The Inquisitives [2] Night of Long Shadows

by Crilley, Paul

  He glanced at the others. Ravi was perched on the other side of the coach, peering down into the darkness. Wren wasn’t comfortable with her, no matter what Callian said. He’d have to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t get out of control. He’d told Bex and Salka as well. The last thing they needed was some hot-headed shifter ruining everything.

  Wren glanced over his shoulder to Salka, who stared down at her hands. There hadn’t been a chance for him to ask her what was wrong. He made a mental note to talk to her once this was over. Maybe he could help with whatever it was.

  Warden Towers appeared out of the darkness ahead of them. Coldfire lights and torches could be glimpsed through the windows all the way up the building. Bex pulled the coach into a climb, and Wren gazed up into the cloudy sky before the half-orc leveled out again.

  The tower hunched below them. The roof was a maze of chimney stacks and little huts, the use of which was completely lost on Wren. One side of the roof was covered in rubbish—scrap metal and chunks of rock. The other side held the hippogriff stable, a long, low structure that hugged the edge of the rooftop.

  No guards were about. Which meant that Dalen must have started his illusions. Wren had asked him to create the image of a small army of creatures from the Cogs attacking some buildings close to Warden Towers. The hope was that most of the guards would respond to the attack, leaving the tower with a skeletal staff of guardsmen, taking some of the pressure off Wren and the others.

  By the look of things, it was working.

  Wren made his way to the front of the coach and pointed to the piles of rubbish. “Bring us down over there, flush with the roof. I don’t want to land this thing. We’ll have to leave it in the air and hope nobody sees it.”

  Bex nodded and lowered the coach until it hovered next to the rooftop. The group hopped off and Bex tied a makeshift mooring rope to one of the bent pieces of metal. Then they hurried across the roof to the stables.

  Iron bars formed a cage around the buildings. The bars weren’t simply a fence. They had been bent backward over the stable yard itself, so that no one could climb over. Double gates were set into the fence so the hippogriffs and their riders could access the tower. A massive padlock kept them locked. Wren glanced at Salka, but she shook her head.

  “It’d take too long.”

  Wren nodded and turned to Bex. “Ready?”

  The half-orc nodded. Wren turned to the padlock and concentrated. After a moment he could feel heat emanating from the metal. He added power to the infusion until he was forced to take a step back. The metal took on a faint rosy glow, a glow which slowly grew stronger until the whole lock and some of the surrounding bars turned a deep orange.

  “Bex?”

  “I’m here.” The half-orc stepped up behind Wren and held his hands out, almost as if he were warming them from the heat. “Now,” he said.

  Wren cut off the infusion and Bex released the energy he had been building. Wren felt a blast of cold on the side of his face, like laying his cheek in snow. The padlock let off an explosion of steam and a loud cracking sound, like the slow breaking of ice. Wren took out a dagger and hit the padlock with the pommel. The lock fell to pieces at his feet.

  “Told you it would work,” he said, pushing the remains of the padlock about with his foot.

  Ravi went to push open the gate, but Wren held her back. “Hold on,” he said, rummaging through his satchel. He pulled out a vial and dripped a small amount of liquid onto each hinge. “Oil,” he said in response to their looks. “Many a thief’s career has been cut short by squeaky hinges.” He gave the gates a gentle push and they swung silently inward. “Bex, after you.”

  Bex hurried into the stable yard. Salka followed him, then Ravi and Wren. Bex put his ear to the door, listened, then carefully lifted the latch and pulled the door open. Darkness greeted them. Wren could hear the gentle breathing of sleeping animals. Bex slipped inside and closed the door behind him. Wren had told him to make sure the hippogriffs wouldn’t wake up for the rest of the night. If they needed to make a quick escape, he didn’t want the Watch chasing after them.

  Wren slipped out of the yard and back onto the roof, heading for the north wall. Dalen had said he would give them a sign when a sufficient number of the Watch had shown up to confront his illusion. Any time now …

  A small light shot upward and bloomed into a slowly-growing circle of blue stars before it faded away. That was it. Wren hurried back to the others. They were waiting inside the first room, near a door that led into the main tower.

