The toy morphed in my mind. Images swam through that inner eye. The bones in ashes. The scales on the ground. The bleeding Brujai pointing at me. His wife lying in peaceful death, her hand on her mouth. Back to the toy. No, the note. The note!
“Where's the note?!” I let go of the King to grip his arm.
“Got the address!” Vasren shouted.
The carriage shifted as he climbed on, and then we were moving again.
Meanwhile, the King drew the note out of his pocket and handed it to me.
I took it. Inspected it. Sniffed it. Took out my light tube and shone it upon the note. Then I held the note in front of the light. That's when the image came forth—a mark hidden within the paper.
I sucked in a breath, excitement filling me.
“What do you see?” The King leaned over to look. “I know that symbol.”
“You should.” I tucked the note into my pocket. “It's on all of your stationery.”
“What?” He frowned, but that lasted only seconds before he saw what I did. “That's the watermark of Pruleng.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Pruleng, the Paper Crafters to the Crown. The elite papermakers in the city. And Hallaxgral wrote his note on their product.”
“Why?”
“It's another clue, of course.” I sat back and stared ahead, focusing inward. “A taunt left on paper that the King uses.”
“Is this a threat against me?”
I twitched at the interruption. “I don't think so. But I can't rule out the possibility. Paper . . . paper. Royal paper. Bad luck. Tomorrow. Not fast enough. Missed dinner. Paper.” My stare shifted back and forth on nothing—doubtless, this was the twitching the King had noted.The King. No, don't think about him right now.“Royal paper. The General's son. If it is him. Why the General? The last one was a tanner. Before that, a jeweler. But they were necessities. He was setting up the board. These are the true targets. Hallaxgral has moved his first piece. The game has only begun. Paper.”
The carriage stopped.
This time, the King didn't prevent me from dashing out of the carriage. Still, Sir Vasren beat me to the front door of the General's home. We were in a nice neighborhood. Of course. But I only glanced at the street. All was quiet. It was late now. So the pounding on the door echoed like thunder. Ominous. And yet the shadow of the King, cast upon me by the streetlamps behind him, felt even more sinister.
Good thing I didn't hold with such nonsense.
“Are we under attack?” A Ricarri man growled as he flung open the door.
He was big, even for a Ricarri, with more muscles than one man should have, and he hadn't bothered to pull on a shirt before answering the door. The streetlamps glinted off his grayskin, pulling out the sheen of mineral deposits that all Ricarri were born with. I saw the toy in my mind again, gleaming silver. Then the gold on the uniform. Yes. The toymaker had used this man as his model. That toy was a special order for the son of the General of the King's Horns.
“General Batan.” The King stepped around me.
“Your Majesty?” The General gaped at him, then cursed. “Who's attacking us?”
“Not us, General. You. Your family. Where is your son?”
“My son?” the General whispered. Then he spun on his heels and ran for the staircase behind him.
The King followed, and I rushed in before the knights could. I was getting damn annoyed at being pushed aside in my investigation. But annoyance had become an understudy to my fear. I didn't like this. I shouldn't be afraid while on a case. Not for myself or others. I always kept a distance between my emotions and the victims. It shouldn't matter that this was a child. It shouldn't, but it did.
I took the stairs two at a time. When we reached the landing, a wide-eyed Ricarri woman stepped into our path.
“Check on Nulei,” General Batan said to her as he passed.
The General's wife didn't hesitate. She ran in the opposite direction. I followed the King and her husband down a hallway to a door. The General burst inside and then stopped short. A sound came from him. A horrible sound. Part whimper, part whine, and part gasp. Then he fell to his knees.
I swept around the King, who stood near the General but didn't dare to touch the man. I didn't need to look furtherat General Batan. I needed to secure the scene. Because I was certain itwasa crime scene.
The bed was empty. The window open. And a note lay on the pillow.
