An Arsonist and a Necromancer Walk into a Bar

Chapter 29 – The Blind Leading the Blind

“I can’t believe I’m the only one here who didn’t know you’ve committed regicide!” Chiara glowered at them, sulking in her chair.

“Shh!” Palmira hissed, glancing over her shoulder as though someone was listening in, waiting for the moment she slipped up so they could lock her in chains. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just not something I tend to talk about, for reasons I hope you understand.”

“You told Lorenzo!”

“Because he’s responsible! If you had a secret you needed help with, wouldn’t you go to him first?”

Chiara grumbled under her breath, but begrudgingly acceded her point.

“Thank you both for the vote of confidence,” Lorenzo gave them a wry smile. “But we came here for a reason, remember? Why don’t we focus on that now, and hold off on any arguing until we’re back in the inn.”

The two girls silently nodded, neither willing to give up so easily but also aware that they were on too tight a schedule to argue the point further. Instead they turned back to their temporary host, who’d been watching them argue with a complex expression on her face.

The four of them sat around a table swamped in sketches and models and books, a space at the corner cleared away that was just big enough for the four of them to see each other over the mess. High above them models of birds and dragons hung from the rafters, ranging from life-like to abstract, while the smell of paint and fresh sawdust suffused the air. Lenna sat across from them, eying her suspiciously, a small bruise still resting on her cheek.

Palmira tried not to feel too guilty about that.

“So,” Lenna frowned. “You really didn’t kill the Duke this time?”

“No! I already told you, I didn’t!”

“Then why are you here?” she threw her hands into the air. “Last time we spoke, you seemed pretty clear you never wanted to see me again.”

Palmira opened her mouth to remind her why that was, but a look from Lorenzo cooled her temper.

Right, they didn’t have enough time to argue. Taking a calming breath, she reminded herself of the advice Ósma gave her for dealing with annoying clients. Remain professional, treat them with respect, and don’t shout at them, even when you really, really want to.

“I didn’t kill the Duke,” she reiterated, forcing her voice to stay even. “But someone did, and now the leader of our guild is the prime suspect. As someone with a connection to the city’s aristocracy, I was hoping you might have any information that would help us clear his name.”

Lenna blinked slowly, fight slowly bleeding out of her. Instead her brow furrowed, and she gave her an odd look.

After squirming under the scrutiny of her old friend for a couple seconds, she snapped, “Well!?”

“…You’re right, unfortunately. I’ve had the express displeasure of learning quite a bit about the nobility in this city,” Lenna grimaced, eying the countless projects piled around the room.

“You do? Oh thank the Goddess, you were my only idea.”

“I could tell,” she muttered dryly, before frowning. “But I’m not sure how much help I could be. If I listed every person with the means and motive to kill the Duke, I’d be pointing out half the city. You know as well as I do that nobody liked either of them.”

“What, really?” Chiara frowned, for some reason looking like she was taking offense. Palmira imagined it was some dumb rich kid solidarity thing. “Surely you’re exaggerating. Did people really hate him that badly?”

“More or less,” Lenna shrugged, absently flicking one of her models between her fingers. “The current—uh, late—no, young? The young Duke who just died spent most of his rule indulging in sorrow and vice, leaving the ruling to the lower nobility. That was probably the most popular decision he ever made, but that didn’t make him liked. And the previous Duke—the first Duke of Iscrimo after the fall of the Second Empire—was one of the most hated rulers this city has ever had. He betrayed us by opening the gates to the elves during the Pumilios Wars, and in exchange they dismantled the republic and installed him as Duke of Iscrimo.”

“Wait, that’s who he was!?” Chiara hissed, annoyance draining away to be replaced with outrage as recognition dawned. “I thought—I never made that connection! He’s the bastard that betrayed the Chimeran League to the Empire!”

Then she paused, eyes turning to stare at Palmira in a new light. “And you killed him?”

Palmira flushed, twirling a tendril of flame around her finger in embarrassment. “It wasn’t what you’re thinking. I didn’t even know he did any of that back them. At the time it was either me or him, and I chose me.”

Lorenzo instead furrowed his bushy eyebrows, frowning at Lenna. “Do you think it was revenge, then? Someone trying to off the son since the father was no longer on the table?”

“Maybe?” she shrugged. “I’d imagine they’d have done that earlier, though. Maybe they just found him too annoying to let live. I know I considered it once or twice.”

“Oh? You’ve met him?”

“Unfortunately,” she sighed. “I visited the Duke a couple days ago, actually. He’d been a pain in the ass about the mural I’m currently working on—he kept trying to get me to paint his late father as the Saint Margaery, and he refused to take ‘that will get us excommunicated’ as an answer.”

“Ah…” Lorenzo winced. “…Well, do you think it’s someone from the church, then? Maybe a priest trying to stop him from blaspheming?”

