Haught reappeared in a moment carrying the first moldering body, which he dumped
unceremoniously on the floor, and turned to fetch the second one.
Ischade bent over their prize, beckoning Zalbar to move closer.
“Is this your friend?”
Zalbar was still shaking his head. “I don’t understand it,” he said. “How could
there be two bodies in the same grave?”
“It’s not uncommon,” Ischade shrugged. “Gravedig-gers get paid by the body, and
if you don’t watch them, they’ll dump two or more bodies into the same grave
rather than going through the trouble of digging several … especially if there
are two graveyards involved and they don’t want to have to drag the second
corpse across town. Your friend was probably buried with someone else who died
about the same time. The question is, was this him?”
The corpse was almost beyond recognition. What skin and flesh was left was dried
and mummified; bone showed in many places. There was a gaping hole in the
abdomen, and the internal organs were not in evidence.
“N … No,” Zalbar said carefully. “I’m sure this is someone else … maybe
Kurd.”
“Who?”
“Kurd. He was a butcher … a medical researcher he called himself, but he
performed his experiments on the bodies of living slaves. He died the same day
as Razkuli, disemboweled by … a dissatisfied customer. I saw his body at the
charnel house when I went there to identify my friend. They were the only two
there at the time, so if you’re right about the gravediggers’ negligence, it
stands to reason that his would be the second body.”