This is a whole lot different to what we found at the last house, now we’re poking round under the surface, ‘least in a manner of speaking. The first real surprise came when we found the remains of what must have been the incident which led to the baffling remains we found outside getting ejected through the window. Granted, thanks to the fire it was hard to really make sense of it right away, we found ourselves having to look close and dig about in the waterlogged, charred environs to make real sense of what was there, but after some work we pieced an idea together. This was something a little different from the wreckage we’d been finding before, and in the last house. Eventually we worked out this was more like a battle.
It was the condition of the remains that really drove that home, and I don’t know why I was surprised it was Faldabri who worked it out. Sure, the twisted, dishevelled mismatches of body parts and pieces of armour and broken weaponry were burned to a crisp and had curled up significantly in the heat, but once he pointed out the marks of blades I couldn’t miss ‘em. Somebody carved these things up good. Somebody who didn’t die in the attempt …
More than that, though, we found a trail too, leading deeper into the house from there, and it definitely looked worth following, so I set the tanuki to lead the way with his uncannily keen eyes and impressive sense of smell. ‘Course I stayed close behind him the whole way, still not trusting the seeming safety of this place given what we’d already seen, and my hand was on Wirnur’s hilt the whole time. On the surface, I s’pose, it was just in case I needed to draw in a hurry, but really it just made me feel better as we went deeper. Certainly it calmed my nerves a little whenever the floor under our feet would creak and warp in a particularly alarming manner due to the boards weakening after the fire. Every time I expected it to just break open and swallow us all before we could do anything to stop it.
After a time, the signs of fire faded and the corridors became cleaner, at least to an extent. We still found remains here and there, less frequent and more scattered now, as if these were the bodies of those who’d been cut down at a full run while fleeing, but there were other more interesting signs too. Most of all there was a strange scattering of blood drops soaked into the carpet underfoot, a trail clear enough to mark the way forward once Starkheart lit her flare and took over the lead. I still ain’t been able to work out exactly what that’s about yet.
That led us to a second major battle scene, but this one ain’t been swallowed up by fire like the last, so it was a lot easier to get a good idea what happened here.
Most of the remains scattered about here are just the same kinds of torn, widely strewn corpses we been finding before now, but also other pieces which looked a whole lot more like more intact versions of the flattened, mangled thing we found outside. More intact in a relative way, that is, since they’d still all been cleaved and severed with what, to an educated eye like mine, soon became clear was the work of more than one particularly skilled warrior.
“It’s interesting.” Faldabri muses now as he leans down so low into his crouch his nose is almost close enough to touch the gruesome torn meat he’s inspecting. It’s a wonder the stench ain’t repelled him already given how much more sensitive he is. I suspect his characteristic obsessive fascination is tempering any revulsion he might feel.
“What is?” I move back to him now, taking care as I step over the scattered gore. There’s a lot of particularly nasty viscera in the mix here, a lot of guts and shredded organs or whatever else we have inside us that should never see the light of the world outside our skin. I seen some horrible stuff in my time, I should be hardened to it by now, but there’s just something … I dunno, significantly worse about this than anything I seen before.
“The way these wounds, if we could really call them that, were made …” He carefully shifts the rod in his hand, prodding the piece he’s examining into a different position before moving even closer. “They were cut with steel, I’m sure of that, but … it’s strange. There are no obvious signs of fire here, but there’s searing and charring to the meat, as if the edges of whatever weapons were used were white hot.”
I stop in my tracks when he says that, and turn to search the rest of the group for a moment as they perform their own inspection of the remains … or just try not to let the mess get to them. For the most part Udre’s just spent the whole time leaning against the wall gripping her spear close to her chest with her head bowed and eyes closed, muttering under her breath the whole time. Praying to Thorin. Likely asking for strength but, more than that, for a stronger stomach. It’s enough of a miracle she ain’t puked already.
But she’s opened her eyes now and is looking my way, frowning as she meets my eye. Clearly she heard that, and she’s thinking along similar lines to me, but with a more educated mind. She starts to speak now, but mostly all that comes out is a dry rasp, forcing her to cough hard to clear her throat before she can try and repeat herself. “Holy Fire? That would mean there was a cleric here.”
Turning back to Faldabri, I take the last few steps and plant myself as close as I can get at his side before dropping into my own crouch. It takes me a few moments to get comfortable, and I have to shift my feet a bit to make it work, but I finally lean over to take my own look, and regret it immediately. Fuck that is rank. “You’re sure about that?” I speak through gritted teeth, trying real hard not to breath in through my wrinkled nose.
