The Inquisitives [4] The Darkwood Mask (33 page)

“Or assassins,” Soneste said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

“Yes, possibly.” Erice’s voice softened. “But not many of these exist anymore. I’ve never even heard of one being created in my lifetime.”

Soneste looked at the laboratory around her. The creature had most likely been fashioned
here
, within the walls of the Tower of the Twelve, probably by some powerful wizard hiding behind layers of magical and political protection. The nimblewright’s master could be here.

But if nimblewrights were used as guardians of the Tower, what was one doing loose in the city below?
Someone
had commanded the nimblewright to kill the ambassador and his family. And Haedrun.

Yet not Tallis or me, she thought. According to the Karrn, the nimblewright had fled after wounding her. What were its orders, if not to kill everyone investigating the massacre?

Jotrem interrupted. “Are you telling me there is one of these deadly constructs in Korth, acting solely at one man’s behest?
That
is the assassin?”

“Yes,” Soneste answered reluctantly. Then another thought occurred to her. “Lady Erice, you said the nimblewright was a construct ‘for all intents and purposes.’ But not in truth?”

“Well, it is. Normal constructs are simply valuable materials animated by elemental spirits—in the case of golems, earth elementals bound into an artificial body and commanded into mindless obedience. The nimblewright, however, is animated by an elemental spirit of water. This makes them fast, agile.

“What makes the nimblewright most effective is its
shapechanging ability. It can wear the illusion of any other person, so it can walk among regular people. Like changelings, but more powerful. Not many constructs can do
that.”

Soneste remembered the fluidity of the assassin’s movement and the shadowy illusion it wore in the warehouse. This, no doubt, explained how it had followed them undetected. The nimblewright might have
been
one of the drunks or the sailors they’d walked past or had simply tailed them like a shadow. According to Tallis’s account, in the Ebonspire it had worn its true form—steel armor on every inch of its body. Even the nimblewright couldn’t defy the Ebonspire’s illusion-stripping defenses.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about them?” Soneste asked. “Any vulnerabilities or immunities?”

“I …” Erice began to look flustered. “I suppose they would share many characteristics with golems, an immunity to magic used against them, but maybe not all. I … I don’t know much, Miss Otänsin. I am a scholar, not a war wizard, and this is hardly House Tharashk’s purview. I could try and find out more for you, but I would need to consult with Cannith wizards.”

“I understand, but there isn’t time. Can you do me just one more favor? I need to know who specifically created
this
nimblewright. Can you find out, just from this hand?”

Erice nodded. “I can try, but I don’t know
when
I could find—”

“Please, Lady Erice. Time isn’t on our side,” Soneste said. “The nimblewright whose hand we’re looking at killed the Brelish ambassador Gamnon ir’Daresh three days ago. It also killed his family and their servants. Since that day, it has been trying to kill those who can implicate its master. You’re my last lead, Lady.”

The gray cat was watching them both as they waited for Lady Erice to return. Soneste tried to ignore it, but she suspected it would relay what it witnessed to its mistress. In the back of her
mind, she was afraid that Lady Erice would tell someone else about Soneste’s discovery, that news of her meddling would reach the wizard who commanded the nimblewright. If the killer behind it all knew she had a lead, wouldn’t he have her followed?

Soneste did her best to keep from fidgeting.

“When
did
you encounter this … nimblewright?” Jotrem demanded at last. He licked his lips, which she noticed had become increasingly dry. Was he nervous here?

“Last night. I found Tallis again, and I followed him discreetly. He must have marked me, because he got away. Then I was attacked by the real killer—the nimblewright.”

“I don’t appreciate your lies,” Jotrem said. “I am very interested to see if you will tell them to the Civic Minister as well. Do you not want your agency—or the King’s Citadel—to remain on amiable terms with Karrnath’s government?”

“You saw the killing wounds, Jotrem,” she said, ignoring his threats. “You know the nimblewright’s is the hand that dealt them.”

