by RW Krpoun
The woman, her back still to Kustar, shook her head and took a long pull from the flask. “No, Orbi, I can see no more than what I have already. They were fierce warriors and true, loyal followers of the Eight and gold, and they had the blood of many a Direthrell and their servants upon their blades when they came through the Gate.”
“Of that, I already knew,” Kustar nodded, taking a half-step forward for momentum as she drove the thin blade into the base of the Seer’s skull. The woman’s brief, violent convulsions tore the hilt from the Nepas officer’s grip; hopping back from the mindless jerking of the slave’s corpse, Kustar turned and strode briskly back to the camp.
“You and you, bury her body in the ruins. Wizard, do what you must to ensure that no one else can ever scry what happened in there.” Kustar poured herself a cup of tea from the pot hanging over the fire before seating herself on a handy rock and digging out her investigation log. New details to log, and new clues to ponder. Her investigation was only one good step from completion
The ride back was as pleasant as the ride out, although a nagging desire for it to be over so she could get at the Pargaie logs of known mercenary companies did detract from it. It was late afternoon when she reached the fortress gates; after dismissing her escort and sending a runner to the Master of Slaves to verbally notify him of the death of the Seer with a report to follow, Kustar retired to her quarters and a hot bath, gratified to note the presence of one of her rival investigating officers at the Outer Keep gate waiting for her return. Such a display of curiosity indicated growing levels of desperation on his part. Clearly she had keyed upon the essential elements before any of the others, and just as importantly she had wiped out the trail behind her, making hers the only investigation that could succeed.
Personal discipline kept her from her office for the rest of the evening; every step would have to be made with careful deliberation lest she slip and let one of her competitors guess the direction in which the truth lie. To rush back to her work area would proclaim her foray outside a success and a key element in her investigation, to waste the rest of the day might fool her competition into thinking the event was a failure or deception. After a long, hot bath Kustar took her dinner in a popular dining hall and stayed for the after-dinner entertainment, which was the slow death by torture of three slaves.
The next morning she strolled in to her work area and spent half a day carefully composing a report on the Seer’s death; although her authority as vested in the atingo made the destruction of one slave, albeit a valuable one, an incident of no consequence, she was keenly aware that copies of the report would be in the other investigator’s hands within hours of its arrival at the offices of the Master of Slaves. In the report she stated that slave had been slain after attempting to escape, a story close enough to the truth to ensure the completeness of her deceptions.
The rest of the day was spent on routine paperwork, including reviewing the reports of her slender stable of spies on the activities of the other investigations while she was gone, and adjusting their activities as needed; although she had invested scant energy in watching the competition, it was gratifying to note that all four had been made frantic by her sudden departure. A note from the Hold-Master’s office announced that the Army had closed its investigation into the possibility that Felher scouts had infiltrated into the hold to open the egran by stealth; as the investigating wizards had long ago ruled out new Gate magic or special spell applications as the means of entry that left the ball squarely in the Pargaie’s court, with only Kustar in a position to do anything about it.
The key problem facing her at this point was how to gain access to the Pargaie files on known mercenary companies; physically it was no problem, as the data was in bound ledgers, a set of which was sitting in the archives that her staff had established in the two storage closets off of the large room that her staff used, just outside her own office. The difficulty lay in the sure knowledge that the spies on her staff would report back every observable move she made. Other spies would shadow her when away from the office, a fact she routinely took into consideration when she ran errands in the fortress, being careful to include several false tasks in every outing, and adding in entire excursions that were completely pointless.
At the onset of her investigation she had stored in her office copies of every report forwarded to her in regards to the first raid, thus preventing any spies from knowing what she was interested in and what she was not. Basic research files, however, were stored in the aforementioned archives; retrieving data herself, or worse, sending a clerk for it, could reveal a clue to the other investigators that might upset her lead.
After several minute’s deep thought, she pulled on the green cord, summoning Coke; moments later the inventory and filing list for her archives was before her and her chief clerk was back at his desk. After careful study of this document, she emerged from her office and proceeded into the closet, summoning an underclerk to attend her with a curt gesture and snap of her fingers.
Moving with assurance, referring occasionally to the filing list, she loaded the clerk with various works referring to the Outer Zone. While doing so, she noted that the works on mercenary companies consisted of two thick volumes and one thinner index; all three were of a standard size and bound in a rough leather backing with painted wood covers, the normal furnishings for bound reports that would be regularly updated. Each volumes identity was recorded on a square of parchment glued to a wire frame that was clipped to the book’s spine. Satisfied, she led the sweating underclerk into her office.
Alone, she arranged her decoy works on a side table and carefully studied the collection. Satisfied, she chose three volumes, which she stored in her enchanted pouch, arranging the other volumes to hide the reduction in numbers. Turning back to routine paperwork, she devoted an hour to devising a work plan for her staff based on a (false) investigation into activity outside the fortress before retiring for the day.