  “We’ve got about half a bell before they realize what’s going on and come back.” He nodded at the door. “Anything?”

  “Not sure,” said Bex. “It could be a room for the grooms.”

  Wren took out his crossbows, modified to carry custom-made bloodspikes. He’d spent the afternoon crafting infusions for tiny vials that would render those hit immediately unconscious. He’d handed them to everyone, but Ravi hadn’t been happy. He turned to the shifter.

  “Remember, Ravi. No killing.”

  “Fine.”

  “Hoods up,” said Wren, lifting the hood of his shiftweave cloak over his head. The cloaks were specially made to disguise their faces as well as their clothes. To an unsuspecting onlooker, they would appear as ordinary members of the Watch, their unremarkable features instantly forgettable.

  Bex opened the door. It was dark beyond, but Wren was still able to see. In fact, Salka was the only one who wouldn’t be able to see. All the others had varying forms of night vision.

  Wren slipped through the door and looked around. A tack room. Various types of saddles, from gilded and ornamental to functional and plain, hung from the walls. Cages held small animals—food for the hippogriffs. He could hear them snuffling and nosing about in the hay. Blankets were piled on the floor to his right, and an old rusty rack held a variety of brushes to groom the steeds.

  Another door lay straight ahead. Wren put his ear against the wood and heard the sounds of snoring. He tried the handle. Locked. He nodded at Salka. She stepped forward, took out her picks, and set to work. In no time, she had the door open. Wren indicated for Bex and Salka to take one side of the room while he and Ravi took the other. The plan was for them to rush in and use the spikes without waking anyone.

  It didn’t quite work out that way. As Wren pulled the door open, the hinges gave a high-pitched squeal of protest. He froze, glancing at the wincing face of Bex.

  “Why didn’t anyone remember the oil?” he whispered fiercely. “I just told you—”

  “Whassa?” said a voice from inside.

  Wren stepped in and loosed his crossbow at the man sitting up in his bed. The bloodspike hit him in the chest, sending him straight back onto the mattress. Someone cursed to his left, then tried to raise his voice in a shout. Wren looked over but Bex was already there, his huge hand clamped over the groom’s mouth. He jabbed a bloodspike into his neck with his free hand. Wren turned to find Ravi raising a fist over the last groom. She brought it down in a sharp jab that knocked him unconscious. She saw Wren glaring at her, and dropped her victim to the floor.

  “What? Don’t want to waste the bloodspikes if I don’t have to.”

  Wren took a spike from his satchel and jabbed it into the groom lying at her feet. “We don’t want them waking up, Ravi. That’s the whole point.”

  The shifter shrugged and stepped around the body to inspect the next door. Wren lifted the man back into his bed and tucked the blankets around him so he appeared to be sleeping. Bex and Salka did the same with the others.

  The door beyond opened into a long hallway lit by coldfire lamps. At its end, they emerged into a large room. Two more corridors fed into the area and a staircase in the corner led down into the tower. Wren thought back to the plans. One of the corridors headed to an identical room on the other side of the tower. The second one, that veered diagonally to his left, was the one that interested him.

  “Wait here,” he said, and ran d
own the corridor. It led to the center of Warden Towers and opened onto a gallery that wound all the way around the inside of the building. Wren leaned against the balcony and peered over the edge into the central shaft. It dropped all the way down to the ground floor, where he could make out the bustle and lights of the central hub of the tower. He could see guards scurrying on the floors below him. They shouted back and forth to each other as they tried to figure out what was going on outside. Wren counted down three levels to the cells. Guards patrolled that level, pausing every now and then to peer over the balcony.

  “What’s going on?” said a voice behind him.

  Wren slowly turned to a sleepy-looking guard tying on his tabard. The guard glanced up at him. “I can never get this right,” he said with a sheepish grin, trying to look over his shoulder to tie the ties.