“Maybe? I doubt it, though. You’d need to be a pretty wealthy priest to order a hit on a Duke.”

“I’m just spit balling ideas here. Someone killed him, after all. Maybe it was a priest, who knows?”

“You all are looking at this the wrong way,” Morte spoke up for the first time since they entered, drawing all eyes to his empty sockets.

“Palmira, is your staff talking?” Lenna asked, and was summarily ignored.

“You shouldn’t be asking ‘who would want to kill the Duke,’ because the answer to that question is ‘everybody. Instead, you need to ask ‘who would benefit most from the Duke’s death?’”

“That’s a good point,” Palmira frowned in thought, before turning back to Lenna. “Do you know any nobles who would gain from his death?”

“Your staff is talking, Palmira.”

“It’s fine, he’s not cursed. We got him checked.”

“That’s not the issue here.”

“Just answer the question, Lenna.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I guess… it might be his heir? He didn’t have any kids, so that would be… what his cousin or something? I’m not even sure if he has one of those, you’d have to ask someone else about that. Actually, now that I think about it, who’s even going to take over now that he’s dead…?”

“You’ve got a point, but it feels a bit obvious, don’t you think?” Lorenzo frowned, deep in thought. “Wouldn’t the Duke’s heir be the first person they check?”

“In theory, maybe,” Chiara shook her head. “The issue is they’d need the Duke’s permission to launch an investigation into the nobility, and guess who’s now Duke? It’d be even worse if this was a larger coup and not a personal assassination, since that would mean my brother really is getting scapegoated.”

“Hold your horses,” Morte cut in. “I know we’re light on suspects, but we have literally no information on this man yet. If he’s even a man. Don’t convince yourself they’re the criminal before we even start investigating him, especially not when it’s someone so powerful. Instead we should focus on finding suspects for now. Hey, girl, is there anyone else who’d benefit from his death?”

Lenna scowled at him, but shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe the l'Insieme? Probably not, though, I think they had more power with him alive what with how incompetent he was. Otherwise, I’m out of ideas.”

“Seriously?” Palmira frowned at her. “That’s it?”

“I’m not a noble, Palmira!” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated. “I don’t pay attention to any of this dumb intrigue stuff! I’m an artist, I make paintings and sculptures! When I heard that the Duke was dead, I just shrugged and went on with my life, just like you would if they weren’t accusing your boss of the deed! Heck, for all we know it was just a random little girl that panicked and killed a noble. It’s not like it would be the first time that happened, huh Palmira?”

Wincing, she conceded the point. That didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

“…However,” Lenna took some deep breaths, calming down from her outburst. “I do think I know somebody who could help more than I could. My patron, Andrea del Loretti, might be able to help you. …If she’s willing to, at least.”

Palmira felt herself instinctively scowl, faded memories of a black parasol and chalk-white skin rising in her mind. “Must we?”

“If she can help us, we’re going to her,” Chiara told her firmly. “But how would we go about meeting her?”

Lenna rubbed her eyes, before sighing and standing up. “Wait here,” she told them, before walking over to a different yet equally messy table pushed up against the wall. Digging through papers and fragments of models, she eventually pulled out a small piece of metal, the size and shape of a coin. Coming back, she handed it over to Lorenzo, revealing it to have a Famiglia’s crest stamped on one side. “Here, this will get you a meeting with the Lady Loretti,” she told them. “But that’s the most I can promise. Whether she decides to tell you anything is up to her and her constantly changing whims.”

“Thank you,” Lorenzo gave her a winning smile, pocketing the coin. “Do you know where we can find her? I’m sorry, but we don’t have much time, so I’d prefer to get this done today, if possible.”

“It’s fine,” she grumbled, glancing away with a slight flush to her features. Suddenly, Palmira felt the urge to set the both of them on fire. “She’ll be in the l'Insieme with the rest of the nobility for the rest of the week. Probably because of the whole regicide thing. You could try showing them that coin, but they might not let you in regardless. In that case you’ll have to schedule a meeting, and I don’t know how long that could take.”

“Well, we should at least try. If it’s our best lead, we can’t ignore it.” Lorenzo stood up, causing the rest of them to follow. “Thank you for your time, I knew a friend of Palmira would be helpful. Know that if this works out, the Firozzi Famiglia will be in your debt.”

With that Lorenzo made his way to the door, either missing or ignoring the effect his words had on the two girls.

A friend, huh…

Lenna glanced at her, hope and frustration warring across her face. Finally, she opened her mouth, and…

“I’m going to head out,” Palmira told her old friend, swiftly following her new friends out the door. However, just at the threshold, she paused, stopping to look back for just a moment.

“…And maybe, when this is over…” she trailed off, before she shook her head, forcing away the thoughts that circled endlessly through her head.

Later, she told herself, rushing out the door.

Later.