Kustar spent the first hours of the next day stirring her office into a frenzy; clerks rushed in and out locating cartographers, last year’s reports from Army patrols on the Blasted Plains, and similar make-work, while others cursed cramping fingers as they laboriously complied excerpts from various merchant logs into detailed compilations. When she was satisfied that everyone was sufficiently burdened and the spies blinded by the surge in interest in activity on the Plains, the Nepas officer made another trip to the storage closet, loading a sweating clerk with another dozen volumes.
Alone in the closet for a moment on the pretext of returning the inventory and file index to its place in a box nailed to the back of the door, Kustar deftly plucked the three volumes on mercenaries from the shelf and replaced them with the three books in her pouch. A moment’s work saw the wire frames transferred from the mercenary tomes to the decoy works, and Kustar was out of the storage room, hands empty and the pouch on her belt flat.
By eating at her desk and working until after the sun went down, pausing only to issue new orders to her staff regarding the cover investigations into outside activity, she complied a list of all mercenary companies who had an animal and some sort of mist, smoke, shadows, or other vision-obscuring agent in their heraldry or name, a roster of well over a hundred. She then methodically went through the bound files, eliminating any company which was defunct, disbanded, or unaccounted for an extended period, which produced a new list of just under ninety.
A second winnowing eliminated any company that was less than expert in its endeavors, dropping the candidates into the thirties, and ending her work day. After carefully burning the much-crossed-out company lists and bringing her secret investigation log up to date, she stored her latest list and the three book in her pouch and headed wearily for her bed.
Dawn’s first gray tendrils of light saw her marching determinedly towards her office, her early start giving Coke quite a shock when she arrived even as he was opening the offices. After ordering a breakfast to be brought in for her and handing out
the day’s assignments to the nervous chief clerk, Kustar began a more detailed review of her list, eliminating companies which did not have non-Human members, several spell-casters, or multiple enchanted items. This culling took half a day but cut the list by two-thirds and left her with a blinding headache.
She took a hour’s break, washing down a healing powder with several glasses of wine while she added a few twists to her staff’s activities and reviewed the usual bundle of reports and circulars that arrived every day;the internal mail service could be counted on to haul in a stack of routine correspondence on any working day in which the fortress wasn’t actually burning to the ground. The latter held very little of interest other than a Pargaie report that with the birth of a male heir to the new Master of the Fastness of the Vasteras, the ageing Baron of Wesland (and father-in-law of the Master of the Fastness) abdicated in favor of his son-in-law, causing the creation of the Principality of Vasteras-Wesland, reducing the number of petty states in the Border Realms from twenty-two down to twenty-one. As the Fastness had been the largest of the petty states, this new nation, now led by an able young man with a heir, added an undesirable degree of stability to the Realms.
Returning to her main task, she meticulously read every word in the entries of each of the ten companies left on her list, discarding five because they had no Dwarven officers, another because it had no history of raids and deception, and one because it was known to have dealing with followers of the Void: the Seer had been very clear that the raiders had been followers of the Light, mercenaries true enough, but without the taint of Chaos.
That left three: the Ghost Wolves, the Mist Eagles, and the Phantom Badgers. Three tough, successful mercenary companies that met all the listed criteria. Sighing, she carefully burned her rough lists, logged her actions, and stored away all her materials in her pouch. She was close, too close to press on while weary. Company entries varied from half a page for the defunct or disbanded, to thirty or more on the three she had chosen. Much as it grated against her inclination, she would wait until tomorrow before researching all three, as a clear head and a steady hand would be needed.
One detail stood between her and quitting for the day. Using her best writing style on top quality velum, she carefully wrote her report to Hold Master Peria as required every two weeks. And as had every report she had submitted during her investigation, the missive was a half a page promising diligent efforts and eventual success while disclosing nothing. These reports, carefully saved by the Hold-Master, could be a death sentence for the officer who failed in the investigation, should the Hold-Master so chose. Peria was known for not controlling through fear, but he did not shy away from the reminder of authority. At any time he could summon one or all of the investigating officers and demand specifics to support the general promises; Kustar was confident that of the five, she was the only one who could deliver.
The next morning’s bundle of administrative material carried within it a devastating shock: one of the five investigating officers assigned to the task of uncovering the forces behind the first raid had, in his two-week report, reported failure. The officer had declared that he was unable to uncover any clear indication on how the Felher had mounted the raid. He was now tasked with completing a detailed log of the course of his investigation and a final debriefing report on what he had learned in his inquires, before closing out his office and going to a responsible position in the hold’s Pargaie staff. Peria, in a note addressed to the remaining four officers, had commended the departing officer’s integrity and forthrightness in admitting the truth of his situation.
Kustar re-read the report, unhappily thumping a fist on her desk. An option had been lost: the first officer to withdraw from the investigation under a fair master such as Peria would suffer only a mild setback to their career; each successive day that passed after such a resignation, however, would increase the pressure on the remaining officers to deliver. The stakes had just risen dramatically, and while Kustar felt she was right in believing that she was a front-runner in the pack, she had not yet fully identified the actors or determined the Why of their involvement.
