Murder in Halruaa

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Pryce Covington knew he was in real trouble when he saw the second corpse.

This is not to say that he was happy when he saw the first corpse. Far from it. Exactly the opposite, in fact. His heart sank like an egg in a mug of ale, and with it vanished his fondest wish. But of all the words he thought of at that moment”no,” “it’s not fair,” and “just my luck,” among othersthe word “trouble” did not come up.

The specter of personal danger arose only when he saw the second dead body. At first glance, it seemed far less distressful than the first corpse. The youthful man with an unlined face was sitting placidly on the grassy ground, leaning against a tree trunk, his expression almost bemused. Not like the first.

No, not anything like the first body. The face of the first corpse was disturbing, to say the least, even in the pleasant rays of sunrise: eyes protruding; tongue swollen and stiff and hanging as far out of its mouth as it could go; and the visible skin a puffy, horrid shade of purple-green. Well, that’s what happens when you hang from a branch with a rope noose around your neck, no matter how handsome you were when your heart was beating and your brain was working.

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