Chapter 6

Talking about foaming at the mouth... Turi stared in horror at the lank body of Rusgon, the influential politician and right hand of the council member Halaniel, who was in charge of all things healers and healing.

Rusgon had always been tall, but now his body lay collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor of his family's quarters. The foam around his mouth and the shocked stare, fixed on his face, seemed to indicate a sudden onset of death.

It was a sickening sight, and Turi struggled to collect herself. If this was an accident, which she strongly doubted, it sure was some freakishly unlikely one. But the state of the victim, it was irrefutable. This was a murder, again. Two in as many days!

This was unheard of, as elves just don't kill other elves. Not like this. This high profile politician had been the target of a vicious, premeditated attack. 

Turi's head swam with the realization and she looked for a place to sit down. It made no sense, yet it was undeniable.

Rusgan's wife sat next to her husband's body on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. They had no little ones, Turi noticed gratefully. Even though she didn't want to be inconsiderate, Turi realized she had to step up and make the most of this moment while the trail was still fresh. Though perhaps fresh was the wrong word, Turi thought, trying to avert her eyes from the victim.

She kneeled next to the distraught elf, gently touching her shoulder and helping her up. As they sat on a soft cover long chair in the corner of the room, Turi tried to be simultaneously kind and professional. Provide comfort and find out some basics.

Where had the deceased been? Had he eaten anything suspect? Were there any poisonous substances in their quarters? Rusgan had done nothing unusual that day but go into work at the palace, and no, there weren't any dangerous foods or other stuffs in their kitchen cabinet. This could only mean one thing, and it was an alarming thought.

Could this high profile politician have been poisoned inside the palace? No other reports had been made regarding poisoning or digestive problems, so this was looking more and more like a targeted assassination.

Turi hid her face in her hands, then stroked her hair backwards. Not this. Not again. 

She felt queasy at the idea of a threat to the palace. The idea of Thranduil being at risk or somehow involved was overwhelmingly unsettling, and she tried to push the idea to the back of her mind for now. Turi looked at the floor, then took a deep breath and composed her thoughts.

A team from border patrol had now shown up, and she knew that soon any evidence would be erased by commander Coamenel's team stomping around the crime scene. Or worse. The commander himself might choose to make an appearance!

With this in mind, Turi got up and started scanning the room, looking for any clues. Nothing seemed to be out of place. She crouched low over the body and noticed the faint smell of almonds. With a shock she recalled a fiction novel she'd recently read. Potassium cyanide poisoning?

The foam around the victim's mouth suggested a seizure before the moment of death, Turi thought. This was consistent with cyanide, and would explain why the body was convulsed. A heart attack would have killed him off, Turi concluded. Despite the horror of the scene, she had a moment of gratefulness for the grisly knowledge she'd gained from reading her many books at work. Time well spent.

Overcoming her initial reluctance, Turi felt around Rusgan's clothing, checking his cape and pockets. As her fingers touched the jagged edge of paper, her heart clinched.

With the tips of her fingers she neatly lifted a scroll from the politician's pocket. Turi let herself fall backwards. With shaking hands, she unrolled the scroll. Around her, the border patrol team was moving through the room, moving furniture and barking commands. The scroll read:

Na vedui! – at last! Hear our declaration. N'i lû tôlwhen – the time has once again come for cleansing our society of the corruption of mind, body and soul. Odulen an edraith anlen – I am here to save you. The cat.

Turi was reconfiguring the killer in her mind as she read the note over and over. This was either one angry cat or, more likely, a group set on some ideological mission. Wait, what did it say? Once again? Were the perpetrators some kind of religious extremists? Changing the elven society by the cleansing of fire or driving out demons with poison? And was there a past performance of this terror?

Had Rusgan been involved in some kind of corruption? Turi shook her head, thinking about the politician who'd spent his career fighting for the rights of healers. With a frown she carefully rolled the scroll up again and slipped it in her inner pocket.

The pounding in her temples was building up into a nauseating headache, and she made her way out of the home quietly. 

Turi walked into the grey light of the early morning, her head swimming with different ideas and possibilities.

She wondered if there was more to this then a wild terror spree. Darn'it, she needed background. What cleansing of society? Had this happened before? And who was that cat?

These murders seemed insane, though the cold-bloodedness of the killings didn't suggest out of control rage, but rather a calculated emotionlessness that was even more petrifying.

Suddenly out of breath, she stopped and leaned against a tree trunk. Memories of the foam-mouthed victim flashed into her mind, disbelief and fear etched onto his face. And the idea of a threat to Thranduil returned to the front of her mind now, unstoppable like a battle ram.

Panic and dizziness swept over her. Turi threw up on the side of the walkway.