  Wren glanced down the corridor. He could see Bex peering around the corner in the distance. “Uh, do you want me to …?”

  The guard looked up and grinned. “Thanks,” he said, turning to the side. Wren tied the two pieces together. “So, what did you say was going on?”

  “Oh. Some bugbears and orcs are causing trouble. The Nights of Long Shadows. You know how it is. In fact, you should probably report in. Last I heard, they were looking for reinforcements.”

  The guard nodded, checking that his scabbard was attached correctly. “I’d better head down.”

  “Good luck. Wish I could join you, but I have a shift on cell watch.”

  The guard hurried around the balcony to the lift. Wren watched him descend, then took a deep, shaky breath and rejoined the others.

  “What was all that about?” asked Bex.

  “Don’t ask,” said Wren.

  They took the stairs down three floors to the prison level. Wren peered along the passage that led to the central shaft, but it was empty of guards. “I don’t like this. There should be more guards around.”

  “But they’re all off fighting Dalen’s monsters,” said Salka.

  “I know, but …” Wren shook himself. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

  They hurried down the corridor onto the gallery, walking around it until they arrived at the passage that led to the cells. They moved cautiously, then turned to a recessed doorway. Wren faced the others. “There should be five of them. Pick your target and make sure he’s out cold. We don’t want any alarms raised. Ready?”

  Everyone nodded. Wren took a deep breath, then pushed the door open and plunged into the room, a crossbow in each hand. He loosed one at the man lounging at a desk just inside the entrance. At the same time, he loosed the other at a woman who was walking into the room carrying a tray full of steaming mugs. The bloodspike caught her in the throat and she jerked against the wall, sending the tray flying from her hands. It hit the ground with a loud crash, the mugs smashing, shards spinning through the air. He turned to the other guards, but they were already slumped into a doze.

  “Which one has the keys?” he asked, loading more bloodspikes.

  “Got them,” said Ravi.

  Wren held out his hand and the shifter threw them through the air. He caught them and hurried to the door on the opposite side of the room. “Bex. With me. You two stay and guard this side.”

  The door led into a narrow corridor. Cells lined both sides, fronted by heavy metal doors, each with a small grill at the height of a human’s head. “Bex, you take that side. He’s over six feet, short hair, tattoo of a dragon down his arm.”

  Bex nodded and peered into the closest cell. Wren did the same on his side. The first held a shifter who was sleeping on the floor. The next held a gnome who paced back and forth in the tiny room. He moved along as swiftly until Bex called to him.

  “Wren, this him?”

  Wren peered through the grill and saw Cutter sitting on his bed. He was staring blankly at the wall.

  “Cutter,” he called. No response. “Cutter! Can you hear me?”

  The man didn’t even look at him. Wren inserted keys into the lock, one after another, until he found the one that fit. He pulled open the heavy door and entered the cell, kneeling in front of Cutter.

  Wren pulled the shiftweave hood down so Cutter could see his face. He indicated for Bex to do the same. “Cutter? Cutter, look at me.” He waved his hand in front of the man’s eyes, but he didn’t even blink.

  “Drugged?” asked Bex, leaning over to stare at Cutter’s face.

  “I don’t think so. I think—”

  “Well, well,” said a voice behind him. “If it isn’t the half-elf barrister. And you managed to see your client. That’s nice.”

  Wren turned and saw the woman guard he had talked to yesterday standing just inside the doorway. She was accompanied by four members of the Watch. “Not going to run off again, are you? We didn’t finish our chat.”

  The third day of long Shadows

  Sar, the 28th day of Vult, 998

  My name is Jana, by the way,” said the guard. “Cutter and I go way back.” She peered over Wren’s shoulder. “Host, is he still staring at the wall? What’s wrong with him?”

  “His woman was murdered.”

  “Oh, yes. I heard about that. Stupid bitch. But you know how it is. You push the big boys, they cut your throat. That’s how it works.”

