The Inquisitives [2] Night of Long Shadows

by Crilley, Paul

  Cutter glanced around. Expensive skycoaches and coaches with empty harnesses were parked neatly on the rooftop. Trees had been planted around the perimeter of the roof, adding color to the gray stonework.

  A door opened into a small foyer, and two pairs of doors led from the room. One gave access to a lift, the other to a set of stairs. Cutter took the lift and it whisked him down to the ground floor.

  He pushed the door open and stepped into a brightly lit entrance hall. Expensively dressed guests milled around, glancing surreptitiously at each others’ clothes and jewelry. Skylights spilled the last of the lowering sun into the foyer. The dark clouds had drawn closer, now towering high above Skyway.

  A huge desk occupied the center of the foyer. A well-dressed elf stood behind it, talking to a tall woman wearing—Cutter stared hard at her clothing as he approached—was she really wearing lizard skin? It certainly looked like she was. She turned and he saw fierce claws gathered around her neck. Maybe something from the Talenta Plains, then. He shook his head as she walked past. Some people just had too much money.

  “Can I help you?” asked the elf. Cutter saw the brief flicker of confusion on his face as he tried to reconcile the expensive coat with the cuts and bruises on Cutter’s neck and face.

  “I was mugged,” said Cutter, indicating his face.

  “How absolutely dreadful!” exclaimed the elf. “Not here, surely?”

  “No, no. In Menthis. Can’t even have a peaceful night out at the opera nowadays.”

  “I know, I know. What is the world coming to?” The elf smiled. “How may I help you?”

  “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend of mine. His name’s Tiel. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

  “A friend of Master Boromar’s? How delightful. Master Boromar has taken one of our best suites. Room 412. But I think he’s in the restaurant at the moment.”

  “Oh. That’s fine, then. I’ll join him there. Thank you for your help.”

  “Not at all. And watch out for muggers,” he called jovially as Cutter turned away.

  Cutter looked back to see him smiling. “Will do,” he said brightly, matching the elf’s tone.

  He waited until the elf was occupied with another customer, then walked quickly to the stairs, running up them two at a time until he reached the fourth floor. He pulled the door open and walked onto a carpet so thick it covered the toes of his boots.

  Room 412 was at the end of the corridor. Next to it, another staircase rose behind a dark wooden door carved with a bas relief of … Cutter squinted at it. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought it may have been something to do with the Silver Flame. He pushed at the door to the halfling’s room to see if it was locked. It wasn’t.

  Perfect. He looked around to make sure he was alone, then took out a knife and jammed it between the door and the frame of Tiel’s chamber. He moved it about a bit, then took it out and stepped into the stairwell, keeping the door open a fraction so he could see into the hall.

  Bren sat opposite Tiel and stared out the window at the ominous clouds building in the distance. His shirt was sticking to his back in the humidity.

  He liked storms. There was something … primeval about them. Something to put people in their place, remind them that they weren’t as important as they thought.

  This one looked like it would be big.

  Bren took a sip from the brandy Tiel had insisted on ordering for him. “It’s a celebration!” he’d said. “After tonight, everyone will know who Tiel Boromar is.”

  Bren had accepted the drink even though he wasn’t in the mood for celebrating. He’d learned a lot in the past few hours that he wasn’t happy with. He needed time alone to sort through everything, to figure out how he felt.

  No. He knew how he felt. He glanced at Tiel from the corner of his eye as the halfling devoured a steak so rare the blood pooled on his plate.

  Disgusted. That was how he felt.

  And guilty. That was another one.

  The fact was, he’d liked Cutter. And Rowen. He thought they made a good couple, reckoned they would soon leave all this stuff behind and try to make a life for themselves.

  He’d found himself wondering if he wanted that, too.

  “You know what to do?” asked Tiel, interrupting his reverie.

  “You’ve told me ten times already. I know what to do.”

  “You understand I’m not scared,” said Tiel, around a mouthful of food. He swallowed. “Because I’m not.”

  “I know you’re not, Tiel.”

