The Inquisitives [4] The Darkwood Mask (18 page)

“Stay at the door,” she whispered to Aegis, who complied.

She needed to talk to the dwarves, but there was one customer in front of her, a man wearing a bulky, hooded cloak with a missing arm. He was hardly the only maimed veteran Soneste had seen in this city—or back home. A naked broadsword lay on the counter between dwarf and customer.

Jotrem moved forward to begin interrogating the dwarf, but Soneste held him back. “We can wait,” she said, irritated that the older inquisitive cared little for discretion.

“The Lions have already been through here, sir,” answered the dwarf, responding to a question she hadn’t heard. “Twice. Now, tell me more about your son.”

“He’s no Rekkenmark cadet,” the man grumbled bitterly. “Not so good with an honest blade.” His voice was raspy with age, yet curiously strong.

“Something simpler than this would be best.” He tapped the handle of the sword dismissively with his only hand. Soneste noted the man’s palm was wrapped in loose bandages. The fingers were exposed, lacking the wrinkles she’d expect to see on an older man.

The dwarf waited expectantly for his customer to go on, but the old man paused. He turned sleightly, peering beyond his hood as though realizing others waited behind him. His steely eyes met hers with a casual analysis, then darted to the hooked hammer in Jotrem’s hand and away again in a flash.

The old man—whom she was certain was not old at all—turned back to the dwarf without a hint of duress. Soneste exchanged
glances with Jotrem. Neither of them, trained inquisitives, had missed the man’s look. He nodded back and placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

“Tallis!” he said, an edge of triumph in his voice.

The hooded man spun in place and threw the sword he’d been discussing with the dwarf out in the air. It spun wildly at Jotrem, who took a step back and ducked as low as he was able to avoid the blade. The hooked hammer dropped to the floor as Soneste drew out her rapier.

As Jotrem fumbled to regain his footing, the hooded man threw a small bag at the other Karrn. The shapeless object struck Jotrem at the waist, its surface rupturing into a mass of brown goo.

“Good to see you again, Jotrem!” The suspect’s hood had fallen away, and a shock of black hair spilled out. His face was far younger than his posture had suggested. In addition, a second arm had appeared from beneath his bulky cloak.

Everyone in the room exploded into motion.

The shopkeepers produced weapons with astonishing speed, though from their shocked, angry expressions it was unclear whom they would favor in this struggle. Jotrem was unable to draw his sword, his arm held fast beneath the swiftly hardened glob that had swallowed his hand, hilt, and belt. Tallis’s eyes swept the room, searching for an escape plan. Soneste had expected him to fight—was his history not one of constant violence?—so she advanced with her sword leveled at him.

“Surrender peacefully, Tal—”

“Murderer!” another voice shouted, and Soneste felt herself being pushed aside as Aegis barreled past her. He was still unarmed, but he braced the buckler of his arm like a weapon.

“Keeper!” Tallis swore then rolled himself backwards over the dwarves’ low counter. He landed lightly on his feet and stopped short before the stout shopkeeper who glared at him with a glowing mace in hand.

“Not
here
, half-elf,” the dwarf warned.

“I’ll settle up later!” Tallis said as he dodged past the dwarf
just as Aegis reached the counter. Bolstered by his rage, the warforged crashed into the sturdy wood and reached in vain for his retreating quarry. Aegis’s arm shot out, preventing his massive, metal body from pitching over the counter entirely. The warforged was nowhere near as nimble as the Karrn.

Tallis jerked open the door and ran through.

The other dwarf approached Soneste and Jotrem with a hand axe gripped tightly in one fist. “What’s going on here?”

Soneste pointed to the open door and looked to the dwarf. “We’re with the Justice Ministry!” she said. “Is there another way out through there?”

“Yeah,” the mace-wielding dwarf spat, glaring at the door through which Tallis had retreated.

She turned to Jotrem, who struggled angrily to free himself from the alchemical glue. It was a tanglefoot bag Tallis had used against him, an invention usually used to stop an opponent from running. Tallis had come prepared to elude pursuers.

“Jotrem, make sure he doesn’t double back.” The older inquisitive looked incredulous at her words, but he was in no position to pursue the suspect. Besides, he’d only slow her down.

Soneste vaulted the counter herself and paused at the door Tallis had taken. “Aegis, go out the front and follow around. Take him alive!”

Without another word, Soneste dashed through the door in pursuit.

Tallis plucked the dart-size crossbow bolt from his shoulder, cursing as the pain revisited. Drazen had been right. He
did
need a new disguise, something to fool anyone who knew his face. For the first time since he’d known her, Tallis couldn’t wait to see the Midwife again. He’d appreciated her services before but had never needed them for
himself
. Until now.

Tallis had made his way through the back of the Bluefist,
cursing all dwarves for their cynical nature. Every weapon in the back of the armory had been under lock and key, and he didn’t have time to fish around for any untended tools. He’d had to exit into the alley unarmed.

Two blocks away, the woman had nearly caught up to him. He’d led her in circles, always just out of sight. She’d expect him to disappear into the sewers or leave the district, but that wasn’t his way. After doubling back once, she’d grown wise to his strategy. When they’d faced each other across one street, he hadn’t expected her to take aim with a miniature crossbow.

Those little bolts hurt.

Who
was
this woman traipsing around with that old wolf, Jotrem? Not a Karrn, by the sky blue of her coat or her flaxen hair, nor any freelancing inquisitive he’d seen in Korth before. Despite the irritation she presented, he wasn’t ready to confront her yet.

