At least Tormed regards magical transportation with the same fervent disdain as Udre and I do, because I don’t think I could have done that twice. ‘Least I ultimately managed to hold onto the lunch we got before we went into the Hellcat’s mansion, but it was a close thing indeed, when we settled on the lawn I came damn close to dropping to my knees and vomiting on the spot. Instead I had to stay there for almost three minutes bent double with my hands on my knees, breathing heavy while Tormed stood by once I’d waved him off after he made a clumsy attempt to apologise for his lack of foresight. In the end I let him off easy for it, his reasoning at least was sound, it would’ve been a harder and much more unpleasant exercise making our way back out again. Not that it was really worth it, but still, the thought almost counted.
Instead of making another jump right away like Erahadur intended, the lieutenant instead insisted we make our way on horseback, which sounded a whole lot better to me, and even more to Udre. Redarra House was close enough anyway, it wouldn’t have been more’n a twenty-minute trot under normal circumstances, and even going slower to start with to accommodate our unsettled stomachs we ultimately made it in just over a half hour. By the time we arrived I was feeling pretty good again, and even Udre, who tends to find mounted travel a little baffling since she spends most o’ the time trying to work out the best way to juggle her great long spear, was in brighter spirits. That being said, reckon being so far removed from the oppressive atmosphere of that slaughterhouse prob’ly helped.
Ain’t my first time here at Redarra, but it’s been a while, and while Ceinog may still be my superior I ain’t been here much even if this is his patch. I’d forgotten how baffling the place can be, it’s at once official and ridiculously elaborate, particularly the showy garden. Most of all, there’s a new addition in the external décor that gave me a hell of a start once I got a look at it, but not for the reason it did Udre.
That golem … yeah, that weren’t there last time I was here, must’ve been a recent addition to the grounds. What I’d originally thought was a pretty weird statue turned out to be what I’m assured is an apparently inoperative war golem from the Old Times, before the Sundering, intimidating but supposedly ultimately harmless. I wasn’t convinced, looking at it scared the hell outta me … most cuz I saw one very much like it a few days ago at the Transit House which seemed very much alive.
That was when it clicked with me, that little niggle in the back o’ my mind, the reminder the scents Faldabri picked up back at the mansion threatened to kick loose. A bakaneko, and a halfling, and … well, honestly I wasn’t really sure what she was, I’d never seen anything quite like her before. That woman, the real tall one who was with that group of weird folk, they had to be mercs, they really didn’t look like anything else. I remembered her most, even though they had a fucking ten foot tall living war machine following ‘em round …
Mostly cuz it sounded a whole lot like she was from Tektehr. They seemed all kinds of belligerent, particularly that dark-skinned woman who was clearly in the lead, she made a hell of an impression on me too, not all of it bad despite the way she was clearly spoiling for a fight. I mean, she was beautiful, with skin like warm milk chocolate or creamy coffee, and something about her manner … I dunno, it was just sexy. Even so, the way the bakaneko had immediately started growling at us about the dwarf lass getting under our feet, and then she’d almost seemed to seize one it like an opportunity to try and just start something with us … yeah, it was frustratingly familiar, and it just rubbed me the wrong way. I was ready to get all official about it, confident enough that if they did start something we wouldn’t get in any actual trouble for finishing it …
And then the tall one started talking to us in Tektehran common. I know I weren’t the only one surprised by that, when we finally made it back to the barracks that was all the rest o’ the squad could talk about for hours after. In the moment though, that took the air right out of the fight for me, on the spot, she apologised for her friend, insisting that they were here on official business with the Authority, and that I shouldn’t read too much into her behaviour. That they were under a whole lot o’ stress, and hoped I’d take it into account. I mean, sure, weren’t nothing I ain’t heard a hundred times before, but hearing it in my own mother tongue … yeah, that bought ‘em a pass all right. Even if they did have a fucking golem with ‘em …
But now … thinking about that, in connection with this new information … no, this feels like way too much coincidence, no chance there could be two crews like that in town, not even in a place like Untermer. Weird folk pass through this port all the time, from all over Tao, but this particular combination? Especially with that woman?
