Chapter 2

Disadvantages of Impartiality

Juza stared, his mind momentarily blank. "Dead?" he asked at last, his voice sounding quite normal, if perhaps a trifle tired. A little wine-thickened. "Eddard Crane is dead?"

Detton nodded, still looking a little shaken. "Yes, sir. The whole estate is practically destroyed. Everyone in the house at the time is dead."

Despite all he'd drunk tonight, Juza was still quick-witted enough to catch the implication. "An act of terrorism?" He frowned, wondering. It was hardly impossible, but what would be the purpose of destroying a merchant's estate? "To prove that wealth does not, indeed, buy safety," he muttered to himself, wondering. And even if that was the case, it would still be a little unusual. This was hardly Dezolis where such things were common.

Detton, who still, surprisingly, looked a little shaken, shook his head. "Possibly, Magistrate, but it's… well, it's not very likely. You'll understand once you see Crane himself." Seemingly unconsciously, the police lieutenant shuddered. "It's horrible."

Good, thought Juza, reveling in his sense of vindication, but all he said was, "Can you handle it for a few hours? I'll need a little time to get things together." He knew that he must look quite run-down to these two subordinates of his, exhausted certainly. Drunk, probably. But, Elizabeth had already insured that nearly all of Kadary either pitied or scoffed at him, so Juza didn't care what they thought.

"Of course," said Detton, though a bit hesitantly. Well, no wonder. If a lieutenant as seasoned as Detton was still shaken up by whatever he'd found, it must be truly horrible. And, given that, no matter how experienced a man might be, he would be uncomfortable to have to sit on and ward such evidence, even for just a few hours.

Juza nodded peremptorily to the two men and stepped back inside, not sparing a further word. As the door closed, he finally gave vent to the shudder of joy he'd been holding in. Eddard Crane is dead. Ned Crane is dead!

Why conceal it, after all? He had never liked Ned Crane anyway, and although Elizabeth had insured that he especially disliked the merchant, there was no reason to not be honest. Although… He sighed, staggering forward, blinking twice. There was no point in denying it at any great length, he did have a motive. And he was in charge of investigating the case. He could, he supposed, file a report against himself, though he knew he hadn't killed Eddard Crane. But why even take the risk? It was only justice to acknowledge himself as a suspect… and yet, Juza felt that it would be too great a risk. On the Council, who in all of Kadary could replace him, should the Mayor or others seize this as a chance to destroy him? None could truly replace him, but somebody would… And who did Kadary have on the Council to stand up for the people, for even true justice?

There is only me.

If Juza went, Kadary wouldn't even last another decade. And truly, who else was there for Kadary? Even when the Council had the occasional good idea, which it didn't, their planning was generally woefully inadequate and floundering. Juza was not like to do Kadary any good by filing a report as a possible suspect against himself, and yet…

After the case is finished, he decided. Then it could enter the official justice. Duplicitous, yes, but even the lie had honor. With a sigh, Juza flung himself limply into his chair again, seeking an hour or so of escape. He would be no good if he was too tired to think, after all, but the sleep continued to elude him. It was the heat… and Eddard Crane.

The merchant's lifeless face kept floating up before Juza's eyes, refusing to let him gain any rest, refusing to let him ignore the highly cyclical thoughts in his head. Ned Crane kept looking at Juza, alternately amused, outraged, or arrogant… all the primary emotions that Juza had seen of the merchant in his life… and that left Elizabeth.

What would Elizabeth do now that the merchant she'd liked so well was dead? Try to mend the marriage? Juza snorted in self-deprecation. Even he ought to have enough pride to not waste his time imagining that. Would she weep for the merchant prince? For that matter, if news was brought to her of Juza's sudden and untimely murder, would she shed a few tears for him? Hah! He'd be a fool to even hope for as much. Not that he did. Never that.

Elizabeth would… no, he would definitely deal with his wife later. He'd been dealing with her, in a very loose sense of the word of course, for the whole of the bloody day. And there was no one he'd rather deal with less than his dear, charming, beautiful, devoted wife. Not that he'd been much of a husband, he supposed…

Still, he'd been so shocked, so wounded, so appalled… The simple why of it all still eluded Juza. He'd realized at the party what he had only vaguely suspected beforehand; despite everything, Elizabeth was still fond of him, in her way. Fond of his quirks, his flaws, his strengths… and yet, she was still actively crippling him before the Council and shaming him in the streets of Kadary!

