The Inquisitives [4] The Darkwood Mask (25 page)

In one quick motion, Tallis scraped the blade across the man’s calf, cutting through clothing and drawing a line of blood—but to everyone else around it might have looked as though he’s stabbed clean through the man’s leg. The expected scream drew the attention of still more onlookers. Soneste advanced on him, her face incredulous.

“There is no call for this!” she said as she began to fish through her pockets for something. Tallis glanced at her briefly, offering no reply. He pulled the blade up again. Bentius spewed out a stream of curses and struggled to stanch the blood.

“I wanted to find Haedrun,” Tallis said to Bentius, letting the blood from the dagger drip onto the mercenary’s face. “Too late now, Benty. At least you won’t have to hurt any more, right?” The man struggled in vain to get free.

Tallis raised the blade again, point down, eyeing the man’s ear. He tightened his grip.

“Enough, Tallis! Here I am.”

With relief, he looked up to see Haedrun emerging from the shadows.

Enemies and Friends
Zol, the 10th of Sypheros, 998 YK

T
he woman was tall, her frame athletic and strong. She was a Karrn for sure, her dark features resolute and proud. Lines of worry creased her face, though she could hardly be five years older than Soneste. Haedrun had a warrior’s bearing, but in place of chain or mail, she wore a suit of supple, gray leather. In one white-knuckled fist she held a long sword whose blade caught the faint cold firelight and magnified it preternaturally.

“You’re a bastard, Tallis,” she said, pointing to Bentius. “Fix him. Now.”

From the tone in her voice, Soneste assumed the Deneith mercenary was someone close to her. A brother, perhaps? No, her voice wasn’t that panicked. A lover? An old friend?

Tallis looked down for a moment at Bentius. The mercenary struggled with his injured knee, too agonized to speak. “Can we talk now?” he asked the woman.

“I’m here now.” Haedrun stared daggers at Soneste. “Is this waif a friend of yours?”

Tallis met Soneste’s eyes. If he says I’m working for the Justice Ministry, she thought, this will end here. Haedrun was probably an
outlaw like him and wanted nothing to do with Korth’s authorities. Soneste returned his gaze, hoping her expression was unreadable. He won’t tell the truth, she felt sure.

“Can I trust you?” he asked.

“If
you’re
not even certain—” Haedrun began.

“I want what you want. Justice, not scapegoating. I’m your chance to prove yourself innocent.” Soneste pointed a thumb at Aegis. “He’s with me.”

Tallis looked them both over carefully. “Fine.” He nodded to the Karrn woman. “She’s a friend.”

“Wonderful,” Haedrun said. “Maybe we can invite General Thauram too?”

Soneste allowed herself a sense of relief. In truth, Tallis had likely agreed so he could keep an eye on her. He couldn’t know what else she knew. Unless he wanted another fight, he had little choice in the matter.

Tallis pulled a small potion vial from his coat. He looked around to see if anyone else was watching or listening. “Your answer?” Tallis asked Haedrun.

The woman pointed at Bentius. “Give it to him. Then we’ll talk, but not here.”

Tallis dropped the vial within the mercenary’s reach. “There you are, Benty. Lead on,” he said to Haedrun.

“You first,” the woman said, pointing her blade at Soneste and then waving it northward. Beyond the curtain of shadow, she could see Korth’s waterfront. “You’re staying in front of me, you and your walking shield.”

Soneste complied, pulling Aegis with her. “Thank you for disobeying me,” she whispered to the warforged. “You saved my life, I think.”

“It is what I said I’d do, Mistress,” Aegis said. “Sometimes I succeed.”

“I’ll never forgive you for hurting them like that,” Soneste heard Haedrun say to Tallis.

The Karrn grunted. “Now let’s see if I can forgive you.”

When they passed through the curtain of shadow, the natural lights of Korth’s early hours returned. The Storm Moon hung full overhead, casting its flickering image into the dark waters of King’s Bay.