I didn’t bring it up right away, I let it stew for a little while as we handed our horses off to the guards and made our way inside, but I at least asked Udre if she remembered the group we ran into at the Transit House. She barely even had to think about it before her eyebrows shot up in that way I’ve come to recognise.
“Oh yes, I do remember them. The Fir Bolg was a particular surprise.”
That had me a little stumped. “The what?”
“Fir Bolg. A Tuathan forest guardian. They’re rather like elves, but not exactly. Similar origins, I’m told, but they are a separate and rather unique species of their own. Just as powerful, in their way. I’m told they’re deeply tuned with nature, which is why it was such a surprise seeing one here. You almost never see one out of the wild, they hate cities and civilisation.”
“I never even heard of such a thing, though. Why aren’t there –”
“Oh, but that’s right, you wouldn’t know. They’re aren’t very many of them left, I’m told. There used to be whole tribes of them in the forests in southern Tektehr, but that was before the Wars got so bad. Now …”
That’s when she went quiet, with that crestfallen look I’m also getting to know pretty well. When she remembers something bad, some great and terrible fact that’s not so well known to most common folk, but really should be. Yeah, the Wars … reckon I know what that means. Might be most of her folk are just gone now …
But yeah, a Fir Bolg … that’s a pretty good clue, given that one particular scent that Faldabri couldn’t identify back in the mansion. Sounds mostly like a simple confirmation to me. So I tucked that into the back pocket of my mind, keeping it handy for later, when we got more concrete clues to go with. Hopefully here.
When we got inside the main offices of the Untermer Authority, it was exactly the kinda chaos I expected after what’s been going on all over the Hill since yesterday. I mean it’s always busy in here, but this was a special kind o’ desperate, there was something new in the air, an edge to the atmosphere making ‘em all a bit more frantic than normal. When we came into the bullpen downstairs the secretaries were hammering away at their typewriters and hustling back and forth between stations, muttering and whispering between themselves even as they worked with a particularly desperate note that was impossible to miss. They’re scared.
As we arrived at the bottom of the stairs one of ‘em just lost it moving between their desk and the filing stations at the back of the room, her whole armful of stacked papers just spilling everywhere all over the floor, and she burst into tears. Instead of ducking to retrieve it all she just stood there looking down at the pluming mess, eyes going wide, and then started sobbing, her hands going to her face as she started to sag on the spot. Within moments one of her colleagues was out of her stool and taking hold of her with gentle arms to guide her away while another crouched to start gathering up the papers while she was guided away, but … damn, that was a sobering thing to witness. They’re usually so efficient here …
Tormed spotted Ceinog first, off to the side o’ the chamber, just in front of the glassy veranda’s screen doors, stood by with a few others. He was mostly just standing to grim attention, looking off in no direction in particular in the same military way I spent many years cultivating, likely paying close attention to the conversations around him despite looking like he’s conspicuously ignoring ‘em. Cuz he clearly ain’t in charge o’ this right now.
‘Course I recognised who he was deferring to, although I was sure as hell wishing I wasn’t gonna see him here. I got nothing against General Jelsan Chanevri, as senior commanding officers go he’s fair enough most o’ the time, but he ain’t got much patience for fuck-ups, even when you ain’t at fault, and he’s got a long fucking memory. I really wish I could’ve just turned round and walked right back out before he there was ever any chance of him spotting me, but under the circumstances I had no choice but to suck it up and avoid his eyes. So I let Tormed take the lead …
The other two I didn’t recognise, although one of ‘em seemed kinda familiar. This one … it took me a little while to realise I had seen ‘em before, the other day in the Transit House, same time as those mercenaries, actually. They came to fetch ‘em, I remember, for their business, whatever it was. I didn’t catch their name, but everything about ‘em screams Authority, not just their dress but the way they talk, hold themselves, all of it. Too young to be senior, but with enough bearing to still be high up all the same. ‘Least that’s how I read it when they walked up and smoothed over the last o’ the ruffled feathers and led me to back the squad outta that potential altercation. Seeing ‘em here now made it clear enough I did make the smart call.
