2012-08-In the Event of My Untimely Demise Read Free

they say that even now they will buy it, if I can produce it. It changes nothing—he either sold it and has the gold, or kept it. And it is mine.”
    “And if he did keep it, what is it, exactly? A magical relic?”
    “Scarcely. A historical curio—a reliquary containing the ashes and bones of a saint: the holy warrior Lovag. A globe of gold, studded with gems. It would be worth much to a collector, but more to the church.”
    “Which church?”
    Jordyar’s glory days are behind him.
    Jordyar’s snort sent spittle flying. “So you can sell it to them when you find it? You take me for a fool, girl.” He twitched, as if realizing he’d given away too much already by naming the saint.
    “I’m not here for this treasure,” Luma said. “I’m here to find out who killed Aruhal.”
    “No one killed Aruhal,” Seriza sobbed, white fingers clutched around the cabinet. “I told you that already. It was pleurisy—a pain when he breathed. It just got worse, until…” She trailed off into another burst of tears.
    Jordyar angled for a better view of her. “You look a pretty creature. You don’t propose to tell me a wretch like Aruhal caught a wench like you without a great bag of gold swinging over his shoulder?”
    The widow’s face froze into a wordless plea directed at Luma. Its meaning was clear: please get him out of here.
    Luma again stepped between the widow and the dwarf. “It sounds like you had all the reason in the world to kill Aruhal.”
    “You speak truth there.” He spat onto the bare floor, just missing the boar’s hide rug.
    Luma crossed her arms. “But you want me to believe you didn’t.”
    “I’m done answering your questions. That one will tell me where it is—gold or relic, I’m taking it now.”
    “I don’t know anything about any relic,” Seriza sniffled. “And as for gold—look around you. I can’t see how I’ll afford to fix that door.”
    “Aruhal never had money?” the dwarf asked.
    “A little. At first. He worked as a locksmith. It wasn’t money I loved him for.”
    Jordyar bellowed out a laugh. “Then he was holding out on you, too.”
    Luma crowded him. “So why didn’t you?”
    “Why didn’t I what?”
    “Kill him.”
    Trepidation flashed across the dwarf’s face. “I’m not the swine he was.” He flexed his shoulders, regaining his composure.
    Luma twined a lock of her hair between her fingers—a habit her family’s scolding had never quite cured her of. “I don’t think that’s it.”
    “Matters not to me what you think.” Jordyar knocked on the nearest wall. “I should tear this place apart.”
    “You’re not going to do that,” Luma said.
    Jordyar stiffened. “Is that so?”
    Luma let her fingers brush against her trickbag.
    The dwarf took it in. “A magicker, are we? What kind?”
    “You don’t want to find out,” said Luma. Depending on how tough the dwarf was, it was either a well-calibrated act of intimidation, or a reckless bluff.
    Jordyar wove past her to address Seriza. “This is all a shock to you. Your husband dying and now this.” He gestured to the broken door as if it were a catastrophe unconnected to himself. “I approached this too strong, didn’t I? I believe you when you say you had no inkling of the relic. Or the gold your rodent of a spouse sold it for. So I’m telling you this.” He jabbed his leather-gloved finger at her. “You cogitate long and hard on where Aruhal might have stashed a pile of gold, or a treasure about yay big.” With open hands about a foot apart, he mimed a roughly globular object. “Because there’s no chance in hell that he doesn’t have it. Maybe he tried to tell you, when he was sick. Search your mind for clues of that nature. Because in forty-eight hours, I’ll be back, and I’ll take what Aruhal stole from me. Or you’ll have more to mourn than your husband. Understand?”
    Seriza said nothing—a rabbit transfixed by a snake.
    He poked Luma’s shoulder. “And if you want to