Carnifex (Legends of the Nameless Dwarf Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

philosopher’s only disciple—at least in Arx Gravis. Aristodeus came and went whenever he pleased, popping up almost out of thin air. Carnifex could only imagine the heated debates the Council must have had about his taking on Lucius as a student, but, as with everything else, the philosopher had gotten his way.
    “So, what was missing?” a scruffy-looking councilor said from behind a stack of books before him on the table. His robe was more yellow than white, his beard matted and flecked with dandruff. He had red cheeks, not from heat or embarrassment, but from an angry-looking rash. He scratched his head, and flakes fell to his shoulders. “Presumably one of the Arnochian folios, or an early charter.”
    “What makes you say that, Councilor Dorley?” Grago asked. There was a hint of accusation in his tone.
    Dorley plucked a pair of spectacles from his robe pocket and sat them on the bridge of his nose. “Because they are of the greatest value. And because the crime scene was the Scriptorium. What else would they take? The King of Arnoch’s Crown Jewels? A crate of gold ingots disguised as a book?”
    Grago’s cheek twitched, and his lips pressed into a tight line. He tapped his index finger rapidly on the tabletop.
    “A book was taken,” Thumil said, with a nervous glance at Carnifex. “One of the Annals , but it was—”
    “The thief put it back,” Carnifex said. “And like I said, he was a homunculus.”
    “That’s what troubles me most,” an immensely fat councilor said. He shifted in his chair, and it scraped on the floor. He whuffed like a donkey and shook his cheeks. “A deep gnome infestrating the city. I mean, the imprecations are magnanimous.”
    Carnifex shot Thumil a look. The marshal was stony-faced, staring straight ahead, but something about the tightness of his jaw revealed he was trying hard not to laugh.
    “Peace, Councilor Garnil,” Old Moary said. “You must not worry so. I mean, what if—”
    “Strikes me,” a white-haired councilor said, “this is a lot of hullabaloo about nothing.”  
    He didn’t look old enough for his hair to have lost its color. Carnifex expected him to have pink eyes to match, but the councilor was no albino: his eyes were of sparkling blue. He was tall, too, for a dwarf—half a head above everyone else seated at the table.
    “Oh, Councilor Castail?” Grago said. “And why is that, then?”
    “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Castail turned to address the Voice. In profile, his nose took on the semblance of a beak, and with the haughty tilt of his chin, you’d have been forgiven for mistaking him for the living embodiment of one of the statues of the Dwarf Lords. “The book was taken, and subsequently returned. Nothing gone. No harm done. I rest my case.”
    “Save for one thing,” Thumil said.
    Castail turned a withering look on him, rolled his eyes, and sighed. “And what, pray tell, is that?”
    “Corporal Jarfy.”
    Castail’s expression melted, and he started to stammer a reply, but Thumil spoke over him.
    “One of my men. One of our citizens.” He stared at Castail until the councilor looked away, and then he continued to stare.
    Eventually, Dythin Rala broke the tension. “But it still begs the question, Marshal, of what we are supposed to do about it?”
    Thumil swung toward the Voice, but Carnifex clamped a hand down on his shoulder and spoke for him.
    “You want us to go after him?” Into Gehenna. Into the warrens beneath the Sanguis Terrae , maybe even as far as the tunnels and chasms rumored to descend deep beneath the earth, until, some said, they opened up onto the Abyss. It was illegal for a dwarf to leave the ravine, but that could be changed in this very room. Special dispensation could be granted. A dwarf could be tasked with a mission. Not that it had ever happened, but in a case such as this…
    Silence fell about the table. Carnifex’s words had the impact of the roof suddenly collapsing. A vulpine glint sprang up