Ara (who would forever be Ara to me rather than Strings) was being shown around the hideout by Skull who seemed to be enjoying playing tour guide both for the fact she could show off how much she had learned about our base in a single season and because it gave her time to interrogate Ara about her magic. Skull has always loved learning but magic was special to her.
So with those two tramping around the house loudly chatting (some lines of Skulls I still remember are “Where did that door go?” “Have you ever hung someone?” and “Don't mind the raven droppings.”) I was sitting downstairs in our living room. A fire roared in the grate, every few minutes I tossed in another log causing the fire to grow and grow until I felt my boots charring.
The reason for this new obsession with heat was Blood; lying half-comatosed next to me on our blue silk sofa (another piece of liberated noble property[120]). She was trembling slightly even as I stacked the fire higher and higher like she was standing in the teeth of a gale.
Looking away from her I cast my eyes around our parlour the fire light flickered off our trophy cases, long golden candlesticks, drapes of multi-coloured silk and fur and all our other looted ornamentations that shone like a million Lire (and was probably worth somewhere in the two million range). I know it sounds beautiful and opulent but really it looks like someone had sprayed the contents of a pawn shop with gold paint then emptied an abattoir into it... but I like to reflect on the good we’d done and the nobles we’ve ruined when I'm nervous and I was feeling really nervous.
“Hey Blood... are you awake?” I asked her, leaning over the tiny shaking girl.
She rolled her head to the side and gazed up at me. “No.” She said her voice was unusually flat and emotionless but with an edge of a smile that was almost worse to hear; I could feel the pain in her voice. Her magic truly is a double edged sword.
“How are you doing?” I asked don't worry I felt bloody stupid the second I closed my mouth. “I mean... are you... I...”
Blood stopped my stammering with a limply raised hand. “I’ll live, you know I heal quickly.”
“Hey um...,” I didn't know how to ask or if I should so I just did, “...After you used the aether disruptor you ran away, you never usually run from a fight... I mean... were you ok? Did you get hurt? Is there anything I can do to help?”
I stammered into silence and Blood looked away from me slightly. “Oh I just remembered I had a library book to return you know what the Schola Librarius is like, bunch of blood sucking fascists, and we need to keep our noses clean in our maskless identities. We don't want to attract the Order do we? Or the Koth damned Tribunal, so I just took a little walk around the block and...”
“Blood,” I said using the most maternal tone I could. “You don't have to answer me if you don't want to, I'm not going to force you, but please don't deflect. I’m your friend; you can trust me.”
Blood looked up at me and tilted her head slightly to the side then before I could react she reached up and pulled my face down to hers. She gently tapped her masked forehead against mine and for a second we were both still looking into each other’s eyes (well eye sockets).
“Thanks Bright....” She said, “One day... I might... but not today.”
We stayed like that for a long moment. I could feel her glove on my neck and I could feel how weak the fingers within were and that scared me but looking into her eyes (or at least the red glass eye covers of her mask) I could feel her strength still there. If anyone could survive this magic it was her, maybe that was why she had been given it; even now we’ve never settled on a reason why certain people get certain magic.
Just then we heard an approaching stomping as Skull and Ara clambered down the stairs for some unaccountable reason carrying an amphora between them. Blood’s hand flopped weakly from my neck but I stayed still for another moment enjoying the comforting presence of my best friend and not to put too fine a point on it trying to delay having to deal with Ara.
“Ara why are you carrying a huge amphora?”
“I wanted pie.” She shrugged as if that explained everything.
I let my hand linger on Blood shoulder for a second before I stood and followed the two into the kitchen where I spent the next hour arguing with Ara about the insanity of using an Amphora as a pie tray and then the next hour after that enjoying some delicious pie. Ara really is an astonishingly good cook so she nearly burst into tears when she saw what we were cooking for ourselves since we really just ate old leftovers that we swiped from noble pantries. Technically it was very high quality food but after it’s been carried across the city in a sack even Jurinian[121] isn’t at its best.
Before long we were sitting together sprawled on stolen furniture and chatting away over a hot meat pie with some fresh sweet bread for dessert. Blood was able to sit up and cram a whole pie under her mask with undiminished appetite (seriously she eats like five times as much as the rest of us do even when she's not healing from near exsanguination). I remember it well... When I close my eyes even today I can see us sitting there laughing, chatting and boasting for hours with my old friends and my new one. For a few hours I wasn't an heir or a noble. I wasn't a kind of investment, I was just me and I couldn't have been happier.