“It’s unmistakable.” He looks up at me now, and his eyes are big and bright, a subtle half-smile already tickling the corners of his mouth. “I believe your friend is correct. I’ve seen this kind of wound before. Only once, but I am not likely to forget it, the circumstances were very special. It was …” He pauses for a beat, cocking his head as he considers. “Perhaps five years ago? I would have to ask Tormed for the particulars to be sure. We were investigating the death of a particularly notorious confidence trickster in the Drumhalt, and –”
“Can I stop you there?” I hold my hand up as I keep my voice light and even, hiding my frustration well. “Intrigued as I might be to hear that story, we got stuff we gotta look into right now, so brevity might be best.”
Blinking for a moment, Faldabri’s brow creases just a little with the beginning of a frown, but then he just shakes it off with a clipped nod. “Ah, yes. Of course, my apologies. It’s a singular talent of clerics, I’m told, they can imbue a weapon with the Holy Light of their patron, and it makes the blade hot. Dangerously so.”
“Well no, that’s not exactly how it works.” Udre’s making her way to us now, carefully picking her footing as I did while using the butt of her partisan to steady herself as she concentrates on where she’s stepping. “It’s a blessing. It does imbue the weapon, but with the Holy Fire of the god or goddess in question. I’ve only done it once myself, but not in a combat situation, it can be quite taxing.”
“Makes sense, though.” I muse now as I look down at the mess in front of us. Reckon I’m starting to see what he means, the way the cleaner edges where the rendered meat’s been cleaved here all seem like they been effectively cooked by whatever cut through ‘em. “Generally, back in Barricade fire was the most effective weapon we had at our disposal. Given the similarities, using something like it would be the smart move, but just starting a fire in these confines –”
“Would be suicide.” Sardin finishes for me as he steps close on the other side of what could only very loosely be called a corpse. “So they did this instead.”
“It’s unusual, though.” Udre‘s frowning now as she looks around the remains, taking in the other pieces of whatever these things once were before they were so effectively dispatched. “Generally a cleric only blesses the weapons of one individual. It can affect all their blades, but only for the intended recipient. It is possible to bless the weapons of an entire group, but it’s not recommended. Even a particularly powerful cleric would find themselves put out of commission for a good while afterwards. And it wouldn’t last anywhere near as long, either.”
“No?” Faldabri’s watching her with unrestrained fascination now. “Do tell.”
“Well, normally it’s good for an hour or so, but if a cleric were to try and extend its range, they’d be lucky for it to last half as long.”
I just settle my hands on my knees and push myself back up to standing again. “Oof … well that’s interesting. Clerics ain’t exactly your standard addition to a noble’s household security staff, are they?”
“Not at all, no.” Udre shakes her head. “I don’t understand –”
“Somebody else was here, fighting whatever this shit was. Reckon they must’ve come in from outside, likely after.” I find myself idly twiddling the rod between my fingers, low at my side, as I ponder. “Who’s the noble? The one lives here. Used to. Whatever.”
“Well, it’s … um … the Lady Thura Vezrim.” Sardin’s blushing a little now, seeming a little taken aback by the very revelation he’s delivering.
Bloody hell. Udre just frowns, but I see that Faldabri’s similarly affected by the news, his brows rising even higher than they already were. “Fuck … the Hellcat? This is her place?”
“Really?” There’s a note of particularly enthusiastic hope in the tanuki’s voice now which don’t surprise me in the slightest.
“Yeah, it is.” Sardin nods, looking sheepish now as his eyes dart from me to him to Udre. “Least, that’s what the boss said. Um …”
“For all we know, some o’ this could be her work then.” I cast about again for a beat, then shake my head. “Still don’t explain the rest, though. No way it’s all the work o’ just one fighter, this is definitely a squad, and they’re good. Real good, proper talent. Maybe veterans.” That’s already starting to make real sense to me even as I voice the idea. I snap my fingers. “Sellswords. Not her own household guards, somebody separate, but that she’s friendly with. Maybe they fought with her, back in the day.”
“Didn’t we hear something about a group of mercenaries causing trouble last week?” Udre offers up “More than one incident, there was a skirmish in the Gods’ Round, then another in an old stable? Both times they were gone before anyone actually arrived to check, but …”
That just makes me frown. “No way to tell if that actually means anything. Could be totally unrelated. Right now it’s barely even a theory.”
“It would explain the cleric, though.” she counters “You know how they like to have divine help on hand if it’s needed. They’re a lot like professional troops, if you think about it.”
Cocking a brow, I give her a crooked half-smile. “Speak for yourself.”
“Boss? Might wanna take a look at this.”
