Lieutenant Arkham: Elves and Bullets Read Online Free Page B

stubby index finger in my direction—“…Muraddin will have you.”
    We both burst out in peals of laughter.
    “What are you doing around here? Looking for a decent beer? I was just about to pop ‘round to Otre’s.”
    He approaches with the strange swaying gait of dwarves, and crushes my hand. His thick black beard, streaked with grey, comes down as far as his belly, and is in sharp contrast with his head which is completely bald. His glasses, secured to his neck by a gold chain, peek out halfway as though involved in an exploration of the prominent belly underneath the grizzled undergrowth.
    “No, just passing by. You got rid of the plaits in your beard?!”
    “Yes,” he answers, his fingers worrying the mass of hair. “Tessa says it makes me look younger.”
    I laugh.
    “I didn’t think you cared about trying to look younger.”
    “Bah. Women. They make you do the weirdest things. When are you going to find yourself one and settle down? Then
I
can take the piss out of
you.”
    “Never, if I have a say in the matter.”
    “All right, all right, lover boy. What can I do for you?”
    Taking my mobile out, I upload the photos.
    “Tell me what could have caused a wound like that.”
    Putting his round glasses on, he wets his lips with his tongue while he scrolls down the pictures. At the beginning he murmurs “uhmm”, and then he starts with his classic “ugly business, ugly business”. He takes his glasses off and looks me right in the eye, his tone heavy.
    “Ugly business.”
    “Well? Do you know then?”
    “In my opinion, an elf-made silk blade was used.”
    “Are you kidding? Like in the films? I didn’t know they actually existed.”
    Beron sighs and lowers himself down onto the small stool behind the till. He thinks chairs are for loafers.
    “Oh they exist all right, sonny, but only a handful of asses use them. Decades of intense training is required before you can master the art of the silk blade, and elves no longer have reason to use them in battle. They were very common before the Apocalypse, at least that’s what the few surviving hares say, the ones who deign themselves to talk to us poor mortals.”
    Dwarves can live up to seven centuries but only elves live indefinitely.
    “It’s a magical weapon, I imagine.”
    “Oh yes.” Tubgorne nods vigorously. “Maybe the most magical
of all
, apart from the legendary weapons of course. It has to be, otherwise it could get broken simply by taking it out of its sheath. Actually, it’s practically indestructible, and it can bend like a whip. Virtually weightless. The blade is less than half a millimetre thick. I held one once, a long time ago. One of the dynasties lent it to the Academy for a research project, but nothing good came of it. It’s enchanted with the magic of willpower, nothing at all to do with runes.”
    The mention of the Academy makes the dwarf come over all misty-eyed for a moment. A feeling of vague sadness lingers in the air. I thump my fist on his back.
    “Well, thanks a lot, Beron. Must dash now, I’ve got a dinner date. Let’s go out for a drink some time next week?”
    He nods, lost in his memories. I’m already at the door when he calls me back.
    “Sonny.”
    “What?”
    “Watch yourself. A murdering elf is ugly business. Have you still got it with you?”
    I pat my raincoat with a flat hand, in the general location of the Altra holster.
    “Always.”
    “Hmmm. Altra. What a name for a gun.”
    “I know, but I’ve never been able to get my tongue round the name you gave it” Flashing him a grin, I nod goodbye.
    I don’t think anyone would ever believe me, knowing this story and knowing me, if I said that it breaks my heart knowing that I can’t go for a drink with him next week.
    But it’s absolutely true.
     
    Dorisa. In my opinion, Dorisa could have been a model. Instead, who knows why, she chose the MetroPo. When I get there, late, obviously, she’s waiting for me outside Fierno and she’s wearing a