Click.
Ha! Based on the type of lock, there should be one mo—
Click.
The tension wrench spun and the door was unlocked.
“Nicely done.” Master Gella nodded at him from the side.
It was a very simple mechanism, but even so, he’d asked if he could try his picking skills. Practicing on real things was always a good exercise.
Master Gella tossed a small item up and caught it. “I guess I won’t need this.” The key disappeared into the hidden recesses of her long jacket.
They’d gone to the bank who held the note on the place and asked to investigate the building. After agreeing to let them, the bank manager had given them the key.
Fillion returned the tools to the flat leather kit and tucked it in his pocket. He bowed, holding his hand out in an invitation for her to precede him. “After you, Miss.”
With a chuckle, she shook her head, opened the door, and entered.
He turned to Coatl. The mahogany dragon sat on his haunches just inside the alley to the left of the building. We’ll be back soon, big guy.
Alright. Coatl looked up and down the wide street and at the people who stood beyond the police officers, watching.
The late evening sun cast long shadows from everything. Three officers stood nearby, one at either end of the building, at the alleys, and one here, at the front entrance. As her investigation now overlapped a few the police were working on, they worked together on them, openly when possible.
As he walked in, Fillion nodded to the officer by the door.
The large, dim space had the look of a bank lobby, or the foyer of some other type of public building. “The company that owned this declared bankruptcy three months ago?”
“That’s right.” Master Gella aimed her hand-lantern around. “It used to be the city’s premier performance theater, before the new one was built on the site of an old inn. From what the loan officer at the bank said, this building was bought by a company that wanted to turn it into a venue where everyone, not just the wealthy, could be entertained. As reasonable as that business plan sounds, I suspect the company was merely a shell, like the others.”
He grunted and took out the hand-lantern that she’d provided him with earlier. It was faster and less work than attempting to unshield all the light fixtures in the place. The lantern was an ingenious device, maintaining a kind of glow spell while activated. Perhaps six or seven inches long, the cylindrical handle fit comfortably in the hand, and there was a reflector on the end that could be adjusted with a twist to make the light beam a bit wider or narrower.
He pressed the stud near the end of the device. A barely felt tug pulled at his heart as the enchantment surrounded the device and his hand. A large circle of light appeared on the floor.
He made a quick adjustment to shrink the area the light illuminated and pointed the hand-lantern around. “I’m still unclear as to why we’re going to places that were abandoned so long ago.”
“Elizabeth’s notes were fairly detailed. In them I saw the beginnings of a pattern.”
“Oh?” He walked over to a sort of desk or secretary at the side of the large room.
“While her files only had information on suspicious fires at places covered by National Insurance, there are enough of them that I feel they are a good representation of all fires by the same person or group.”
Or group? He grunted. “Alright.”
“So. Each of the fires was started in a building that was back in the bank’s hands after the owner declared bankruptcy and then defaulted on the loan payments for the property.”
“Okay. But I don’t find it surprising that the fire-bug would choose those kinds of buildings. They’re empty so no one is around to catch them in the act.”
“Most businesses are empty after hours. It’s a simple thing to reconnoiter in secret and learn the comings and goings of a place, so with the number of fires in the file, I would expect at least one of them to have been at a place still in business. None were.”
He grunted. “Perhaps the fire-bug has a grudge against those specific companies, the ones that owned those buildings. He could kill two birds with one stone: get revenge and start a nice, big fire.”
“Why burn buildings the company no longer has claim over? They’d all defaulted on their loans.”
Fillion closed the drawer he’d been searching and turned to her. “Hmm. Alright, then perhaps it’s a lazy fire-bug that doesn’t want to bother with loitering about learning when a business will be empty and just found buildings whose owners declared bankruptcy. Those would definitely be empty.”
“Records aren’t kept in a way such that finding information of that nature is simple. If you know the name of a particular company, finding anything out about them, including if they declared bankruptcy, is easy. But looking for all companies that declared bankruptcy in a particular period is very time-consuming. There are a lot of records to dig through to cross-reference that information.”
“What about a grudge against the bank that held the loan on the properties? With the buildings burned, the bank would be out a lot of money, wouldn’t it?”
“The buildings were all insured, so the banks lost nothing.”
“A grudge against the insurance company, then?”
“Finding out which buildings a particular insurance company has policies on is even more difficult because that information isn’t in any public records. Though, I could have someone inquire as to any break-ins at National Insurance Company and other insurers.”
Fillion shrugged. “Alright, I give. If it isn’t any of that, what do you think is happening?”
“If you were the one who declared bankruptcy in the first place, there would be no need to search through records at the town hall to find buildings to burn.”
“You think the fire-bug set up all those fake companies just to buy the properties, default on their loans, and then burn the buildings?” He raised his brows. “Wait. Do you think that man Elizabeth mentioned, the representative of the shell companies, is the fire-bug?”