Vid’s tone alone is enough to grab my attention. He just sounds so urgent, given how calm he always is catching even a hint of fluster is enough to give me warning. I step back quick, not really watching my footing now but just trusting I’ll be all right as I search for him, finally finding him a little way down the corridor. Stood in the open doorway of one of the rooms, looking out at us all. He looks perfectly collected, but I can pick up the subtle tension in him all the same cuz I know him.
“What is it?”
“Found where that blood came from. Thought you might wanna check it out, reckon there’s clues in here.”
Frowning, I don’t ask what he means by that, instead just stepping that way now as I start to concentrate on where I’m putting my feet again, just in case. Udre’s already falling into step behind me, going even more careful than I am, and I can sense the two investigators mustering too, but I just concentrate on my own progress now.
Ducking back inside, Vidram shoves the door the rest of the way open and just vanishes from sight, and I hustle to get after him now. At least the floor seems to be cleaner in here than outside, but as I look down I can see from the light of the flare he’s holding high that the trail of blood we followed to this stretch of corridor does indeed lead inside. I follow it the rest of the way now, and it seems a whole lot more substantial than the few solitary drops we been tracking up until now, having long since soaked right into this particularly pale and very deep carpet. Rich people, I don’t understand ‘em sometimes.
When I finally look up I realise I’m already in the middle of the room, and that it clearly belongs to one of the family. Every piece of décor suggests a young noble girl, but there’s also suggestions that she’s of a particularly martial bent which immediately tells me she’s very much the daughter of the Hellcat herself. Even if that bed is ridiculous …
Starkheart’s just frowning down at the floor on the far side of the immense four-poster lace-satin-and-velvet monstrosity that sets every sinew of my being on edge just looking at it. I can’t decide if it’s just having been brought up in a single-parent working-class household in Neveht, or just that no female child I ever knew, myself very much included, would ever allow anything like this within a hundred miles of their own bedroom. It’s completely ridiculous and thoroughly unnecessary. This bed alone is as massive as the largest room in the modest apartment I grew up in.
“Oh! Thorin … I’ve never seen a room like this before.” Udre breathes behind me as she must be taking it in too.
“No shit.” I breathe through my teeth “What the hell is –”
“It’s beautiful.”
Trying really hard not to roll my eyes, I turn to her. “Really?”
She don’t quite cringe back, but I get the distinct impression she wishes I wasn’t looking at her so close right now. Turning immensely sheepish, she quickly avoids my eyes as she breathes through very tight lips: “Sorry boss …”
Regretting being quite so brusque with her, I just let a frustrated hiss out through my teeth and grimace as I turn away. “Chill. I guess it ain’t that bad.”
“There’s a good deal more blood in here than even that would suggest.” I turn back to find Faldabri stood a little closer to the door, frowning down at a spot on the floor off to the side where there’s a haphazard scattering of blood, almost a pint’s worth, it looks like. Not so much like someone was actually wounded on the spot, it’s more like … actually, as I step close, I can’t tell quite what I’m looking at. Now I spot other signs of … something, specifically scattered pieces of what I slowly realise are broken leather armour. Black, but even so I can see they’re heavily soaked in blood, particularly where they’ve been torn.
“That’s … weird. What d’you reckon –”
“Someone was wounded, critically, and they were tended to here.” He looks up at me with a much more reserved frown now, telling me he’s stating a simple fact instead of offering up something he finds particularly fascinating. “No, I was actually referring to whatever’s on the other side of the bed.”
“He’s right, boss.” Vid mutters, frowning too, albeit with a good deal more wariness. “it’s pretty nasty.”
As my own brow furrows more, I step past him again and head over to where the dwarf is, still looking down past the bed. She finally turns as I draw close, and she gives me a strangely pensive look as she steps back to make room. Damn, she almost seems rattled. That can’t be a good sign …
Oh hell …that is a lot of blood. So much I’m a little surprised to not find an actual body, but even so it’s clear that there was one here before. Definitely an actual corpse, there’s no way someone could bleed this much and actually survive. Suddenly all this blood we been tracking makes a lot more sense … “Whoever died here, whoever fought their way out must have taken the body with ‘em.”
Starkheart cocks a brow as she watches me for a long beat. “You’re sure about that?”
“Reckon that makes the most sense for this. Whoever it was, they were prob’ly killed in the initial attack, or ‘least wounded so bad they died here. Then when whoever these mercs are came in, they must’ve taken the body with ‘em when they disappeared.”
“She’s right.” Faldabri surprises me as he slips past me and circles round the great soaked patch of blood that’s entirely saturated the carpet here. It’s thick and still wet enough I can actually smell it, the coppery stink acridly musty in the back o’ my nose. The tanuki stops at the bottom end of the puddle, where the head must’ve been, and drops into a crouch, stroking his chin now. Some of his fervent fascination seems to have returned now, looks like. “It’s interesting … there are a good deal more scents than I would have expected in here.”
