Scholar's Plot by Hilari Bell

except for the few people who can’t accept that the gods have no interest in man.
    There was a fine carving of the Creature Moon, in its aspect of bear, the avenger: a full fat circle embedded in the stomach of a grizzly that was not only upright, but snarling in a way that made you want to avoid pissing off both the bear and the god.
    This piece transcended artifact and became art. I was surprised to see it in the cluttered rooms of a junior professor.
    Cluttered, and crowded. Looking through the only door, to the single bed in the room beyond, I could see that this was a fine space for one man. For two it would be tight. With the four of us, not to mention the dog, it would get downright claustrophobic.
    Particularly with two of the four being Michael and me.
    “I have a room at an inn,” I suggested. “I can stay there.”
    Michael, to my annoyance, looked happy about that.
    “Don’t worry,” Katherine said. “I’ve rented more rooms from Benton’s landlady. You and Michael are in the attic, and I’m on the ground floor.”
    Hang it.
    “Isn’t that awfully expensive?” I asked hopefully. “You’ve already paid our bond, and as for Benton 
here…” I gestured to the plump, hapless looking man who appeared to be almost as disturbed by this news 
as Michael and I. “What’s the difference between a 
bandit and a scholar?”
    Michael grimaced and Kathy snorted. It was Benton who said, “I don’t know. What?”
    “A bandit has money, even if he just took it from you. Scholars don’t have any money. Ever.”
    Benton grinned. “You’re not wrong. But Father’s giving Kathy an allowance for court, and as you can see—” he gestured to the fine linen skirt and glove-soft leather “—she doesn’t spend much.”
    I’d have priced her outfit at a silver roundel for the skirt, and at least three for the bodice. But if her father was giving her money for damask, silk and gems, she probably did have a fair bit left over.
    “Fisk and Michael are going to help you get your job back,” Kathy told Benton.
    I noticed that this news didn’t make Benton look particularly cheerful, but she went on, “I’ve been thinking, and I think it’s probably all tied together. Master Hotchkiss’ murder, you being framed, whatever’s wrong with the project. So many odd things, happening all at the same time, they have to be connected.”
    “Actually, they don’t,” I said. “It’s inevitable that coincidences will occur, through the normal operation of random chance.”
    “Marman’s law of coincidence,” Benton supplied the attribution. I made a mental note not to quote philosophers in his presence.
    Having established that we were still best friends, Trouble abandoned me and went to sit on Benton’s feet, wagging confidently. Of course the man bent to pet him — Trouble knew a sucker when he saw one.
    “Well, I think ’tis tied to the project,” Michael said. “You were working on that, and even if you don’t have a Gift for reading people, you sensed something wrong there.”
    “But it was Master Hotchkiss who accused him,” I pointed out. “And then was murdered. Surely that’s the sensible place to start.”
    And as soon as we figured out who killed the man… Who’d want to murder a librarian? But whoever it was, and whyever they’d done it, as soon as we found them my debt to Mistress Katherine would end.
    “I can’t believe anyone would kill him,” Benton echoed my thoughts. “That brilliant mind… What a terrible waste.”
    “I still think we start with the project,” Michael persisted. “Our task is to clear Benton, after all. So that’s where we begin.”
    I started to shrug — in truth, I didn’t think it mattered where we started since we’d get to the murder in the end. Then I remembered. I was setting my own direction, now.
    “I say we start with the librarian’s murder. You’re not in charge anymore. Noble Sir.”
    Angry red stained Michael’s cheekbones.