Page 87 of The Dragon King's Assassin

Chapter Thirty-Six

After breakfast, Taroc and I went below the palace to the subterranean cells where the prisoners were kept. There wasn't a lot of them. As in, there was Lord Crushei. Taroc wasn't big on keeping prisoners, a fact which I found hard to believe since he'd been treating me like one. Yes, I did try to kill him. Fair enough. Still, I was surprised when we reached Lord Crushei's clean cell with its blanket-covered bed and separate bathroom.

“This is nicer than my first home.” I waved a hand at the cell beyond the thick bars. “I would have killed for that bed. In fact, I paid for my bed with the proceeds of my first kill, but it's not as nice as this one.”

Lord Crushei just stared at me.

“Are you done?” Taroc asked me.

“No, I'll bet his bathroom is bigger than mine too. And I'll bet his water doesn't come out brown before it turns clean.”

“You have brown water in your bathroom?”

“There's an easy solution to that; flush the toilet,” Lord Crushei said.

“Oh, great! Rich people humor. Yeah, that's really funny. You've never had to worry about rusting pipes a day in your life, have you? Or wonder if the water you're drinking is going to kill you. Or if that shadow moving in the dark is an insect, a rat, or someone coming to kill you and steal what little you have.”

Crushei blanched.

“Anyway,” I said brightly, “we have more evidence for you to take a look at. A dagger and a note from Yusef, both found in your home.”

Taroc held the items up.

Crushei frowned at them. “I don't recognize either of those.” He drew closer so he could read the note. “Service to be rendered? That could be anything. Why exactly is this evidence?”

“It's what's done before an assassination is attempted,” I said. “The client is advised of when the kill will occur and payment is held by a third party until the death is confirmed.”

“I did not hire an assassin!”

“And the blade?” Taroc asked. “This doesn't belong to you?”

Crushei inspected the blade. “That blade is of human make. The wood comes from the Southern Desert of Var. I therefore conclude that it was made by the Wy'Var tribe.”

“Something you would know if you purchased it,” I said.

“I know the wood because I am a Shanba. And since I am a Shanba, I would never buy a dagger of human make. Why would I when I could purchase a superior weapon made by one of my people?”

“Perhaps you bought it just so you could say that when you were confronted with the murder weapon.”

“And would this maybe-me have been stupid enough to leave the murder weapon, as you call it, in my home? Or would I throw it in the Vevaren, as everyone else does with things they want to never be found?”

“I agree that the evidence is not enough to prove your guilt,” Taroc said.

“But?”

“But I can't be sure. I'm keeping you here for now. If another attempt is made on my life, I'll be certain of your innocence.”

“So I must wait here and hope that someone tries to kill you?!”

“That's about it,” I said. “Good luck.”

“Unless you know of a way to prove your innocence,” Taroc said.

Crushei grimaced. “No, Sire, I do not, and it seems as if everyone is against me.”

“I am neither for nor against you. I seek the truth, Lord Crushei. You have my word that I will not execute you unless I'm absolutely certain of your guilt.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Forgive me if I'm not overjoyed by your beneficence.”

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