  “I just can’t be at the Tain’s house when all this happens.”

  “I know.”

  He looked like he was about to say something else when that irritating elf from the front desk nervously approached the table.

  “Master Boromar?” he said, wringing his hands.

  Tiel looked up. “What? Wasn’t the tip I left big enough?”

  “No, no. You were more than generous. It’s just that … uh, we have a bit of a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?” asked Bren.

  “It seems that the, ah … wards on your rooms have been broken. We’ve sent guards up. They haven’t found anyone there, but we thought you would want to take a look around. Make sure nothing’s been stolen.”

  Bren raised an eyebrow at Tiel. The halfling shook his head and tapped his pocket. “Safe and sound. But you’d better go have a look around. Make sure my clothes are still there.”

  Bren nodded and rose from the table.

  The elf moved aside. “We’re most dreadfully sorry about this. Nothing like it has ever happened before.”

  Tiel leaned back in his chair. “I’m most disappointed. I hope you don’t expect me to pay for my stay now. If I were forced to pay, who knows who I might talk to? Break-ins are very bad publicity, you know.”

  “Of course, of course. You’ll be well looked after, Master Boromar.”

  Bren shook his head as he left the restaurant and walked through the foyer. All that money and he was still trying to scrounge free room and board. Some people never changed.

  Bren took the lift to their floor and headed down the corridor to Tiel’s rooms. A guard stood outside the door.

  “You can go now.”

  The guard nodded. “The wards will reactivate once you close the door.”

  Fat lot of good they did the first time, thought Bren, but he didn’t say anything.

  He stood in the doorway and looked around the room. Nothing had been disturbed. Nothing touched. He frowned. Nobody had been in this room. He could tell. Had they been scared away?

  Or was it some kind of trap?

  He whirled around even as this thought entered his head. Cutter stood in the doorway, his hands raised in the air, waiting for Bren to notice him.

  “I was standing there for five seconds, Bren. I could have taken you.”

  Bren straightened. “Cutter,” he said. “Good to see you alive.” And he meant it.

  “Yeah. I’m pretty happy about that myself.”

  “Jana?”

  “Dead.”

  Bren nodded. “You want a drink?” he asked.

  Cutter shook his head. “I want to talk.”

  “That why you broke the ward? To talk to me?”

  “Actually, I was hoping Tiel would come up, but this is fine.”

  Bren strolled over to an armchair and sat down. Cutter followed him into the room and sat on the bed.

  “Tiel doesn’t like creased bed sheets, Cutter. You’d better straighten them when you’re done.”

  Cutter shook his head. “Why are you working for him?”

  “That’s my business. What are you doing here, Cutter?”

  “I want a favor.”

  “Oh? What makes you think I’d do you any favors?”

  “Because you knew Rowen. And you know she didn’t deserve to die.”

  Bren sighed. “She stole from him, Cutter. He has a lot riding on this deal.”

  “I couldn’t care less about
any deal!” snapped Cutter. “I want payback.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I respect you. I don’t want to go behind your back.”

  “You’re asking for my permission.”

  “No. I’m doing this with or without your permission. What I’m hoping for is a bit of understanding. If you want to hunt me down after the deed is done, that’s your prerogative. But make no mistake. I’m taking him down, Bren.”

  Bren thought about it. It went against every professional ethic he had, but he really did feel for Cutter. He was owed some personal justice. Bren leaned forward.

  “How about this?” he said. “I give you one chance. Just one. I’m heading to the Tain manor soon. Have to do something for him. He’ll be leaving for some club to get drunk and cause trouble. His skycoach is on the roof. You do what you need to do. But if you mess up—if you fail—that’s it.”

  “Bren, the only way I fail is if I’m dead.”

  Bren shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “Why are you doing it?”

  Bren thought about it. “Because I liked her. Liked what she did for someone like you. Guess I thought if you could find someone like that, maybe I could as well. She was a good woman.”

  Cutter stood up and held out his hand. “If I survive past today, you let me buy you a drink?”