The other one’s clearly the proper senior one here, indeed they’re one o’ the oldest Authority officials I ever come across in my time. Tall, but skinny, lean and ropey, I can tell that even in their official grey robes of office, which are some o’ the most expensive I seen too, not necessarily fancy but definitely rich enough to make his station clear. He’s at least sixty, maybe more, his face deeply lined with hollow cheeks under his aggressively sharp cheekbones, too severe to really be attractive now but I suspect he might’ve been in his youth. His beard is thin, little more’n a wispy scruff aside from the longer tufts hanging from his chin, and his silvered hair recedes far across his scalp, while he’s left the rest to grow long, swept back behind his ears to hang down between his shoulders. His nose stands out more prominent in his face, a broad beaky blade like a particular gaunt eagle, and his eyes are a striking bright green, sharp as razors, not betrayed by his age at all.
There’s a real shrewdness about him that makes it instantly clear he’s a cold, serious man you clearly gotta be careful dealing with. I didn’t know who he is, but I had a pretty good idea, just goin’ off his appearance. Porbar Grintiga, Senior Administrator of the Untermer Authority, one o’ the most powerful men in the whole city. Given what’s been going on this past day an’ night, he’s having to take a lot of the weight o’ responsibility for the handling of this affair on his own back.
No wonder old Chanevri was being so much more pleasant than usual, ‘least given how he usually is round Rundao official types. Being Provisional Commander of the Untermer Garrison means he’s pretty much the real head authority in this city, but given the balance o’ power needed to keep things running smooth between us an’ the Occupied he’s gotta play nice much as he can. Including deferring to the senior Authority whenever it really matters, ‘least when it don’t directly pertain to purely martial matters. Given what an unholy clusterfuck of jurisdictional chaos this actually it, there’s really no clear command in this, so he's having to really grovel his way through right now.
‘Course, that’s why I’m here right now, along with my squad, instead of snoozing in my rack back at the barracks after the all-nighter we had to pull down at the docks. By this point I’m running on fumes, it sure ain’t doing my mood any favours now I gotta just wait around while they talk.
While we wait I ask Trick about these two officials, mostly just to confirm my suspicions. Turns out I was right in my assessment, the old man is Grintiga. The younger one with him, mostly standing by like Ceinog but at least seeming to be paying attention and even interjecting on occasion, is a Junior Deputy Administrator, name of Cafi Sirsk. Up until recently they worked under Madame Venne Daste, ‘least until she was butchered yesterday along with thirty or so townsguard and a handful of her aides. The first victims of what became a bizarre epidemic over the course o’ the night. And by rights, this Sirsk should have been with her at the time. The fact they ain’t numbered among the dead’s the reason we’re here to talk to ‘em in the first place.
I look ‘em over now as we wait for the conversation to be over, trying to get a read just on their manner. They’re young, but there’s a calm and professional air to how they’re handling themselves that speaks of someone wise beyond their years. Not that I’m surprised, I heard enough about Daste to know she valued brains real high, ‘specially in folk that work for her.
That calm don’t seem to be slipping, but … I dunno, reckon there might be a little strain in there, now I’m looking for it. A fatigue, maybe. Like they been run ragged over the night, same as the rest of us, but it’s hitting ‘em different. More like these folk here, I realise now. They’re scared, but for Sirsk it’s more polarised. Cuz it could have been them, maybe. Honestly, until we actually get to talk to ‘em I can’t really be sure.
Tormed leans in close to me now, voice barely a whisper so it’s just for me. “Are you all right? You seem like you might be spacing out somewhat.”
“Hmm?” He don’t take me off guard, but I still have to muster myself all the same as I straighten up, shifting my feet as I turn to him. “No, no I’m … honestly, I’m just fed up waiting. Ain’t like there’s really time for us to just be standing round like idiots waiting on folk to finish jawing. I been on my feet since yesterday morning, no stopping, dealing with that fucking mess at First Point. It ain’t good for my mood.”
“Goes with the job thought, most of the time. At least, that’s what I’ve always found.”
Frowning, I fight the urge to growl and just tighten my folded arms a little more. I give him a drawn out sidelong glance all the same, trying to get a read on him now. There’s something I wanna ask him, but I can’t quite work out how to word it right so it won’t sound like I’m fishing. Even if that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Cuz Daste was his boss, essentially. Venne Daste was the Administrator in charge of the enforcement o’ the city’s laws and ordinances, which put her in charge of the townsguard themselves. Since the Special Investigation Division, elite as it is, falls very much under that purview, this whole situation feels like it has ‘least the potential to become a major conflict of interest for him.
