The Book of Athyra Read Online Free Page B

horse-cart, with a roan gelding still standing patiently nearby, as if unaware that anything was wrong. On the wagon’s bed was a body, on its back as if lying down to take a rest, head toward the back. The knees were bent quite naturally, both palms were open and facing up, the head—
    “I know him!” said Savn. “It’s Reins!”
    Master Wag grunted as if to say, “I know that already.” Then he said, “Among the sadder duties which befall us is the necessity to determine how someone came to die. We must discover this to learn, first, if he died by some disease that could be spread to others, and second, if he was killed by some person or animal against whom we must alert the people. Now, tell me what you see.”
    Before Savn could answer, however, the Master turned to the crowd and said, “Stand back, all of you! We have work to do here. Either go about your business, or stay well back. We’ll tell you what we find.”
    One of the more interesting things about Master Wag was how his grating manner would instantly transform when he was in the presence of a patient. The corpse evidently did not qualify as a patient, however, and the Master scowled at those assembled around the wagon until they had all backed off several feet. Savn took a deep breath, proud that MasterWag had said, “We,” and he had to fight down the urge to rub his hands together as if it were actually he who had “work to do.” He hoped Firi was watching.
    “Now, Savn,” said the Master. “Tell me what you see.”
    “Well, I see Reins. I mean, his body.”
    “You aren’t looking at him. Try again.”
    Savn became conscious once more that he was being watched, and he tried to ignore the feeling, with some success. He looked carefully at the way the hands lay, palms up, and the position of the feet and legs, sticking out at funny angles. No one would lie down like that on purpose. Both knees were slightly bent, and—
    “You aren’t looking at his face,” said Master Wag. Savn gulped. He hadn’t
wanted
to look at the face. The Master continued, “Look at the face first, always. What do you see?”
    Savn made himself look. The eyes were lightly closed, and the mouth was set in a straight line. He said, “It just looks like Reins, Master.”
    “And what does that tell you?”
    Savn tried to think, and at last he ventured, “That he died in his sleep?”
    The Master grunted. “No, but that was a better guess than many you could have made. We don’t know yet that he died in his sleep, although that is possible, but we know two important things. One is that he was not surprised by death, or else that he was so surprised he had no time to register shock, and, two, that he did not die in pain.”
    “Oh. Yes, I see.”
    “Good. What else?”
    Savn looked again, and said, hesitantly, “There is blood by the back of his head.”
    “How much?”
    “Very little.”
    “And how much do head wounds bleed?”
    “A lot.”
    “So, what can you tell?”
    “Uh, I don’t know.”
    “Think! When will a head wound fail to bleed?”
    “When . . . oh. He was dead before he hurt his head?”
    “Exactly. Very good. And do you see blood anywhere else?”
    “Ummm . . . no.”
    “Therefore?”
    “He died, then fell backward, cutting open his head on the bottom of the cart, so very little blood escaped.”
    The Master grunted. “Not bad, but not quite right, either. Look at the bottom of the cart. Touch it.” Savn did so. “Well?”
    “It’s wood.”
    “What kind of wood?”
    Savn studied it and felt stupid. “I can’t tell, Master. A fir tree of some kind.”
    “Is it hard or soft?”
    “Oh, it’s very soft.”
    “Therefore he must have struck it quite hard in order to cut his head open, yes?”
    “Oh, that’s true. But how?”
    “How indeed? I have been informed that the horse came into town at a walk, with the body exactly as you see it. One explanation that would account for the facts would be if he were driving along,