That makes me frown, and I turn to Starkheart now, opening my mouth to ask what he must mean by that. But she beats me to it.
“Means he’s picked up on whoever else’s been in here, likely pretty recent. Must be the folk you’re on about. You mentioned mercs?”
I’m a beat realising she prob’ly didn’t catch the conversation we just had outside, she must’ve already been in here, checking this out with Vid. “Oh … yeah. Sellswords. Somebody besides the estate’s security. Figure it was some kinda rescue.”
“But how would they even know?” Udre wonders, taking me a little by surprise since I didn’t hear her creep up beside me. She’s looking down at the great bloody mess soaked into the carpet now, and in the flare-light she looks pale as candle wax, squeamish even. “I mean … really, how would they even be able to get word out with something like … whatever this was happening?”
Nobody answers that one, Starkheart just shrugs while Faldabri frowns ponderously. Finally I shake my head. “Couldn’t say. Ain’t like we actually know any o’ the particulars.” I turn back to the tanuki. “What can you smell? Can you identify specific folk? Anybody smell familiar, maybe?”
Faldabri cocks a brow as he stands up again, backing up now to get away from the puddle, and takes a particularly big sniff of the air. “Honestly, it’s hard to really judge particulars. There are many competing scents, and the pervading odour from the battle outside is permeating somewhat. More so the blood in here, which is the more pressing concern. And then there’s the unavoidable fact that this was someone’s bedroom, so there is a particularly strong, dominant scent throughout this entire space. A human girl, a teenager. Not yet quite of age.”
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“Anything at all.” I’m willing to cling at straws right now, I just want a lead, however tenuous. “Whatever you can pick outta the mess.”
Nodding, he moves out again from behind the bed and moves past me, sniffing again, repeating the process a few times as he starts to circle the room. I watch him as he goes, holding my breath a little now, and I can see Udre and Vid are both intrigued by his process too. Sardin, meanwhile, is just stood in the doorway, watching with more solemnity since he’s clearly seen this all before.
“A reasonably substantial handful of humans, I think … more than a few of them related, the girl included. I would surmise they would be Lady Thura and her children. At least two others who are not related, though … one of them smells … somewhat unusual, there’s a strange scent to her I’ve never encountered before. I can’t work it out …”
Again I turn to Starkheart, but when she sees me looking she just shrugs again. I wonder what he could even mean by that.
Stopping by the pieces of ruined armour and those strange bloody marks, he takes a particularly big sniff, then two more. His frown deepens. “There are some other, much more interesting scents here too. There’s … a think one of them is a tengu, and there’s a bakaneko too. A halfling, and …” His brows shoot right up now as he looks right at me. “One of them was a goblin. I would bet my life on it.”
Bloody hell … that’s an interesting idea. I mean it’s not exactly impossible, if they really were a bunch o’ sellswords I wouldn’t be too surprised to find an interesting, exotic mix in there, the profession does tend to attract all different types, but … I dunno, it’s still pretty unusual. Goblins are real unusual in civilised climes, cuz folk just don’t like ‘em. Even full-blood orcs are better received in places like this.
“There’s one more, too …” He’s taking much slower steps towards the door now, sniffing the air more sparingly now, like he’s being cautious about it. “It’s very odd, somewhat like the human I couldn’t place … but also very much not. I’ve definitely never encountered a scent like this one before. It’s … it smells wild. Bestial, but also very much not. Perhaps there’s something of an elf about it, but … not really.” He finally shrugs, sighing deep as he starts to come back again. “I’m sorry, that one’s quite baffled me.”
I just ponder for a long beat, going over what he’s said now as I try to picture the kind of group he’s described, ‘least in a roundabout kind of way. It’s weird, something about it’s niggling at the back o’ my mind, like it reminds me o’ something, but I can’t think what now. It’s gonna bug me, I can tell, but it’s like one o’ those problems where I’m too close to it to see. More likely it’ll hit me when I stop thinking about it.
Then I hear something poof outside, beyond the open door, and almost in the same instant there’s a heavy thump against the wall in the corridor. I ain’t the only one who jumps at that, both my hands immediately going to my sword but I don’t draw, not yet, and I’m already turning back to the doorway. But Sardin’s already on it, looking out into the corridor as I hear someone else cursing in low, angry tones out there. A voice I don’t recognise at all. “Fuck’s sake, Prem! What are you –”
“Damn it … I’m sorry, that was not what was intended.” There are sounds of a struggle out there now, but given the words being spoken it don’t feel like a fight, so I’m slowly starting to relax. Others are slower, but Sardin turns out to be one o’ the ones who’s already shaking it off as he steps out.
