Victor took to dissecting the contents of his plate methodically, working from left to right with dispassionate efficiency. His father ate hurriedly. Such a waste: the wild duck was superb, in a light plum sauce, and definitely of better quality than the food I’d been served before. I made a note to request ‘the mayor’s choice’ when I next ordered.

During the meal I continued to question the boy. He was always clear and concise with his answers, taking time to think when he required it, which was not often. He recalled in detail the state of the constable’s office: which was exactly as it was when I arrived. He would have made an excellent inspector.

When the meal was finished, Mayor Eder removed his napkin from his lap and stood. ‘Inspector, I hope to see you at my wife’s dinner party,’ he said, nodding to the invitation that still lay untouched on the table, ‘and, I hope, not before. But should you have need, my office will always welcome an agent of the King.’

‘His Majesty is most grateful, I’m sure,’ I said.

‘Yes, well, come Victor.’

I ordered another glass of wine. I wanted some company as I thought.

*

The good people of Drekenford flowed in and out of the common room, a little more subdued than I had seen them before but otherwise much the same. Friends were hailed, drinks hurried and savoured, and jokes were told – though more often than not the result was a wry chuckle rather than raucous laughter. I watched them all without really looking, and they offered me the same courtesy.

The framer was at the bar again, this time engaged in an animated discussion with what I could only assume was a friend. Mrs Lehner was periodically rolling her eyes while pretending not to eavesdrop. She was a complicated woman.

I spent the better part of an hour there, considering the nature of Constable Webber’s murder. It was positioned undoubtedly alongside the interference of Jan Harsson. The most obvious conclusion, therefore, being that both acts were the work of the same perpetrator, towards the same purpose: fulfilling the conditions required for the Ritual of Berith. But I’d fallen foul of obvious conclusions before. It was, however, a troubling idea that there might be two persons in Drekenford capable of such cruel sorcery. So, I decided to proceed as if pursuing a single entity until the evidence demanded otherwise.

Victor’s description of the constable’s office and the state in which he found Constable Webber was somewhat helpful. The boy had been clear that the desk and its contents were just as I found them, and that this was the only part of the room that was in any disarray – excepting, of course, the constable. The damage to Webber’s ledger was rather self-explanatory – the law devours its history – but what caused the marks on the candle was less clear. Victor had made no mention of them, and that was interesting enough in and of itself. I didn’t want to ask any leading questions. Instead, I left that line of inquiry for a later date; the boy may have simply not noticed the candle at all, or didn’t think it worth mentioning. But I had my doubts.