I explained the basics to Lilianna and Branneth. Both showed a very reasonable disbelief in leaving the investigation to me. Assistant Oxenden’s enthusiastic praise for my demonstrated genius had perhaps the opposite result with them than he had intended. Eventually, when he was out of earshot, I explained the political situation and how other people would be doing the real work. That reassured them.

Then I started pretending to investigate the crime. It turned out it was not appropriate for me to view the body for reasons I did not entirely understand, and didn’t care enough to pursue. The examination of the body was done by a combination of the very lowest ranked member of the medical team, and a member of the butchering team. It wasn’t any sort of euphemism. The actual team who handled processing animal carcasses were honestly considered the foremost authority on deaths. It took a little pressuring, but eventually they agreed I could at least speak to them myself. They were directed to the sitting room, while Lilianna and Branneth waited in the next room. They reluctantly took a seat, sitting on the very edge of the chairs, like they were afraid of getting covered by pet hair.

“Do we know what killed her?” I asked.

“She had a broken neck,” said the butcher. “Other injuries that might have also resulted in death, but that was sufficient.”

“Do you have a list of those injuries?” I asked.

I was leaning very heavily on information gained from police procedurals. I hoped it wasn’t as immediately obvious that I was faking it as it felt. The medical assistant was the one to present a list, and I waited out the disorientation until I could understand it. As the butcher had said, broken neck. Skull fracture. Another spinal fracture, damage to internal organs, a broken arm. Relatively light damage to her legs, however.

“Could these be a result of her falling headfirst into the sand?” I asked.

“Yes,” said the butcher, very definitely. “Where she fell, the sand is very well compressed. Since she was falling headfirst, she had no chance. If she’d fallen feet first, then she would have lived. Her legs would have saved her.”

At least I’d been right about that. And I had more ammunition against it being suicide. I didn’t think it likely for a suicide victim to dive headfirst off a height.

“Do you know when she died?” I asked next.

“No idea,” replied the butcher, with a tone like I’d just asked about the victim’s favourite colour.

“The destiny-weaver will be ready with a report shortly,” said Assistant Oxenden.

The destiny-weaver. They’d been mentioned before. Naturally that was an entirely different person than the people who’d examined the body.

> A destiny-weaver appears to be a type of divination expert. Technological worlds instead determine the time of death from a variety of process within dead bodies themselves.

I was a little hesitant at how much they would know, but I also felt I had to make at least some effort. “Could you tell if she was otherwise healthy?”

“She seemed to be,” said the medical assistant. “If there was anything seriously wrong, she wouldn’t have been nominated as a candidate.”

“Is there anything else you think might be relevant?” I asked, as a very final attempt.

There wasn’t, and they were excused. Assistant Oxenden must have taken my question about the time of death as some sort of reprimand, because he left to follow that up. That one resulted in a purely written report. Candidate Bethany died about a third of the way into the purification ceremony. No further information. I didn’t know enough to know whether there was anymore information that could be had, and Assistant Oxenden didn’t know either.

“We can at least exclude anyone who was at the ceremony,” said Assistant Oxenden.

“Do we have a list of people who were there?” I asked.

I hadn’t noticed anyone obviously taking attendance, but Oxenden was back with one within ten minutes. Something that had been prepared long before we needed it. The staff had been confident it was a voluntary ceremony, but it seemed that didn’t mean missing it came without any sort of judgement.

With how unfamiliar I was with the people at the academy, the list was considerably less useful to me than I had implied. I looked for the names I recognised. Minister Greenfield and his assistant had been there, naturally. So had the two academy leaders and Assistant Oxenden. Assistant Altengart had not. Now wasn’t that interesting – Hearth Keeper Fairbanks had been there, but not House Holder Fairbanks. They’d certainly implied they were both going.

I almost hesitated to take the next step. If things worked cleanly, then comparing this against the list of people who had seen Candidate Bethany’s intake form but didn’t know about her disability would give me very few suspects, and very little scope to dig around. But that was such an obvious step that I could hardly avoid it.

Stolen story; please report.

“Who had access to the Registration of Intent?” I asked, already resigned.

Assistant Oxenden grimaced. “That’s a difficult question to answer.”

“Are there no records about that?” I asked. “Are the forms public record?”

“They’re supposed to be restricted,” said Assistant Oxenden. “The only people who have official access are the two academy leaders and assistants.”

