Ilanna forced herself to keep listening; Darreth might take a long time to get to his point, but when he did, he usually provided something of real value.
“However, I believe the two symbols combined have a far less esoteric significance.” Darreth looked up at her with a grin. “When you combine them, what do you get?”
“Death and rebirth, a world beyond.” Ilanna frowned. “Wait, you mean like the Sleepless Lands?”
Darreth nodded. “Precisely!”
“What are the Sleepless Lands?” Ria put in from beside Ilanna.
Ilanna’s brow furrowed. “Did they not teach you about them in Ghandia?”
“No,” Ria said.
“The Sleepless Lands is the name given to the realm of the Long Keeper,” Darreth explained. “When we pass from this world into his eternal embrace, we are sent to the Sleepless Lands, a realm of unparalleled beauty and joy. There, we no longer require sleep, but remain awake forever to enjoy the splendor of this paradise.”
“Interesting.” Ria pursed her lips. “My people tell of a similar place—Pharadesi—where the spirits of our loved ones await us. But, unlike your Sleepless Lands, we believe the spirits can still speak with us from Pharadesi, offer us their wisdom and guidance.”
“Fascinating.” Darreth beamed. “I must sit down with you and write down all of the knowledge of your people. That I have not done so yet, after all your years with us, is an utter transgression on my part. I feel an utter fool for having failed to add the knowledge of your people to ours.”
Ria nodded. “I will make time.”
“That’s well and all,” Ilanna cut in. “But why does this symbol and its relation to the Sleepless Lands have anything to do with murders?”
“Ah, that is where things turn even more interesting.” Darreth snapped the book shut and perched on the edge of one of the chairs before the desk. “While I, personally, have never had the good fortune to travel outside our city, one of my fellow Scorpions took it upon himself to take the pilgrim’s road to Shalandra. To learn more about the City of the Dead, and to study the myriad flora and fauna that grows there.”
Ilanna ground her teeth as Darreth went off on a tangent about the exotic flowers that grew along the clifftops overlooking the tombs of Shalandra. “Focus, Darreth!” she said finally.
“Er, of course.” Darreth adjusted his spectacles and took a deep breath. “One of the flowers my fellow Scorpion found along his journeys was a potent one, with many strange and unusual properties. The people of Shalandra called it Keeper’s Bloom, but for the rest of Einan, it is known as Night Petal.”
The name sent a jolt down Ilanna’s spine, and she straightened. “The second poison!”
“Precisely.” Darreth nodded. “Night Petal grows in abundance in the rocky mountain soil, and it is harvested by the people of Shalandra for a deep purple dye, to smoke like tabacc leaf, and for many more purposes. However, it is also used by the Keeper’s Priests in their rituals.”
“Keeper’s Priests?” Ilanna’s brow furrowed. Twelve of the thirteen gods had their own priesthood, but no sane Einari would worship the Long Keeper. Attracting the attention of the sleepless god of death would only end in misery. “You’re telling me there’s a priesthood dedicated to serving the Long Keeper?”
“Shalandra is unique in its worship of the Long Keeper above the Master and the other gods,” Darreth explained. “In fact, the priests of the Keeper number among the most influential in Shalandra. The clerics on the Keeper’s Council and the Necroseti all but rule the city—its Pharus is little more than a figurehead.”
“So a Shalandran is killing people in Praamis?” Ilanna asked, confused.
“Yes and no.” Darreth turned both palms upward. “The Night Petal poison comes from Shalandra, but it is very possible that it was simply brought from the City of the Dead to Praamis, where it is being used by one of our own people.”
Ria’s brow furrowed. “Is travel between the two cities common?”
“No!” Triumph brightened Darreth’s expression. “In fact, to my knowledge, there is only one man in all of Praamis that has regular dealings with the Shalandrans.”
A memory flashed through Ilanna’s mind, and immediately she knew who Darreth referred to. “Baronet Wyvern!”
