The Inquisitives [4] The Darkwood Mask (34 page)

“Cannith trash!” the oldest boy jeered, as if daring the tall warforged to attack him.

Aegis stopped and turned to face the children. “You are very astute, young master Karrn,” the warforged said to the boy. “I am, indeed, cobbled together from the dust and dross of a Cannith forgehold. It is a wonder I can move at all.”

Soneste wanted to smile, but Lady Erice’s words had frozen
in her mind. She called out to Aegis. The children began to slip away, one by one, as the warforged approached the safety of two adults.

Soneste slipped her haversack free. “Tallis, let’s take a walk.”

She explained what Lady Erice had told her about nimblewrights and the nature of their possession. Aegis walked behind them, listening without comment. As they neared the far side of Wollvern Park, she handed Tallis her copy of the arcane contract. When he finished reading it, the Karrn stopped. His expression was dark, more confused than worried.

“What is this supposed to prove?” he said, turning to look at her as they walked. He looked calm, but his tone was hostile.

Soneste sighed. “Nimblewrights obey only the orders of their master. This particular one—our assassin—was given to the Malovyn family. Lenrik’s family. Only a Malovyn can command it.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Tallis was speechless. Anger and denial warred in his quicksilver eyes.

“Tallis,” she said with a whisper, not wanting to be overheard. “Don’t dismiss this out of hand. Your emotions will mislead you.”

“No, this just isn’t right. Lenrik isn’t … I
know
him—better than anyone else on Eberron.” He looked back at her. “Better than I know
you
.”

Soneste wished for something else, some hidden clue to disprove her own fears and substantiate her doubts. She’d only met Lenrik this very morning. She felt like she’d gauged the elf’s character fairly well. She’d enjoyed his company and had understood why Tallis had confided in him.

The Aerenal tapestry came unbidden to mind. What if her earlier supposition about that had been right? Tallis had known the elf most of his life, but the deepest deceptions were personal.

“Does he have any other family in Khorvaire?” she asked.

“No. He’s the only one. His father is dead. The rest … are still in Aerenal or someplace. No contact.” He shook the paper in his hand, looking as though he would tear it up. “Even if this thing is accurate, the thing’s master
could
be someone else. In Aerenal. Some relative.”

“Commanding the creature here in Korth? That’s a very big coincidence.”

Tallis shook his head. “If this was true, why didn’t Lenrik try and stop us from identifying the nimblewright’s hand if it could implicate him? If he
was
involved somehow, why would he allow us to find out more? We’d find out the truth eventually. He’d have held onto it to be safe, promising to find out more in the Archives of Aureon. It’s all a lie.”

“I don’t know. I know it doesn’t make perfect sense, which is why we need to approach this carefully.”

“
You
don’t need to approach this at all. I’ll talk to him.” Tallis glared at her then began to outpace her.

Soneste hurried to keep up, the heavy footfalls from behind reminding her that Aegis was still with them. “Listen, you can’t just confront him about it.” Tallis kept moving, as obstinate as Jotrem had ever been. “Damn it,” she said. “You’re such a Karrn!”

When they exited the park, a squad of White Lions tore past them on the street, responding to some emergency. A sergeant barked orders to his men, and Soneste heard only the words “lightning rail.” She watched them as they disappeared around a street corner, desiring to know what errand demanded their presence so urgently. She
could
follow them or find out at the Justice Ministry, but she couldn’t let Tallis go to the cathedral alone. Things had become entirely too dangerous.

“Slow down,” she demanded. “You’re going to attract attention. I’m coming with you. Just slow down!”

Tallis said nothing, brooding as he walked.

“Tallis,” she said quietly. “Before you go barging into the cathedral, we need to learn more—”

The Karrn stopped sharply, snatched one of her hands, and pulled her close to him. As her body pressed against his, he looked into her eyes—then bent her arm behind her back. He applied pressure just so, sending a wave of agony through her arm. She gasped from the pain.

