It was a slightly less objectionable version of Trei Verlick that Lowe managed to track down in the museum grounds.

After his . . . interesting conversation with Preece, the Inspector had been loath to return to the little room the Director had set aside for him to conduct his interviews. Lowe had initially thought it was a good thing that Nuroon hadn't insisted Felicitous Gral oversee again, but a few hours in, he was rapidly reassessing that view. Other than a general, unrestrained joy at the death of Kregg - and other than Preece's intriguing contribution to proceedings - Lowe did not feel any better informed about the murders than he had before he had arrived.

Thus, he found stumbling across the supervising a small group of somewhat fortuitous.

"You still hanging about here then?" Verlick said, then turned to yell at one of the enormous men fumbling about with a handful of bricks.“For the love of all the gods, stop! Put the trowels down before you murder that poor thing any further!” The glanced back at Lowe and gave a shrug. "Just a minute, sir."

"Sure," Lowe was pretty pleased Verlick was even acknowledging his existence. From everything he'd heard, the old man was as spikey as Nuroon when it came to people interfering with the running of his domain.

The paused at Verlick's yell, their hands hovering in the air. Sweat dripped from their brows, pooling into small, muddy patches on the ground. They were each, gormlessly, staring at the half-constructed wall, a lopsided monstrosity that looked like it was trying to break free from its sorry existence.

"I've told the Director it's a false economy cutting corners to employ these morons. At half the hassle, I'd get twice as much done with some decently trained staff."

As Trei stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at the mess of mortar and stone, Lowe reflected that it seemed odd the museum had cash to spare in some areas but was making savings in others. He hadn't missed the numbers of the Lower Classed in positions he might expect to have been filled with more expert presences. Of course, there was nothing wrong with keeping costs low, but it was oddly inconsistent with the gold that seemed to be awash elsewhere.

“You lot have the brains of a rock but none of the reliability,” Verlick yelled, his hands twitching, and with a flick of his fingers, activated Master Mason’s Eye. In response to the Skill, every crack, every uneven surface in the wall suddenly glowed faintly as if begging for correction. The botched construction shimmered with a haze of errors, and Verlick’s lips curled into a tight line of disdain.

“Right,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “Step back and let a professional handle this.” As he spoke, he triggered Structural Reversion, and the wall sighed in relief as it unravelled, bricks slipping apart with a gentle thrum, the poorly mixed mortar dissolving into harmless dust. The watched, slack-jawed, as the stones they had placed settled back on the ground.

Verlick spun around, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not your nanny, and this isn’t a sandbox. You’re here to learn, so try fucking doing it the way I showed you!” He grabbed a trowel, not that he needed one with his Skills, but he wanted to show them how a proper wall was built. With precise movements, he activated Perfect Placement, and each brick clicked into place under his hands like it was born to be there.

One of the apprentices, a lad with arms thicker than Lowe's entire torse, lifted a brick, his hands trembling with effort despite his Strong as an Ox passive. It would be the only Skill the poor kid would have, Lowe knew, at least until he was able to catch the eye of one god or another. By the look of the age of some of these apprentices, though, they'd long since passed the stage where they could reasonably expect to be patronised. Thinking back to his conversation with Preece, Lowe frowned. What was it with this place and employing older people? Nuroon didn't strike him as the sort of man to have an altruistic streak when it came to employment practices.

“Put that fucking thing back down!” Verlick barked. “What do you think you're doing? Haven't you ballsed this up enough yet?"

The apprentice dropped the brick in fright, narrowly missing the foot, but Verlick didn’t even flinch. Instead, he activated Reinforced Foundations, sending a pulse of energy through the ground beneath the wall, stabilising the earth.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“That’s how it’s done,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Now, take those shovels, and fill in the gaps where they belong, not where your fucking idiot heads think they should be.”

