The younger guard tensed and pulled enough of his sword to bare an inch of bright steel.
Moz shot him a hard look. “Two, you can finish drawing that sword and I kill you both and leave you as bleeding corpses in the street. Three, we go our separate ways and pretend we never saw each other.”
“Come on, Roy,” the younger man said. “We can take a broken-down old man.”
Roy stared at the hilts of Moz’s swords and trembled. “Put that sword away, idiot. You’re looking at an Alteran Ranger.”
“A what?”
Roy shook his head. “Beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t recognize the armor and swords immediately. Please accept my apologies for delaying you. Have a good afternoon.”
“What are you doing?” the young guard asked in a hushed voice. “You know what we’re supposed to do if anyone comes around asking about him. You’ll lose your job at best.”
Roy pulled his tabard off and tossed it on the ground. “I quit. Do what you want, but I’m leaving.”
Moz watched the exchange with a hint of amusement. It never ceased to amaze him what the ranger uniform did to people. It would have been less intimidating to wear a black cloak and carry a scythe.
The younger guard turned back, sighed, and said just like it was up to him, “Fine, you can go.”
“No,” Moz said.
“What?”
“I’ve decided option three is no longer on the table. Your new options are to tell me everything you know about Crow or…” Moz drew a sword and slashed, cutting the bottom half of the guard’s tabard off, and sheathing his blade in one smooth motion. As the severed piece of cloth fluttered to the ground he added, “Do I need to elaborate?”
“No, no you don’t. Truth is I don’t know all that much. When I took the job with the local guard Crow was one of the people who talked to me. I shouldn’t say that, he listened while the commander and his second interviewed me. When it was over, they both looked to Crow, who nodded and just like that I had a job. My first day the captain said we were to keep bums out of the neighborhood and if anyone mentioned Crow we were to bring them in to the guard station for questioning.”
Moz brightened. “Well, we don’t want you getting in to trouble. Best bring me in for questioning. Robess, you and your brother wait for me at my inn, The Hammer’s Fall. I’ll be along later tonight. Priscilla, you’d best get on home. Thanks for all your help.”
“I can’t just leave until you’ve settled things. I have to know what happens.”
“I’ll write you a letter. Get out of here, you three. Guard…What is your name anyway?”
“Tal, sir.”
“Guard Tal. Lead on.”
Sweat soaked the back of Tal’s uniform as he led Moz up to the guard station. Assuming you wanted to call a private security force guards. It was a small stone fortress neatly situated in the center of the neighborhood. The main keep was a single story and a four-story tower built into the northeast corner overlooked the entire area. It was a strong position, one Moz would have had trouble storming on his own. Lucky he had someone to walk him through the front door.
“Calm down,” Moz said as they approached the door.
“Easy for you to say,” Tal said. “You’re not the one betraying your fellow guards.”
“You’re not guards,” Moz growled. “You’re thugs in uniforms. Now get me to your superior quietly, or you die first.”
“I thought you wanted me to calm down.”
They stopped in front of the heavy oak door and Tal swallowed audibly. A narrow slot opened in the door and a pair of beady eyes stared out. “Name?”
“Guard Tal reporting in.”
“You’re not due to return from patrol for five hours. What happened to your uniform and where’s your partner? Who’s this bloke with you?” The doorman’s voice rose with each question.
If Tal didn’t talk fast, they might have a problem. Or Moz would anyway.
“There was trouble, sir,” Tal said. “Roy chased after the suspects and sent me to get help. We would have been in a tight spot if not for this ranger’s assistance. I thought Captain Pierremont would want to talk to him.”
“Where was this trouble?” the doorman asked.
Tal rattled off an address that meant nothing to Moz. “We thought it might be the thieves we’ve been worried about. Pretty bold, attempting to break in in broad daylight.”
The beady eyes shifted to Moz. “That right, ranger?”
