The Death of Dulgath by Michael J. Sullivan

late earl. Then he went on to the spring conclave in Ervanon. The bishop met with Viscount Winslow, who sent you our way.”
    “What can you tell us about Lady Dulgath?” Royce asked.
    Payne paused and wiped his mouth. “Well, she’s the only daughter—only child—of Lord Beadle Dulgath, formerly the Earl of Dulgath. She’s young, twenty-two I believe. Very pretty. Got her looks from her mother, who died in childbirth. Beadle never remarried. He was a sentimental man. Emotional sort. Weak is what Bishop Parnell says. He has let this province run wild with lawlessness, as today’s little demonstration can attest. Can you imagine what would happen if the peasants of Medford hauled a priest out in the main square to be tarred and feathered? King Amrath would post their heads on poles lining the King’s Road.”
    “You know a lot about Medford,” Hadrian said.
    “I studied at Sheridan University. We used to spend our free days in Medford.”
    “Small world. We know a Professor Arcadius from Sheridan. He’s the—”
    “Can we get back to Lady Dulgath,” Royce insisted.
    “Oh yes. Let’s see…” The priest tapped his chin. “She’s well liked. Some might even say loved by…well, I guess everyone.”
    “Apparently not.” Royce started to lean against the doorframe but must have thought better of it and straightened again. “When did the attacks start?”
    “Maybe a few weeks after Beadle’s funeral or so I’ve heard.”
    “Maybe?”
    “It’s hard to say exactly. We only know about the attempts that got noticed, but Knox will tell you more about that.”
    Royce had a sour look on his face. Usually Albert dealt with the client who wanted an item taken. Then Hadrian and Royce would watch the place for a few days, noting visitors and guards—if there were any—and determining when the lights went out and from what windows. Only on rare occasions did his partner check out interiors. If they needed floor plans or inside details, Albert would be sent for a visit. Hadrian knew Royce didn’t speak to many people, but he especially avoided priests, nobles, and most certainly high sheriffs. The last law enforcement officer he’d talked with had been found grotesquely butchered and decorating the fountain in Medford’s Gentry Square. Hadrian doubted Pastor Payne was aware of Royce’s involvement in that affair. If he were, he wouldn’t be so casual about introducing the thief around.

Chapter Four
Beyond the Sea
    The next morning, Sherwood let himself into the study as usual. The castle staff had stopped bothering with him after the third week. Not that they’d known what to do with him before. An artist was an oddity in a castle—even a large one. In Dulgath, he was an outright enigma.
    While gossip wasn’t something he intentionally provoked, Sherwood was delighted by the whispers his contradictions generated. He hobnobbed with the nobility, but dressed like the staff. Being friendly, he spoke kindly and easily to everyone without any hint of haughtiness, but he also told tales of intrigue in the courts of high kings.
    On fine days, he kept to his room. On mornings after a night’s rain he took long walks, mostly along the coast. The castle staff didn’t know he was out searching for ocher, which stood out better from the cliff walls when wet, or that the snails he used to make Imperial Purple were more plentiful after a rain. The servants probably considered him daft. Oddly enough, his eccentricities gained him a queer sort of acceptance.
    Before he’d left Mehan for Dulgath, everyone had warned Sherwood that the people he’d meet there would be a bit off . As a result, he fit right in and had become a part of the “castle family.” And since he had no title before his name and required no special treatment, Sherwood had become little more than furniture to the people who worked there—all except one. She was Nysa’s handmaiden, Rissa Lyn. He knew her name from the number of times the lady