Still Tallis held her gaze. He’d chosen his moment well. They
stood out of sight of most foot traffic, and those who passed by could easily take their posture as a lover’s embrace.

Soneste heard Aegis stepping close behind her. “Unhand her or die,” he said, his tone deadly.

“Another step,” Tallis warned the warforged without shifting his gaze, “and this arm will break.”

“Aegis … just wait,” Soneste managed through her pain. She tried to think. The sleightest movement of her arm in any direction sent a surge of fire through her nerves. She considered a psychic attack, but she wasn’t sure she could muster the concentration for it.

“Remember our truce!” she said to Tallis. “For your king and mine.”

He leaned in close, his lips close to her ear. “Kaius and Boranel don’t know about any of this.” Tallis’s voice was pure scorn. “They wouldn’t care if they
did.”

“I’m here to help,” she said softly. “I don’t want to believe Lenrik is involved in this any more than you do.”

“You’re here for your case.” There was a long pause. Soneste could feel the tension in his body, the anger in his grip. “Leave me—leave
us
—alone, Brelish.” He released her arm then shoved her away. Hard.

She would have fallen to the cobbles gracelessly, but Aegis’s strong hands caught her and held her upright. She composed herself, mind astir with both rage and sorrow. She looked back to see Tallis already some distance away, his pace quickening into a run. Soneste turned to the warforged.

“I
have
to follow him.”

“But Mistress, he will—”

“He won’t.” She pointed in the direction the White Lions had run down the street. “I need
you
to find out what’s going on. Follow the White Lions from a distance if you can. They’re headed to the lightning rail station, I think. If anyone questions you, just give my name and the Civic Minister’s, Hyran ir’Tennet. Then wait outside the cathedral. That’s where I’ll be.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Speculations of Death
Wir, the 11th of Sypheros, 998 YK

T
he Cathedral of the Sovereign Host loomed high above the treetops of the temple grounds, its towering belfry spearing the gray sky and rivaling even the spires of Crownhome. Tallis had seen it a thousand times, but it brought him no comfort now. Men had constructed an edifice in worship of the gods, but where were the gods now? Where was the justice so vaunted by Aureon’s teachings?

In his new guise, Tallis decided it would be best to enter the cathedral through the front door, to visit Aureon’s shrine and speak to the priest like anyone else would.

Tallis couldn’t quiet his mind. Images, conversations, and shared moments streamed through his head in a hundred disjointed pieces. Lenrik, the humble elf priest who’d given Tallis’s family an extra loaf of bread when food was scarce back home in Teryk. Lenrik, who’d risked his life time and again in skirmishes upon the Karrnath-Cyre border just to heal the sons and daughters of Karrnath … and occasionally the orphans of Cyre. Lenrik, who’d brought Tallis himself back from death innumerable times.

That he could be party to the murder of innocents was unthinkable. Lenrik had known Gamnon as well as Tallis, and
he
was less likely to bear a grudge against the arrogant Brelish captain.

How could he be tied to this construct, this … nimblewright? To the Ebonspire murder? Lenrik hadn’t known Tallis would even be anywhere near the Ebonspire that night, not until Tallis himself had told him about it the next day.

But he
had
known Haedrun, hadn’t he? She’d mentioned being approached by an elf before the assassin attacked them at the docks. Was that Lenrik, after all?

“Fury’s madness,” he swore, anguished at the thought. Perhaps it had all been some horrible coincidence.

What was Soneste playing at? Anger surged through him when he thought of the Brelish inquisitive’s argument, for seeding this doubt within him at all. He didn’t know her, and
she
couldn’t possibly know him or Lenrik. So she’d found “evidence” in the Tower of the Twelve? Perhaps the Twelve, with its great influence, had instigated the whole event, fabricating evidence to redirect blame.

But why Lenrik?

Adopting the confident bearing of a Lyrandar guildsman—feeling none of it himself—Tallis strode up the steps of the cathedral and passed through the main doors. He nodded to the Vassals who greeted him, but he couldn’t offer a smile in turn.

