The Inquisitives [4] The Darkwood Mask

by Jeff LaSala

  But fate had chosen Korth.

  Gamnon had spent two days within each city. Notations listed meetings he’d arranged with various men, most of whom sounded like merchant lords. Aside from their political work, the noble ir’Daresh family had always had a hand in Breland’s metal industry. So the question remained, was trade a mere side project or was the ambassador’s family business in the fore? According to the information Thuranne had provided her, Gamnon and his immediate family were the last of his line. There were no surviving heirs of his estate. Who, then, would benefit from the end of the ir’Daresh family? Surely what holdings remained would be taken by the Brelish crown. The assassin would receive no vast revenue from this murder.

  Unless one of the men in ir’Daresh’s business itinerary knew more. Any one of them could be connected to the murder. Of special note were the two names listed for Gamnon’s Korth visit: Vorik ir’Alanso and Lord Charoth Arkenen.

  Chapter

  SEVEN

  The Justice Ministry

  Mol, the 9th of Sypheros, 998 YK

  After a night of restless sleep, Soneste woke early and forced herself into a meditative state. Veshtalan had taught her an exercise to focus the mind and quiet the world. To make use of the “gifts of the Great Light,” as he’d called her powers, her mind needed to be rested and well-ordered. Both were hard to come by this morning, especially with the cough Karrnath’s damnable climate had given her.

  Opting to visit the Justice Ministry only after she got a sense of the city first, Soneste took to the streets. The killer’s trail was already more than a day cold. A couple of hours assessing the people and places of Korth wouldn’t make it much colder. If the killer was going to flee the city, he would already have done so. And if she had to follow him beyond the city, she would.

  An icy drizzle loosed itself upon the streets only seconds after she left the inn. Donning her wide-brimmed hat, she cursed the Karrnathi weather. She didn’t travel by coach. Such conveyances muted the stimuli of the city—she wanted to see Korth as its everyday citizens did. While some streets were easily navigated, the lower districts wound their streets in confusing circles. Portions of the city had been damaged by siege weaponry during the Last War, but some buildings and streets had been rebuilt, resulting in a curious mosaic of old and new.

  Soneste asked for directions whenever she was unsure of her whereabouts. The somberly-clad citizens gave her Brelish colors a reproachful glare and sent her quickly on her way. By contrast, Sharn embraced such the diversity of native and foreign cultures. But if Soneste wanted to learn more, she’d have to blend in more.

  The Justice Ministry occupied a series of tall, if unremarkable, buildings in the shadow of King’s Hill and the palace of Crownhome. What the architecture lacked in inspiration was offset by a panoply of military banners. The black, silver, and red of the Karrnathi flag were most prevalent, its wolf head embossed above the heavily-guarded gate.

  Within, Hyran ir’Tennet was nowhere to be found. While King Kaius III officially ruled the capital city, the Civic Minister was given the task of handling the day-to-day details. Soneste found that a legion of clerks and barristers within the Ministry hid him well.

  “In the morning you may call on me at the Justice Ministry,” he’d said. So where was he? The only man with more authority in this city was the king, so she supposed it made sense that he would be difficult to track down.

  All the while, her damp clothes and persistent cough magnified her impatience. Her coat of dyed sayda—commonly called Brelish blue—and her artful tongue made her feel like a barking fox among brooding wolves. The Karrns scowled whenever she made demands, but Soneste gradually made inroads. They acknowledged her at last—if only to get rid of her.

  Soneste was introduced to a conspicuously stern man whom Hyran ir’Tennet had allegedly “given over” to meet with her until the Civic Minister himself was available. Whatever that meant.

  The man was tall and quite older than she, with dark, hollow eyes. A few faint scars showed along his neck and one hand. He wore a long sword, its pommel decorated with an R in filigree. An army officer, retired—but Soneste knew by his own unease in this environment that he wasn’t part of the Ministry. Something about him, the way his eyes studied her in turn, gnawed at her. He introduced himself as Major Jotrem Dalesek.

  Soneste extended her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Jotrem,” she said. His mouth twitched in irritation at her familiar address. Good. Then their dislike was mutual.

