myrmeen said abruptly. "Both of you are dismissed."
The woman nodded, took the arm of her assistant, and left the shop. One of Myrmeen's soldiers accompanied her. The dark-eyed ruler turned to Stralana. "Othmann and Elhazir were lovers."
"I gathered as much from your, shall we say, creative inquiries."
"I want you to use your best men to conduct the search of Elhazir's home and business. Go through everything."
"You're hoping to find some tangible evidence of Elhazir's relationship to Othmann? To establish her motive?"
"That's part of it," Myrmeen said. "Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if she's a mage herself-or knows the identity of the mage who killed Othmann. But we can't arrest her without cause."
"What if my men find nothing?"
"Then have her watched night and day. She's upset enough now after that story I made up about Othmann's wife and other lovers that she might make a mistake. Let's hope she gives herself away or leads us to the one we seek."
A scream ripped through the street, causing Myrmeen, Stralana, and one of the soldiers to race out of the shop. The mages and another soldier remained behind.
"It came from there," a young flaxen-haired soldier named Kynan Tofte said as he pointed at an alley across the street. There they found an old woman crouched atop a pile of trash. She brandished a broom as if it were a sword, holding off the collection of hissing, clawing cats at her feet. The felines had trapped the woman and seemed prepared to attack.
"This does not bode well," Stralana said as the soldiers went to the woman's aid. "Does it?"
Myrmeen watched the cats scatter into the alley, then shook her head. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't"
* * * * *
For the next three days, incidents involving the feline population of Arabel abounded: Two dozen people were assaulted by their household pets the first afternoon. Ten times that number reported confrontations that night. No one was seriously injured, though many claimed to have nearly died of fright.
A marauding pack of cats, several hundred strong, pounced upon an outdoor fish market in the middle of the day and seriously depleted the merchant's supplies before they were driven off. Bakeries and dairies were vandalized. Arabel's most prominent tailor came to Myrmeen in tears, reporting that his entire warehouse of clothes had been ripped to shreds by tiny claws. In several incidents it was obvious that human hands, or hands that were human at least part of the time, had been at work. A half-dozen outdoor performances by dramatic touring companies had been interrupted, and one which relied heavily on magic to carry off its action had been stopped dead, the actors terrified of getting their faces scratched by the animals.
Like most in Cormyr, Arabel's citizens had long believed cats to be the eyes and messengers of the gods. Killing a cat was a serious offense, and many preferred to suffer the indignations heaped upon them by the felines rather than risk offending some powerful deity. Some crouched in corners and prayed for guidance as their businesses were vandalized. They begged for illumination, horrified that they had somehow offended their gods.
Others became tired of the whole strange situation and took up arms against the beasts. Several cats had been killed, a few maimed. Those who slew them were later found to be the victims of mysterious accidents; bits of fur-some matted in blood-had been found at the site of each incident. The gods had taken vengeance, the devout whispered fearfully.
On the second night, reports of disturbances had escalated to include traders who had been accosted just outside the city's walls by monstrous creatures swathed in darkness. The merchants' wares had been destroyed. Other traders complained their stock had been similarly targeted when they'd attempted to leave Arabel.