“Not at all. First off, all that work and expense would make no sense for a fire-bug. There are down payments for the loans as well as filing fees, monthly mortgage payments, not to mention the payments for water, sewage, garbage collection and so on. I’m not sure a fire-bug would bother with all that just so he or she could then burn the building down.”
Fillion frowned. “But you just said—”
“Ah!” She held up a finger. “But what if Elizabeth’s assumption that a fire-bug started the fires was wrong?”
“Why else would someone burn so many buildings?”
“Perhaps they were practicing setting fires, or wanted to learn how the buildings would burn, or how the fire brigades would respond, or . . . something else entirely.” She shrugged. “I just don’t know, yet. That’s why I want to search for clues at buildings that were owned by companies in her files. How are those companies related to our investigation? Are they all owned by one group or person? Or, are they all part of a business consortium, one that has kept out of the public eye? Are they working to spread rumors that somehow benefit their companies? Or is this upstart consortium attempting to wrest power from Tigridia? Or . . . none of that?” Her brows drew together. “We have all these pieces of the puzzle but no idea how they fit together. If we could learn something here, it would be nice.”
A business consortium? He hadn’t thought of that possibility. It would definitely be nice to find a clue that actually lead somewhere, that helped piece the puzzle together.
He glanced around the room. “Unfortunately, if they’re like the people who tried to rob the train, they will have cleaned up after themselves.”
She sighed. “I hope not. I’ll search the next room.” She headed for a doorway at the back of the space.
Fillion spent more time thoroughly examining the area before heading out the same doorway.
Master Gella was in what looked like a
n office just in from the front, so he continued down the hallway beyond. About halfway down, the flash of reflected light from his hand-lantern drew his gaze to bronze signs.
A pair of water closets faced each other across the hallway. The one on the left was for women, and the one on the right for men. His bladder immediately made him aware that he should make use of the facilities.
Ahh. So much better.
He buttoned up, then pulled the chain to flush. The overhead tank made an annoying little squeal that rose in pitch as it refilled. He went to the basin and washed his hands.
Would they find any clues? Like Master Gella, he hoped so, but they’d had very little luck in any of their endeavors so far. He left the water closet and continued his search.
It turned out that his misgivings were not misplaced. Even after two hours, they found nothing, just as in the other buildings they’d visited on this waste of a day.
More than a little disappointed, Fillion followed as Master Gella stepped out a door at the building’s rear. There were two doors on the back of this side of the large building, and at the other end, there was a receiving area with a loading dock. Three wide doors sat at the back of the loading area.
Master Gella looked over everything, making occasional notes. What she was searching for, he had no idea.
While he waited, Fillion walked back and forth along the back of the building and fumed.
We will find something eventually. Coatl poked his head around the corner of the side alley.
I sure as hells hope so. This is so frustrating! Fillion kicked one of the garbage bins next to the loading dock. It was surprisingly loud in the night.
“What are you doing?” Master Gella scowled at him.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so pissed that we’ve been stuck going nowhere on the investigation.”
“If you want to make this your profession, Fillion, you must learn dogged patience.”
He sighed. “I know.”
Someone comes. Coatl stared to the left down the back alley.
Hmm? Who?
Never mind. It is one of those who pick through the garbage.
Fillion grunted. Garbage? He looked back at the bin he’d kicked. “Master Gella.”
“Yes?”
“Those services you mentioned, water, sewage, garbage collection and such, what happens if their fees are not paid?”
“Well, if the owners miss paying the water fee two times, for example, they shut off water to the building, and if the garbage fee goes unpaid, they stop picking it up. Why?”
“Because, in the water closet, the toilet flushed and filled, and the sink worked.” He looked at her. “Even though the owners declared bankruptcy three months ago, it seems someone is still paying those fees.”
+ + + + +
Sitting in the cafeteria, Millinith looked around at those gathered. Adepts Oran and Komako sat with Aeron and Willem, talking. About dragons, no doubt. Everyone who’d bonded a dragon was here, along with a few candidates. Fifteen dragonlinked sounded like a lot, but even had they all sat together, there still wouldn’t be enough to fill up two of the long tables. They really did need more dragonlinked. Should tonight go well, it could go far toward addressing that lack.
“I’m getting a coffee,” Doronal said and stood. “Would you like one?”
She glanced over at the sideboard near the serving area. Staff kept plenty of hot coffee, wraps, and baked goods there for those leaving or returning from nahual patrols. Twisting her lips, she said, “I probably shouldn’t. I’ll not be able to fall asleep for hours if I have coffee this late.”
“Hmm.” He eyed her, one brow raised.
Laughing, she said, “Since when have I needed caffeine for that?” She pushed him, “Go on, get your coffee.”
With a chuckle, he headed off.
She looked over everyone again, and her gaze was caught by white hair. Chanté. He and Quillan sat near Korrie and Terry. Frowning, she wondered if she should step in at some point.
Whether doing so is right or not, it may be too late.
Too late?
Nantli has asked some of us about love. I do not believe it is she who has those feelings.
