"What has you so upset?" Sir Emeric asked at the moment he and Fulk exited the front doors of the tavern.

"Not here," said Fulk, glancing up and down the city streets and the people standing outside their doors. "Back alley. Come on."

Fulk led Sir Emeric around the corner of the tavern and gestured for him to lean in close. Through his muffling mask, he whispered to the Templar, "I know who murdered Mujahid."

"Why didn't you share this information before?" Sir Emeric hissed.

"Because I didn't know until now!" Fulk grunted. "Just now... just a moment ago, that crazy-eyed alchemist said he bought medical research notes from a woman named Lilith, and he said they were written in coded Arabic. Well, after Mujahid was killed, I searched his office and found that his notes had been stolen. Mujahid always wrote in code, he said it was something alchemists typically did so people couldn't easily steal their work."

Sir Emeric nodded. "So, you think Dr. Yves has Mujahid's notes? I think you might be jumping to conclusions, my friend. From what I understand of alchemy, most of the great alchemists of the past five-hundred years or so have been Arabs. Those could have been anyone's notes."

"There's more," said Fulk. "It was the name he gave us, Lilith. Lilith was the one who sold the notes to him. When we first encountered Levanna, the witch, she tried to tell me her name was Lilith. I saw through it and got her real name out of her, but that was her alias. She killed Mujahid, stole his notes, and sold them to Dr. Yves."

"To what end?" Sir Emeric asked.

"How the Hell should I know?" Fulk snapped.

Sir Emeric leaned back against the nearest wall. "I see. You said you knew Levanna's real name wasn't Lilith. How did you know that?"

"Because every other witch says her name is 'Lilith.' It's a demonic name, so they think claiming it gives them... power or something."

"So, if every other witch uses that alias, and most alchemical books are written by Arabs, how do you know that this particular Lilith was Levanna and these particular notes in Arabic belonged to Mujahid?"

"Because it's too much of a coincidence otherwise!" Fulk grunted. "You must be able to see it... tell me you're not that stupid!"

"I see it," said Sir Emeric. "It's enough to be suspicious, but not near enough to arrest Dr. Yves over."

"The Hell it's not!" Fulk bellowed, clearly forgetting that he was trying to be discreet a moment ago. He glanced to the right and left, recalling his situation again, then spoke in a lower tone, "Take him in for questioning! A couple days on the rack ought to loosen his tongue!"

Sir Emeric pushed off from the wall and stood straight with his shoulders back, his hands clenched into fists. "We do not do things like Melcher Fitz did, Fulk. We will not torture the innocent until they confess to crimes they didn't commit."

"I'm not saying we get him to confess to the murder." Fulk shook his head. "I'm saying we get him to tell us more about this 'Lilith.' For all we know, that damn witch lives in his cellar, and that's why he wouldn't allow us in his house. That's it! We go back into the tavern and demand he let us into his house."

Sir Emeric folded his arms. "And if he refuses?"

"We arrest him for interfering with our investigation!"

Sir Emeric smacked Fulk in the side of the head. Fulk retaliated before he could think it through by reaching for Sir Emeric's throat. But before Fulk's fingers could reach, Sir Emeric seized him by the wrist and twisted his arm, forcing the murderer to his knees. "Think this through better than that, Fulk. You must! Our situation is a lot more precarious than you realize. For whatever reason, the people of this city love Dr. Yves. I don't know if that's because of his medicine or if he's just a favored citizen, but they love him, and they far outnumber us. Even if we brought in more plague doctors, we don't have anywhere near the man-power to arrest Dr. Yves and leave with our lives. Giradin told me about what happened to Father Hewlett. Well, this will be many times worse."

"Gah! Let go of my arm, Templar!"

"Tell me you understand first, murderer!" Sir Emeric gave Fulk another twist. "Swear to me you won't do anything stupid and endanger the rest of us."

"Damn you!"

"Swear it!"

"I swear!" Fulk conceded.

Sir Emeric released his arm, allowing him to rise to his feet again. Fulk rubbed his shoulder and elbow, looking away from Sir Emeric.

The Templar continued, "We proceed cautiously and carefully. You may be right about what happened to Mujahid, but we need more to go on, and we can't just arrest anyone we want."

"We've lost too many people," Fulk muttered. "And their killers keep getting away with it..."

"That's not entirely true," said Sir Emeric. "Giradin's murderer lies buried behind the monastery."

"Dead from a beheading," Fulk said. "Nowhere near as horrible a fate that bastard deserved. Melcher Fitz and Levanna are the only people in all the world who deserve a worse fate than I do."