  “Likewise, Miss Otänsin,” he responded, grasping her hand harder than necessary. His skin was frigid. Host, she thought, was everyone in this cursed country sculpted from ice? On his finger she saw a ring set with a polished black stone. Red colors swirled within. A fire opal?

  “Come with me.” Jotrem led her to a private office belonging to some absent clerk. After a few awkward moments, Soneste tapped her fingernails on the leather folder Hyran had given her. She leaned upon the clerk’s desk as Jotrem moved to the window to stare out at the city.

  “Forgive my bluntness,” she said, “but is it your job to stall me? I’m getting the impression I’m not wanted here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “As the victims of the murder at hand were King Boranel’s subjects, he is under the impression that it is most certainly his—hence, my—business.”

  Jotrem fixed her with a stare she couldn’t quite interpret—quiet outrage?—but it gradually fell away. “I’m doubtful that your king is yet aware of this event at all. But no, Miss Otänsin, I’m not here to stall you. In fact, I will be accompanying you on your investigation.”

  Sovereign Host, she cursed silently. Jotrem was an inquisitive too.

  Just what she needed now, a local investigator stepping on her toes. One more inquisitive was one too many for her. Always was. She didn’t relish partnering with another inquisitive again, much less a Karrn.

  She stared mutely at Jotrem. At least this one was human. In Soneste’s experience, elvish blood usually carried with it an unbearable pride. Steeling her mind, she held her reaction in check and met Jotrem’s eyes without scowling. “Oh? I wasn’t informed of that, but I will certainly consider it.”

  The Karrn’s lip twitched. “You don’t understand, Brelander. This isn’t merely—”

  The door opened. Soneste felt relief at the sight of Hyran ir’Tennet. His company, while sleightly strained and soft-spoken the night before, was worlds better than this astringent veteran. Jotrem nodded to the Civic Minister, though both men seemed more suited to salutes, like soldiers on active duty.

  “Good morning, Miss Otänsin, said Hyran. “I hope our weather hasn’t dampened your spirit yet. I see that you’ve met Major Dalesek.

  “It hasn’t yet,” she replied, “and yes, I have. I thank you for the offer of his assistance, but I am better suited to this investigation alone.”

  Hyran regarded both inquisitives then gestured politely at Jotrem. “I assure you, Major Dalesek will be a boon to your investigation. He can serve as your guide in this unfamiliar city and assist you with the peculiarities of our nation. This may help you to cut through the ministerial webs of life in Korth.

  Soneste noticed a near-imperceptible grimace shift Jotrem’s face. Hyran had both established the partnership and relegated the older inquisitive to an inferior role within it. Clever man. She knew that she could try and dispute the Civic Minister’s decree, but she would have to send a message to Thuranne and thereby the King’s Citadel and then wait for a reply. A waste of time and energy. Perhaps she could handle Jotrem herself.

  “I know that time is short and you have a man to identify,” Hyran said.

  “Or woman,” Soneste said.

  Hyran blinked. “Pardon?”

  “The killer might be a woman,” she said.

  Jotrem grunted. “It is a man, I assure you.”

  Soneste shrugged, holding up the death report had given her. “Yes, my employer mentioned that there was a man identifie
d at the scene, but I didn’t see him mentioned in the report.”

  Hyran nodded, taking the folder from her and laying out the documents on the desk. “That is because he is merely a suspect at this time. The three Lions who came upon the scene witnessed him standing over the victims. They pursued him to the balcony, where he escaped.”

  Soneste imagined the event, matching the three soldiers’ pursuit of the suspect with the carpet prints she’d studied last night. A perfect fit.

  “One of the Lions, Sergeant Bratta, recognized the suspect—a thorn in the side of both the Justice Ministry and the garrison.”

  “Tallis is his name,” Jotrem said with obvious venom. “A malcontent of the worst order, wanted for murder, theft, destruction of property, and treason. He’s a vigilante who styles himself a Karrnath loyalist, yet he continually breaks the king’s laws.”

