Tom sat in the waiting room. His soul had well over an hour to walk in circles. He didn't bother the guards, once it became clear that secrecy about the cargo was important. He still didn't know what it was. Winfried had refused to tell him during the careful trip to the Temple. The damaged case had been lifted out the wagon with extreme care and carried inside to a work area well behind the Room of Altars, out of the way of most people.
Then High Priestess Anara insisted that Tom sit still, while she and two other clerics did some kind of ritual around him. Tom went along with it because he figured they were checking if he were sick or poisoned, and he was going to ask them to do that, anyway. Apparently, the result was not bad news, but they still wouldn't tell him what was going on.
Afterwards, the High Priestess declared that they were going to see Lord Rivermarch. Again, Tom went along without protest. If it is this important, it only makes sense that the City Lord be informed. I'll have to answer questions. Hopefully, the fact that I hired Goodman to tell me whether or not it was dangerous will be enough to make clear that I didn't know that it was, and I certainly didn't know how dangerous.
Waiting in the Keep, he looked around the nicely appointed waiting room. It's not a cell, at least. Tom wondered whether the Lord of the City was sleeping in this morning, or actually busy with other duties. Tom hoped that his fate was not being discussed without him. He didn't know the City Lord, and a lot depended on the noble's personality. If Tom had known that it would be important, he would have asked Edge ahead of time for that information.
Meanwhile, he had a few things to think about.
Diavla is a Devout. I think. A magic-user, at any rate. She didn't appear to be a Mage, because he'd never seen her working with magical tools of any sort. Then again, she hadn't had a way to get any such things before now. Does she need spellbooks or scrolls or tools? I wonder if she was planning to sneak off and go shopping for those, at some point. Maybe all she needs is to pray. It's not as if I know how any of this works.
If brightness of that little wand is any indicator, Diavla's actually pretty powerful. He could understand why she wouldn't tell him. After all, elven spell-casters were known to be both more common and more powerful than human ones. That would make her a valuable prize to be fought over, just like Sheema. I wonder what Diavla's abilities are? I never saw her do more than dress wounds, when it came to healing me. He had noticed that Diavla had flinched at the same moment Winfried yelled, not afterward. As though she were already magically sensing whatever the curate was doing.
After thinking it over, Tom realized two things. First, he had no reason to be annoyed with Diavla. Second, he was annoyed with Diavla. His soul churned over that, until he told it to shut up.
The weird thing is, Diavla might be wondering why I didn't tell her. I don't know… that wand did not light up very much for me at all. I think she noticed, though. She's going to ask me about it.
What do I tell her? What can I tell her? I don't know what, if anything, is special about me. Maybe the stupid little wand was broken. Maybe the crystal dust is still magic and I didn't get all of it off my fingers. Yeah, that makes much more sense, actually. False alarm.
But…Barsel, if you have spoken to me, I apologize for not hearing you clearly. Tom tried to blank his mind; it was important to pray separately to different gods, lest one take offense. Doujan, if you have spoken to me, I apologize for not hearing you clearly.
Tom took a deep breath. I'm going to have to spend more time in the Room of Altars soon. Just in case.
The door to the room opened, finally. Tom took a deep breath and stood. The guard who stepped in didn't look overly hostile. “Follow me, please.” He turned and walked right back out and Tom followed. They bypassed what looked like the main hall, where the City Lord would usually hold court, and went through a few rooms to end up in a much smaller hall. Several people were waiting inside.
The Lord of the City sat at an elevated desk, looking slightly down at everyone else. He appeared to be about forty years old, with unremarkable brown hair and eyes, and was dressed in typical court finery. He was currently frowning, which accentuated the lines on his face.
Beside the City Lord, stood a tall elf. He had black hair with a strand of white, his tanned skin very different from that of the pale elves Tom knew. He wore a thin golden collar that looked more ornamental than functional. Jalvan Gessa, I suppose.
Captain Hayward was present, standing near one wall and watching everything. There were a couple of courtly people Tom didn't know, a clerk with his own little desk off in a corner, and to Tom's surprise, Francesca Whistler, wearing a black veil. What is she doing here?
