“So tell me, Sergeant … Karl, is it?”
“Kraal.”
“Kraal, yes. Forgive me. Tell me, Sergeant Kraal, where do you think they went?” He looked up at the sweating officer, wearing an expression of polite curiosity. Kraal cleared his throat, playing for time.
“Can I get you a glass of water, Sergeant?” the gnome asked.
Kraal swallowed hard. “No,” he replied. “Thank you.”
There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Finally Kraal spoke. “Our inquisitives picked up a couple of trails,” he said, “but they couldn’t track them to a conclusion. On account of the foot traffic that had passed over them in the intervening time.”
The gnome put down the letter opener, and treated the officer to an ingratiating smile.
“Well,” he said, “I hesitate to mention this, because I’m sure you and your fine officers have already considered it—and, no doubt, found a good reason to eliminate it from your investigation—but do you think they might have gone to Fort Zombie?”
“Fort Zombie?” asked Kraal.
“Of course.” The gnome spread his empty hands, “I am not a professional investigator like yourself. I lack your training and experience. But still, it makes me wonder. The weapon dealer Falko was known to have masterwork swords from Fort Zombie in his possession. He was killed before he could tell us anything. His premises burned down, and shortly afterward an unused warehouse on the waterfront also burned down. Then, all in one night, three things happen. We receive an anonymous message about a construction site where stolen military zombies are being used as workers. Leonus Dabo, whom we know is involved with that same construction site, is murdered in his own home. And finally, a cheap lodging-house catches fire, and two bodies are found inside, one of them without a head. Would you like to know what I think, sergeant?”
Kraal looked down at the gnome, who sat back in his deep-buttoned leather chair and took a sip of wine. Then he continued, in the modulated tones of one who is explaining something complicated to a small child.
“I think our friend Dabo was smuggling stolen zombies from the fort, or perhaps simply buying them from the smugglers. They require no food or rest, so they are ideal unskilled workers—and much cheaper than living employees. It was fortunate that Falko came to our attention—fortunate for us, that is, and not so fortunate, of course, for Falko himself. One of his customers eluded your officers during that arrest, did he not?”
Kraal swallowed again.
“Yes,” he answered.
“In any case, it seems to me that Falko was murdered while in custody to prevent him from naming the smugglers from whom he obtained the swords. The destruction of his warehouse may be an attempt to destroy the evidence. The anonymous tip and the murder of Dabo indicate that someone was opposed to the smugglers, as, quite possibly, does the burning of the second warehouse, if that is where the illicit goods were landed.”
The sergeant’s brow writhed as he tried to follow what he was hearing.
“So you think they’re all connected?” he said at last.
The gnome beamed happily. “You see, my dear Sergeant,” he said, “how everything fits together! I am so glad. As to the rooming house, I am sure your investigation will arrive at the truth, but I would not rule out a connection. I think that, having dealt with Dabo and the undead smugglers here in Karrlakton, our unknown suspects will not be satisfied. Would you be?”
“Um—probably not.” Kraal wasn’t sure, but he thought it better to agree.
No, continued the gnome, “they will almost certainly take the logical next step—to go to Fort Zombie and discover the root of this operation.”
“Will they?” Sergeant Kraal said hopefully. He still didn’t quite follow the gnome’s logic, but he knew that Fort Zombie was safely out of his jurisdiction.
“Thank you for your report, Sergeant,” said the gnome. “It will be of incalculable help to my own investigation. And, as always, the Royal Swords can count on the full support and co-operation of the Ministry of the Dead. Please be sure to give my warmest regards to your commissioner. Now, unless I can be of any further assistance to you?”
Sergeant Kraal seized the chance to escape.
“No,” he said. “Thank you.” And he turned and left the office as quickly as he could.
The gnome smiled after him, and then picked up a brass-bound speaking tube from the rack at the side of his desk.
“This is Haldin,” he said. “I will need an airship to Fort Zombie immediately. Alert our people there, but tell them to do nothing until I arrive. That is all.”
Brey kicked a loose stone across the floor of the cell.
“This is where they held us,” she said, “before … Before.” She closed her eyes.
“What happened to the others?” asked Tarrel. He was kneeling, looking at something in the dust.
