A Dark and Starless Night

Chapter Eight

Eve moved through the streets, her stomach uneasy. Emotions warred inside her. The idea of breaking her promise to Don didn't sit well with her. Lying to her friends. Breaking promises to her uncle. She would have said she didn't recognise the girl she was becoming, but she did. This was the girl she had been once upon a time, in the dry and sandy streets of Faer Bryale. A girl that didn't care about keeping her word or being honest. No, that girl had been determined to survive and have as much fun as she could, when she could.

But now she had the power of a name attached to her own and a badge of heraldry in her pocket. She had privilege and wealth and she'd be damned if she didn't abuse those in the pursuit of the truth.

And there was the contradiction that bothered her. Her dishonesty and deceit were in the aid of truth and justice. She wasn't sure that made it okay, but, as she entered the barracks of the city guard, she didn't have time to hash it out in her mind. Besides, once she read the files the city guard had taken, she could be satisfied. Because, if her friends and family were right, the notes would be thorough, and they would have a strategy. She could set the whole thing aside.

First, she would have to get into the barracks. She'd given it much thought on her walk there. By the time she got there, she had an idea that might just work if the right guard was working. She tried not to smile when she spotted the young guard, clearly barely out of training. Something – fate, stars above, some Zyrnan god – was on her side.

"Good morning," she said, smiling sweetly at the guard. She was glad she'd decided to wear her hair down while the sun was still a while away from rising. The dress she'd worn would work to her advantage as well, revealing a glance of the curve of her breasts, which the guard glanced at before snapping his eyes back up and going as red as the sunrise. He stuttered a greeting.

"Duchess Evelyn Mintarryl," she said, fishing out her badge of heraldry. "My uncle is a member of the legal court and I'm here to ensure that the files on the courtesan murder are being taken to a strong enough standard to stand trial when the murderer is caught."

"Of course, Your Grace," he said, standing up, and gesturing her through the archway that lead through the barracks. She was lucky he didn't know enough yet to know that Don didn't have any jurisdiction over the Greydock area. "I'll grab the file for you now. Please take a seat." He pulled out the seat for her when they reached a desk with an oil lamp.

As she sat waiting for him to return, she prayed he didn't need to ask anyone else for permission to access the files. Her prayers were answered when he returned and placed the file in front of her.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Grace?" he asked, stealing a very unsubtle look at her breasts. She resisted the urge to shudder. While he was young, he was still her senior by at least five years.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, smiling thinly. His face fell a little, but he returned to the desk and Eve got to work. She pulled a notebook from her bag and opened the file once she was set up.

First there were statements from two or three of the tenants of the building Nadia had lived in, including the sour land lady. All claimed that they hadn't seen Nadia come home that night, but that wasn't unusual as she kept late hours. Nearly all of the statements contained some unkind words about Nadia's profession, but nothing about the woman herself. Apart from the fact that she had often sung in the afternoon when she'd get up. And no one had heard her singing, beautiful by all accounts, for three days prior to when she was found.

Then she flipped through the statements of the courtesans that were Nadia's colleagues. They must have questioned them after Eve had visited that day. Rose and Saf were among the names, and both told glaringly different stories of what had happened that evening. Rose claimed that Nadia had left early from the brothel that night to attend temple and take a few extra days off – she knew that because she'd ended up covering Nadia's shifts. Saf claimed that Nadia had decided to leave the brothel. Teryon even. Apparently, she'd been planning to move east. The statement from the madam of the brothel had stated that Nadia had in fact been planning to leave the city, but as part of a trade with a partner brothel east, so she had no reason to want Nadia dead. That ruled out the madam, if it was true.

She moved on to the next piece, which surprised her. It was a map of the city, marking all the places that Nadia had been seen the day before she'd died. Her apartment, the brothel, the temple, the docks. At the docks she'd been seen by a young boy who'd been selling papers he'd stolen. That'd be the same paper that Eve had spotted in Nadia's room. That was it, all the information they had on Nadia's movements.

There were several sketches after that. One was of Nadia's room before it had been stripped of all her belongings. Nothing worth noting in the image, except that it had been drawn without the horrible blood stain in the middle. She moved on to the next sketch and hesitated. It was a view of the body from above, noting the positioning. Nadia had been naked when she was found, her arms and legs spread. Her throat had been cut from ear to ear, and blood had run down her chest, suggesting she had been upright when her throat was slit. Her blonde hair had been matted with blood, looking almost brown, suggesting she had bled out on the floor where the blood had pooled. Her upper arms and ribs had been bruised, so they assumed she had been bound, perhaps held down. A balled-up piece of cloth had been jammed into her mouth, and she'd also been missing a few teeth, which were recovered on the ground near the bed. Her face had been swollen, and not just from heat and decay. Bruises again. Despite the horrifying violence that had been inflicted, a small comment at the bottom left corner of the page said there was no evidence to suggest the crime had been in any way sexual. Did that rule out it having been a client? Eve didn't know.

In the sketch, the artist had closed her eyes, but a note on the page said that the eyes had been found open and staring up at the hole in the roof. Had she been looking up at the stars for the last time as she'd slowly died there on the wooden floor of her apartment?

Eve exhaled slowly, putting the sketch back into the file. People didn't die so violently here. They weren't supposed to. It was probably the life that Nadia had fled in the first place. She stared at the notes she had taken, realising her hand had still when she'd looked over the sketch. She flexed her fingers around the pencil in her hand. Whoever was investigating this, their notes were thorough. They had interviewed everyone except Nadia's clients, but it was doubtful they'd manage to get a list out of the madam, even for a murder case. She tucked the sketches into the file.

"What do you think you're doing?"