“Precisely.” Darreth nodded. “The Baronet’s fortune is largely derived from his trade with the Shalandrans. The fact that the city is built on a mountain means they have little arable farmland to grow crops and raise herds to—”
“Did you say on a mountain?” Ria cut in. “The City of the Dead on a mountain?”
Darreth nodded. “Yes. Why?”
Ilanna studied Ria. The woman’s expression had turned strange, her face paler than Ilanna had ever seen it.
“I-It’s nothing.” Ria gave a dismissive wave. “Go on.”
Darreth cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Baronet Wyvern does a great deal of business with the Shalandrans, trading food supplies for access to shalanite and what little Shalandran steel he is permitted to access.”
Ilanna had heard of these things. Shalanite was a mineral found exclusively in Alshuruq, the mountain into which the city of Shalandra had been built. The stone had begun to replace marble as the decorative stone of choice for the nobility, and stonemasons prized it for its veneer, hardness, and uniformity when cut. Shalanite was also a critical component required for the production of Shalandran steel, the best-quality steel on all of Einan—a rival even for the Secret Keeper-forged Odarian steel. Shalandra only allowed a trickle of the steel to be used in trade, making it even more valuable and desirable. The man who handled the export of these two commodities ought to be rich, indeed.
“The Baronet makes trips to Shalandra two or three times a year,” Darreth continued. “And he returned from his last journey just over a month ago.”
“A month ago,” Ilanna echoed. “Just a few days before the first body turned up dead.”
“Could it be a coincidence?” Darreth shook his head. “I’m not inclined to believe so. And, when you factor in this, I believe you will come to realize the truth.”
Ilanna studied the seven dots Darreth had drawn on the parchment. “That’s the pattern that was branded onto the victims’ foreheads.”
“Yes. But the significance isn’t in the dots or the pattern, but in the number.” He beamed. “Seven, like the seven faces of the Long Keeper.”
“Seven faces?” Ilanna wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“Another strange Shalandran belief.” Darreth gave her a knowing smile. “Mercy, justice, vengeance, sorrow, joy, eternity, and change. According to my fellow Scorpion, many Shalandrans tattoo these seven dots on their bodies as a sign of reverence to their god.”
Ilanna’s eyes narrowed. She’d seen a tattoo like that, or at least a fragment. But where? Realization hit her. On Baronet Wyvern’s back.
In The Gilded Chateau, when Baronet Wyvern had tried to flee without paying for his pleasure, she’d caught a glimpse of black dots on his shoulder. She’d written them off as nothing more than moles or beauty marks. But what if they were actually tattoos? When she added that to the link to Shalandra and the Night Petal, all evidence pointed her squarely in the Baronet’s direction.
“Send for Master Serpent at once,” she told Darreth. “Tell him I want him and three of his best to come with me. We’re going to pay Baronet Wyvern a visit.”
“Of course, Guild Master.” Darreth bowed, a little smile on his lips. “Forgive me, but I already took the liberty of sending a runner to fetch Master Serpent before he got too far. He should be—ah.” He grinned wider as the door opened and Errik strode in. “There he is.”
“What’s going on, Ilanna?” Errik asked. “Shaw’s getting ready to head out—”
“Let him lead the Hounds,” Ilanna cut him off with a shake of her head. “You’re coming with me.” She filled him in on Darreth’s discovery and the evidence linking Baronet Wyvern to the murders. �
��Grab three of your best and meet me in The Gardens in half an hour.”
“Of course, Master Gold.” Errik rushed from the room with a nod to Darreth.
“Darreth.”
Darreth had turned to leave, but Ilanna’s call stopped him. “Guild Master?”
“As always, words fail to convey how impressed I am with your work.” Ilanna stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, my friend.”
Darreth blushed and swept a deep bow. “Of course, Master Gold.”
Ilanna rolled her eyes as the man scuttled out of the room. He still refused to call her Ilanna, even in private. She turned to Ria and opened her mouth to speak.
“I’m coming with you,” Ria said before Ilanna made a sound. “Chantelle’s dead because of the Baronet, and if you even think of trying to talk me out—”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ilanna smiled. “I was just going to ask if you’d like to run the Hawk’s Highway with me. Sunrise isn’t far off, and there’s no way I’d rather greet the morning than up there with you.”