I’m right on the verge o’ just caving and asking his right out if he knows this official Sirsk, and by extension has a vested interest of his own in the particulars of this case I might need to know about. But then Chanevri nods with clear, noticeably respectful formality to Grintiga and steps away without a word, and Ceinog has to proper hustle to get after him as he just walks right towards us. And within moments he’s seen me, and he starts to slow down. He don’t stop, though, even when his eyes narrow, his jaw tightening again.
The General is a very intimidating man, I’ll give him that. When the War was still going on and he was a young officer, just a Captain in particular, he saw a lot of action on the frontlines, leading his men from the front to several brutal victories. A few notable defeats, too, but nowhere near enough to eclipse his rise through the ranks. He was a fierce warrior, and a fair one too, the kind that inspired loyalty in the men he led. And a smart tactician. From what I heard, the only reason he missed Kumehn Valley was cuz he was leading one of the battalions in the diversion instead. I can’t help wondering if that might’ve wound up a different story if he’d actually been there …
I can definitely see a fair bit of that young fighter in the old man now starting to slow to a stop as he looks me over with an increasingly complicated expression flickering across his face. He’s even taller than I am, six and a half feet at least barefoot, prob’ly, and real broad, but it’s all still muscle, big enough in the shoulders he’s got almost no neck and with wrists almost thick as my thighs. He keeps his silver-streaked curly black hair cropped short, his beard clipped to little more’n a stubbly scruff, and there are plenty of striking dark scars on his face to indicate he’ll have plenty more elsewhere. His face could be called handsome, but there’s a chunky roughness to it, more like a labourer than a relative highborn, although it does suit his substantial frame a good deal better. He’s also unusually dark-skinned for our culture, quite swarthy in fact, with dark brown eyes that are almost black in most light.
He notably dresses down compared to most of his peers, his armour relatively simple in design, but even so it’s clear enough how well-made and expensive it is all the same, and the dark red of the plate is buffed to a striking sheen. Mostly it’s the sword on his hip that gives him away as a man of his rank, a heavy bastard sword like mine, but much more expensive, the hilt and guard finished with burnished gold and wound copper wire at the grip. Well, that and his sash of rank, of course. He almost don’t actually need his thick bearskin cloak.
“You …” He mostly just breathes it, like it’s not really meant for me, or maybe just that he didn’t really intend to say it, but I still catch it, and it definitely stings. Just the way there’s a little bit of a growl to the word.
Even so, I do my best to stand to attention as I offer him a low, clipped nod of respect, even as my jaw tightens mostly on its own. “General. Well met, sir.”
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When I say it, he cuts off whatever it was he clearly wanted to say and closes his mouth again, his eyes narrowing a little more as he looks me over yet again. Trying to work out if I’m being at all flippant, probably. Then his eyes flick to Tormed and his brow quirks up just the slightest, and there’s an almost imperceptible loosening of his jaw. “Ah, Lieutenant. Sooner than expected. Is this a good sign, perhaps? Are you already close to solving this?”
Tormed clears his throat as he straightens up a little more, and through the corner of my eye I can just see him make the quickest of glances my way before answering. “Regrets, but no, sir. I’m afraid it’s too early to really tell much, at least from what evidence there is at the sites we’ve examined. This is proving to be a particularly odd case, in truth. But we’re doing our utmost to solve it, I can assure you. The Sergeant here has already been extremely helpful in that capacity.”
That has him frowning, and his eyes roll over me again much more briefly before turning back to him. “Forgive me, but I’m not really understanding you. I would have thought, if you were still in the thick of your investigation, why would you be here?”
“Oh, I’m sure it would behove me to actually let vital details slip just yet, sir.” He’s keeping his tone quite jovial, I notice, but even so I suspect he’s still working hard to keep this somewhat unwanted conversation on a civil level. Certainly for my benefit. “Suffice to say that there is an angle that led us here. To one of the individuals you were just speaking, in fact, sir.”