“Gods, you two okay? That sounded –”
“Now look what you … this is rank! Look at the state o’ this place, what the fuck …”
The more offended voice sounds female, with a strong local accent, common Untermer born and bred. The second, on the other hand, seems a deal more highborn, male, and somewhat gruff despite his tone. They both start talking at once now, and in the mess I can’t really tell if it’s apologies or a blooming argument instead, but the fact that Starkheart’s just rolling her eyes hearing it tells me this is nothing unusual.
“What’s all that about?” I find myself wondering, mostly under my own breath.
“Two people who really should know better, really.” Faldabri’s picking over the abandoned leather armour now, and something about the way he’s regarding it gives me pause, so I step over instead.
“You spotted something?”
“This is high quality work, despite its condition. I’ve seen it before, or at least its ilk. This was Thieves Guild leather armour, I’d swear to it.”
“Yeah? That’s interesting. Whose is it? If you can tell, I mean …”
“The halfling’s. Even without the bloodstains, I smell them on this.” He looks up at me now, cocking a brow. “I might actually know who this is. It rings a bell, at least.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I cast an eye to Starkheart again, finding her frowning down at the tanuki now, although she seems thoughtful too. “You think maybe –”
“Sergeant Staduva, right?” It’s the woman speaking, I realise, approaching my back already, and as I wheel about I’m immediately taken aback.
This is an interesting turn. Bakaneko ain’t exact unknown in Rundao, or even in Tektehr, although they’re a good deal rarer up there, but I ain’t met many in my time, an’ most o’ them were mercs. There’s just something about the life that seems to sit well with a lot of ‘em, maybe it’s the freedom, that they don’t have to be beholden to anybody. But I never met one who actually worked for a city townsguard before, it’s a proper surprise.
She’s a tall one, too, but still typically lean and lithe, the way she’s stepping seeming more like a dance. Her dappled fur, picked out in shades of sandy tan and much darker brown, is silky fine, somewhat shaggy but it still looks very soft, with white highlights to her chin and a few other points here and there, including the tip of her lazily swishing tail. Her darker, surprisingly straight mane, meanwhile, has been brushed back and tucked behind her broad triangular ears. She’s got a particularly sly look to her, even more so than I ever encountered before in a yokai cat-person, a shrewd intelligence writ clear on her features, particularly pronounced in her eyes. They’re a rich amber-gold, incredibly beautiful, but there’s a sharp wariness in ‘em as she looks me over.
Her uniform’s a good deal more standardised than her colleagues’, the same laminar armour and bottle green surcoat I seen on the streets, complete with the round shield strapped across her back, although it’s all in exceptional condition. The copper-and-brass accents in particular gleam in the flare-light, and the only dirt I see on her is scattered splotches of gory mess from their arrival outside, looks like. Even her leather’s polished up particular shiny, I notice.
The sword at her side is her main glaring departure from the standard issue, a long sword with a narrower blade and banded ring-guard instead of the usual cross on its hilt. It’s built for a two-handed grip, but this is clearly a weapon designed for swift, precise work wielded in one hand, more cut-and thrust than regular hack-and-slash. Honestly, it suits her much better, although it would surely be a good deal more incongruous alongside that shield, which makes me wonder how often she actually uses that thing in the first place.
I’m a beat responding to her query, so she’s already extending her right paw as I remember myself. “Corporal Trick, at your service. Gil … the lieutenant told me you’re in charge, kind of?”
Through the corner of my eye I notice Starkheart frown a little at her slip into familiarity, but I’m stepping up to close that last foot of distances as I clasp her paw with my own hand and give it a healthy pump. “In a roundabout way, ‘least as much on my end as he is. It’s complicated, really.”
“Yeah, I get that.” She cocks a brow as she looks down at my hand for a beat before I let go, like she’s a little surprised by how firm I shook. “Well I won’t begrudge you, this is a shitshow. We could sure use the help.”
“Mostly we’re just here at the request of our own superiors, but they want the same thing yours do, so it amounts to the same thing.” I clear my throat now, working my mouth a little as I try to work out how to broach the subject. “You’re … well, reckon you’re right to call it a shitshow. It’s proper ugly all right. An’ we got some experience.”
She frowns at that, her face growing a bit more sombre. “So it’s like we heard, then?”
Trying not to scowl, I just shrug. “Maybe. There’s too much similarity to discount, although it ain’t … exactly what we used to deal with. That’s worrying enough.”