The last two people were Winfried Goodman and the High Priestess. She had walked to the Keep along with Winfried, Tom, and the guards. Tom was led to the space directly in front of the Lord, so he stepped neatly forward, as if reporting to a senior in the guard. He bowed, guessing at the protocol.
“Raise your head.” The Lord sounded impatient, and Tom straightened. “You are Tom Walker?”
“I am, Lord.”
“You are the owner of the cargo in question?”
“Yes, Lord.” Behind him, Tom heard the door open and close. With a corner of his soul, he wondered who had come in. He was listening to everything, trying to figure out how this would go.
“Ah, Simon, good of you to join us,” Rivermarch said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.
“My apologies, my Lord.” Tom recognized the voice of Simon Law even before he came into view. He walked over and stood next to Francesca Whistler.
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Lord Rivermarch's frown deepened as his eyes bored into Tom. “Mr. Walker, would you care to explain how you came to bring this dangerous cargo into my city?”
“In brief, or in full, Lord?”
“Start with the brief.”
“Yes, Lord. I was the newest caravan guard. The wagon with the crystals belonged to Mr. Sashen, who didn't speak to anyone, and apparently, had been with the caravan for several stops. The only papers he had were addressed to High Pass Temple, I found out later. After losing our caravan to bandits, I pursued them and killed the four still with the wagons. This left me the only person able to claim the caravan goods. I found elven slaves in one wagon, and used them to drive the caravan to Rivermarch. I still don't know what the crystals are, but I was wary of them. The bandits had already damaged one case, and eventually, I took a look inside. The crystals seemed delicate, so I padded them as best I could, and determined to ask someone from the City Temple to inspect them. The inspection happened this morning, and now, I am here.” Tom waited for a reaction. Several heartbeats passed.
“Now, in full,” Rivermarch replied, finally.
“As you wish, Lord.” Tom began to describe the past two weeks in detail, starting with his hiring in Middleton. Whenever he hesitated, Captain Hayward or Simon Law pressed him with a question, so he had to spell everything out. They seemed particularly interested in his description of the one bandit whom Tom had observed wandering away from the bandit camp. Tom gave them his best impression of the person's behavior, as far as he could recall.
When he got to the part where he freed the elves, Jalvan Gessa interrupted.
“Why did you let them out of the cage? You were alone and wounded. Why did you think they would not simply kill you?”
“Mr. Gessa,” Tom answered, hoping he was using the correct form of address, “I honestly thought I was about to die, anyway. If I had, the elves would have been trapped. We were out of sight of the road, on a little used path, and the elves might easily have died of thirst before anyone found them.”
“So, you claim it was compassion?” Gessa pressed.
Tom pictured the memory. “Mr. Gessa, the seven men I worked with, whom I liked, had just been killed, along with all the people I had been hired to protect. I was in pain, and very angry. I killed one bandit in that first fight, then pursued, ambushed, and killed Davis the Knife. I didn't know who he was, at the time. I then slew three more bandits in their sleep. After that, I was sick of killing. I was grievously wounded, and about to lay down to die. So, when I found helpless elves who were doomed to die in a cage, yes, I felt compassion, Mr. Gessa.”
“And apparently, that decision saved your life,” Francesca Whistler said. Tom glanced her way. He still had no idea what she was doing there, but he nodded politely.
“Yes. I unwittingly became their Master when I picked up the pouch holding the slave tokens, and while they could have let me die, they need a Master, so that the collars don't kill them in eight days, apparently. So, they worked to save me.”
“So, that mysterious healer you told me about…?” Captain Hayward prodded. “He was actually one of the elves, wasn't he?”
Tom hesitated, trying to think of a way out of admitting it, but gave up. He nodded.
“Elvish healers are very valuable,” Simon Law observed. “It's not surprising you wanted to keep that a secret.”
“Yes, sir. I want to keep all the elves, but especially that one. I thought that if more people knew about them, the elves would be in greater danger.”