The moved slower than molasses on a winter’s day, but they moved. Verlick turned back to Lowe but kept a sharp eye on their work, his Supervisor’s Intuition giving him a constant stream of notifications whenever one of them even thought about making a mistake. Every now and again, he barked orders and corrected their errors.“Remember,” Verlick said, his voice softer but no less cutting, “you’re here to build, not demolish. If I have to undo your mess again, I’ll be charging you the repair fees out of your hides. Now, where were we?" he said, looking back at Lowe

"We hadn't actually started," Lowe replied, "but before we do, can I ask you about all the unskilled around the place?"

"Bane of my fucking life, sir. Bane of my fucking life. The Director's been on some massive efficiency drive for the last few years, and you should see the fucking idiots -" he raised his voice as he said that, the apprenticeships cringing in response -"I get landed with."

"But why should that be the case? From everything else I've seen, gold doesn't seem to be an issue."

Verlick snorted. "Welcome to my world, sir. None of that fucking good fortune has trickled down to us on the ground level yet."

"Good fortune?"

Verlick sucked air through his teeth. "Ah, now that would start to wander into areas I'm going to have to refer you back to Mr Gral. Outside my jurisdiction, you see."

Sighing, Lowe made a mental note that he would need to drop by that creepy man's office in the Tower of Law once he was finished here and pressed on. "So, what can you tell me about the murders?"

"Don't rightly know we're supposed to call them that, are we? A falling stone crushed the girl, and the lad and the wanker got themselves melted. Messing with powers beyond their ken and all that."

"Okay. Well, let's focus on the deaths of the to start with. Did you know them?"

“Barely. Paths didn't cross much if you know what I'm saying. They'd be with the exhibits, and me and my lads would be trying to keep this fucking ramshackle show on the road. My two silvers' worth is that I don't think either was popular, if that makes any difference. The lass was one of them sneaky types that listens more than you think, and the lad . . . well, the only thing I know about him is I'd keep finding him places he shouldn't be. Usually, with a confused expression on his face and a fucking useless excuse in his mouth. If you ask me, he was simple-minded enough to be working with these cretinous mouth-breeders!" The cringed as Verlick raised his voice once more.

"You'd 'keep finding him in places he shouldn't be'. Was that a recent thing?"

Verlick frowned at that. "Now you mention it, yes. I probably wouldn't have even known his name if he hadn't been making such a fucking nuisance of himself in these last couple of weeks."

"What sort of thing was Harker doing?"

"Oh, nothing that I'm not used to those academic twats getting up to. But if I got a notification that a door had been forced or a seal broken, by the time I got there, I'd find him stood, mouth open like a fish, and looking around like he'd been sleepwalking. To hear him tell it, he had no idea of what had happened."

Lowe frowned at that. "And that didn't strike you as unusual?"

"Sir, I have been the at Soar Museum for the best part of twenty years. Nothing the get up to surprises me. The only thing that was even slightly unusual about this was that he didn't stink of alcohol, and there was no half-dressed serving wench to be found in the shadows. It's a fucking colossal site, sir, and - literally - years can pass between my crew maintaining one area or the next. It's famously one of the attractions of the job, provided you can stand Nuroon. There are all sorts of shenanigans and extra-judiciary fun and games you can get up to here without anyone ever noticing. I'm surprised even more stuff doesn't get nicked, to be honest."

Lowe nodded absently at the little rant and then frowned. There was something about Verlick's emphasis in that sentence which grabbed his attention. "You say 'even more stuff.' What do you mean?"

"Fuck's sake, sir. I thought that was what you wanted to talk about. Soar knows no one else has been interested. I told the last guy that came around, that Wyst bloke, and he wrote it all down in his little notepad."

Lowe kept his face still, sensing he might finally be getting somewhere. "I'm sure it will all be in a report somewhere. But why don't you give it to me from the horse's mouth, as it were?"

Verlick sighed and, having lambasted the apprentices for their slowness once again, turned back to Lowe. "Look, sir, I don't want to make a big thing about this. But I reported it at least a month before that girl came to her end, and I can't believe no one is making more of it."

"Of what?"

"One of our Dreadnaughts is missing."