Juza had never been in love with his wife (despite the two deliriously happy years of marriage, which he refused to acknowledge as love or anything else for that matter) but he had still obsessively coveted that intangible quality of hers. He had placed such absurd value on it… whatever it was. And it was still there, he had seen that. That warmth… whatever it was. He still desired it, for he had felt that too, to his consternation.

And yet, he had seen in equal measure at the party, he now wearily acknowledged with a clearer head, that he did have her intangible quality. He still possessed it in some degree. In some fashion, in some way, she still belonged to him. But it was not the same.

How could he take something that he already had? How could she withhold something that she had already given him? He had this quality of Elizabeth's… and yet he didn't have it. In some way she still controlled it. She still had all of it. How could he even come up with a rational approach to an intangible in the first place? How could he fight someone that he couldn't plan against?

And why wouldn't Ned Crane's face leave him? He had taken no action against the merchant prince, though he wasn't sorry that the fool was dead. And, even more disturbing, what would Mayor Argus urge the Council to do while all of Juza's time was spent focused on this wide-spread act of violence? True, Juza was only one man and could cast only one vote on the Council, but he'd been successful before in getting enough public support behind him to cow his craven colleagues. But then that support might be ebbing now that Elizabeth…

With a muffled groan, Juza twisted about in the chair, lifting his head, and staring blearily out of the window. It was light outside. He'd meant to catch an hour or so of sleep, but he'd spent it all dozing. He was slightly startled by the amount of self-disgust that he felt. Well, why not? He forced himself to his feet, his head swimming with tiredness. Spots swam before his eyes. I've only spent the whole of a day in equal parts of maudlin ponderings and self pity. And now I've got to investigate the murder of a man who probably brought it on himself.

Juza stood in front of a small mirror, momentarily startled by his appearance. Whereas the last time he'd looked, he'd seemed run-down, he now appeared positively ravaged. The lines of his face were set much more deeply, and as for being tired… even exhausted looking might be an understatement. His graying hair was frazzled and unkempt. On the other hand, he didn't feel very drunk anymore. No, quite the opposite, aside from the requisite headache.

Muttering a curse beneath his breath and running a hand through his hair, Juza turned again and shuffled to the small kitchen. Rummaging through cabinets indiscriminately, he finally found what he was looking for; a bucket of water. Cupping the liquid in both hands, he splashed it onto his face a few times. It was only tepid, but it was sufficient to revive him more fully. Unfortunately, that was also enough to cause the crushing weariness to rush at him.

Well, no good in that anyway. Couldn't get any sleep, too hot for it on top of anything else.

With another sigh, Juza toweled his face dry and returned to his bedroom. He selected another suit that would be less rumpled, and dressed quickly and efficiently. He stayed, sitting on the bed for another moment, closing his eyes, willing himself to sleep. But he just couldn't. And anyway, he had work to do. Slowly rising to his feet, Juza finally set off, purposefully.

Thankfully it was still very early morning. Slightly groomed or not, Juza had no intention of enduring the stares of the villagers any more than he had to. Instead he turned his mind back to the case. Detton had seemed to think that it was murder, and he had specifically seemed to think that it was murder aimed at Eddard Crane. So… either Detton was wrong or Juza was dealing with a murderer vicious enough to destroy an entire estate, regardless of whom the intended victim was. No, Juza was decidedly not looking forward to this case. Still, there was very little he could ascertain without first investigating the scene of the crime, and so he set a brisker pace, turning all non-contingent concerns from his mind.

Idly he wondered again how Elizabeth would take the news. He would have to be sure to, if not tell her himself, at least be there when she found out. He would like that very much.

---

"Sweet gods of Algo!" Juza stared numbly at the estate of the dead merchant. He'd expected that there had been some sort of fire, or something to that effect, but at least half of the estate was in crumbling ruins. Forgetting his weariness, Juza jogged the rest of the way. What could have caused devastation like that? It had been theorized that in the time before the Great Collapse, in the barely remembered utopian age of Mother Brain, that science had been so far advanced as to allow for easy destruction like this, but still…

Juza slowed his run, coming to a halt. There was a third young officer; Juza didn't presently recall his name, standing at what was left of the gateway. He waved vaguely behind him, "Um, Magistrate—"

"Not now," Juza said impatiently. "Just take me to the body."

The officer blinked. "But, uh, you should..."