Moz nodded. “Your guards were very brave, but two against six were poor odds. I thought it my duty as a representative of the king to lend a hand.”
That drew a grunt. Never hurt to remind people that the rangers were the king’s favored troops. It didn’t always help, but it seldom hurt.
A bolt clunked and the door swung open. The owner of the beady eyes matched them perfectly. Short, barrel-chested, with a jagged scar on his right cheek, the door guard would have looked right at home as a bouncer in the Gator Alley tavern. He wore the same tabard as Tal, only his was filthy and stained with at least three days’ lunches. A simple wooden stool was the only piece of furniture in the ten-by-ten anteroom.
“I’ll send out a squad to lend a hand and let the captain know you’re here.” The guard lumbered off through a second door that led deeper into the building, leaving Tal and Moz to their own devices.
“He’s friendly,” Moz said.
“Sergeant Gort has been with the guards as long as the captain. They’re the sole survivors of the original company. Or so they say at least.”
Moz was getting a feel for the sort of people he was dealing with. Ex-mercenaries who decided to settle down and sell their swords to some rich merchants. They probably explained how useful they could be keeping the neighborhood safe, especially from ex-mercenaries.
The inner door squealed open and Gort waved them on. Moz marched over and when Tal made a move to join him the sergeant said, “Not you, kid. Captain wants to talk with the ranger one on one. You can lead the reinforcements back to where you spotted those thieves.”
“Yes, sir,” Tal said.
The door slammed behind him and Moz found himself in a large open room with naked stone floors. More doors exited to the left and right. Gort led him to the right-hand door and knocked once before opening it.
Inside was a simple but well-appointed office. Behind a cherrywood desk sat a man in his late fifties dressed in a fine dark-green tunic. He looked up from whatever he was writing and squinted at Moz. “Come in, come in. Thank you, Sergeant, that will be all.”
“Sir.” Gort closed the door behind Moz.
“Take a seat, Ranger…”
“Moz. Thank you, sir.” Moz settled into the solitary guest chair, a surprisingly comfortable leather and wood affair.
“I understand you lent some of my men a hand. Thank you for that. So, what brings a member of the legendary Alteran Rangers to Blinder?”
“A murderer by the name of Rondo Tegan. I have it on good authority that he was seen in the city recently. I’m currently seeking to speak with a confederate of his that goes by the name Crow, an alias obviously.”
“And that brought you to my district?” Captain Pierremont had a better poker face than Tal.
“It did. Crow has dealings with someone in this area. I hope to find them and get a line on him. When I encountered your men, it derailed my search. Young Tal was kind enough to offer to bring me here in the hope that you could point me in the right direction.”
“That’s my men for you, always eager to lend a hand. Unfortunately, Tal was mistaken. The name Crow is a new one to me.”
“That’s disappointing.” Moz offered a good-natured smile. “I’ll just have to resume my search where I left off. Sorry to have wasted your time.”
“Not at all. If you’ll wait a moment, I can write you a note so my men won’t mistake you for an intruder. That will make your search a good deal easier.”
“I’ll take you up on that, thank you.”
Pierrem
ont opened his front desk drawer and reached inside.
A crossbow twanged and Moz grunted when a six-inch quarrel bounced off his dragonscale armor.
The captain stared for half a second in disbelief which was more than enough time for Moz to leap across the table and press his sword to the would-be murderer’s neck.
“Yell and you’re dead. Lie to me again and you’re dead. Do anything to annoy me and you’re dead. Got it?”
“Got it,” Pierremont squeaked.
“Good. Now tell me about Crow.”
“Crow’s Blinder’s overseer. All those in the employ of the Dark Sages in the city answer to him.”
“Dark Sages, who are they?”
Pierremont risked getting his throat cut to look at Moz. “Are you joking?”
“Do I give that impression?” Moz pushed a little harder to emphasize his point.