If I don’t know you, we don’t deal, he thought. It was a rule. Not negotiable.

Tallis reached a small courtyard, an intersection between the tall, utilitarian structures of the Commerce Ward. He allowed himself to pause. No sign of her yet. He might have lost her this time.

When he’d gained the last roof, she’d started to climb as well. Even the White Lions seldom gave chase when Tallis rose above street level. It was usually a tried and true way to scrap the cats.

Tucking the bolt into a pocket of his jacket for later examination, he considered the three narrow alleys before him. To the left, he saw the market throngs of the main avenue. In thick crowds he could lose her, but she’d stirred up the Lions during their chase and they would be looking for him there. In front of him, the street would lead directly to the House Medani enclave—even less desirable right now.

To his right—

A flicker of movement directly above him had Tallis diving into the right-hand alley. He looked over his shoulder and saw the young woman drop to the ground like a cat from high above, landing with
only the sleight scuffle of her boots and one palm to the cobbles. In her other glove was her hand crossbow, loaded again.

“Blunted!” he said, then rose and started away down the deadend alley.

Soneste was accustomed to Sharn’s spires rising high overhead and its dizzying precipices yawning before her, yet somehow Korth’s towers felt more oppressive, especially in the backstreets. Their sheer walls were pressed closer together as if the city was one vast prison complex, with only a network of narrow courtyards serving as streets. Her drop from the third story had been smooth, and the hum of another of her powers faded away.

Soneste kept her eyes on her quarry, but from her peripheral vision she saw there were a couple of citizens nearby. “Call the White Lions,” she bade as she gestured to one with her free hand, “There’s a reward. Go now!” The other hand she raised, pointing her crossbow at Tallis.

Tallis walked backwards, facing her. She’d cornered him in an alley that extended half a block before giving way to an open sky—the edge of the Commerce Ward, which dropped in a sheer cliff forty feet above the streets of the Community Ward.

Closer to him now, Tallis appeared younger than she’d taken him for. The haughty, almond-shaped eyes of an elf were offset by a jocular mouth and longish, sable-black hair. His ears tapered only sleightly. Even accounting for his elven blood, he was a good deal younger than Jotrem. They could not have been classmates. The older inquisitive might have been Tallis’s superior officer.

Even as she studied him, he offered a toothy smile like a street urchin with a piece of stolen fruit. Soneste reminded herself that he’d been there at ir’Daresh’s suite. He might have been party to the murder of the ambassador, his wife, and their two children. The Justice Ministry’s records had listed several other killings over the course of his criminal career. Mostly other criminals, suspect
politicians, and known Cultists of the Blood. What
was
he after in all this?

Tallis was clad in black like many Karrns, but his attire was tailored like a uniform, the sign of a professional man of action who wanted no restriction to his movement. He carried no obvious weapons, but two metal rods hung from his belt, as though they were death-dealing wands and he an accomplished war-mage. But by all reports, Tallis was no spellcaster. Soneste did note a single ring on his left hand—a silvery band with a stylized dragon’s head on it. He didn’t wear a Rekkenmark ring.

“Tallis,” she began, “in the name of King Kaius III of Karrnath—”

“So what brings a fawn-eyed girl like you into Khorvaire’s fairest kingdom this lovely day?” Tallis gestured at the leaden sky.

Soneste clenched her teeth for a moment. “—
and
King Boranel of Breland, surrender to the justice afforded you.”

Tallis raised his eyebrows. “You came from
Breland?
Really? Say, do they still serve those Aundairian pastries on the rail dining carts? Glorious taste, but they run amuck in the Cogs, if you know what I mean.”

Tallis continued his backward advance, but Soneste kept pace. She noted with satisfaction that the only door that led to the alley—the only means by which he could try another escape—was blocked up by a heavy stack of rain-soaked crates. A small, battered cart lay discarded near the alley’s far end, one wheel propped against the stone wall.

“Not two days ago I walked the skybridges of Sharn,” she answered with a thin smile. “Breland sends more than some no-name sleuth to bring political murderers to justice.”

Tallis smirked, but she could see the implications reach into his eyes. “I didn’t kill that man,” he said, more seriously now, “or his family.”

“If you’re telling the truth, Tallis, then why did you run from me?”

“I don’t
know
you,” he answered with a boyish grin. “A pretty
girl starts to chase me with a weapon. Thrilled as I am by that, I prefer a more formal courtship.”

Soneste rolled her eyes. Did he expect this to buy him time?

“You know as well as I do that they just want someone to blame,” he continued. “I am apparently the only suspect? The Justice Ministry and your king are all doing an excellent job, miss.”

“If you’re innocent of this crime,” she offered, throwing his sarcasm back at him, “perhaps you’d like to assist me in finding the real killer?”

Tallis let out a resigned sigh. “I must decline, sadly.” He started to move past the propped cart, mere steps away from the bluff’s edge.

Without taking her eyes away off him, Soneste drew the sleeve of her coat across the razor tip of the loaded crossbow bolt. The sealed edge of the flat pouch sewed there tore open, freeing its contents. A thin, cobalt-colored paste now slicked the steel tip.

Tallis froze two steps from the edge. “Poison?” He was incredulous, or he feigned it well.

“Blue whinnis,” she said. “Just a sting, and you’ll sleep for hours.”

Tallis licked his lips, his hands held up. “You must
really
like me.”