seemed unlikely that they would have been a party to cold blooded murder. Sura looked at the body, her sharp mind racing – considering a thousand different angles all at once.
“Elemental spirits are small – they couldn’t pull on a belt or a rope with enough force to strangle a man.” The village head-man had been old, but strong: his shoulders were broad, and he had muscles hardened from long decades of farm labour. “This wasn’t done by magic. This took real physical power.”
They turned again to the marks about the dead man’s throat. Broad. Had he been strangled by an obi belt, or a roll of cloth of some kind ? The marks had a slight sheen to them. Sura delicately touched one with her fingertips, and sniffed at the acrid smell.
The dead man’s skin bothered her. It was waxen – and pale. Too pale by far. Sura carefully pulled back the man’s robes. She found a small mark hidden just beneath the neck line of the lapels.
The village head -man had a small puncture wound at the base of his neck, just at the carotid artery.
The wound was narrow – as narrow as a finger’s with – and straight. It had been inflicted by some sort of slender blade. But no blood had spilled onto the man’s robes, or even onto his skin.
Sura checked the man’s hands and feet. His flesh was completely pale. It was as if his body had been completely drained of blood.
There was some minor settling of blood on the dead man’s back. But the corpse had quite definitely lost a vast amount of blood. It had been utterly bled white.
There were no bloodstains on the floor of the tower, nor had there been any sign of blood on the ground below. Sura sat back and gazed at the corpse, trying to think.
Tonbo sat with her. He creased his brows in thought.
“Someone took the blood.”
“Could it be done? Without being seen?”
Rising, Tonbo looked out over the village. It was a dark night, with low clouds. The village lanes were quiet. If the villagers had been inside, tending to their evening meals, then perhaps a stealthy assailant might have managed to move up and down the tower…
“It’s possible.” Tonbo carefully considered the village. “But they would have needed great stealth.”
He looked to Sura, who was again examining the dead man’s wounds. He waited patiently for her ideas.
“What would have a use for blood?”
Sura felt completely puzzled.
“A monster would have left bite marks. But this – this was a blade…” She looked out into the dark. “There is a type of evil magic that is based on blood. Maho.” The fox looked towards the village. “But here?”
“The nezumi girl?”
“No.” Sura creased her brows. “She has elemental familiars. They only choose the pure at heart.”
She turned back to the corpse.
The dead man had been armed with a plain old sword. The weapon had been struck into the floorboards with considerable force. The blade was slightly marred with smear marks: there was a slight, clear, sticky smudge all along the edge. Once again, there was a faint, unpleasant acrid smell.
Tonbo and Sura both arose. Together they looked out into the night. They could just barely see the dark road far below, rooves of the village houses… Some way further down the road was a large inn, well lit and with many guests. The forests and hills were nothing but a black ocean of shadows. Moonlight barely glimmered from the black and restless leaves.
Sura looked carefully off towards the hills.
“Why? Why did he come up here in the dark? What was he hoping to see?”
Tonbo examined the inn.
“There is considerable activity at the inn. Perhaps someone there has seen something? It might be worth inquiring.”
“Maybe.” Sura gave a sigh. “Well – the rat’s pretty much off my list of suspects. She sure hasn’t been drinking blood, bottling blood, or bathing in it. And she couldn’t have carried it down that ladder…”
Tonbo gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
“Agreed.”
Sura put a
“Elemental spirits are small – they couldn’t pull on a belt or a rope with enough force to strangle a man.” The village head-man had been old, but strong: his shoulders were broad, and he had muscles hardened from long decades of farm labour. “This wasn’t done by magic. This took real physical power.”
They turned again to the marks about the dead man’s throat. Broad. Had he been strangled by an obi belt, or a roll of cloth of some kind ? The marks had a slight sheen to them. Sura delicately touched one with her fingertips, and sniffed at the acrid smell.
The dead man’s skin bothered her. It was waxen – and pale. Too pale by far. Sura carefully pulled back the man’s robes. She found a small mark hidden just beneath the neck line of the lapels.
The village head -man had a small puncture wound at the base of his neck, just at the carotid artery.
The wound was narrow – as narrow as a finger’s with – and straight. It had been inflicted by some sort of slender blade. But no blood had spilled onto the man’s robes, or even onto his skin.
Sura checked the man’s hands and feet. His flesh was completely pale. It was as if his body had been completely drained of blood.
There was some minor settling of blood on the dead man’s back. But the corpse had quite definitely lost a vast amount of blood. It had been utterly bled white.
There were no bloodstains on the floor of the tower, nor had there been any sign of blood on the ground below. Sura sat back and gazed at the corpse, trying to think.
Tonbo sat with her. He creased his brows in thought.
“Someone took the blood.”
“Could it be done? Without being seen?”
Rising, Tonbo looked out over the village. It was a dark night, with low clouds. The village lanes were quiet. If the villagers had been inside, tending to their evening meals, then perhaps a stealthy assailant might have managed to move up and down the tower…
“It’s possible.” Tonbo carefully considered the village. “But they would have needed great stealth.”
He looked to Sura, who was again examining the dead man’s wounds. He waited patiently for her ideas.
“What would have a use for blood?”
Sura felt completely puzzled.
“A monster would have left bite marks. But this – this was a blade…” She looked out into the dark. “There is a type of evil magic that is based on blood. Maho.” The fox looked towards the village. “But here?”
“The nezumi girl?”
“No.” Sura creased her brows. “She has elemental familiars. They only choose the pure at heart.”
She turned back to the corpse.
The dead man had been armed with a plain old sword. The weapon had been struck into the floorboards with considerable force. The blade was slightly marred with smear marks: there was a slight, clear, sticky smudge all along the edge. Once again, there was a faint, unpleasant acrid smell.
Tonbo and Sura both arose. Together they looked out into the night. They could just barely see the dark road far below, rooves of the village houses… Some way further down the road was a large inn, well lit and with many guests. The forests and hills were nothing but a black ocean of shadows. Moonlight barely glimmered from the black and restless leaves.
Sura looked carefully off towards the hills.
“Why? Why did he come up here in the dark? What was he hoping to see?”
Tonbo examined the inn.
“There is considerable activity at the inn. Perhaps someone there has seen something? It might be worth inquiring.”
“Maybe.” Sura gave a sigh. “Well – the rat’s pretty much off my list of suspects. She sure hasn’t been drinking blood, bottling blood, or bathing in it. And she couldn’t have carried it down that ladder…”
Tonbo gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
“Agreed.”
Sura put a
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