  Hyran nodded. “Tallis was also a graduate of Rekkenmark Academy and member of the Order. An officer who served in Warlord Dhejdan’s legion, deployed for special missions … before being tried for treason. He was accused of murdering his own squad during one such mission, including a decorated marshal in the warlord’s favor. Tallis did not attend his court-martial and has eluded capture for years. Not surprisingly, his military expertise has complicated our attempts to apprehend him.”

  Rekkenmark Academy. Quite possibly Khorvaire’s most esteemed military school. Before the Last War, nobles from every province of the kingdom would send their children to receive military instruction in Karrnath, to study the writings of Galifar’s greatest military minds. During the hundred year long war, only Karrnath’s sons and daughters could be enrolled at the Academy, but after the Treaty of Thronehold, the remaining Five Nations had at last begun to send their promising youths to the famous training facility again, youths such as Halix ir’Wynarn, King Boranel’s youngest son.

  The Order of Rekkenmark was another thing altogether. Only by graduating with honors at the academy or on the king’s recommendation could one join the elite order.

  Soneste glanced at the opal ring on the older inquisitive’s finger. “Was he a classmate of yours, Jotrem?” she asked him. The tightening of his lips answered her before his words did.

  “I was acquainted with him, yes,” he answered, following her eyes to the ring. “Several years before he joined the Order. But Tallis is a criminal now, Miss Otänsin, a traitor to the Academy, the Order, and to Karrnath.”

  Hyran nodded, his voice growing cold. “Last night, two White Lions were brought in to the Jorasco house of healing. They were … severely beaten, to say the least. When debriefed, they claimed it was Tallis who had attacked them. If that is true, he is still in the city. The entire garrison has been given his description. Some, like Sergeant Bratta, already know his face. If you name him as the Ebonspire assassin, Miss Otänsin, I will call upon all resources and we will find him in short order.”

  Soneste nodded. This Tallis was dangerous, of that there was no doubt. “Minister, may I speak with the witnesses?”

  Hyran nodded, slipping a new document within the folder. “Of course, and I have for you a writ which will command the cooperation of most legitimate entities in this city. Major Dalesek can take you to the sergeant and the other White Lions.”

  “Thank you,” Soneste said. “Before you leave, I wanted to ask about the ambassador’s travel itinerary.” She held up the small book but said nothing of her finding it. Hyran and Jotrem exchanged surprised glances. “There are a couple of names within I’m wondering if you’re familiar with.”

  “Of course.”

  “The first is Vorik ir’Alanso.”

  Jotrem answered this one. “Vorik’s family owns a tailoring house—some say, the finest in all of Karrnath. Nearly every noble in this town owns something from the ir’Alanso workshops.” Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Hyran absently examining the silver buttons of his sleeve. A fine uniform he wore, she thought, no doubt custom made. Ir’Alonso’s work?

  Soneste considered Gamnon’s family business. The two industries, steel and fashion, seldom overlapped, unless one were outfitting an army of armored soldiers—or, she mused, putting clothes on warforged. “Would you know of any reason a foreign ambassador would wish to meet with a wealthy clothier?”

  “It is possible, Miss Otänsin,” Jotrem said with a touch of sarcasm, “that the ambassador merely wished to purchase a new dress for his wife. I understand he was traveling on holiday?”

  Soneste reddened. Yes, that was likely.

  “But why meet with the owner himself? Why not simply visit the shop? His itinerary noted Vorik specifically.” She let the thought hang there, then held up the book again. “Who is Lord Charoth Arkenen?”

  Hyran looked back at her then. “Lord Charoth? Another noble, one of the newer players in Karrnath’s export industries. Owns Arkenen Glass, along with a number of tenements and warehouses in the city. He is a wizard, formerly of House Cannith.”

  Interesting. “Formerly?” she asked. “An excoriate?”

  Such heirs ejected from their prestigious houses were notorious for their bitterness. This was not surprising, as the dragonmarked houses rivaled nations in sheer wealth and influence. Excoriation, the legal and social severance from one’s house, quite often led to a life of crime as the unfortunate heir peddled out his house’s secrets to the highest bidder. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d heard of such a thing.

