by Jeff LaSala
A long silence followed the priest’s sobering words. In three short days, Soneste had learned so much more about Karrnath than she’d ever expected. Since she was a girl, she’d thought of the land ruled by King Kaius and his successors as a place where the dead walked again. It was easy to forget that not all of its people approved of such atrocities.
“What does undeath have to do with any of this?” she asked. “The evidence I’ve found doesn’t suggest the use of necromancy in the least.”
“That is true,” he admitted. “We don’t yet know why Haedrun and the Red Watchers were involved in the murder. I only wanted you to understand what the loss of Haedrun means to Tallis, myself, and our nation.”
Soneste looked around the room. She needed to keep the elf talking.
“You say Prelate Roerith is ignorant of Tallis’s personal war against the Blood of Vol because he doesn’t want to share his problems, but he obviously does bring his problems to you.”
Lenrik chuckled sadly. “I don’t know that he has a choice in that. I have known Tallis for too many years.”
“Will you tell me how you do know him?” she asked, feeling like the Sharn Inquisitive reporter who’d interviewed her only a few days ago. “Off the record,” she added with a half smile.
“Before his commanders recognized his talents and he was sent to Rekkenmark, Tallis served in a regiment ordered to secure the southern border against the advances of Cyre. I was the chaplain assigned to that regiment out of Vurgenslye, though the colonel saw me as little more than one of his field healers. Tallis and I became fast friends in hard times.”
Soneste listened to his words but simultaneously planned her escape. The high window above would open onto temple grounds, but it was probably too narrow for her to climb through. The door seemed her only option, though she shouldn’t rule out the possibility there were other, hidden exits. Lenrik was a priest, but he was also a war veteran. She didn’t know if she could knock him down if it came to that.
“That’s all, then?” Soneste asked, prompting him to continue. “Comrades-in-arms?”
The elf shook his head. “Actually, I did meet him before that. You see quite a long time ago, my father had a falling out—you might call it—with the rest of my line. We left Aerenal when I was still a child and settled in Karrnath, and I became a Vassal of the Sovereign Host. Eventually I joined the clergy. The Undying Court of Aerenal is my heritage, but not my faith.”
“And Tallis?” Soneste asked.
“Well, I attended the Gods’ Grace Academy in Tanar Rath and was in seminary still, visiting temples and shrines throughout the nation, when I first met the man you’ve been hunting on the Justice Ministry’s behalf. Tallis was a boy at the time, not yet old enough for military service.”
She was finding this elf’s company very agreeable despite her intention to escape. She was sympathetic to what he was saying, and she believed that Tallis was largely innocent of the ambassador’s murder, but she would not abide imprisonment at their hands. That was not their decision to make.
Soneste considered her extrasensory talents, trying to decide which one would best allow her to manipulate Lenrik.
It was later in the morning when Tallis returned to the undercroft of Aureon’s shrine. He hadn’t stopped moving since Haedrun’s death, hadn’t lingered on the horror or succumbed to sleep.
The truth was that Haedrun had lived her life much as he had, knowing every day that her work invited death. Both he and the Red Watcher had expected to die at the hands of their enemies, not peacefully in their sleep someday. They’d even laughed and shared a drink or two over the notion.
Weariness pressed against his mind, but Tallis pushed back. Again. He paused at the bottom of the stairs when he heard the unmistakable sound of feminine laughter behind the door. It felt good to hear even a moment’s levity. He ached to be a part of it, but he knew, right now, that he couldn’t be.
Tallis opened the door to see Soneste talking with Lenrik in quiet tones. The woman sat upon the bed, dressed now, looking healthy and composed. Lenrik sat in the chair across from her, a cloth-wrapped bundle in his lap. Both turned to him when he entered.
“Is she safe?” Lenrik asked.
“The collectors won’t have her,” he confirmed, hating himself for ending their conversation with such grim words. There was still much to do. His mind was all business. To Soneste, he said, “When I returned, your warforged was gone. It may have walked away itself, I don’t know.”