  Bren shook his hand. “A drink? With what I’m letting you get away with, you should buy me a whole tavern.”

  Cutter nodded.

  “Watch your back, Cutter. He’s no pushover. He’s got a few tricks up his sleeve.”

  “I will. See you round.”

  Bren stared at the empty doorway after Cutter left. After a moment, he shook himself.

  “Guess I’ll have that drink by myself.”

  The third day of Long Shadows

  Sar, the 28th day of Vult, 998

  Cutter leaned over the low wall and tried to calm his beating heart. The moment was here. He would finally get his revenge on the bastard who took Rowen from him.

  The gardens of the Golden Tear rolled gently into the distance and merged invisibly with Cloudpool Park. Lightning stabbed out of the black clouds. A warm wind, rich with the smell of the coming storm, blew against his face, made his eyes water. He blinked and focused on the ground.

  Bren was walking along the pathway. He stopped at a carriage with two hippogriffs harnessed to the front. He spoke to the driver, then climbed inside. Where was it he said he was going? Tain Manor? Cutter wondered what he was going there for.

  No matter. Bren had said that Tiel would be leaving about the same time he did. That meant the halfling was probably on his way up to the rooftop. Cutter had chosen this place carefully to stage his attack. It was one of the most secluded areas in the park. All the guards were stationed at ground level. Nobody thought to place them up where the coaches were parked.

  Col turned and rested his elbows against the wall. One of the trees that had been planted in a deep well of earth around the rooftop shielded him from the sight of anyone stepping out of the hotel. The rising wind soughed through the branches, rustling the leaves and causing the treetop to sway back and forth.

  The door opened. Cutter tensed, ready to move, but it was a dwarf couple walking arm in arm. They climbed inside an expensive skycoach, then it rose gently into the air, turning gracefully and heading in the direction of Cloudpool Park.

  Cutter forced himself to relax. Getting tense now would only tire him later, and he’d need all his energy for the fight ahead. He knew Tiel wouldn’t be a pushover. He’d seen what the halfling could do when he got worked up.

  The door opened again. Cutter was half expecting more guests, so his mind stalled for a moment before registering that it was Tiel he was looking at.

  The halfling walked toward a two-man skycoach parked close to the door.

  Cutter pushed himself away from the wall and hurried across the roof, pulling out the Khutai blades. This was it. Rowen would finally get her rest.

  He approached the skycoach. Tiel leaned over the side, rummaging around for something. Cutter took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then took another.

  He stopped a few feet away.

  “You going somewhere?” he asked.

  Tiel froze, then looked over his shoulder. He frowned in annoyance. “Khyber’s ghost, don’t you ever die?”

  “Afraid not.”

  Tiel rummaged around some more, then straightened up, turning to face Cutter. He held two short swords in his hands, crossed before him. “Guess I’ll have to take care of you myself.”

  “No, see, that’s not how it works. How it works is, I break your legs. Then I make you bleed.”

  “Then what?” sneered Tiel. “You make me say sorry for killing your woman?”

  “No. Then I watch you die.”

  “Fascinating. But that doesn’t work for me. I have things to do.”

  “Then you’ll have to cancel your appointments. You’re not going anywhere.”

  Tiel sighed. “Much as I enjoy all this manly posturing—and don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at it—can we just skip to the end?”

  “Which end is that?”

  “The one where I slit your throat the same way I slit Rowen’s.”

  Tiel charged, his blades a whirling circle of steel. Cutter moved backward, surprised at the speed of his attack. The points of Tiel’s swords flicked in and out, darting at Cutter like striking snakes. He moved his knives into defensive angles, blocking with the edges along his forearms. But he was pushed back by the sheer ferocity of Tiel’s attack.

  It seemed he had underestimated the halfling. His swordplay was as fast as any Cutter had seen.

  They moved across the rooftop, Tiel on the attack, Cutter on the defensive. He needed to turn this around. This wasn’t how it was meant to play out.