“Well it’s certainly unpleasant.” the other new arrival mutters, huffy now as he blusters in, pausing a few steps into the room to give each of his feet a little shake now to try and get rid of the slop his boots have managed to pick up from the corridor. Hitching up robes while he’s doing it, I notice … honestly, I wasn’t expecting a wizard, but I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised. This team’s tossed a good selection of interesting twists my way already.
As dragonhalves go, he definitely leans more toward a human appearance than some, so while his striking sky blue skin is the same kind of scaled, leathern hide as many of his kin, his features are far less reptilian than some. He’s got actual eyebrows, for a start, and they’re the same pale ivory colour as his hair, which had been bound back in a tight ponytail, while his eyes are a striking shade of warm amber. His impressive, elaborately curling backswept horns are as black as his talons, and just as shiny, although I suspect it’s natural rather than purposely polished, he don’t seem a particularly vain or flamboyant type now I’m getting a read on him.
Indeed, despite his clear distaste for the detritus he’s had to navigate since they arrived, the condition of his working robes suggests a particular lack of fastidiousness I find quite refreshing in a mage. I’ve encountered a handful of Silver Order wizards in my career, most just since I arrived in my posting here, and they all got proper airs about ‘em. This one too, but ‘least he seems less stuffy than most others, or maybe it’s just his current colleagues have rubbed off on him some.
His robes are a mixture of his Order’s characteristic white with distinctive silver highlighting, but they’re also thick, somewhat worn wool rather than the usual silk or rich linen, and they’re starting to fray at the edges from regular use. He’s also made a clear effort to demonstrate his professional alignment, mixing the same bottle green into his ensemble to show deference to his post, most notably a well-wound wide sash tied around his waist instead of a surcoat. It’s kind of admirable, really.
He jumbles his staff from one hand to the other as he makes his way in and does his unconsciously endearing little dance, frowning down at the dark, somewhat grimy bloodstains he’s also managed to pick up on his classy, well-made boots. It’s a typically impressive piece, a burnished metal stave a foot taller than he is which bears the same spiralling corkscrew motif I seen others carry near its top, which opens out into a simple diamond-shaped tip with a hollow centre. He don’t seem to carry any other weapons, but given what I learned about Order mages in my time he likely don’t need anything else.
After a beat he just gives up and straightens, looking round the room now so he can take us all in, and seems surprised to find all eyes on him now, his cheeks darkening almost immediately. “Ah … yes. Um …” He focuses on me now, fumbling his staff into his left hand as he steps forward again, smoothing his robes more absent-mindedly now. “You would be Sergeant Staduva, I take it?”
Cocking a brow at Corporal Trick for a beat, I offer my hand as I close the gap to him with a single step. “Well informed, ain’t you?”
“Oh, I … hmm …” He frowns down at my hand as I extend it, starting to reach up too but seeming to check himself. I’d almost read it as a slight but his reaction seems more startled than offended. “I’m sorry, I … um …” Then he just lets out a sigh and takes my hand after all, and I immediately realise the reason for his reluctance.
The moment his hand grips mine it gives me a jolt, a static shock running up my arm as he gives a single shake and then quickly lets go. I wince, I can’t help it, having to give my arm a good shake to work some feeling back into it. It don’t exactly hurt, but the prickling numbness is a long way from pleasant. “Oof … that was –”
“My apologies, Sergeant.” He’s avoiding my eyes now, sheepish as he looks down at the floor with his shoulders slumped. “I’m afraid it’s not something I can really control …”
Giving my hand a last little shake, I work my fingers as sensation starts to return to them. “No, I get it. You got blue dragon blood in you. Should’ve expected a jolt.”
“Nonetheless, it was … unfortunate.” He looks down at his hand for a flustered moment, licking his lips with a dark, forked tongue as he works on regaining his composure, then clears his throat. “I am Prembed Erahadur, of the Silver Order. Care of the Untermer Townsguard’s Special Investigation Division, of course.”
“Clearly.” I offer another quirked brow. “The robes are a dead giveaway.”
Blinking, he looks down to inspect his costume, frowning deeper as his cheeks darken even more. “Oh … oh yes, of course. I’m sorry, I –”
“Chill out, Prem.” The bakaneko reveals a particularly tuneful chuckle as she gives him a gentle shove on the shoulder, simply meant to be reassuring since he really don’t need to adjust his footing to recover from it. “Reckon she’s just joshin’.” She gives me a somewhat knowing look as she says it, and I might detect a little more hidden in her expression now, not so much a warning as simple acknowledgment. Reckon I might like her already.
“Meanwhile, you’re … I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name.”