Damn. Though, it did seem as if the rest of the existing dragonlinked were already in relationships, and, too, there were an odd number of them. Still, she didn’t want to lose Nantli as half of a breeding pair.
We are not egg ma . . . machines. Itzel stumbled over the word, but that didn’t lessen the feeling of reproach coming through the link.
Millinith’s heart clenched and she gasped. Itzel! Gods, that is not what I—
Realization washed over her. In effect, it was what she meant, wasn’t it? So focused had she been on expanding their ranks that she hadn’t paid attention to where her thoughts were slowly taking her. Itzel was absolutely right. Dragons weren’t egg pumps—pull a handle up and down and eggs flow out. And their bond-mates, too. It was difficult enough finding someone who really knows you and doesn’t mind your warts, without having an idiot who is supposed to be looking out for your well-being forcing you toward a particular person.
Gods! She’d seriously contemplated interfering with Chanté. After taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out. I am so sorry, Itzel. Please forgive me. I have been a terrible person and an even worse guild leader to think that way.
Your dream of there being enough of us to keep everyone safe is a good dream. You need only be patient. We will serve our purpose.
Even so, thank you for stopping me from doing something unconscionable. Never hesitate to let me know when I am being stupid!
“Are you alright?” Doronal sat next to her. “You seem upset.”
“I am, at myself.” She shook her head. “Itzel pointed out that I was being a fool, is all.”
“Mmm.” He nodded. “Bond-mates have a disconcerting habit of doing that, don’t they?”
She curved her lips into a crooked smile. “And I’m very happy that they do.” She sent a mental hug through the link. I love you, Itzel.
And I, you.
“Indeed.” Doronal sipped his coffee. “Now, have you thought of what will become of Departed who might not wish to bond? Will those even be allowed to join us, and if so, have you thought of where they will be housed?”
She blinked and muttered, “Barbs and pissing blades.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take that to mean ‘no.’” He stood and raised his voice. “Could I please have everyone’s attention?”
Around the room, conversations stopped and heads turned Doronal’s way.
“Excellent, thank you. While we wait for Matlal to return later tonight, the Guildmaster and I wanted to have a little discussion about where people thought we could house Departed who wish to join us.”
Millinith stood. Having everyone talk about it would give her time to think over any proposed ideas. “We aren’t completely certain of the total number of them that will join, but I’d rather have an idea of where to house them ahead of time.”
Aeron raised his hand. “Why not with their bond-mates?”
“You’re assuming they all want to bond.” Sharrah turned to Millinith. “Of those who do wish to bond, Aeron’s point stands, but not all of them might. What do we do with them?”
“Why wouldn’t a dragon want to bond?” Aeron looked as if someone had suggested dragons might not want to breathe. “It’s part of their purpose.”
Millinith tugged a lock of hair. “Matlal implied that there was a wide age range among Departed. Would older dragons want to bond?” She frowned. “And there’s the other side of the equation to consider.”
“Other side of the equation?”
She glanced at Willem. “The candidates. Master Doronal and I made quite a speech about candidates turning their noses up at older dragons, but the more we learn of their physiology, the more we learn of them from our own dragons’ memories, I wonder if it’s fair to ask younger candidates to bond with dragons over a certain age. How woul
d you feel if your beloved bond-mate were to die of old age a decade or more before you?”
She turned to Gregor. “Dragons live about as long as we do, right?”
The healer adept stood. “They do. Barring accidents and such, dragons appear to live nearly the same number of years as humans. But,” he held up a finger, “all that data is from unbonded dragons. We won’t know if it’s different for bonded dragons for some time.”
“I, uh—” Everyone turned to Chanté, and his eyes widened a touch. “I–I would imagine Ulthis planned it that way. Assuming, of course, that the tales about him creating dragons are true.”
“Good point.” Quillan nodded.
One of the candidates—he was sitting with Jessip, Renata, Fillion and Gregor—stood. Renny, she thought his name was.
Fists on his hips, he said, “It doesn’t matter.”
Millinith narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
The young man glanced around and saw that everyone was looking at him. His cheeks darkened. “You see, the way I think about it—” He tilted his head. “You’ve read love fancies, yes?”
Jessip burst out laughing. “Tales of fancy where romance is the focus?”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Renata’s stare was dangerously innocuous. “I’m sure many have interests that not everyone else shares.” She lifted a brow and smiled. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Jessip’s mouth closed and his expression cleared. Cheeks faintly pink, he leaned back in the chair and placed his arm over her shoulders. He cleared his throat. “True enough.”
Renny looked from Renata to Jessip then turned back and continued. “Well, whether you’ve read any or not, would you pass on the chance of finding your true soul-mate just because he or she is a little older than you? Give up on all those years you could have together because they might die before you? Everyone dies. Do we give up the moment we’re born?” He made a fist, gripped it tight. “Hells no. We eke out every last scrap of living in the time we have. I look at bonding the same way. I, for one, will not miss out on being bonded to the dragon meant for me just because he or she is older.”
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 68
