‘Well, she probably didn’t kill the girl,” Dr. Havelock said, pouring them both some very nice whiskey that had been smuggled in from the Silver Isles. They had laid the tiny form out below, on a non-magical slab, and both of them needed a drink.
“And what makes you so certain of that?” Carys asked.
Havelock paused, drank some, started to place the tumbler on the rich, polished wood of the desk, paused, then just propped the glass on his lap. “The amount of effort she put out to find the girl must have been immense. Why would she do that, if she was responsible for the child’s death?”
“She did not seem overly taxed by the magic, though. Perhaps she knew, and it was all an act.”
Havelock frowned. “When she first came here people called her a Wind Witch, and you can already hear the rumors starting up again. But to be honest, the woman does not strike me as a murderess, much less of children. I’ve watched her at work. I could possibly feature her killing another person, I don’t know her that well…but a child?”
“That is not proof. We don’t know.” Carys pointed out.
“It doesn’t seem logical, or like something she would do.”
“That is what makes murder tricky, my dear boy. If the killer was obvious, then anyone could avoid being murdered in the first place.” He was staring glumly out the window, the sun was lowering and a fog was already setting in.
“Yes, but if you operate by the idea of who benefits, who gains by this murder, I can’t see how Mistress Almsley would.”
“Maybe she’s mad.”
“Now you are just arguing for the sake of arguing,” he objected, and Carys smiled slightly.
“So, if not your beloved Tasmin,” Carys said, “then who?”
He slumped down in his chair. “Well. As you say, it could be anyone. Any new-comer will be suspected, even you.”
“They already enjoy talking about me so much already,” Carys agreed. “They speculate constantly as to why I am here. What is my purpose? Why did the King send a civilian to become the Port Admiral?”
“I’ve often wondered that myself. Not that I am not quite pleased that you are here. You of all people are one of the few people I remember fondly from my school days, but it is, in itself, a mystery.” He looked hopefully at his old friend.
“His Majesty is a man of great reason.”
“Is that truly your answer?” Carys arched an eyebrow and Havelock glared at him before throwing himself back into his chair. “Bother.”
Carys shrugged. “I enjoy the speculations too much to let them end. Perhaps I shall declare a game. You may guess once a week why I am here, and I will tell you truly if you are right.”
“I thought we had grown past games.”
“Games,” Carys said reflectively, “are the only thing I have. So, tell me, was there anything of interest visible on the body?”
Havelock started at this change of subject, then shrugged. “Nothing, really. I will have to see if there is water in her lungs, but there is no visible sign of attack. On first glance it looks as if she just fell over dead. Will you be present when I investigate further?”
“No,” he said, staring out at the harbor. “I do not think I need be there for that.” They spoke of other things until he could avoid his office no longer.
He walked up to his office, and finally settled down into the depths of his chair. There was much paperwork to go over, but the only thing he wanted to look at was the card that had been laid carefully on top of everything on his desk. It sparkled, faint gold in the candle light. “I could not find the saboteur. I will be there soon,” was all it said, in brown ink that seemed to have a sparkle to it, caught by his lamp light.
He sighed, turned it over, and in a moment wrote his answer.