Chanevri’s frown deepens as he turns to look back towards the two officials, junior and senior, both of whom are currently stood by watching us with barely veiled curiosity. Sirsk, I think, seems a little wary too, but they’re doing a decent job of hiding it. “Ah. I see.”
When he turns back he looks us all over, Udre and Trick and even the wizard Erahadur, before turning back to Tormed and offering a much more tightly clipped nod than he gave the Senior Administrator. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it, then. Just do your best, this is a nasty business, and we really can’t have it getting any worse.” He looks to me now as he says this, like he’s driving a point home, and it makes my jaw tighten. “See that you solve this soon, please. Perhaps there’ll be benefits for those who do.”
Before he turns away he looks me right in the eyes and, very much through his teeth, adds: “Sergeant.” Then he finally moves off without further regard to any of us, making straight for the stairs we recently came down and the main entrance beyond. As he goes four fully armed troopers who were lined up round the walls peel away in almost perfect unison and flank him, following him up as he makes his withdrawal.
Oof … he put an awful lot into the way he said just that one last word to me. If it felt like I was standing on perilously thin ice when he first saw me, then it might as well have just made a very loud cracking sound right underneath me. I’m a long moment before I’m finally able to breathe out again, having to try awful hard not to slump when I do.
I’m another beat realising that Administrator Grintiga is now making his way over, with Sirsk following at a more cautious pace. Both curiously examining each and every one of us. When the younger one looks at me I’m sure I see a clear flicker of recognition in their face, and have to frown back at ‘em.
As they draw close Tormed straightens up even quicker and a lot more efficiently than he ever did for Chanevri. “Administrator. Well met, sir.”
“Indeed, Lieutenant.” Grintiga gives him a surprisingly warm half-smile while dipping a very generous nod. “It’s good to see you, although I’ll admit I’m somewhat at a loss as to why. I would have thought the current situation would have you very busy. You surely can’t have business here. Not yet.”
“Unfortunately we do, Master. My apologies, but we must speak with your colleague.”
Brows shooting up, the Senior Administrator turns to look down at Sirsk, who just frowns up at Tormed. It’s interesting, they genuinely seem like they don’t know why we’re here. “Truly? But whatever about? Surely they have nothing to do with this … horrid business.”
“Oh no, sir. Not directly.” Tormed looks down at Sirsk now, giving them a tight little smile. “I can assure you, young master, I mean no offence, we do not suspect you of anything. We would simply appreciate your help with our line of enquiry. Regarding your late superior, of course.”
Sirsk’s brows raise now, while Grintiga simply sighs, looking down now as he nods, seeming grave now. “Ah yes, of course. That is, of course, most prudent. Very well, Lieutenant. I’ll leave you to it.” He turns to his colleague now, who turns to him with a cautious regard, but at least they don’t look like they’re about to silently beg for his help. “Come find me when you’re done, Cafi. I’m afraid there is still much to be done.”
“Of course, Master.” They nod deferentially as he steps away, looking at me for a loaded beat as if he wants to say something, but then deciding against it. Instead he simply moves off, making for one of the ground level passages leading out of the chamber. As he goes one of the scattered aides moves after him, a studious-looking, willowy young woman in more modest grey robes with blonde hair bound in a loose bun and a small pair of glass spectacles perched on her nose.
Yeah, highborns. Even when they need us, if they can help it they’ll still pretend we ain’t actually there rather’n proper acknowledge the presence o’ folk like me.. I manage to fight off the urge to spit on the floor.
“Lieutenant?” Sirsk says after a moment, standing by a little more demurely now, looking up at him through the floppy fringe of their mousey curls. Gods, their eyes are very green, and very sharp. “How may I be of assistance?”
For a moment Tormed seems almost taken aback, licking his lips as he seems to be working out what to say next in his head. Then he nods, growing certain again, and sighs. “Perhaps there’s somewhere more private we could speak?”
“Oh yes.” They nod, fumbling at their voluminous sleeves for a moment before finally folding their hands behind their back, then cock their head as they take a step away. “Of course. This way, please.”