"Very well, I'll find it myself." Juza eagerly pushed past the young man, his analytical abilities suddenly sharply focused on this mystery in a way they hadn't been since Elizabeth had first informed him of the impending end of their marriage. Vaguely, he thought he heard the young officer muttering something behind him, but Juza ignored it all. At last, a tangible challenge before him! What an idiot he'd been to think that he wouldn't enjoy an unusual case for once.

That was when Juza suddenly did stop, staring in surprise. He could see the broad back of an unfamiliar looking man, clearly talking to Detton. Frowning, Juza stepped forward just as the stranger was saying in a gruff voice, "And when exactly was this Magistrate of yours supposed to show up?"

"I'm not interrupting anything, I hope," Juza interposed dryly.

Detton winced slightly, but the bigger man turned with startling speed. His was a craggy face with bushy eyebrows, a moustache, and graying hair. The eyebrows knit together in a speculative look, and the bearded jaw jutted forward. "Magistrate Juza Atheon," he ventured after a moment.

Juza, for his part, was studying the man with just as much attention, though he noted the less than flattering tone of the man's statement. He certainly wasn't a local man, nor did he have the appearance of either a traveler or relative. The garb looked solid, easy to move in, but certainly defensive and the sword at the man's hip… "A hunter," he concluded grudgingly.

"Aye," said the man, even as Juza struggled to contain the blood pounding through his mind. He had never liked hunters. There was no denying that the majority of them were good fighters, if nothing else, but as far as Juza was concerned they were arrogant, high-minded, greedy amateurs.

"And what," he snapped against the tightness in his chest, "is your capacity here? I presume that Ned Crane was not your employer."

The hunter raised an ironical brow. "You mean to say you don't know?"

"I just got here," Juza returned sharply. "I can't know anything until I'm equipped with the facts of the case. Where is Crane's corpse?"

"Mm," said the hunter noncommittally. "Seeing as I got here first, I ordered your lieutenant to let me see the body. Then I sent it to the morgue."

Juza fixed the hunter with a scathing glare. The man obviously had been hired by some third party or other to look into this affair, yes, however, lawful though his commands may be, it rankled Juza no end to have some hired amateur muddling about in his affairs. "Perhaps," he said coldly, "you could accompany me to the morgue and explain your stake in this matter as we go."

"Don't you want to finish inspecting the manor first?"

"Unnecessary," Juza fired back. "The scale of destruction here could only have been the result of an extraordinarily strong technique. Perhaps a combination. Or perhaps there was some object amplifying the power. As it is, it's the only logical conclusion to come to. And," he concluded smugly, pleased to be able to show the hunter a little condescension, "there's residue of technique power still in the air here. My men can handle the more mundane details."

The hunter grunted in surprise. "You're a technique user?"

Juza shrugged vaguely, setting off and not bothering to look and see if the hunter was following him. "Well, I know one or two." Despite himself, Juza couldn't help being slightly pleased at the hunter's surprise, though that wasn't very surprising in itself. Techniques, better known as techs, had been one of the only advancements of the old society to survive the Great Collapse. There were tales of an ancient power called 'magic' some inborn form of energy in the now extinct Espers. Whatever that had been… well the only people who knew were dead. Techs on the other hand were well documented. A natural phenomenon, all people had a latent ability to draw power from all of the atmosphere. To draw a little heat from the air, the ground, a fire, anything… and to release it as a burst of power. Though all people had the ability, few ever bothered to train or capitalize on it. Those that did could sense the power of techniques though, as Juza had. For the most part though, there were very few jobs that relied upon the use of techs, and most of those were hunters. Most people didn't use the ability. Most people didn't have the gift. It was another one of Juza's many good points.

The hunter had caught him up by this point. "That was the same conclusion I'd come to," he growled, easily matching Juza's stride. "Glad to see that your account tallies."

Juza glanced to his side at the man, asking, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, yeah." He chuckled. "Keep forgetting that you don't know. The Guild received an urgent request in the middle of the night. Seeing that it sounded bad, and it was just in Kadary, I took the job."

Juza stifled a sigh of impatience. "Yes, but who hired you? What did they say exactly? And," he added, suddenly realizing the other gap in his knowledge, "who the bloody hell are you?"

"Polite, aren't we," muttered the hunter.

Juza rolled his eyes. "If you wanted politeness, you should have gone to the Lord Mayor. He would have told you anything you wanted to hear."

"Good thing I came to you then," the hunter countered. "Anyway, the name's Galf."

Juza stopped dead in his tracks. "Galf? As in, Galf the Thunder Sword?"

"Well don't belabor the point."