And of course that was when things started to go horribly wrong.
In a decrepit dark and disreputable dock district, next to a pile of smouldering ashes; stands a figure. A man tall and coldly handsome with a hard cast to his eyes and four silver blades affixed to his limbs.
Nightsbane turns as another parishioner falls to their knees and thanks him.
“Don't mention it ma’am.” He said magnanimously waving away the grateful woman and her family; they scuttled away like rats fleeing from candle light clutching bundles of food, clothing, prayer books and matches. Everyday items to be sure but everyday items of which the church had a vast surplus thanks to donations and patronage, they would never need even a fraction of what they were given and so it was a joy and privilege to give it away to the less fortunate. It was the Inquisition's job to see to the needs of all of Prasus’ citizenry.
Well... almost all.
Nightsbane stops posing as something catches his eye and he weaves through the huge crowd that has formed around the ruined warehouse like a shark cutting through a shoal. The people who parted before him showered him with thanks and praise, even with his current urgent mission Nightsbane still takes time to enjoy it.
Arriving at the long low tables his pyre-guards had set out he stops and grins at the initiate who is staffing it.
“Hello Swain, how is the distribution going?”
“Very well sir Nightsbane,” replied the masked boy handing over another parcel of the Inquisition blessing to yet another disgustingly grateful family before turning back to his teacher. “We’ve given away nearly 700 packages so far... oh some of the other initiates say they think some people are going through the line multiple times... is that allowed sir?”
Nightsbane smiled at the child's naivety. “Of course it is Swain of course it is. These supplies we have here are the blessing of Koth, provided for us by the Arch-Doge himself, they are not ours to start with they belong instead to the most faithful citizens of this fair city. If each man and woman wishes to take away a hundred packages it is our duty as Inquisitors to accommodate them. We live, after all, to serve.”
This impromptu speech raised a ragged but heartfelt cheer from the surrounding multitude which Nightsbane acknowledged with a magnanimous wave. As the crowd continued pillaging the tables around him Nightsbane leant forwards and whispered into Swain's ear.
“I can see a gang of non-humans standing near that old alley on the left, go and tell the pyre-guards to disburse them. These provisions are for real people only.”
Swain nodded quickly. “Of course sir.... Beatrix! Can you cover the rest of my shift?” As the two youths switched places and Swain dashed off into the street, Nightsbane bowed once more to the crowd (raising another cheer he was pleased to see) and strode past them and into the mass of tents and tables that the Inquisition had brought with them.
His initiates had set up their aid counters of food and supplies all along the edges of the once proud dock warehouse at Nightsbanes order, the Inquisitor was more than bright enough to know that the Inquisition operating in any district was going to cause comment so he had chosen to obfuscate his hunt with a bit of humanitarian aid. Only if a citizen was incautious enough to pry past the tables of food and friendly initiates would they find the ranks of pyre-guard half hidden in the storage tents, weapons drawn and with orders to kill on sight. Nightsbane strode between them now and stood on the edge of the flat plain of burnt wood that had once been an entire private dock, now just an ash heap surrounded by heat warped stone.
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Suddenly an Earln trees bladder vented in the distance the harsh lowing caused Nightsbane to raise his arms into fighting stance for a moment, the Inquisitor was not running the risk of one of those things returning under his nose and they would have to get past his nose because he could smell them now.
The rank festering stench on the air, the stench of magic (or possibly just the scent of those nauseating non-humans, luckily he never had to deal with such creatures in the ranks of the Church if one of their kind was ever elevated to serve the church in any capacity they were kept well away from such mentally taxing jobs as inquisition service and given duties more befitting of their abilities such as floor cleaning. Truly Koth is generous).
“Ah Inquisitor Nightsbane!” Called a voice.
Nightsbane snapped back to reality and smiled at the approaching watch Captain who was the reason for his presence here.
“Ah Captain Pendleton,” he said smoothly. “Thank you again for accommodating my men and I in your fine district.”
The Captain saluted smartly. “Oh it's our honour lord, our honour. To be allowed to assist an Inquisitor in his duties is something I have dreamt of since I was a boy.”
The Inquisitor smiled at such due reverence being paid and nodded at the ashen wasteland before them. “This was the place then?”