That has her frowning a little, her smile fading some, and she looks round her colleagues before answering me, her ears going flat back across her head now, which I heard means she’s getting uncomfortable, maybe defensive. “Oh, well …” She sucks in a sharp breath and lets a somewhat frustrated sigh go before continuing. “Hell … Corporal Trick. Cheap Trick, if you must. But I’d rather you didn’t. Just Trick’s fine.”
When I look at the rest of her squad this time I find Starkheart’s eyes locked on me, and there’s almost a challenge in her stare now, like she’s daring me to make a joke of it. Standing up for her friend, looks like.
I think I understand her reticence over her name, given what I do know about her kind their names are a strange, sometimes unfathomable thing all on their own, and she clearly wound up with the short end of the stick when she got hers. I don’t know if it was a joke or a cruel twist o’ fate, but I really can’t imagine any loving parent giving this one to their own child. So I just set my jaw and nod, keeping my voice even and my tone light as I reply: “Sure it is. Heard you two got delayed getting here, some other business held you up?”
Her expression smooths out quick when she gets I ain’t making a big deal out of it, and she’s already breathing easier. “Yeah, Gil sent us off to do a little digging while you lot got started with this end o’ things. Further down the Hill, I mean. Since this is all highborn business he wanted to know what the connection might be. If there was one.”
Oh, that’s interesting. I can’t help a little hope slipping into my tone now as I lean a little closer. “So you found something then? I mean you’re back, so –”
“Maybe.” She turns a bit shrewd now as she looks me over a little more cautious now, but still not defensive, ‘least not yet. “Not that I know how much you actually know, about who’s actually been dying, I mean.”
“Well the last house we were at was that big fancy general from the war, Wralin, the dragonhalf one. Proper big deal, we heard plenty ‘bout him growing up back in Neveht. An’ the Hellcat lived here, or still does, I dunno. I get the impression she’s still alive, so –”
“Really?” That seems to genuinely surprise her as she looks right to Faldabri.
“It would certainly appear that way.” He simply nods. “Given the indicators.”
“We already heard about some o’ the others, too, seems like they’re all either old War vets or ‘least sympathetic.” Again I try to keep my tone as cool and neutral as I can, not sure exactly how this lot actually feel in that particular arena. “There was somebody called Daste too, heard her name once or twice in the past …”
Trick don’t say anything this time, but she shoots a look at Erahadur, whose own brows go right up when I drop the name. Now that’s interesting.
“That mean something to you two, then?”
Again the wizard just looks down, a good deal more wary than awkward this time, but still … Trick, meanwhile, just looks straight at Starkheart, frowning again, and I can tell she’s genuinely wondering if she should just keep quiet on this particular detail. Whatever it is. I don’t look at the dwarf this time, concentrating on the newcomer instead, but then the older woman must give her a nod or something cuz quick enough she just sighs through gritted teeth, looking at the floor for a beat before speaking again. “Yeah, reckon so. The Lieutenant sent us up to fetch you. Turns out there’s somebody else alive who really should be dead right now, he wants to go talk to ‘em and reckons you might wanna tag along. Since we’re working together an’ all that.”
I look her over for a beat before saying anything, trying to get a read on her. For a minute there I was starting to like her, but the way she’s being so cautious has checked me some, ramming it home that, regardless of our common goals right now, these folk are still Rundao first and foremost, and we definitely ain’t. It’s a convenient arrangement right now, but deep down we still ain’t really on the same side, even in this. Tormed’s being deferential right now cuz it’s what the Provisionals want, but even he prob’ly ain’t that happy about this, and he’ll only go along with this arrangement much as he absolutely has to. Much as they’re all smiles and friendliness, these folk ain’t actual friends.
But it won’t do any good for me to call ‘em on it, so I just suck in another breath and put on my calmest face as I nod. “Reckon he’s right there. He wants us to go now? Don’t reckon we’re done here yet.”
“He just wants you to come along, maybe one o’ your friends too. Don’t matter who. It’ll just be me an’ Prem coming with you three anyway. This stuff ain’t really my specialty, I’m more the street smarts for this crew most o’ the time.” She looks past me now. “Rag’s more’n capable of leading up here anyway, she does well enough most o’ the time when we separate.”
Again, I look at the rest o’ their group here, particularly focusing on Faldabri. He seems fine with it, watching me with a calm, open face, maybe the subtlest hint of something getting him down but if I’m honest reckon it’s more likely just cuz he wasn’t invited along as well. Given he’ll be staying here to finish off instead, he’s otherwise largely fine with this new turn of events. But the fact he otherwise ain’t visibly perturbed convinces me she’s on the level, and this ain’t some kinda play to distract us from anything they wanna keep us away from. To be honest I doubt he can bluff at all, prob’ly can’t lie to save his life.