After several minute’s consideration, she summoned Coke and issued new orders: based on the resignation, her staff was to halt its operations, and prepare to an in-depth study of the departing officer’s investigation log and debriefing report. Each fact would have to be verified, each event in the log checked to be determined if it had actually been performed. Preparation would wrap up her staff for the day, and the actual verification would keep them busy for a week.
Alone, she dug out the master list of the items taken from the storehouse, which included a detailed description of each item’s uses. It was a long morning’s work to run through it, but Kustar was convinced that the raiders had come after a specific item that was valuable to them because of its proprieties, not for its resale value.
When she had a general working knowledge of what was taken, and several pages of notes on the better items, she turned to the mercenary listings again, somewhat troubled. The short list of items taken from the storeroom had given the distinct impression that the items taken were of secondary value, in storage awaiting use, sale, or to be used as gifts to vassal races. The actual descriptions, while decidedly written in the same vein, could not conceal that several of the items were more powerful than the quick reference report would indicate, and one or two items were only poorly investigated before being put into storage. Kustar scowled as she began reading the full entry for the Ghost Wolves. It was typical that the Treasury types would rat-hole items just for the sake of hoarding, regardless to the needs of field units.
The Ghost Wolves occupied her morning and the Mist Eagles her afternoon, both without significant success. Each had the right racial composition, capabilities, and attitudes, but nothing in their dossiers indicated why they would undertake such a daring raid. She hesitated over the entry for the Phantom Badgers; it was the last of the three, and should it fail she would have to either backtrack for a company she missed, or discard her theory as to Why the raiders came in. Despite the lateness in the workday, she steeled herself and pressed on.
She read through the introduction on the company, the file on its composition, organization, and tactics, the records of known members past and present, and the reports on its effect on Direthrell operations (which was minimal) before sending out for a meal. While waiting for her supper she sipped wine and leaned back with a cool cloth over her eyes.
Having dined and stretched her legs on a quick walk around the building, she resumed her task, taking up the next to last, and longest, entry: the history of the Phantom Badgers as known to Pargaie. By the second page she was riveted to the neatly written words; it took the full force of her will to read the section through, and then read the short summary. Finally, with trembling fingers, she turned to the master list of lost magical items and flipped through the pages until she found the item she was looking for. Carefully, deliberately, she read every word through and then read the half-page entry again.
Moving slowly and carefully, as if her hair had suddenly been transformed into a swirl of black glass strands that would shatter at any sudden movement, the lithe Nepas officer stood, gathered up all her day’s work notes and burned them, stirring the ashes into the fireplace until only a black powder remained.
Seating herself just as carefully after washing her hands with the deliberation of a Healer about to employ the delicate knives of her trade, Kustar stared unseeing at the wall before her. She had them: the Who and the Why and the How.
The Phantom Badgers, who, like the Ghost Wolves and the Mist Eagles, matched the control data she had gathered, had the one thing the other two did not: an obvious need. They had run afoul of the White Necromancer, a liche of surpassing power and evil, and one of the items taken from the storage vault was the Torc of Suian, which was listed in the quick reference document as a charm against Undead, but which in the detailed listing was better described as a aid t
o those who faced Undead and necromancers, developed and used originally by Suian Wingarm, a Harthrell (or Threll from the sea-faring clans) who was known as a fearsome hunter of necromancers. Even though the master listing made no comment on Suian, now long dead, Kustar needed no reference material to recall much of that fearsome name. The Sea Threll was now stuff of legend, one of the greatest wizards the Threll had ever produced, and one of the most driven; no device created by him would be of minor importance. The Badgers had somehow come upon information that the Torc was held in Alantarn, in that specific strong-room no less, and had mounted a brilliant raid to retrieve it. But for the chance engagement with the Anlarc’s force, the Badgers would have escaped without leaving a real clue behind.
Kustar frowned and puzzled over the mystery of how the mercenaries had learned so much of Alantarn and its defenses that they were able to mount a raid and escape. The Felher would have sold what they knew for the right price, andern, no doubt, but the Badgers had struck and moved about with complete assurance. And what was Era Ludio’s involvement? He had facilitated the Badger’s entrance, had died in the course of a covert meeting with them for it, justice to a traitor but also a death which closed out any hopes of inquiry. The Nepas officer shrugged-perhaps Ludio had been in it from the very beginning; as a member of the merchant bloc he could have had secret dealings with the Badgers for quite some time. Perhaps he had sold the Badgers the information on Alantarn with the intent of using the raid to advance some scheme of his own. Certainly the power structure of the fortress had been radically upset by the death of the Hold Mistress, who had ruled Alantarn for nearly fifteen decades, refusing promotion to remain in this key spot. Perhaps Ludio had hoped to rise high in the ranks of a new order, although the Era’s reputation had been something of a dullard rather than a devious plotter.
