Vincht straightened his leather vest, turning to take in the disheveled study as he strolled a few steps into the room. “On the topic of unexpected...I would have bet thirty Faulken shils on there not being a single book in this whole backwoods village, let alone an entire library.”
A little over three feet separated the stranger from the now empty doorway. If the man moved any farther from that door, he might be able to slip by. Then it was only a matter of making it to the trees. While the man was visibly stronger that him, muscle itself didn't dictate speed, and Nevin was willing to bet his life on the chance of outrunning him. He inched his leading foot a half-step closer toward freedom.
“I am confused, though,” the stranger began, pausing to toe one of the unstable pillars of books. He tugged at his gloves as it wobbled to and fro before returning to a tenuous stability. “This Ishen must have been a very rich man, with treasures like these. Why, the contents of this room alone are worth more than the lives and possessions of every man, woman, and child in Elbin, as far as today has shown me, and this is what he left behind! Either he left in such a hurry that he was unable to take such a prized collection with him, or what he did take was far more valuable that what we see here.
“I also didn't notice a stables or pen for a horse or mule outside, and no cart tracks leading to or away from the cabin. It's likely he made off with only what little he could carry.”
With a sigh, Vincht turned again and approached the angled writing desk. He ran a finger down its surface, grunting his approval at the apparent lack of dust or grime. Craning his neck, he casually ruffled a stack of papers strewn across the desk. He snorted and shook his head, mouthing something he must have seen written on the papers, but Nevin couldn't make out what.
While Vincht's attention was focused on the writing desk, Nevin crept ever closer to that open door. If he could just gain another foot or two without Vincht noticing, he should be able to sprint past before the man could react.
Biting his lip, Nevin carefully slid his leading foot over the polished floor and slowly shifted his weight to keep the wood from creaking and giving him away. One more step.
Vincht lifted his short blade free of its scabbard and slammed it back into place without turning. The sudden motion caused Nevin to freeze, his raised foot hovering in place.
“I will sever the tendon separating your leg from your foot before you even cross the threshold, and that's me being polite.” His speech had lost that contradictory musical quality from before, replaced by one that exuded absolute malice. Nevin found himself frightened more by the effortless change in tone than by the threat of violence.
The black-haired soldier turned his head, gauging the young man's reaction from the corner of his eye. When Nevin simply nodded and lowered his foot, Vincht flashed a toothy smile and turned to face him.
“Excellent,” he said, his tone once again light and melodic.
Nevin suppressed a shiver.
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“Now, where was I?” He snapped his fingers and nodded. “Of course. Ishen is no longer here, and it's likely he made off with his most valuable items, though only those he could carry. No horse, no cart, and a three day walk to the nearest settlement, two if one really pushed themselves. As a man of advanced years, it would surprise me if he didn't take his time, especially weighed down with a pack of consumables and valuables.”
He looked around, frowning. “Considering the state of the room, it appears as though he picked through everything he owned in order to gather the pieces he wanted most. Otherwise, why the piles? Why move everything off the shelves? If you were really only taking one or two things, why go through everything? Why not just grab what you need from the shelves and leave?”
Nevin shrugged. “I don't-”
Vincht interrupted him. “And then there's you, skulking about his empty home in the light of day, surrounded by items whose value could quite literally buy you a comfortable life in most major cities, and yet...your hands are empty. Either you're a terrible thief, or you're a friend of the man and were surprised by his absence.”
Nevin straightened self-consciously. “Like you said. The door was open. I thought it was odd.”
Vincht rested a hand on the ivory hilt of his blade, watching Nevin's face to be sure the message was received. When the younger man nodded, Vincht opened a small pocket on his vest and produced a folded sheet of vellum. “You're not much of a liar, Nevin, but I'm willing to overlook your rudeness and give you another chance. You see, I'm looking for something...unique. Maybe you've seen it, maybe you haven't. I only ask that you take a look. Answer me honestly, and maybe our little encounter here will come to an agreeable ending. For the both of us.”
The odd oblong-shaped drawing had little in the way of detail aside from a few jagged lines criss-crossing the item, and an inset handle positioned at the narrow end. Nothing else was written on the worn page that granted any sort of context to the item's features – size, weight, material, intent. Nevin studied it carefully, hoping he could give the man something useful so he'd leave him alone, but in the end, he could only shrug.
Vincht grimaced, smoothing down the front of his vest with his free hand. “I know, it's not much to look at. Fortunately, through my interaction with the locals here, I've learned that the item in question was at least here at some point in the past, and I have a few more descriptive details not found on this drawing that may help.
“First, the bulk of the object is metal, but you see little cylindrical bit here?” He indicated with a finger. “This is a grip or handle made of white stone.”
Nevin stared back at him. “I swear I haven't-”
“In addition, it's rumored to lower the temperature of the area around it. It's even said to freeze anything it comes in contact with.”
Nevin flexed his fingers, his mind back inside that frigid gap in Ishen's floorboards, feeling around in the emptiness beneath the cabin until his hand brushed against something wholly unnatural. Something hard. Something metal.
Something unfathomably cold.
Vincht must have picked up on the change in his expression. “There. You do know something, don't you?”
When Nevin hesitated, the soldier glided forward and grabbed the young man by the shoulders. Nevin tried to shrug him off, backing up until the window pressed against his bottom, but Vincht simply followed, his gloved hands like bands of unyielding iron. All trace of civility had vanished from his countenance, replaced by a mixture of controlled fury and poorly contained elation.
He suddenly wished he'd jumped through the window when he had the chance.