He marched down the central aisle of the worship hall, heedless of the great pillars he passed and the Sovereign scripture carved upon them. Above him, a magical panorama of the night sky and its unclouded moons drew the eyes of visitors and priests alike. Tallis had stared into its mystic depths many times before, somehow finding a modicum of comfort in its terrible beauty. The dark firmament made Eberron and all its wars seem so small.

Not today.

A spiraling stair on one side of Aureon’s sanctuary led him down to the undercroft. Therein lay the caretaker’s personal chambers, where none but Lenrik or Prelate Alinda were officially permitted.

At the bottom of the steps, he passed adjoining rooms—study
chambers, a vestry, and the eminent Archives of Aureon. It had been a place more comfortable for Tallis than any other in Korth.

“Lenrik?” Tallis called out, hearing only his own echo return. From its hiding place in the vestry, he retrieved his hooked hammer. It felt wrong—blasphemous—to wield a weapon in this place. At last he entered the spare room that Lenrik had converted to a healing chamber, where Tallis and Soneste had both woken with mended wounds in the last few days.

Once inside, Tallis set about examining every corner, every detail, as if it were the scene of a crime. He looked at their game of Conqueror in the corner. Tallis’s chancellor had been deposed by Lenrik’s general in an unexpected maneuver and now lay discarded off the board. The elf’s king was poised for a final strike against his own. Tallis felt a chill.

“Tallis,” a voice said softly, and he whirled with his hammer ready to throw. Soneste stood there, her hands held out to show she meant peace.

“I told you—” he began.

Soneste pointed to the wall. “Look. The tapestry.”

He followed her gaze, expectant. When he didn’t move, she walked across to stand in front of the Aerenal tapestry. She slipped her fingers behind one edge, peeling the layered fabric away from the wall to see behind it.

Tallis stared at the violet, red, and gold threads and the beauteous spiraling patterns they formed. For a moment, Tallis succumbed to the glamer, but his trance ended abruptly when the tapestry shifted.

“Help me with this,” Soneste said, trying to push her way behind the heavy fabric.

He pulled the bottom of the tapestry up and away, giving her room. She prodded delicately at the smooth worked stone—looking for something? Some hidden niche in the wall? Tallis stared in shocked silence as one of Soneste’s fingers disappeared into the masonry. She reached tentatively further, until half her forearm had disappeared.

“Illusion,” she murmured, more absorbed by her work than the discovery itself. “It’s not warded or trapped. It’s just … a disguised door.”

“How did you know this was here?” he asked. Tallis had learned over the course of his career how to identify and even disable many magical traps and hidden doors. Most of the time, one didn’t need magical expertise so much as an aptitude for disrupting someone else’s, yet in all this time, he’d never found
this
.

“I didn’t.” Soneste sounded honest. “When I was here with Lenrik this morning, I just imagined it was possible there was a door behind this.”

The art of possibilities. Soneste seemed to excel at that.

“Slowly, now,” she said. She pulled a silver metal circlet from her haversack and slipped it around her head. Immediately, a white ball of light formed in the air above her shoulder. She stepped through the hidden door and vanishing from sight. For some reason he didn’t understand, Tallis did not want to enter. He didn’t want to know what Lenrik had hidden away.

But circumstances demanded it. He followed, finding that he had to push aside a heavy curtain that lay across the unseen threshold. As he did, Tallis breathed in a spicy, souring aroma which seemed to cling to the fabric but had not drifted into the bedroom behind him.

The chamber in which they found themselves was small, unremarkable in itself with a low, vaulted ceiling like many in the undercroft. It would take time to study all of the room’s strange contents, but Soneste found her eyes drawn immediately to an array of masks hanging from another, less exquisite tapestry on the left-hand wall. There were easily two dozen of them, crafted of wood and bone and painted to resemble grinning white skulls and visages of the animate dead. They stared back like gruesome sentries through empty eyes.