“I understand. Listen … Tallis?” Soneste stood, and he could see the bandages wrapped around her lower abdomen. Only a small amount of blood had seeped through. Her color was strong. “Thank you,” Soneste said, awkwardly. “For …”
“Lenrik is the one to thank,” he answered. “I’m no healer.”
“You know what I—”
“Now, now,” Lenrik said. He stood. “Enough pleasantries and uncomfortable sentiments. Let’s talk about the business …”
The elf held up the bundle and pulled the cloth aside.
“… at hand.” There lay the silvery, hollow gauntlet that had been cut from the assassin’s arm. Soneste’s eyes fixed on it with sudden interest.
“How does your god put up with you?” Tallis asked with a stifled laugh and a roll of his eyes. Despite the badness of the joke, it felt good.
“Aureon is the most patient of the Host, didn’t you know?”
Intricate spiraling designs were carved in filigree upon the gauntlet, and both the palm and lames along each finger comprised numerous fine hinges. This was more sophisticated than any piece of armor he’d seen before. At the center of the palm a slot opened up that ran to the cuff, where Tallis had severed it from the rest of the arm. In the low light he thought he detected a gold sheen to the metal.
“Is this steel?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Lenrik answered. “It’s remarkably flexible.”
Soneste ran a finger along the slotted palm. “This is where the blades deployed, but where did they go? The creature had them out in no time, and they’d disappear as quickly.”
Lenrik pointed to the cuff, which had been scored by Tallis’s weapon when the cut was made. “Is it possible that the gauntlet just slipped free, leaving the wearer’s hand exposed? This glove is entirely hollow.”
“No,” Tallis and Soneste answered at the same time. Both had seen the assassin in its deadly work. Tallis continued. “There was no living person beneath this armor. When I cut this gauntlet loose, there was no hand beneath, and no blade fell free.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Lenrik sighed and sat down again, staring at the mysterious hand. “I’ve searched through the Archives of Aureon but found very little with which to identify this. I have heard of animated suits of armor, but most of those are attributed to undead spirits. They’re usually only guards, whose orders are reactive in nature.”
“The Blood of Vol,” Tallis affirmed. “Some new model fresh from the pits of the Crimson Monastery.”
“But why use such a spirit against a Brelish dignitary?” Soneste asked. “Does it serve Cultists of Vol to stir up political conflicts? To threaten the peace?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Tallis said. “I’d think it would. The Blood of Vol grew powerful early in the Last War because of what it offered King Kaius. If there was war again, there’d be renewed need for their assistance.”
Lenrik shook his head. “Many in the Ministry of the Dead are practicing Seekers, but not all. There are plenty of men who can raise the dead without relying on the Blood of Vol.”
Soneste looked to Tallis. “Why try to pin all this on you?”
“They’ve been looking for a way to remove me for years,” he answered simply, “but could this really all be just to get me? Try and get the law to take me down since they can’t?”
Soneste tapped the metal hand again. “What if this is some kind of warforged? Why assume this is the work of the Blood of Vol?”
; Tallis manipulated the fingers of the gauntlet, trying to imagine it upon a warforged scout. “I’ve never seen any warforged with five fingers before. Not even those who can sling spells look quite like this. You think House Cannith has something to do with this?”
“It might.” Soneste seemed distracted by the possibility. Then she met his eyes. “What were you doing at the Ebonspire? Who is this ir’Montevik that your friend spoke of?”
Tallis sighed. “I was going after him that night. He’s a man with more gold than he deserves. He’d be all too happy to see the Blood of Vol take power again. You heard what Haedrun said. We were both expecting ir’Montevik at the Ebonspire, but it was Gamnon there instead. The whole thing was a set-up. I’d known Gamnon years ago. He was jut a captain then, when our regiments were working together.”