“We have a great hazard far more important than the fate of an elf to worry about. How many elves were in the cage?” Rivermarch demanded.
What hazard is that? Tom wondered, trying to think of how to reply. He was on very dangerous ground.
“I brought Diavla, Varga, Kervan and Orvan to Rivermarch, Lord, and I have acquired one more since arriving in the city.” Tom raised his fingers as he counted them off.
“You bought another slave?” Mrs. Whistler asked in surprise.
“Yes, ma'am. I was hoping to buy clothes for her from you, later.”
Next to Mrs. Whistler, Simon Law was staring at him, frowning. Tom recalled that Law had seen the manifest listing the prices of eight slaves. If he remembered, which he probably did, he knew Tom was avoiding mentioning four of the elves. Law wasn't pointing it out yet, but his expression was giving Tom fair warning that he would.
“So, this wagon of crystals traveled through city after city without incident. Then, when bandits stole the caravan, they broke into one of the cases. At least one man behaved strangely, and fled the area afterward.”
“Yes, Lord. According to the elves, two of the bandits had disappeared between the time they first inspected the elves and when I killed the remainder.”
“Two bandits. Not three? Are you sure?”
Tom held himself back from shrugging. He did not want to look as if he were treating this casually. “Somewhat sure, Lord. I killed four, and the elves said that they saw six bandits in all. There easily might have been a seventh on sentry duty they just didn't see, however. They could only view out the back of their wagon while someone was holding up the cover.”
“You opened the damaged case yourself, later, did you not?”
“Yes, Lord. I gave in to curiosity, and the case had already been damaged.”
“And what did you find inside, exactly?”
“As I showed Winfried Goodman, there are three intact crystals in the bottom half, and three broken ones in the top half. The first was reduced to black dust. The second was gray flakes. The third was a broken crystal, red like a ruby, in three or four pieces. All three were crumbling to the touch.”
“And did you lay a hand on any of the intact crystals?”
“No, Lord. They gave me a bad feeling, so I packed them up again as best I could, and determined to ask the first Devout or Mage I found what to do with them.”
“When did you inspect the crystals?”
Tom thought back, counting days on his fingers. “Threenight, Lord. Just a few days ago.”
“Is it your impression that the three broken crystals all broke at the same time?” The High Priestess asked.
Tom thought it over. “I suspect that the black and gray ones both broke at roughly the same time, and the red one later.”
“When would that have happened, exactly?”
“The wagon in question broke a wheel while on the road, the Fourday before last. It lurched badly. I suspect it happened then, though I can't be sure.”
“How many people were nearby at that time?” Simon Law asked sharply.
Tom looked back at the lawyer evenly. “Just the five of us. Myself, and the four elves.”
Simon Law stared at him thoughtfully, then nodded, ever so slightly.
He believes me. The other four elves were not nearby when the red crystal broke, so he doesn't feel compelled to mention their existence…at least, not yet. Thank you, Mr. Law, Tom thought fervently.
“Where are your elves now?” Rivermarch demanded.
“Diavla and the new elf should be at the City Temple, seeing to their health.”
“And the others?”
“By now, they should all be gathered in our rooms, unless they have gone to get breakfast.”
“Where are your rooms?”
“Vinder Hall's building, on the fourth floor.”
“Hayward, send someone to collect the elves and bring them—”
“To the Temple, please, my Lord,” Priestess Anara interrupted. “It is easier to test them there.”
“So be it.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Hayward replied. He pointed at a guard by the door, gestured for him to leave, and snapped his fingers.
“Lord?” Tom asked, finally. “If I may be so bold…test them for what? What is that cargo? May I know?”
“Tom Walker, you will keep this information to yourself on pain of death,” Rivermarch demanded. Tom blinked, then slowly nodded.
“Yes, Lord.”
Lord Rivermarch entwined his fingers and leaned forward, glaring. Tom waited. Finally, the noble announced angrily, “Young fool, you casually brought forty-five demons into my city!”