So I just turn to my own people, considering Udre and Vidram both as they’re already watching me too. Wondering how I’m gonna go with this new development. It don’t take me long to work out which one to choose here. “You good holding things down here while I’m gone, Vid?”
Our Corporal blinks, the only show of surprise I ever would’ve expected from him, and shoots a quick look at our cleric before sucking in a little breath as he nods, shifting his feet now. “Sure thing, boss. You want me to just carry on as I am, or step up a bit more?”
Looking at Starkheart as I consider what he’s asking, I try my best to read her reaction. Her eyes narrow a little, but her expression don’t change much beside that. She’s still watching me, not seeming overly defensive but still starting to puff up a little all the same as wonders if I’m gonna make him try and go over her head while I’m gone. But I’m confident enough they’re on the level right now, I don’t see her doing anything different in my absence to what I would’ve expected otherwise, so I throw her a bone instead.
“No, carry on for now. The Sergeant’s in charge, she knows what she’s doing. Just back her up if …” I pause for a beat, working my mouth a little as I consider my words. “Well, y’know. I don’t reckon anything’ll actually happen like we’re used to, but, y’know … just in case.”
That just makes him frown, his knuckles whitening a little as catches what I’m implying. Finally he nods back. “Gotcha boss. I’ll keep my eyes peeled. But I really hope you’re right.”
“Me too.” I nod again, letting a heavier sigh go now as I step towards Udre now. “You’re with me. You good with that?”
She just grips the shaft of her spear a little tighter as she lets a somewhat relieved breath go, not meeting my eye now as she replies: “Of course, boss. Just fine.” She don’t say what I know she’s feeling, but it’s clear enough to me. She don’t wanna be here anymore anyway, happy enough with the chance to get out so her skin can stop crawling for a while.
Turning back to Trick, I give her a nod, and shoot a look at the wizard. “We heading back downstairs to meet the lieutenant or –”
“He’s already making his own way, just wanted us to fetch you. He’ll meet us outside.” She turns to her colleague, and I see real hesitation in her now, a reluctance that seems almost squeamish. “Um … you … I don’t know if you … ever had any dealings with wizards before now, or –”
“Not a whole lot, but enough to learn a few things o’ my own.” I almost ask what she’s trying to get at, but then I work it out for myself. Maybe it’s her reticence, coupled with the manner o’ their arrival. “Oh hell … you wanna jump us out?”
Udre’s eyes go wide, and I swear her knuckles whiten the same time her face pales. “Oh please no, not again. I hate that.”
“It’s the quickest way, unfortunately.” Erahadur lets a weary sigh go as he steps forward now, gripping his own staff with similar fretful tightness to our cleric’s, and he’s having his own trouble maintaining eye contact now. “It’s either that or we’d have to navigate our way back outside through … well, to be perfectly frank I don’t actually know how much more of that there is.” He tries to look up at me at last, clearly making a real concerted effort now. “I will attempt to make the transition as smooth as I can. And they do say that the more you do it, the easier it gets. Or at the very least, you do get used to it.”
Trick just grimaces, not even trying to hide it. “No you don’t.”
Resisting the powerful urge to curse under my breath, even though I know I’d do it in my own tongue anyway, I just clench my teeth and look back at Starkheart. She catches me watching her again and her own jaw tightens some, but finally she just gives me a curt little nod, and I guess that’s indicator enough she’s gonna handle her end. “Shit … all right, guess we’ll have to go along with it. Suck it up, Private. We’re on the job.”
For a beat, Udre looks like she might try and protest, but in the end she looks down and lets out a little sigh instead. She takes a step up to join us now, still gripping her partisan good and tight, and final reaches out to offer up the shaft for me to take hold of. She gives me a look while she does it, regretful and a little pleading, but still holds her tongue.
Letting my own breath go in a frustrated hiss, I take hold of the offered spear with my left hand, holding my right out now for Trick. She looks at it for a beat but takes hold of it quick enough, giving it a little squeeze as she offers her own look of commiseration. Still not too enthusiastic about this plan herself, looks like.
Finally the wizard closes our little circle, grabbing the bakaneko’s other hand while as he clears his throat, looking at me now as he starts to speak, then falters when he sees the look on my face. I ain’t even trying to hide how I feel about this either.
Then he finally speaks, and instead of really hearing what he says it’s something that has actual substance instead of a sound, a strange empty weight in the open air between us as he breathes it. In the same instance things seem to turn on their head, and I just cram my eyes shut as I feel my stomach lurch right up inside me, like it just wants to jump right out my mouth, and it’s like I’m falling even though I know we ain’t really dropping. I already know there’s no way I’ll be able to keep from puking right on the paving when we land outside …