  He let Tiel get closer, then jammed one of his blades down at an angle between the halfling’s arms. It caught the two swords for only an instant, just long enough for him to lean in and hit Tiel in the cheek with the hilt of the other knife. He wanted to use the blade, but couldn’t turn it around in time.

  It did the job, though. It broke Tiel’s attack and sent him staggering to one side. The halfling threw his arm out behind him, pointing it at Cutter to keep him at bay. Cutter kicked it aside and stabbed down with his blade. He was too far back to cause a severe wound, but the point dug into Tiel’s upper arm and opened a deep gash. Tiel turned to face Cutter again, but Cutter was already pressing the attack, using the technique he preferred—coming in low with one hand and high with the other. It left him open to a strike in the stomach, but he considered himself quick enough that the low blade could double as defense.

  It also had the advantage of drawing an opponent’s attack to what was considered a vulnerable spot.

  Which was exactly what Tiel did. He saw the opening and aimed a thrust at Cutter’s midsection. Cutter let him come, then sliced upward with the low knife. He expected to take Tiel’s hand off, or at the very least slice open his wrist, but he’d played into the halfling’s plan. As he moved the blade upward, Tiel brought his other sword around in a sideways swing that caught Cutter in the thigh. His leather trousers absorbed the brunt of the attack. Even so, the sword sliced through and cut deep into his leg.

  Cutter staggered back. Tiel had been onto him the whole time. He’d seen what Cutter planned and had been thinking two steps ahead.

  Tiel grinned at him. “You didn’t think I was much of a swordsman, did you? Just because you’ve never seen me wield one doesn’t mean I’m no good.”

  The halfling lunged forward and released a flurry of swings. Cutter blocked them all, the clash of metal on metal loud in his ears. He acted on instinct now. He couldn’t even see all the moves Tiel was making.

  “See,” said Tiel, stepping back. “You’ve made the mistake many people make when they meet me. They think I’m bad-tempered, rash, quick to anger. And that’s all tru
e. But I also know when to bide my time. I mean, do you have any idea how long it took for Rowen to die? And she still didn’t tell me where the shard was.”

  Cutter screamed in anger and ran forward. Tiel’s face showed an instant of surprise, then short sword slammed against knife, raining sparks around them with the ferocity of the impacts. They shuffled around the rooftop, sometimes defending, sometimes attacking. Each had scores of cuts and slashes over their arms and chest, but neither could press the attack long enough to land a fatal blow.

  Sweat poured into Cutter’s eyes, into his wounds. The pain screamed at him, slicing his mind with the sting, trying to distract him from the fight. The only consolation was that Tiel seemed to be suffering just as much. Sweat poured down the halfling’s face, and blood from a wound above his eyebrow trickled around his eye. Cutter kept a close watch on it, hoping the blood would drip into Tiel’s eye and give the instant of advantage the human so desperately needed.

  Cutter felt something bump against his back and realized Tiel had maneuvered him against one of the trees along the wall. The trunk pressed into his spine, limiting his swing.

  Tiel suddenly switched tactics, flipping both swords in his grip and swinging them around in a sideways arc. Cutter ducked as the blades cut into the trunk. He lunged forward and slammed into Tiel. They both tumbled over, Tiel’s blades left quivering in the tree.

  Cutter landed on top of Tiel, his arms trapped under the halfling’s body. Tiel punched furiously at Cutter’s face. Cutter jerked a hand out from under the halfling and raised his arm to ward off the blows. They kept coming, Tiel trying his hardest to incapacitate him. Cutter dropped his guard so he could land his own blows. He felt his fist connect with Tiel’s nose, heard the crack of bone breaking. He thought he was gaining the advantage, then Tiel landed a fist straight into his throat. Cutter arched up, his hands instinctively moving up to prevent another punch, and Tiel smacked him in the stomach. Cutter’s breath burst from his lungs and Tiel shoved him away.

  Cutter landed on his back, but rolled immediately to the side. Tiel’s heel slammed into the spot where his head had been. Cutter kept rolling, trying to keep out of Tiel’s way while he fought to get his breath back.