She touched the groove in the palm of the steel hand. “The construct’s weapons came from here. Long narrow blades, like a rapier.” She rattled her own weapon. “Even Tallis isn’t strong enough to do what we’ve seen.”

“Very well,” Jotrem said. “But how do we know Tallis isn’t the creature’s master? We know he was there.”

“He’s no wizard, and you know it.”

“Yes, but Lady Erice told us that
another
could be designated as master.”

The door opened and the savant entered the room with a thick sheaf of scrolls in her hands. There was a smile upon her bespectacled face. “I found something.”

“Boldrei bless you, Lady!” Soneste blurted. “I will see that a sizable donation is made to Tharashk’s interests here.”

The savant waved the words away and began to unroll the papers upon the table. She leafed through them, discarding some in a separate pile and taking greater interest in others. From her
vantage, Soneste could see that each of the documents contained the lofty diction of contracts, as well as lines of arcane writing she would never be able to decipher. At the bottom she saw notarizing Sivis marks.

Erice compared the designs inscribed upon the hollow underside of the steel hand with the arcane sigils inscribed upon the contracts. Sheet after sheet passed through her hands as Soneste waited, anxious. The savant seemed to be enjoying her search. Perhaps at heart, everyone in the House of Finding was an inquisitive. Soneste allowed herself a smile as she watched the woman.

Just when Soneste could wait no longer, the bookish woman squealed triumphantly and pulled a scroll from the sheaf. “Aha! This nimblewright, model seventy-two, crafted in the month of Eyre in 783 YK, was commissioned by Sehrok d’Phiarlan, a minister of the Committee of the Twelve. It was then gifted to the Malovyn family of dignitaries in Aerenal, who were granted ownership.”

Malovyn
.

Soneste’s smile melted away. Lenrik Malovyn.

Revelations
Wir, the 11th of Sypheros, 998 YK

“M
alovyn,” Jotrem said as they climbed atop the pegasi once more. “You know this name. Who is it?”

Soneste ignored him, holding tightly to the Vadalis rider as they galloped from the loading dock. The black-winged stallion spread its wings and caught the cold air currents.

She felt sick. Fixing her eyes upon the conifers of the park below, Soneste lifted one hand up, watching her fingers tremble ever so sleightly. Could she have missed the clues?

Soneste swore she could feel a malevolent tension in the air. The clouds were swollen now, promising rain, and the wind was noticeably colder. Was this her imagination, some souring side effect of her extrasensory powers? In truth, she hadn’t used them as much in the last month as she had in the last few days.

When they touched down, she tipped the riders and walked from the Vadalis compound. Jotrem caught up to her. “I will find out for myself, if I must. Malovyn: it’s someone you’ve met here in this city, isn’t it? I’m certain I’ll find the name in the Ministry records.”

She turned to meet Jotrem’s eyes, but she felt like she was
staring straight through him. A nauseating sensation roiled within her mind, like some sort of psychic runoff. Or was it just what betrayal felt like?

“I need to verify this for myself first. Promise me that you will
not
share what you heard with anyone else. Yet.” She carried a copy of the arcane contract in her bag—her final request of Lady Erice—knowing she would need to show it to Tallis. Assuming he wasn’t complicit as well.

Aureon forbid, she prayed. She can’t have misjudged everyone.

“Then place some trust in
me,”
Jotrem said. “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Soneste continued to stall, too distracted by this development to effectively steer Jotrem away from this line of inquiry.

“Go,” she bade the older inquisitive as they approached the gates of the park. “Find the name if you must. I have one more lead to follow before I confide in you. If you will be patient with me, Jotrem, I will share with you what I know.”

At any other time, she might have appreciated the simple beauty of the tree-lined path that wound beyond the gates or the wash of autumnal color in the thinning branches and leaf-strewn grounds. Even the trees of Karrnath looked regimented, spaced out evenly like a row of pillars.