"Galf," he sputtered again, incredulously.

"You might want to close your mouth," the hunter advised. "Besides the risk that some sandworm might run down your throat, it makes you much cleverer looking."

Recovering, slightly, from his shock, Juza muttered. "Thanks." Galf, the Thunder Sword. One of the most famous and skilled hunters Juza had ever heard of. This in no measure warmed him to the man, (although if he was honest, he did appreciate the wit) but Juza supposed that if he had to investigate alongside a hunter, having one who was not only good at his job, but reputedly smart, would at least be something.

"Right," said Juza tersely. "So it must have been alarming if it drew the mighty Thunder Sword out here. Whose behalf are you acting on?"

Galf grunted. "Well I won't lie; the fee offered was very attractive too. Not that I'd care for my client if he wasn't paying me… but then, cults have never appealed to me."

For the second time, Juza halted in mid-stride. Blood rushed to his head. "Zio? You mean to say that you were hired by bloody Zio?"

Galf chuckled, his face appreciative. "I take it that Master Zio doesn't make good impressions on anyone."

Juza didn't bother to dignify that, but instead, asked the pertinent question. "Why?"

The craggy-faced hunter frowned. "Your men really didn't bother to make much of a report to you, did they?"

"My men probably don't even know that Zio has an interest in this case at all! It's not as though Eddard Crane was funding his church."

Galf nodded. "Fair enough. Zio hired me because he claims responsibility for the death." Galf paused, then amended, "Well, deaths."

"What?" Juza stared numbly at the hunter for approximately three seconds before registering where they were. He shook his head, wondering if he'd gotten drunker than he realized last night. "Claims responsibi…" He squinted. "My office is right here," Juza announced. "The body can wait. In here. Now. Tell me everything."

Galf looked slightly pained. "Uh, Magistrate, really wai—"

"It can wait. You're going to tell me everything."

"No, really, you see there's a—"

"Hunter, I don't care if there's a resurrection scheduled for the fabled Mother Brain! What is there to know?"

Galf tried one more time. "I just really think you should—"

"We're not going to the body now," Juza screamed. He paused for a moment, and then continued more coherently, "Hired or not, I am the local authority in this matter. Not cooperating with me would be a very bad idea."

Galf exaggeratedly threw up his arms. "I'm cooperating with you. Very well, Magistrate, lead on."

Ignoring the deliberately martyred tone, Juza strode in short order to his office, and seated himself. Taking a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, he finally remembered his courtesy. "Please, take a seat, Galf. Drink?"

"No thanks." The hunter leant back contentedly in the chair Juza had indicated. "I will say, I like your office, Magistrate. Shows more class than most of these small town ones usually do."

"Thank you," said Juza. "I try my best to insure the pleasure of all hunters passing through." That solicited a snort from the legendary Thunder Sword. "Well, shall we begin? You say that Zio hired you?"

"Yes," replied Galf, his tone finally becoming serious. "I assume you know how the system at the Guild works?" Juza nodded his assent and Galf continued, "So, a very urgent sounding missive comes in early in the morning. In fact, you're fortunate that one of our new clerks happened to be in early. The silly fool somehow locked himself in last night." Galf paused his narration long enough to shake his head and snort at the kind of man who could successfully lock himself into the Hunters Guild, and then went on. "Anyway, he panicked and tried to break out. Got the attention of some of the locals, and eventually us. When I and a few other hunters got in, he babbled about the job, so I took a look at it. I have to admit, it sounded bad and, as I said before, the fee was very handsome. So, I took it and hurried here."

Juza paused. It was all plausible, but something about the hunter's demeanor convinced the Magistrate that Galf was hiding something. Long experience at reading people wouldn't lie about this, not unless Galf was the most cleverly deceptive man in all of Algo. And given his reputation, he might well be. On the other hand, such a supposition was needlessly depressing and farfetched. And anyway, Galf didn't seem to be nervous, arrogant, or even particularly evasive. He seemed… more amused than anything else.

"That's all standard procedure," Juza finally replied sharply. "Come to the point that I'm interested in. I assume that Zio didn't actually put down exactly what he was taking responsibility for, in the job description?"

"Of course not." Galf grunted, sounding not entirely happy with his client. "Put in a message about a rather messy sounding murder. As I say, I took the job. Came here as fast as I could, and met with Zio before heading to the estate, looking at Eddard Crane's body, deciding that, malicious intent or accident, some tech of extraordinary power was the cause of destruction, and meeting up with you."