As they lead us off in the opposite direction to where their boss headed, cutting right through the middle of the busily bustling hive of secretarial activity, I chance a look to Udre, who I find watching everything around her with open fascination. Not so much baffled by everything she’s seeing, I’m sure, gods know our bureaucracy’s not much different from theirs, but I still kinda get what has her a little thrown. It’s not the work itself, but the sheen on everything, the way it’s all so gussied up, so flashy and efficient while still dressed up to look so smart and formal all the time. These Rundao folk really can’t do anything without running it through four kinds o’ pomp and ceremony, can they?
“Game face, Private.” I mutter low while leaning close, and while she stiffens, looking to me right away, she don’t seem particularly startled. “Don’t get distracted.”
“Sorry, boss.” she breathes, a little urgent, while reaching a subconscious hand towards her brow even though her hair’s still all bound back and under control.
When Sirsk heads into another of the passageways cutting off through the other wall, I slow up just enough to move into the rear of the group, and Udre falls in with me, picking up on my mood right away. I don’t sense any danger, but I’d rather be ready for it anyway. I’m hoping this young official still being alive’s just a pure lucky coincidence, but I don’t like the possibility that it could be something more. It makes me itch.
We don’t go far in the end, Sirsk stopping at the second closed door down the corridor before knocking on it and clearing their throat, then leaning close and just waiting for a long beat. Nothing happens, and I’m about to open my mouth to make a pressing comment, unable to quite help myself, when they simply nod and turns the handle, pushing the door open. They’re slow and careful about stepping in, though, leaning in enough to poke their head through to look about inside before finally committing the rest of the way, but then they hold the door open once they’re in.
Tormed turns back for a moment, looking directly to me, and I don’t really know what he’s pondering. Then he turns back and steps through, and his colleagues follow, although Trick also pauses for a quick beat to look my way too. Her look’s a little clearer, a wary frown that I ain’t sure I like the look of. Like something might be going on after all. Again, that itch.
Waving Udre down, I step through first, my hand going to Wirnur’s hilt almost without me even thinking about it first. I suck a short breath in through my teeth as I enter the room, trying not to tense up too much as I prepare myself for an attack if there is one coming.
The room seems to be a fairly modest conference room, just a long table with eight padded leather chairs stood round it, and what looks like a small bar in the corner, although I doubt that’s what it actually is. There’s what looks more like a kettle on top, and a teapot too, along with various other accoutrements I recognise for making tea, along with what I realise is a small hotplate. The thing underneath that I thought was a strange metal cabinet must in fact be a tiny stove, just big enough to boil water. That’s just … weird. I never seen anything like that before.
Sirsk has already gone right to it, turning now to regard the rest of us as Udre follows me inside, looking round with nothing but her usual keen curiosity. “This should suffice, I should think. Can I get anyone some tea? Or perhaps coffee? We should have some pre-ground, I understand our friends from the North sometimes prefer it.”
That just makes me frown, while our cleric just gives me a surprised look. Meanwhile Erahadur just steps forward, passing his staff from one hand to the other, already smiling with enthusiasm. “Oh, yes, please. I’d certainly welcome a cup of –”
He must catch Tormed’s cool eyebrow quirk, no actual chiding in it that I can see but making a point all the same, I don’t doubt, while Trick just rolls her eyes. The wind goes out of him immediately, and he lets a heavy sigh go as he shakes his head. “No, sorry. Never mind. I apologise, I forgot myself.”
Sirsk looks at the Lieutenant for the shortest beat possible, then breaks out a beaming smile. “Of course. It’s perfectly fine, Master Erahadur. It’s a most urgent business, I entirely forgot. I suppose with everything that’s been going on I find stability in tradition and etiquette. But it’s entirely unnecessary.”
Now I see it again, that well-hidden wariness, and something more. Just the subtlest hint, the tiniest shake in their hands as they clasp them together across their midsection. Taking a deeper breath than really needed in the moment. They’re worried.
Trick closes the door now and what little sound might have been carrying to us from outside is cut out. There are hanging slatted wooden blinds covering the windows, mostly open but even so while they let plenty of light in they still cut off any view from without well enough. The room seems private now, I should think.
So I just say what’s on my mind, tired of waiting any longer. “So how come you ain’t dead, Master Sirsk?”