Ria grinned. “Of course.”
“You going to tell me what’s so important about the City of the Dead and the mountain?” Ilanna asked in a casual tone.
Ria’s grin froze, and her eyes grew suddenly distant. “It’s…unrelated to these murders. A matter for another time.”
“You know I’m not going to let it go, right?” Ilanna cocked an eyebrow. “If something’s troubling you—”
“It’s not about me.” Ria shook her head. “When all this is over, I will tell you, you have my word.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise.” Ilanna strode around her desk and pulled out her Hawk gear from the drawer. “For now, I fancy a bit of a run.”
* * *
Ilanna hated that Ria was barely breathing hard by the time they reached the entrance to The Gardens. Evidently, the duties of House Phoenix gave Ria more time to run the Hawk’s Highway or train with Errik, while Ilanna felt trapped behind her desk most days. Ria didn’t tease her in words, but her grin spoke volumes.
As Ilanna dropped to the street, four figures detached from the pre-dawn shadows and strode toward her.
“Master Gold.” Errik nodded. “Ready on your word.”
Ilanna studied the three Serpents: Tassat, Sys, and Kalla numbered among Errik’s best.
Errik suddenly grinned. “And, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited along an old friend.”
A fifth figure loomed in the darkness, and Ilanna’s eyes flew wide as she recognized the man.
“Jarl!” She felt like squealing and throwing her arms around Jarl, so she settled for the latter—a girlish squeal lacked the dignity of her station as Master Gold, but in the present trusted company, she could afford to let down her guard long enough to pull her friend into a tight hug.
“Didn’t forget me, I hope.” A huge man with sloped shoulders, a blocky head topped with shaggy blonde hair, and a broad smile on his rugged face stepped toward her.
“Never!” Ilanna’s face felt like it would split in two from smiling so hard. “I see training the Pathfinders has kept you in good shape.”
The Pathfinders belonged to House Hawk, but instead of stealing, they built and repaired the ladders, ropes, bridges, and walkways of the Hawk’s Highway. Jarl’s size made him too big to dance across tightropes or slip through windows, but it served him well for hauling supplies across rooftops. His sharp mind was responsible for the expansion of the Hawk’s Highway across all of Praamis—even into The Gardens and Old Praamis.
Jarl grunted, eloquent as always, but his huge hand squeezed hers before he stepped back.
Ilanna swallowed the momentary happiness and focused on the business at hand. “We need Baronet Wyvern alive long enough to answer some questions. After that…” She shrugged.
Errik nodded. “Tassat, Kalla, go in through the rooftop. Sys, you’re with me around back.” He smiled up at Jarl. “As for you, big man, you’re getting Ilanna through the front door.”
Jarl grinned and cracked his knuckles.
Without a word, the four Serpents slipped into the shadows. Ilanna waiting a minute to give them enough time to get ahead and into position, then nodded to Jarl and Ria. “Let’s go.”
They strode through The Gardens, wary for patrols, but moving at a steady pace toward Baronet Wyvern’s mansion. The five-story, solid stone fortress-like manor and its surrounding gardens were dark, the gates closed. Baronet Wyvern had returned from the party hours ago, and he’d be asleep in bed until late morning.
He’s in for a rude awakening, then.
Ilanna, Ria, and Jarl scaled the wall using the grappling hooks the Pathfinder set in place and strode up the white paving stone pathway toward the front door. No guards greeted them or tried to halt their progress—a courtesy of the Serpents’ poison-coated darts.
She nodded to Jarl. “Do it.”
The huge Pathfinder lifted one massive foot and drove his boot into the wooden double doors. The steel locking mechanism snapped free of the door in a spray of splinters and clattered across the tiled floor within. Jarl shouldered into the mansion with Ilanna and Ria on his heels.