Tallis watched the inquisitive, Soneste, as she walked in front of him. She moved with the easy gait of a natural thief. What was her part in all this? He was glad to have found Haedrun again—at last, he was getting somewhere—but he couldn’t stop wondering about Soneste. Had she followed him to the Market, shadowed him all day? Did she know of the Midwife?

Answers for later.

“Brelander,” he said, deliberately adding a derisive tone to the imprecise term. When she looked back at him over her shoulder, he looked pointedly at the warforged and the hooked hammer he carried. “I would very much like my property back.”

“And I would very much like
mine
returned,” she answered.

“Naturally. A trade, then?”

The inquisitive looked to the warforged. “Give it to him, Aegis.”

“Mistress, are you sure?”

“Yes. Can you wield this?” She held her rapier out to the warforged, which gleamed in the moonlight. Was that the same weapon he’d tossed over the bluff’s edge just yesterday? He’d thought for sure it would have been nabbed quickly. Every Karrn knew a good blade when he saw it.

The bulky construct eyed the slender, fine-pointed blade. “I’d … rather not.”

Despite himself, Tallis nearly laughed. They made their exchange.

Soneste retained both her sword and the curious, violet-tinged dagger. The warforged seemed content without a weapon. Tallis knew the thick buckler attached to its forearm was weapon enough.

The hooked hammer came into his hands with pleasing
familiarity, like an old friend. It seemed so long ago that he’d lost it, but it’d only been three days. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat and did his best to wipe the pick’s head clean of blood. Fortunately, mithral was easier to clean than most metals.

His arm still hurt from his injury—it needed to be dressed soon. He shook the thought away and looked to Haedrun. The Red Watcher was eyeing Soneste as if she expected an explanation, but Haedrun herself had much to explain.

Haedrun led them in a wide, staggered line out to the waterfront, steering clear of the White Lion patrol routes. She kept furtive watch behind them, ensuring that none followed without her observance. Only the odd sailor or vagrant marked their passing, but she seemed unconcerned with these.

They came to an empty and precarious pier whose repair had clearly not been a high priority after the war. Where the dock touched the wharf, a dilapidated warehouse with shattered windows stood, silent as a corpse. When Haedrun led them through a broken door, Tallis noticed that part of the building was still in use. Against the south wall, lumber was stacked nearly to the rafters. The walls shielded them from the wind but did nothing to neutralize the cold air.

Shadows stirred at the base of the woodpile.

Tallis pushed Soneste aside and swept the curved hook of his weapon low to the ground. A man, armored much like Haedrun, tumbled to the ground. He cursed and looked up at Tallis, rubbing at his shins. “I wasn’t going to attack.” The rogue climbed to his feet and slipped the dagger in his hand away.

“Any more shadows?” Tallis asked Haedren.

“Just the one,” she answered, then flicked her eyes at Soneste. “You’re bringing someone I don’t know. It’s only fair. He’s one of us and a friend I can trust.”

“What we have to talk about doesn’t concern him.” He looked to the stranger. “Get out, or I’ll make certain you don’t hear.”

Haedrun sighed, then looked to the man. “Just guard the door. We’ll be fine.”

As the other Red Watcher disappeared outside the door, Haedrun led Tallis to the open space at the center of the warehouse. Soneste watched them carefully, eyeing every shadow and following behind. The warforged joined her but kept its smoldering blue eyes upon the door.

“You know what happened, Haedrun. You gave me that job, so talk.”

“I know,” she started, not looking him in the eye.

“You gave me the information. I accepted, went precisely where you told me, and it was a setup! Ir’Montevik isn’t even in town.”

She looked him in the eyes. “The source
was
good. Something … must have changed.”

“Who was your source? Another Watcher?”

“No,” she said. “My superiors didn’t even know about this job.”

Tallis felt some measure of relief. He didn’t want to hear that the Red Watchers had been compromised. The organization was young and entirely too small. He wouldn’t join them, but he wanted them to do well.

She went on. “This wouldn’t have been sanctioned by the Watchers, not without more information, especially with ir’Montevik staying at the Ebonspire. That’s why I turned to you, Tallis.”