Erahadur just starts coughing on the spot, while Trick’s brows shoot right up. Tormed, meanwhile, lets a low, sharp hiss pass through his teeth as he gives me a surprisingly dark look. “Sergeant, surely –”
“It’s quite all right, Tor.” Sirsk laces their fingers together now, their smile already gone as they look down at the floor for a beat before turning their eyes to me. They seems a good deal more grave now, but there’s still that wariness, and now I don’t think they’re even trying to hide it. Making no effort at all to show they don’t trust me either, clearly. “I can understand the Sergeant’s reticence, at least, under the circumstances. Even if it is rather presumptuously asked, given that we haven’t yet been introduced.”
I try not to scowl as I shoot a look at Tormed, who just grits his teeth for a beat before letting a heavy sigh of his own go. “Yes, well … Cafi, this is Sergeant Vifri Staduva. She and her squad have been assigned to aid my team with the investigation, since there are … well, uncomfortable similarities with matters her people are familiar with.”
Again they look me over, those bright green eyes seeming to cut right into me, sharp as they are, and I wonder just how well they’re actually able to read me. I half expect ‘em to ask what he actually meant by that, and I’ll admit I’m curious to hear exactly how, given that could tell me a whole lot about what they already know without them really meaning to.
Instead they just nod too and free their hands, instead loosely folding their arms as they shift their footing, leaning their weight on their left foot now. I can’t tell if this means they’re getting more comfortable or just getting defensive. “I see. Well, I suppose I understand why she’s asking, then. And you’re right, in a way, Sergeant. I really should be dead. If Madame Daste hadn’t sent me off to make some arrangements here instead I might have been with her at the time, and I imagine I really would be dead as well as … the rest of them.”
“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. It’s awful convenient, though.”
Sirsk’s eyes narrow as they consider me for a charged moment. “Convenient? I’m sorry, I really don’t think that’s the kind of word I would use to describe it. Fucking funny, maybe, a cruel irony perhaps. I just lost a friend, Sergeant. Someone I cared very deeply about, someone who thought the world of me, who cared a whole lot more about me than my own parents ever did. I definitely wouldn’t call it convenient at all.”
I don’t rise to the bait, instead just giving them a cold, flat look. “You gotta admit, it don’t look good, does it?”
They’re a long moment answering me, just watching me with those sharp eyes. “Yes, I will admit, I can see how that might be misread if someone were to look for something they actually wanted to find. But I can assure you, I did nothing that was not required of me by Madame Daste. And since then I have been forced to run around like a headless chicken trying to put out a fire that I fear may be growing too large to be contained. As I’m sure you can understand, I am under an extremely high amount of stress at this time. The last thing I need is to be reminded of what I have lost.”
Tormed opens his mouth to interject, but I don’t let him. “What was this task your Madame Daste required o’ you had you leave her side at what turned out to be her most vital hour?”
“Sergeant, could you please –”
This time it’s Sirsk cutting him off. “I’m afraid I can’t say. That is Authority business, which makes it confidential. I would remind you that your masters and mine have a mutually beneficial understanding which has gone a long way to keep the day-to-day business of this country running smoothly since the Occupation began. I’m sure someone of your rank lacks the wherewithal to change that.”
It's a little harder for me to resist rising to this bait, which I’m sure was intentional. Instead I just set my jaw and hold their stare. “You don’t think it might’ve had some bearing on this case?”
“No. I don’t think it would have. Or if it did I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to say anyway. My late superior had a lot of different things to keep an eye on over the course of her last week of life, as is always the case in a city this size, so while she was taking care of one item or another, I had still more work to attend to on her behalf. And I’m not the only assistant she trusts to handle her business. How many of them are you pestering about this?”
“None who are so senior as you, Junior Administrator. From what I been led to understand, you’re basically in charge now, ‘least until your lot work out who’s gonna take over.” I cock my head now, but try not to give ‘em too quizzical a look. “Which could also be considered convenient.”
They give me a flatter look this time, while Tormed lets an aggravated hiss go while I’m sure he wants to protest but decided to hold it in. Sirsk has made it abundantly clear that they intend to speak for themselves. “I won’t even grace that with an answer, Sergeant. I would have thought that beneath such a previously decorated soldier as yourself.”
I actually take a step towards them now before I remember myself, but they hold their ground. “Come again?”