“No, sorry. I don’t know much about them myself. They’re a loose organization of scholars with cells in every city in the kingdom. Each cell answers to an overseer. My company has been working for the sages in one capacity or another for the past twenty years. I haven’t a clue why they’re so interested in Blinder. All I know is they pay well and ask little beyond loyalty. Oh, we’ve cracked a few heads here and there, but nothing major. This is the sweetest job we’ve ever had. Or it was until you showed up.”
“What do the actual guards think of you and your company?”
“They’re shorthanded trying to control the slums and working-class areas. We keep things quiet up here and they’re happy to let us.”
“Does the name Rondo Tegan mean anything to you?”
“No, should it?”
Moz ignored the question. “Where can I find Crow?”
“No idea.”
Moz pressed the sword harder into Pierremont’s throat. “Try again.”
A heavy fist knocked on the door. “Everything okay, Captain?” Gort asked.
Moz gave an encouraging nod.
“Yes, Sergeant, everything’s fine.”
Moz listened as Gort’s clomping tread retreated. When the sergeant was gone he said, “You were saying?”
“Crow’s real name is Alexander Corvine. He moves around a lot. I don’t know where to find him because he’s never in the same place for more than a few hours. I’ve never met anyone so paranoid. You’d think he wasn’t the most powerful man in the city.”
“I’m sure the lord mayor would question that.”
“Don’t be too sure.” Pierremont shifted so he could lock gazes with Moz. “I’m not certain you fully understand just what you’re dealing with. I’ve been working for the sages for over two decades and even I don’t know just how deep their influence runs. You can be sure that if it happens in this city, Crow knows about it.”
“Fine, where does Crow conduct his business in this part of the city?”
“I don’t know. I swear, my job is to keep things quiet and my eyes shut where Crow’s concerned. My advice is to forget whatever business you have with Crow and get out of Blinder today. I doubt anyone will come after you if you drop your investigation now.”
Moz thought of Ariel and shook his head. “I can’t do that. You’re going to have a nap and when you wake up, I suggest forgetting all about this conversation. You seem to have a selective memory so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
He shifted around behind Pierremont and wrapped an arm around his neck. Moz squeezed until he stopped moving. Two fingers pressed to his neck found a strong pulse. Hopefully the good captain would follow Moz’s advice.
A quick look outside the office showed an empty hall. Moz slipped silently out and walked easily back the way he’d come. Sergeant Gort was still on door duty.
“Finished your talk?” Gort asked.
“Yes, the captain was most helpful. I need to get going.” Moz gave the closed door a meaningful look.
Gorn grunted, unbolted the lock, and pushed the door open. Moz left the fortress and quick marched toward his inn. He’d learned a great deal today and now he needed a drink. He’d figure out what to do about the Dark Sages in the morning.
Chapter 7
A map of the northwest forest sat on the desk in front of Leonidas Black. The map didn’t show much beyond a vast stretch of green. Explorers had been trying to penetrate its secrets for centuries. Few returned and those that did told tales that struck most as little more than fever dreams. Leonidas wasn’t so foolish as to dismiss the tales out of hand. There were too many similarities spread out across too much time for there not to be at least a kernel of truth hidden in them.
He had returned to the Dark Sage’s fortress after overseeing the successful sale of the slaves they collected in Dragonspire Valley. Though he disliked the scheming and backbiting, Leonidas didn’t dare stay away for too long lest one of the others get too ambitious. The sale had refilled his war chest and the flying ships were once more hidden in the capital ruins.
It felt good to be back and away from Korbin Breaker. The slavemaster was a useful ally, but hard to take in long stretches. He rubbed his tired eyes, rose, and crossed the room to pour a glass of port. The sweet wine soothed his building headache. Leonidas paced silently across the carpeted floor.
As hard as planning and executing that mission had been, his task only grew more difficult from here. There were no slaves to be had at the remaining sites, so the Chain Society would have no interest in lending manpower. The dragon worshippers had made it clear that the only reason they agreed to help this time was to free what they saw as enslaved dragons. So it came down to Leonidas, his cadre, and whatever mercenaries they hired.