Soneste shook her head. “I’ve read through every record the Justice Ministry has on you, Tallis. I didn’t see anything in there about Gamnon ir’Daresh or any allied regiments.”
“There’s a lot that happened in the war that’s not on record,” Tallis answered. He instantly regretted his tone. He was tired.
“Before the attack,” Soneste said to Lenrik, “Haedrun said the one who gave her the tip—which we know now was a set up—was an elf with knowledge of powerful scrolls in ir’Montevik’s possessions, spells that could disguise the undead in great numbers ‘so they’d be able to walk the streets openly, gather in untold numbers wherever the Seekers wanted them.’ She said the elf was a member of the Deathguard in Aerenal? Do you know what that is?”
Lenrik frowned. “The Deathguard? It’s a religious order opposed to the Blood of Vol. Understand, the Aereni make a vast distinction between true undead—like those employed by the Ministry of the Dead or the Seekers—and the deathless of the Undying Court.” The elf looked thoughtful. “Yes, a member of the Deathguard approaching her with news such necromancy would certainly catch her attention.”
“Irresistible bait to the Red Watchers,” Soneste said.
“So it was all just a ruse,” Tallis said. “Ir’Montevik wasn’t in Korth, and there never were any such scrolls. I’m concerned more with who this elf was.” He turned to Lenrik. “I’m going to take the gauntlet to Verdax. He might be able to learn more from it.”
The elf nodded in agreement. “I really ought to carry out the rest of my day as usual.” He looked to Soneste. “If Miss Otänsin’s absence is eventually noted, I don’t want to look suspicious. Mova requested another session with me later today, so that will occupy me for some time.”
“Lovely,” Soneste said with obvious irritation.
“Yes, you’re staying here,” Tallis said.
“Tower spit!”
“Listen, just get some rest first and we’ll talk about this some more when I come back. I can’t have you—” Tallis paused when he heard a soft trill in the air. Where was that sound coming from? It seemed to ring from every direction. Lenrik looked around, too, as even the elf’s sensitive ears seemed unable to place the source. “What is …?”
The inquisitive stared back at him with a strange intensity in her hazel eyes. Even though he knew he ought to leave her behind right now, Tallis felt an inexplicable need to stay with her.
He felt Lenrik’s eyes upon his, but he didn’t want to look away from Soneste. He felt a curious itch inside his mind. What was this?
“You want to bring me along,” Soneste said.
She was right. He did. It made perfect sense. “I don’t really know,” he answered. The world seemed a mite dizzy.
“Listen to me, both of you.” Soneste walked over to where her boots lay and began to put them on. His eyes followed her every movement. She laced her boots as she spoke, her words nonchalant.
“Lenrik, I spent the last hour sitting here talking with you. I’ve enjoyed your company and I appreciate both your hospitality and your healing. I am truly indebted, but I’ve traveled very far from my home to carry out an investigation in the name of the King’s Citadel. To that end, I’ve also spent this time with you analyzing various means of escaping this room and have determined two viable options—only one of which involves the obvious door.”
Tallis looked around. What was the other?
“And Tallis?” Without looking at him, she continued to speak, lacing up her other boot. She pushed a lock of her blonde hair away from her eyes. “You’re watching me now without full possession of your own will. Disheveled as I am, you would follow me straight to Dolurrh itself. And it wouldn’t be your choice at all. It would be mine.
“A moment ago I planted a temporary seed of attraction in your mind. Call it a spell if you want, but it isn’t. It’s a something a kalashtar in Sharn taught me to master. Even now, you are finding my words more compelling, my rationale more sound, than you ought to. I did this because two days have passed since my arrival in Korth, and I’ve yet to identify the man or woman behind the ambassador’s assassination. I can’t afford to waste any more time and neither, I suspect, can you.
“I’m being honest with you so you will trust me. I submit to you a treaty of mutual benefit. Should I meet up with Jotrem, or anyone else affiliated with the White Lions or the Justice Ministry, I will not give you up. Indeed, I will not have found you at all. In turn, you will help me solve this case. It is what you’ve been trying to do alone, right? Clear your name of this murder?”