“Honestly, when we met the other day I couldn’t be sure, but seeing you here now has made it clear to me that you are the trooper I thought you were. You’re the one who killed Beneva’s son, aren’t you? I remember that caused quite the stink. I understand the only reason you weren’t punished very severely was because your commanding officer went to bat for you with all he had. Even though technically I believe you were somewhat in the right on the matter. Somewhat.”
Now I finally look back at Tormed, who’s watching me a good deal more cautious now. Oh, that’s interesting … I really would’ve thought he’d have known about that already. Now I feel like I let him down some. I see Trick looking me over too, even more calculating, but I reckon she’s already working out angles I can’t even think about. She seems the type.
“That has nothing to do with this, Master Sirsk, and I would advise you to stick to the matter at hand.”
“Of course, Sergeant. That’s all I’m trying to do. Which is why I informed you that the subject of what business I had been sent on can’t be discussed in connection with this. Not only because it is still classified, but because it has no bearing at all on this case.”
Stepping back, I consider my words for a moment before deciding to plough on after all with the avenue they’ve unexpectedly opened for me. “And that business from the other day? When we met in the Transit House? Are you saying that that has no bearing either?”
Sirsk’s brows flicker just a little, eyes narrowing a touch, and I’m sure I can see just a hint of real confusion in ‘em. Proper surprise, maybe. “But … whyever would it? I mean surely, if I already said –”
“Sergeant, please.” Tormed’s face is starting to actually colour now, I see, as he clearly can’t contain his own indignity any more. “This line of questioning isn’t getting us anywhere –”
Giving him a careful look, I let a gentle but weighted sigh go. “Sorry, Lieutenant, I really don’t agree with you there. Cuz they was there to meet a whole bunch o’ real interesting individuals I couldn’t begin to come up with any reasonable reason for ‘em to be meeting with. But they made it clear enough they were there on official business, since they mentioned that their mistress was waiting for ‘em.” I turn back so Sirsk now. “I only bring this up cuz when I got to thinkin’ about what we found upstairs in the house, it sure jogged my memory.”
Tormed frowns now as he looks to the Administrator, then back to me. “I don’t understand … you mentioned Milvolm picked up some interesting scents, mentioned mercenaries, but beyond that …” His frown deepens as he looks back at Sirsk. “Cafi, I don’t –”
“Not to disparage our exotic friend here, but bakaneko are pretty hard to miss. ‘Specially in Guild gear, and in the company of a halfling in matching dress. Not to mention what I been informed was a Fir Bolg. I didn’t even know what one o’ them was. But the massive golem was definitely the real stumper.”
This time when they open their mouth to protest, nothing comes, and they instead turn to Tormed, maybe looking to beg for some help after all, but he’s just frowning up a storm at ‘em now. Gods, he looks almost betrayed.
“Cafi, tell me …” He falters, turning to me now, seeming genuinely at a loss for a long moment before finally getting his thoughts back into order. “No. I can’t believe that. I worked with Cafi Sisk for four years almost, on and off. There’s no way … I can’t believe they’re actually responsible for what happened to Madame Daste. That’s unthinkable.”
“Honestly, I’m inclined to agree with you, given the evidence we found it feels a whole lot more likely whoever they were, when they went there it was to save Lady Vezrim and her family. Looks like they prob’ly even managed it, ‘least most of ‘em.” I turn back to Sirsk now. “Couse I would love to confirm that. And these folk’d be real great to talk to about this, given they was clearly right in the thick o’ that shit.”
A very heavy silence falls on the room now, as Tormed turns back to Sirsk and gives ‘em another pleading look. They just glare back at me, starting to look like they’re clamming up, and it’s a look I got to know well when I first got here and somebody upstairs thought I might be a smart type to put to work doing stuff like my da used to do. Mithra … I really hope I don’t have to get rough now, I promised Vessof I’d go easy, and it’d look a whole lot worse in his back yard. But I gotta know.
“Junior Deputy Administrator Cafi Sirsk, I really don’t wanna make trouble, ‘specially not here. But you’re making it awful hard for me right now.” I take a few steps towards ‘em now, and as I approach and they gotta start looking up that defiance starts to slip. Just a little bit. “Make it easy for us, would you?”