  Wren glanced to the doorway, wondering where Salka and Ravi were. Jana caught his look and grinned. “Looking for your friends? Or should I say friend?”

  Wren frowned. What was she talking about?

  “You’ve been set up, half-elf. Betrayed.”

  Wren’s eyes flicked to Bex. The half-orc was frowning, probably thinking the same thing he was. Ravi. He should have listened to his instincts about the shifter.

  “Actually, it’s really handy for me. See, I needed to kill Cutter here—”

  Wren’s attention shot back to Jana.

  “Oh, yes. Didn’t I mention that?”

  Realization hit Wren, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “You work for the Boromars,” he said. That was why she was so interested in him when he was asking about Cutter.

  “I do. As do my friends here. And certain people aren’t happy with Cutter.”

  “Because of the dreamlily?”

  That stopped her. “Dreamlily? What are you talking about?”

  “The dreamlily Cutter’s woman stole.” Wren paused, running through all the information in his head, trying to put it neatly together. “You’re not here because of the dreamlily?”

  “No. I’m here because Cutter stole money from someone he shouldn’t have, and they want him dead. I have no idea what his woman did.” She shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t care. What I do care about is that you’ve given me a perfect setup for his death. You tried to break him out, we caught you, a fight followed while we bravely tried to stop you, then you were all killed.” She smiled. “Nice and tidy. The way I like it.”

  Wren barely heard her. So this was about two different cases. Jana didn’t want to kill Cutter because of the dreamlily. She didn’t even know about it. She was after him for something else.

  Wren heard a noise behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Cutter had straightened up. His eyes were red-rimmed, shadowed. Cutter looked at Wren and the half-elf fought an urge to step back. There was no humanity in his eyes—only the flat stare of an animal on the hunt. His eyes flicked to Jana.

  “How did you hear about it?” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “I said, how did you hear about Rowen’s death? Who told you?”

  Jana didn’t answer straight away.

  “Answer me!” shouted Cutter, surging to his feet. This time, Wren did step back. He stumbled into Jana, felt her hands on his back as she tried to push him away.

  Wren acted instinctively. As soon as he felt Jana’s hands on his back, he grabbed a bloodspike from his belt and plunged it into her neck. Her legs gave out, dropping her to her knees. But Wren was still holding the bloodspike. It snapped in his hand, Jana’s blood spouting from
the hollow tube sticking out of her neck.

  Cutter grabbed the sword strapped across her back. He pulled it free, knocking her off balance so she fell at his feet. Wren glanced down at her, then looked up just in time to jerk aside as the point of the sword darted through the space he had been occupying, catching the closest guard in the stomach.

  Cutter pushed on the sword, propelling the impaled man backward into his comrades. Then he yanked the blade free and barreled into them, scattering them to the sides.

  He swung the sword to the right, catching the closest guard in the side of the neck. One still struggled beneath the body of the first guard, but the remaining guard had his sword out and was aiming a thrust for Cutter’s back. Wren drew a dagger from his belt and flicked it past Cutter’s shoulder, hitting the guard in the eye. His body jerked upright, then he collapsed backward. Cutter glanced down at the body, then at Wren.

  “I thought you said no killing,” said Bex from behind him.

  “I meant real guards. Not these bastards.”

  Cutter set off down the passage. “Wait,” called Wren. “Cutter, wait! There are more out there. We were set up.”

  Cutter paused and stared at him. “Speak quickly.”

  “I made a mistake. I realize that. You weren’t responsible for the professor’s death. We came to break you out, but it looks like one of my crew betrayed us. Turned us in to your friend back there.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that you need us to get out of here. Let me take the lead. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  Cutter thought about it, then shook his head. “Find your own way out. I don’t need your help.”

  “Cutter, I know where Rowen’s body is. I can take you to her.”

  That made him pause. He thought a few moments, then reluctantly stepped aside. Wren hurried past him to the door, pressing his ear to the wood.

  Bex came up behind him. “What tricks?” he whispered.