  Hyran shook his head. “Not quite. Lord Charoth is a … self-imposed exile of his house. In fact, it is well known that Baron Zorlan d’Cannith himself once made a formal offer to Lord Charoth to return him to a place of power within the house. The offer was immediately rebuffed.”

  That was strange. When the Day of Mourning destroyed the country of Cyre, it also claimed the lives of many House Cannith heirs, for the house’s base was in the city of Eston. Among the countless souls lost that day was Starrin d’Cannith, patriarch of the house. Since his death four years ago, three Cannith heirs had vied to succeed him as patriarch of the house. Baron Zorlan, the stern head of Cannith East, lived here in Korth.

  “Why would he turn down an offer from the baron?” she asked.

  “None know the true story,” Hyran said, “but everyone knows that Lord Charoth is the lone survivor of a forgehold disaster that claimed the lives of dozens of House Cannith workers. He emerged from the incident … disfigured.”

  Lord Charoth was sounding more interesting by the second. She knew interviewing a wealthy businessman on short notice was far-fetched, but she would certainly try. One thing at a time, though. “Wouldn’t a man of his fame and wealth simply pay Jorasco to heal him? How bad could it be?”

  “Evidently they tried. His condition was the result of some kind of creation forge explosion. There are many different stories told of what happened to him.”

  “Would your chronicles have anything on him?” Soneste asked.

  “They may,” Hyran answered. “I will grant you limited access to the Ministry archives. The Korth Sentinel is our local chronicle, back issues of which you can find filed there as well. After his presumed death, Lord Charoth’s emergence was quite the talk in Karrnath. It even made the Chronicle. But this was shortly after the Thronehold Treaty. There were more momentous events going on at the time. You will also be able to peruse the few files we have on Tallis, but I admit there isn’t much. The unique nature of his service in the army kept him off most records.”

  “Thank you, again, Civic Minister,” Soneste said and meant it. “You’ve been very helpful. The King’s Citadel will be grateful. Will I be able to find you again here?”

  Hyran smiled knowingly. “Yes. Use the writ to get their attention, but I would tread cautiously, Miss Otänsin, if you feel the need to investigate Lord Charoth. He is a powerful man.”

  Soneste nodded and tucked the book away. “One more thing. I examined the ambassador’s warforged bodyguard. Defeated by the killer, I assume, but I think he might yet be revived. He may be
another witness. Could you send an artificer to assess his condition? The sooner the better.”

  Jotrem shook his head. Hyran appeared to consider the request, then inclined his head, businesslike. “I will have the warforged taken to the House Cannith enclave for repair. Return here this afternoon. If it is possible to revive it, I will keep the construct here, under guard. More than a witness—it may be a suspect, no?”

  Everyone is, Soneste thought, even the two of you. “Minister, may I speak plainly?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve been given the authority to identify the ambassador’s killer. If you want to find this man, Tallis, please do so. But he is not to be tried or harmed until I have decided he is guilty—or innocent—of this crime. I will not lose sight of the case at hand.” Her eyes flicked to Jotrem. “Nor be distracted by a suspect some obviously wish to pin this crime on. That Tallis is guilty of other crimes, I cannot say.”

  Hyran nodded. “I understand your concern. We shall try none who may be connected to the ambassador’s death until you give assent. But understand, Miss Otänsin, Tallis is a Karrn. He is loose in our streets, even now, harming our citizens. His life or death is at the behest of our jurisdiction.”

  She nodded, refusing to look at Jotrem’s face.

  Sergeant Bratta’s demeanor was quite a contrast to the civic minister’s. While Hyran ir’Tennet suppressed his personal opinions beneath a diplomatic veneer appropriate to his station, the mouth of the sergeant before her spewed biased conjecture with every breath. But for his stilted Karrnathi accent, she might have taken him for a member of the Sharn Watch.

  “Killing women and children,” the soldier said for the fifth time. “It was Tallis, I know it. Cowardly bastard. Didn’t realize it until after he left, but I remembered his face.”

  “You’ve encountered him before?”

  “A few months back,” the Lion growled. “Sabotaged a caravan from Atur as they were coming in Northgate. Took out several of my men then too.”