“And exact vengeance,” Tallis said gruffly, his own words sounding foolish to him after what she’d just said. A kalashtar? He’d heard of psionic powers, but he’d never experienced any. Either way, damned effective.
“Correct,” Soneste said, standing up now. A smile played upon her lips. “As I said to you the other day, in the name of King Kaius III of Karrnath and King Boranel of Breland, we will see justice done. We work together on this, and we start by pooling our knowledge. I need to know what you know, and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned.”
Soneste held out her right hand. “Do we have an agreement?” she asked with a wink.
She was a cunning creature. Tallis had never been comfortable in a partnership. He even kept Lenrik at arm’s length when it came to his work against the Blood or other dubious parties, but given the circumstances—and the lingering affects of the attraction—he decided he could make a temporary arrangement like the one she was suggesting.
Tallis grasped her hand firmly. “We do.”
Chapter
NINETEEN
Dockside Artifice
Wir, the 11th of Sypheros, 998 YK
Soneste related to Tallis the events of the last two days, omitting nothing and carefully reading his face as he listened. He looked dead tired, but his attention was rapt. The attraction she’d planted in his mind wore off sometime during their discussion, but his eyes never wavered from her.
Tallis was guarded in his side of the story. He recounted events beginning with his infiltration of the Ebonspire, saying nothing about the nature of his work or whereabouts prior to the incident. Most of her clues lined up, but the identity of the assassin remained beyond their reach.
It was late morning when they set out from the cathedral, Tallis in his Lyrandar disguise and Soneste in her blue coat. Soneste looked carefully around, afraid Jotrem might track her down. She wanted to search for Aegis, but she knew they had to follow the only lead they had first. Tallis had insisted they take the metal hand straight to an acquaintance of his named Verdax.
“There must be dozens of artificers in this city who can tell us about this thing,” she said as the massive Cannith estate came into view.
Even as she eyed the gorgon seal above its gates, she thought again of Lord Charoth and his estrangement from the house. He was mysterious enough to have hidden motives, but he seemed to want nothing to do with warforged or constructs. As she looked at the gauntlet in her hand, she felt certain the assassin was a construct.
Tallis’s description of Charoth wasn’t much different than anyone else’s. The Karrn had been invited to Charoth’s
glass factory last year, had been made an offer of service, and he’d declined. Lord Charoth was evidently many things: taskmaster, businessman, aristocrat, a man both loved and feared—and a wizard
The Korranberg Chronicle had painted an intriguing, colorful picture of the man. If he’d been truly offended by Tallis’s refusal to work for him, it seemed to Soneste that Charoth wouldn’t need to go to such lengths to take revenge. Perhaps if she asked some members of the house about Charoth, she could learn more.
“Let’s try House Cannith,” Soneste said, pointing up at the enclave. “They’re obviously the most likely to know about what kind of creature can live in animate armor.”
“No,” Tallis answered. “The dragonmarked enclaves are quickly notified when criminals of a certain caliber are at large. I’m one of those. Besides, Verdax is one artificer I know I can trust.”
So this Verdax was probably an outlaw too. Lovely.
They walked the streets in silence, winding slowly down the district tiers of the city. Feeling sleightly on edge, Soneste imagined the eyes of every White Lion upon her. She knew the soldiers had been shown portraits of Tallis and were told to keep their search for him as discreet as possible, but whenever she glanced up at him, she was impressed with his new disguise.
In his green coat and hat, few gave him a second glance. He conveyed nobility without the flagrant extravagances she saw among Sharn’s elite. They even passed unscathed through two White Lion checkpoints. The city’s security tightened with each passing day, especially in the upper districts and the palace of Crownhome. Tallis’s papers, identifying him as Findel d’Lyrandar, held up each time. Whoever had forged his papers and his new appearance had done an amazing job.