He took his wine back to the desk and slumped in his chair. So much to do and he wasn’t getting any younger. Someone knocked and he quickly straightened, banishing all signs of exhaustion from his face.
“Enter.”
The door opened and a timid wisp of a girl stuck her head in. “Two messages for you, Most High.”
“Where from?”
“The City of Bells post and the Blinder post.”
Leonidas waved her in and accepted a pair of tiny scrolls banded with gold rings from her trembling hand. “Wait outside for my replies.”
She bowed and silently withdrew. Leonidas took out a magnifying glass set in a silver handle and spread the first message out on top of the map. Someone had shown up in the City of Bells trying to sell a coin they claimed to have found in Dragonspire Valley. It was only a matter of time before someone wandered into the empty village, but he’d hoped to have a little more time. The overseer wanted instructions on how to deal with the people asking.
He pulled out a little scroll of his own and a fine-point quill. He needed more information about whoever they were and instructed the overseer to get it however she deemed best. If they were simply looters, no problem, but if they were something else, they needed to be gotten rid of. Either way, he made it clear they weren’t to leave the city. Once the ink had dried on his reply he rolled up the scroll and slipped the City of Bells band on it.
Next, he unrolled the second message. He’d barely started reading and a deep frown was already forming. The ranger Rondo mentioned had arrived in town and started asking questions. He’d already found the Bright Moon Inn, though didn’t yet appear to know about the Dark Sages.
This was a trickier problem. The Alteran Rangers were national heroes in Rend. Murdering one would lead to an investigation that might end up revealing more than the ranger could learn on his own.
Leonidas dipped the pen and told the overseer to keep an eye on the ranger but to make no move unless absolutely necessary. If he became too much of a nuisance he was to be captured, not killed. Easier said than done, but that’s what had to happen, at least until Leonidas secured all the towers and the girl. Once that was complete, they could do anything they wanted without fear of what the local governments thought.
He finished securing his second rely and said, “You may take my replies.”
The girl
entered and accepted the little scrolls. “I’ll get these out right away, Most High.”
Leonidas waved her off and a moment later the door clunked shut. He needed to move things along. The clock was running and he doubted he had a lot of time to waste.
Chapter 8
Silas slipped out of their inn just as dawn was coloring the horizon. Yaz and Brigid were still in their room, so he figured he had time enough to run down to Carnack’s place. The old man deserved an explanation at the very least. Silas didn’t especially like the coin merchant, but he was a good buyer and Silas didn’t want to burn any bridges. When this business was over, he’d still need to make a living.
The city was slowly coming alive around him as he walked. In the pouch at his side Wicked thumped against his thigh. The little undead was getting tired of living in the sack. Silas made sure to let him out at night, but that didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy him. Once they were on the road again, he’d let his familiar fly around, until then he’d just have to be patient.
Silas passed a bakery and breathed deep of the delicious, yeasty smell wafting out. Maybe he’d stop on the way back and buy something to share with his companions. Hopefully it would cheer Brigid up. She’d been in a sour mood since they left the academy. Probably didn’t appreciate Yaz paying so much attention to the lovely professor. Not that he’d done anything inappropriate and no man could help looking at a woman as beautiful as Anna-Maria. It just wasn’t possible not to.
The moment he turned onto Carnack’s block Silas froze. At the far end a pair of city guards stood at alert right outside the coin shop. Something was going on down there.
Given his status with the law, Silas had no desire to get directly involved with the guards, but he needed to know what had happened. Focusing on his new catalyst, he murmured the words of a whispering wind spell.
Holding his ring to his ear, Silas guided the spell down the street, stopping beside the shop door. Two men were speaking, neither of them familiar to Silas. One spoke with a tone of authority, probably a watch officer. The other was polite, but distant. A witness most likely.
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