The Far Shore by Nick Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

moved closer did Cassius realise that it depicted a black sky, a huge wave and a ruined strip of coast.
    ‘Ah. I suspect that’s a representation of a disaster that struck the island about a century ago. An earthquake caused a giant wave that wiped out much of the city.’ Cassius turned to Indavara. ‘A single, sudden event that left utter devastation in its wake. Seems rather apt.’

    Most of the space in the outhouse was taken up by firewood and sacks of animal feed, but beyond the largest pile of timber was a big table. Poking out from beneath a blanket were the feet of the two dead men. Ligur, the doorman – by the far the bigger of the two – still had his sandals on. Only one of Memor’s slippers remained.
    Trogus stopped just inside the doorway and didn’t seem keen to venture any further. Cassius and Indavara walked past him. There was no smell yet, only the musty odour of the wood. Indavara took hold of the blanket, waited for a nod from Cassius, then pulled it away.
    They barely noticed the larger of the two corpses. Their eyes were drawn instantly to the headless body of Augustus Marius Memor. Dark blood and tissues of yellow and pink had congealed around the uneven cut that had severed his neck two inches above his collarbone. Thick maroon streaks lined the throat and chest, colouring most of the white tunic. His arms hung straight by his sides but the fingers were clawed and contorted – his last moments of resistance frozen for ever. Memor had been slim, with pale skin and thick black hair upon his arms and legs.
    Indavara walked round the table and looked down at the neck.
    ‘Not many cuts. Done quickly but done well. Probably slit the throat then worked back from there. Short, strong blade. Wide dagger perhaps.’ He glanced at the sheathed weapon on Cassius’s belt. ‘Like yours.’
    Cassius had taken a moment to compose himself. He walked the other way round the table, past Ligur’s head, and looked down at Memor. He was glad he hadn’t known him; he tried to put aside the fact that the butchered form before him had once been a man. He let his eyes run over the body, looking for anything else they might use.
    Indavara had already moved on.
    ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Look here.’
    Cassius turned and looked down at the doorman. Despite the blood, two separate rents in his throat could clearly be seen. Stuck to the wounds were a few fibres from the rug.
    ‘Ligur was found on his front, Trogus?’
    ‘Yes,’ replied the steward, still keeping his distance.
    ‘So he probably turned his back on the assassin. He
must
have known him, must have felt safe. Same blade?’
    ‘Think so,’ said Indavara.
    Cassius squeezed past him and squatted beside the table, inspecting the wounds from the side. ‘See the angle of the cuts?’
    Indavara knelt down. ‘I see it. The killer had to reach up to slice his neck. He might have been shorter.’
    ‘Quite a lot shorter.’
    ‘Left-handed too.’
    ‘How can you tell?’
    ‘The cuts are thicker to the right, where the blade first punctured the skin.’
    ‘So they are. You’re rather good at this. I suppose you’ve seen more weapons and wounds than most.’
    Indavara shrugged.
    ‘See anything else?’ Cassius said. ‘On either of them?’
    Indavara checked both men’s hands. Cassius went to look at their feet. Other than the fact that Ligur’s were dirty and Memor’s were spotless there was nothing of note.
    ‘No scratches on their fingers or broken nails,’ observed Indavara. ‘Neither of them had a chance to put up a fight.’
    Cassius pointed down at the blanket. ‘Put that back, would you?’
    He found Trogus pacing around outside. Opposite the outhouse were the stables. Cassius’ and Indavara’s mounts had been tied to a rail and were slurping water from a trough. The horses in the stalls behind them watched the new arrivals and sniffed the air.
    ‘What now, sir?’ asked Trogus.
    ‘Before the men come back I would like to see Mistress