"And?" prodded Juza. "The meeting with Zio?"

Galf sighed. "He claims to know who the perpetrator of the… murder, I suppose we have to call it, was. An acolyte of Zio's own religion, a man he called Ferrio."

Ignoring all the other possible implications, Juza considered the salient point. "Ferrio… don't think I know him unless… Green hair?"

Galf nodded. "That was part of the description, yes. Green hair, tall, dark robes, really purple kind of eyes."

"Hmm." Juza drummed the hardwood desktop with his fingers. "I think I remember seeing him with Zio more often than not." He shrugged, considering the possibilities. "So, Zio claims what exactly? That one of his acolytes had a grudge against Ned Crane?"

"Zio says that Ferrio had some sort of delirious religious experience, and that he went off the deep end. Says that his tech power increased exponentially too."

Juza frowned. "If it's a religious experience, I would have thought Zio would want to cover the crime, not catch the acolyte."

"You'd be surprised, Magistrate. I've seen a lot of these cults over the years. It's perfectly in character for Zio to take such a thing as an affront. Not only is it a potential threat to his authority, a crime like that puts his whole organization at risk."

"Yes," Juza replied slowly. "He would look at it like that. And even if he didn't, it's perfectly possible for him to take a failure like this on the part of an important member of his hierarchy personally. As far as Zio is concerned, a man he trusted failed god."

"That or his purpose is hopelessly obscurely twisted."

Which was probably the point, Juza acknowledged wearily. His head had started swimming again from the lack of sleep, but his mind was still invigorated. Although, it wasn't just Zio that was at issue here, it was Galf.

Surer of himself Juza stabbed at what he thought to be the heart of the issue, "But you don't really believe that, do you?"

For just a moment, the surprise flashed across Galf's face. Then he was calm again. "I don't know," the hunter muttered. "It all adds up. Except Zio. There's something about him that…" his voice was distant. It was, thought Juza, the voice of memory. He shuddered faintly. Juza had far too many personal problems, and memories, of his own to want to know about Galf's. And anyway, if it seemed to have any relevance on the case, he could press Galf for an answer about it later.

"So," Juza surmised, "we've got one account that neatly explains how the murder was done, and maybe even why. Do you have any other angles?"

Galf shrugged, seemingly fully recovered from his momentary pensiveness. "Not really. I can think of any number of scenarios where somebody or other would want a merchant prince like Crane to die. A business rival say. Or maybe Crane was the sort that slept around." Juza's hands clenched the table to control the blood pounding through his head. "But," Galf continued, apparently oblivious, "I haven't done any of my own investigating. As you say, Zio's account is plausible enough, and he has no tangible reason to lie. At least not about the very thing he hired me for. Going off of any other possibilities… there's no evidence one way or the other."

Juza sat there silently for some moments. Finally he said, "Ned Crane did have a number of enemies, and I suppose it's possible that Zio's in collusion with one or more of them but…" He finally shook his head, fully aware of how much he wished that it was Zio. "That's thin at best. No, Zio probably gave us the honest account of this affair."

"So," said Galf, "seeing that we'll be working together, before you go off for the body, perhaps I shoul—"

The famous hunter never got a chance to finish his suggestion, however, because just then, the door to the room came flying open, and a hard cold, flashing piece of metal went flying straight by Juza.

The next thing he knew he was spinning out of his chair onto the floor. He thought he heard a shout, but he wasn't quite certain. Groaning, Juza struggled to sit up. Everything really hurt just now… though maybe that was because something had just hit him.

In the meantime, he belatedly realized that he was listening to Galf's familiar voice. "… ever think? Does he look like he could take me?" There was some sort of low, indistinct answer to the question. Galf started to snap, "Next time, if patience is beyond you then you mig…" The hunter's voice broke off, however, as Juza groaned again.

A hard, calloused hand seized Juza, dragging him to his feet. His eyes wide with shock, his mind racing along the same pointless tracks, and his body still sleep-deprived, he stared at the young woman by Galf's side, looking abashedly at the floor. She was what… he couldn't even guess in his current state. A flattering figure and long brown hair… That was when he noticed the slasher in her hand.

Galf coughed uncomfortably, his voice apologetic. "This is what I was going to mention earlier. I mean before uh… before we came here. This is my, ah, apprentice. Trainee hunter. Alys. Alys Brangwin." He coughed again, nervously rubbing his moustache. "Alys, Magistrate Juza Atheon."