“Say what you will, Brelish,” Jotrem said, keeping pace with her. “We are beyond trust. I can either be a hindrance to you or a boon. I helped you visit Lord Charoth on short notice. I can help again.”

Brelish? she thought. Jotrem had called her
Brelander
before. Was he trying to win her favor at last?

Soneste was still half a bell early for her rendezvous with Tallis. If she put her mind to it, she could get rid of Jotrem in that time. “We’ll see,” was all she said.

She casually made her way to the location Tallis had described: the statue of a robed Karrn, a royal wizard and chief advisor to Kaius II. A cluster of thorny bushes framed the pedestal. At the
base huddled a vagrant in a filthy cloak. The man rubbed his hands together to keep warm.

Lovely. She’d need to clear
him
away too.

Soneste glanced around to see if any White Lions were near. In the distance she could see a patrol of four, but nothing else seemed amiss in the park. How did the White Lions treat the homeless here? she wondered.

She approached the vagrant, fishing for a couple of crowns, just enough for him to purchase a bowl of stew. “Sir, do you need a hot meal?”

Just then, Soneste recognized the oversized cloak the man wore. Didn’t Jotrem? They’d both seen it before.

“Don’t waste your coins,” Jotrem said as he stopped beside her and glared down at the vagrant. “Cheap ale is the only thing you’d be buying this man.”

The homeless man leaned up as Soneste held her copper coins out. “That’s hardly fair,” he said with a strong voice. His right hand flashed past her outstretched hand and gripped the hilt of Jotrem’s sword. He jerked it free even as he rose in one smooth motion.

“Tallis!” the older inquisitive gasped.

“Good to see you again, Jotrem!” the Karrn said with his crooked smile, smacking the man hard in the chest with the pommel of his own long sword. “Twice in as many days!”

Jotrem groaned and staggered away, but Tallis kept on him, pulling a thick leather sap from the bulk of his ragged cloak. He dropped the sword, gripped the weighted weapon, and slammed it against the side of Jotrem’s head.

Soneste’s reflexes were numbed by anxiety. She moved to stop him, but she gave up after his second blow. The third dropped the inquisitive heavily to the ground. Soneste stood as still as the statue above them as she watched Tallis make sure the attack had gone unnoticed. He stripped Jotrem of all weapons, pausing only a fraction of a moment when he spied the black opal ring on the older man’s finger. She marked his troubled expression before it melted away into his usual self-assuredness.

When he finished, Tallis removed the oversized cloak—wearing his green Lyrandar coat beneath—and wrapped the inquisitive in it. “Time to retire this thing anyway.” Tallis pushed the unconscious inquisitive into the bushes and out of sight, tossing his weapons into another bush.

Soneste pitied the older man such indignities, but she hadn’t liked Jotrem since the moment she met him. The
next
time she met him, things were sure to be ugly.

Tallis stepped back out, brushing off his coat. “Sorry about that,” he said with an awkward smile. “I like to be early for meetings, though I admit I imagined our secret tryst would be more romantic than this. And I
didn’t
think you’d bring your boyfriend.” Tallis winked, but Soneste didn’t appreciate the joke.

Soneste wanted to yell at him, but the news she bore hung over her like the storm clouds above the city. “How am I supposed to explain this later? You’re driving a wedge between me and the Ministry. This will only hurt us both.” Her words lacked conviction. Her relationship with Jotrem was hardly a concern right now.

“What’s wrong?” Tallis glanced up at the Tower of the Twelve, frowning. “You learned something, didn’t you? Something bad.”

Behind him, Soneste saw Aegis approaching them on the path. A small crowd of children trailed him, some of them pelting him with small stones and litter from the streets.

Tallis rolled his eyes. “It’s a good thing we’re not worried about drawing attention to ourselves.”

A larger stone rebounded off Aegis’s steel-armored back. The loud noise made Tallis wince—and drew the attention of several passersby, who eyed the construct suspiciously.