“What was it?” he asked.

“I received a tip that ir’Montevik was coming to Korth to visit the Temple of the Blessed Lineage to make a delivery of scrolls—something new, spells that could disguise the undead … make them look, feel, even
smell
like living, so they’d be able to walk the streets openly, gather in untold numbers wherever the Seekers wanted them.”

“Sounds like something the Ministry of the Dead would know about,” Tallis said.

“No,” Haedrun replied. “This is something else. These spells could affect great numbers and last a very long time.”

“Who was your informant?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Damn it, Haedrun! I watched two children run through by the killer!”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Sovereign Host,” she breathed. “I’d heard the Brelish had his family there, but I … didn’t know.”

“Two children, Haedrun. Just like
yours
. They didn’t deserve to die. The job
you
gave me led the killer right to them.”

Haedrun’s eyes misted, and she blinked, trying to counter grief with rage. The Red Watcher looked away, fighting with herself. Guilt tore into Tallis like a torrent of knives, but he couldn’t let those responsible for all of this get away with it. What—and
who
—was she hiding?

“Their names were Rennet and Vestra.”

They both looked to Aegis, who had spoken the words, its crystal eyes burning like blue fire. Of course, the warforged had been guarding Gamnon’s family before Tallis had disabled it. Tallis had probably spared the construct from dying itself at the hands of the assassin. Aegis seemed a formidable warrior, but it couldn’t have stopped the killer any more than Tallis.

Beside the warforged, Soneste did not take her eyes from Haedrun. Tallis realized that the Brelish had probably been the one called in to examine the bodies of the victims. She’d seen the aftermath, all the blood.…

“Who gave you all this information?” she asked. “That’s who sent the assassin.”

Haedrun held her blade up and turned furious eyes on Soneste. “Don’t you dare accuse me!”

“Just tell me,” Tallis said quietly.

Haedrun shook her head in disbelief, as if trying to deny the events that had unfolded. Aegis turned sharply to face the door, but Tallis continued to watch Haedrun carefully. She was his—and probably Soneste’s—only lead.

Haedrun wiped her eyes angrily then sighed. “There was an elf I’d been following in Atur. He was Red Watcher material, but I had to be sure about him before I said anything else. One night, he approached me first. He’d known I was following him. He claimed
to be a member of Aerenal’s Deathguard. That’s when he told me about ir’Montevik and the scrolls … he must have been working for the Seekers—”

“Mistress!” Aegis interrupted. “The guard is gone.”

Haedrun and Tallis looked to the broken door, where the other Red Watcher had exited to stand guard.

Soneste had drawn her rapier and looked up. “Above us!” she shouted.

A
t night, the window of the man’s room was shuttered tight. There were no lights within, but what did it matter as he sat alone in the dark with only his living memories as company?

Lord Charoth enters my workroom. His manner is imposing, as always, and his expression evinces the temper for which he is well known. He is not happy with me. “Where is this new ‘servant’ of yours, Erevyn?”

“My lord, it is good to see you again. Welcome back.”

My assistant appears in the doorway and pauses, uncertain whether he is permitted to enter at this time. Charoth looks over to him in obvious astonishment
.

I realize, perhaps for the first time, that my assistant is not easily defined. I did not construct him for war—only to assist me with the delicate work of our unusual creation schemas. His mind is keen, his manipulation of the relics demonstrative of his skill. Sverak has been an asset to me and to the facility
.

As the director looks upon him now, I realize for the first time how frail he must appear
.

Sverak would resemble a common warforged if he had been built with the usual composite plating that protects the more integral framework, but I did not intend him to see combat at all. I expected he would not have the need to physically defend himself. His darkwood body is banded at the joints with metal strips. Silver and steel components do comprise his torso, needed to bind the living fibers and the creation patterns together. Even Sverak’s head and face are narrow, no wider than a human skull. The simple, hinged jaw common to most warforged forms an apathetic rictus
.