The pendant was not so much broken -in fact, the gold had withstood the elements surprisingly well- as it was incomplete. The other half of the pendant had probably never been attached in the first place. The impression of incompleteness was reinforced by the engraving on the back, which showed, in finely-crafted letters, the words:
I give you my undy
As for the letter, it was apparently from Coras himself to the Aedile, complaining about what the gnome perceived as unjust harassment and red tape over the saferoom he was building. The letter read in part:
Quote:
I don't understand why you are carrying on so about this. You're acting as if I had just told you that one of the crossbeams had gone out of skew in the treadle. It isn't as if you have any reason not to trust my competence as a builder.
As to the secrecy? Well, think of what I have to protect! I *am* the town's goldsmith and locksmith, am I not? I had assumed the Aedile, of all people, would understand. I explained this all to Mr. Wentworth already. I wasn't expecting a kind of Dianite Inquisition...
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The dwarf's eyes were waiting for Dego's when these rose up from their inspection of the two objects.
"I should think it fairly self-evident," he said,
"why Latherin is interested in what's inside the mill. Coras would have literally had about half the town's gold supply in his shop at any one time." The dwarf pointed his chin at the pendant. It took a lot of skill to point a chin so heavily bearded with any sort of accuracy, but Bork was not Tradesmaster of the Ranger Hall for nothing.
"I'm sure whoever commissioned that isn't the only customer Coras had wanting to give their sweethearts their undies."
Bork gave something of a mirthless chuckle and shook his head at Dego's suggestion that they might expect to find foul play. He seemed like a good kid, a smart kid, and he would be good to have along if he had half the skills he said he did. But he *was* a kid, and new in town, to boot.
"Saying we expect to find foul play is a bit like saying we expect to find the remains of an abandoned mill," he pointed out.
"The gnome was in the mill, working away at whatever he was doing when the vyssies attacked. He probably died telling the darkie that killed 'im that it'd cost extra if he wanted that sword engraved right away."
Mila, who was just in the process of shuffling off poor Philius, who was finally alive enough to move on his own, scowled reproachfully at the dwarf.
"Bork!" she tutted,
"don't speak so flippantly about the dead like that." Still, she half-suspected that Bork was right.
The dwarf looked at his now-empty coffee cup, and pushed it back with something of a sigh.
"Unless you have further questions, I think it's about time we made ready to leave. What do you think, Dego?" From the rather decisive and businesslike way in which the dwarf was starting to rise and gather his things, he was obviously operating from the assumption that Dego would agree with him.