“But something went wrong,” I said.

“No one knows quite how it happened. But the Registration of Intent forms were found abandoned at one of the buffet table last night. Academy Leader Silver swears he put them into his desk in the locked offices, and everyone else swears they never saw them again after that.”

“Who found them?” I asked.

“Minister Greenfield’s assistant,” said Assistant Oxenden. “He’s not suspected as having anything to do with it. We know he wasn’t anywhere near either the landing platform or the offices.”

So much for that time saver. Excellent. Anything else obvious?

I asked, “Is there any possible way to determine more about who or how the note itself was written?”

“I don’t know,” replied Assistant Oxenden. “I can ask the destiny-weaver?”

Sure, why not. “Please do.”

I figured I had put enough work into the actual investigation to conceal a little investigation into the limits of a hero’s power.

“I am a little concerned about what happens at the end of this investigation,” I said to Assistant Oxenden. “What if the murderer simply doesn’t respect my authority to make a decision?”

“They wouldn’t do that,” he said, blinking. “You’re a hero.”

“They couldn’t protest it?” I asked. “Not even to whomever would usually handle such investigations? Not even if I accused some-one powerful?”

“They wouldn’t,” he said again. “I guess if it was a noble then they technically could appeal to the king. But that would be a bad idea for them. Even if the king did come to agree with them, they would not come out of the experience better off.”

If I had been pursuing the case honestly, that might have been enough to throw me into terror. My word, without any checks and balances, could destroy someone’s entire life. Was that the game? Did they wanted to ultimately paralyse me with doubts so that I didn’t accuse anyone?

“Surely something has happened in the past,” I said. “It can’t be an absolute pristine record of summoners in power with pure intentions and flawless Heroes.”

Assistant Oxenden shrugged with an awkward grin. “I guess there’s the stories. You hear of countries that have been denied the right to summon Heroes ever again because of previous mistreatment.”

> As we all know, sacred indemnity is one of the prime requirements for allowing a group to summon heroes in the first place, and His Devotion, Saint Percival the Investigator, would have been informed about this before volunteering. However, as many veterans can attest, the degree to which this theoretical requirement matches reality can vary.

There it was. I could work with that. With a little effort, I managed to move the conversation into the more general discussion of historical precedents and hypothetical situations.

“What about a Hero who started killing people?” I asked. “Not the enemy, I mean. The people on the summoner’s side.”

That seemed to actively pain him. “The default assumption would still be that they had a good reason. In the most extreme case, it is possible to exile the hero. But there would still be such a large backlash on the person who triggered such a thing that they might prefer death.”

“And what about a Hero that was just lazy?” I asked. “A Hero who wants nothing but to lie around and eat berries?”

Assistant Oxenden laughed. At least I had worked him past the point where he would reply that the gods would not send such a person to such a summoner. In the face of such devout faith, I felt a little bad for not living up it.

“That’s an interesting case,” said Assistant Oxenden. “I think… I think if it came to that, the summoners could stop providing the berries. It would take some time, of course. Summoners do have a duty to support heroes in their quests. But I don’t think they don’t have any obligation to support a hero who refuses to do a quest. Perhaps the relevant church might step in.”

Oh well. So much for that half-formed plan. It was a mixture of good and bad news. Good news, they could not force me to put myself in danger. Bad news, they could leave me to starve instead. Neutral news: exile was an option.

A messenger came to let us know that the expedition to one of the other spires would, in fact, proceed ‘as planned’. That put any other ideas I had on hold. I looked out the window. The mist had burnt up, and it looked like it would be a warm day. Break over and back to the real problem.

Memo to Self

Stuff to avoid

· Becoming a dragon rider

Information gathering

· Find out about alternative occupations and opportunities

· - Speak to Minister Greenfield in private

· - - Find out when he is due to leave before he leaves in four days

· Investigate other countries and cultures to see if they’re a better fit

· - Determine just how far heroic independence goes

· - - Legally, very far: complete diplomatic immunity

· - - Practically: assistance can be withdrawn

· Track down itinerary [no point]

Opportunities

· Sneak out when harvesting night flowers [7 6 days]

Preparations

· Beg, borrow or steal clothes of a different colour

· Delay the bonding ceremony as much as possible

· - Extend investigation

· - Imply maximum psychic pollution