A grey-haired majordomo glided from a back room but, after one look at them, squawked and fled. Jarl wore a huge pair of brass knuckles and carried a metal-studded club, while Ria wielded her assegai spear and long dagger. Ilanna carried multiple daggers concealed around her person, but she didn’t bother to draw them. She needed no more than her reputation as the Master of the Night Guild to frighten the enemy she’d come to see.
They moved quietly up the plush-carpeted stairs toward the Baronet’s bedroom on the third level. At Ilanna’s nod, Jarl kicked the door, and the force of his blow tore it free of its hinges.
Through the doorway, Ilanna could see a body lying in a heap on the floor, and the Hunter of Voramis crouching over it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Explain,” the Hunter demanded. “Why would Baronet Wyvern want to kill Bluejackets?”
“I’m certain he has little reason to hate the orphan children personally,” Liak said with a shake of his head. “In this case, it’s all business.”
The Hunter narrowed his eyes. When it came to gold and commerce, people could do far worse than kill.
“Baronet Wyvern has built his fortune on importing shalanite stone and Shalandran steel. Both very valuable commodities, due to their limited availability outside the City of the Dead.”
Liak seemed to realize that he’d splattered ink on himself, and set about wiping up the mess with a filthy rag as he spoke. “However, the Hidden Circle has learned that he is not content with his incomes from his trade with Shalandra. He has sought new means to expand his earnings.” He raised an eyebrow for emphasis. “Less than legitimate means.”
The Hunter’s gut tightened. He’d met—and killed—more than a few noblemen that supplemented their income through illegitimate means, everything from blackmail to brothels to smuggling opiates to human trafficking. Wealthy men around the world were all the same; they wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever added to their fortunes.
“However,” Liak continued, “with the Night Guild controlling most of the extra-legal trades in Praamis, the Baronet’s options are somewhat limited. He has, therefore, taken up smuggling powdered crushweed into Praamis and distributing the narcotic to his fellow nobleman. Quite an increase in recent months, actually, which put him in direct competition with the Lord Chasteyn. It seems House Chasteyn supplements income they derive from trade agreements with Drash by smuggling in the equally potent wishleaf.”
The Hunter’s jaw clenched. “So Baronet Wyvern is killing Bluejackets to tarnish the Chasteyn’s reputation? Mess up his trade agreements with the Drashi?” An oblique attack, yet one that could prove surprisingly effective. A vast majority of the business on Einan was conducted based on a noble house’s word of honor.
“That was the thought.” Liak nodded. “However, if only one Blueja
cket has turned up dead, there is no pattern and thus nothing to point at the Baronet. The Shalandran poison could be nothing more than a coincidence.” He toyed with the feathers of his quill. “Though, to be fair, I would have considered Baronet Wyvern anyway. After all, given his proclivities...” He trailed off.
The Hunter remembered the blackmail note sent by the Night Guild. “Young Lady Riandra’s blood is on your hands.” The Baronet had said the young lady’s death was an accidental overdose, but what if that had been a desperate lie to stop the Hunter from killing him? What if Baronet Wyvern really was a killer and Lady Riandra’s death had given him a taste for bloodshed?
His hands balled into tight fists. The bastard! The thought of Baronet Wyvern killing children for the sake of business brought acid surging to the back of his throat. Time to pay the nobleman another visit, but one far less polite.
“Thank you,” the Hunter said, and gave the alchemist a nod.
Liak inclined his head. “It is no more than that token you carry demands.” His expression grew musing. “Tell me, do you intend to kill Baronet Wyvern?”
The Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Would that be a problem?”
“Oh, certainly not!” Liak shook his head as he reached for another of the parchments on his desk. “However, if someone were to have warning of the Baronet’s untimely demise before it occurred, they might be able to make a few shrewd investments—investments that would pay off as soon as news of the nobleman’s death became public knowledge.” He fixed the Hunter with an owlish gaze, quill poised over the parchment.
The Hunter suppressed a grimace. Yes, men are the same all the world over. One man’s death is another man’s profit.
He nodded. “If Baronet is the one behind these murders, he will not live to see the sun rise.”
Darkblade Justice: An Epic Fantasy Murder Mystery (Hero of Darkness Book 7) Page 21
