Murder in Cormyr Read Free Page A

education.”
    “An… education? You mean I’d have to take lessons?”
    “Yes. Tutoring. From me, in lieu of a salary.”
    “So my options,” I said, “are either jail or slavery.”
    He frowned. “The kingdom of Cormyr does not sanction slavery, as well you know.”
    “Well, what do you call working for you for a year for free?” I was bolder than I should have been, but since there was no option concerning being shredded by cats, I felt a bit braver.
    Benelaius frowned even more deeply. “Perhaps a very small salary, then, to assist you in learning the management of your own money. How much do you earn at the inn?”
    “Five silver falcons a month,” I lied. I made only two a month.
    ‘You lie,” Benelaius said smoothly. ‘You make two at most, and I will pay you one. My tutelage will be worth many times that, and if you don’t find a way to make your knowledge pay, it will be your own fault—assuming, that is, that you will want to leave at the end of the agreed upon term of service.”
    “Oh, I will all right, if I decide to do it in the first place.” I was feeling pretty cocky since cat teeth were out of the picture.
    “If not, I hear Cormyrean prison food is delightful. All the fresh weevils and moldy bread you can eat—if the big boys don’t take it from you first. And frankly, crushing rocks with hammers eighteen hours a day would put some muscle on that spindly frame…”
    I sighed and looked around at the cats who would be my roommates for the next year. “When do I start?” I asked.

4
    I started the very next day. After signing the papers that Benelaius drew up, I went back to the Sheaf of Wheat to give my notice to Lukas Spoondrift and gather my belongings. Spoondrift, the owner of the Sheaf of Wheat, went into a mild rage when I told him I was leaving, and shouted at me unceasingly as I packed my few things.
    But I made my escape without bloodshed—save for Spoondrift’s sore throat—and eventually found myself ensconced in the wizard’s household. And a fairly decent dwelling it was, if you disregard its proximity to a swamp where all sorts of monsters and, yes, ghosts trod the squishy terrain.
    A small front hall led into the main room, where Benelaius’s cats had captured me. It was pleasant by daylight, with two wide, high windows in the front, and another at the side. In the back was the kitchen, and off the main room was a spacious study with doors that opened onto a back porch that Benelaius called a piazza. Rustic wooden
    chairs were positioned so that the sitters could look out into the swamp, if such was their desire.
    It certainly wasn’t mine. The Vast Swamp gave me the creeps, even though Benelaius told me that he had cast a protective spell around his property. When I asked how was able to get inside so easily, he told me that it wasn’t worth the energy to cast a spell that kept out spindly servants. In fact, not doing so had caught him one, hadn’t it?p>
    I had to agree. But working for Benelaius wasn’t all that bad. I slept in one of the three bedrooms upstairs. The large one was Benelaius’s, of course; the next largest was for any guests he might have (and he had a surprising number); and the third was mine. It was the smallest, but much nicer than my pallet in the Sheaf of Wheat’s buttery. A fourth room above stairs was used as a small library, stuffed so full of books that I feared the floor would collapse. The ceiling below did have a definite dip.
    My duties were far from wearing. I cooked, cleaned, ran errands, bought groceries and whatever else was required around the house, emptied chamber pots, and took care of the cats. This last activity required less time than you would think.
    The thought of cleaning up after nearly a hundred felines had initially made me shudder. But the cats were extremely deferential to my well-being, strolling off into the swamp when the call of nature arose. So the stench associated with multicat households was never the