“Yes lord,” replied the watchman promptly, “my men followed reports here after the vigilantes dropped Red-Razor off at our watchhouse. They interviewed the citizens nearby and detained and interrogated a number of fleeing gang members...” The man lapsed into silence, his face conflicted. “They painted a picture of.... of magic being used within... I could hardly believe it; those warrior women were far too kind to be mages but I knew my duty was to report to you and pray to Koth that they would be found innocent.”
The Inquisitor nodded solemnly, he briefly toyed with the idea of killing the Captain or at least arranging for his career to be destroyed but decided against it the man’s loyalty record in the Inquisitions Black Truth vaults was spotless.
“Correctly handled Captain if these are indeed blasphemous mages then you will be commended highly upon their capture and execution.”
“I find myself hoping they are not your lordship; they seemed so kind,” said the Captain softly. “If they are Mages... why did I trust them?”
Nightsbane smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder. “I am afraid Captain that you have just seen the face they choose to show the world. For such tainted beings as mages lying comes as naturally as breathing... but fear not; you are not unique in falling victim to their wiles. In fact this entire city once venerated their kind if you remember before the Arch-Doge showed us the true way.”
As the Captain brightened up, Nightsbane strode away across the ash. His Arcanum which was slung around his neck was emitting deep regular ticks as it read the aether in the air recording nothing more than natural background. The Inquisitor felt himself growing more and more tense as it refused to chime. This was them, the rooftop duo and they had even named themselves! He knew this was them, it had to be.
Suddenly his Arcanum exploded into life, its inner gears spinning frantically and the sedate ticking accelerating and becoming a staccato burst of rapid clicks like the last beats of a failing heart.
“Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.”
Nightsbane stooped low, in the ash dunes around him it was quite hard to make out details but his boots were nudging the edge of what looked like a partially melted bronze gong, lifting it he peered under, seconds later he lowered the metal and smiled widely.
“Four.... they’ve recruited?”
“I'm sorry sir I didn't quite catch that?”
Nightsbane shook his head lightly and beamed at Captain Pendleton. “Nothing you need to worry about Captain.” He said pleasantly, turning away from the ruined warehouse and walking across the ash strewn wasteland back to the watchman.
“Well I have seen all I can see here Captain, only one thing left... take me to your prison.”
Nightsbane looked down at the huddled little man before him. He was as per departmental policy chained to the large metal chair in the interrogation cell but this was obviously wasted effort the man was not only terrified but tiny; some of the chain links which bound him were thicker than his arms. This overriding impression of weakness was not helped by the fact that at each of the cardinal directions from the man stood a six foot tall pyre-guardsman in heavy black ticksteel plate mail with a drawn longsword.
In the dank ice cold air of the stone interrogation cell buried in the bedrock below the Trade Winds district's sole remaining watchhouse; inquisitor Nightsbane paced back and forth behind the prisoner assessing him. The man somehow managed to cower whilst staying still (not that he had much of a choice there though; what with all the chains). He was old and would have been tall had he stood up, he was stick thin with white hair, stretched and scarred skin and a long white robe that was worn nearly ragged and had more patches than seams.
Judging that the silence had stretched nicely Nightsbane stepped out of the shadows and into the prisoners line of sight. To Nightsbane gratification he emitted a low wheeze of shock and began to shake in his chains.
Kind thought Nightsbane to himself Kind will break him... with a handful of unkind in the back pocket if necessary of course.
“Hello,” said the inquisitor, pleasantly injecting so much syrup into his tone that it nearly flowed from his mouth. “I am Nightsbane and I would like you to think of me as a friend.”
“F... F...Friend...” Stuttered the man.
“Well you would hate to have me as an enemy.” Smiling the Inquisitor, as expected the man shook and lowed again like a cow in great distress. Nightsbane let him be for a moment then reached out and patted him gently on the shoulder as if in an effort to console him.
“Now then now then that really won’t do will it? There’s no need for that,” he nodded at the man who was staring transfixed into his eyes. “How about you tell me your name?”
“Uh I’m Gaius Bryn Reynolds but most people just call me the Physician.” Replied the Physician slowly.
“Oh... and why is that?” asked Nightsbane.
“I... I used to be a member of the house of bottles, when I got kicked out I had to flee to the dock spurs. Nobody would hire me and I ended up... sort of... well... falling into a gang and I used my healing skills to save their leader's life and so they called me the Physician... it kinda stuck.” The man babbled so desperately to speak that he didn't even think about what he had just said.
Nightsbane smiled with genuinely faked warmth. He could already execute the man for admitting to being part of a dock gang but that could wait till later, he had bigger fish to ritually execute.
“That sounds like a hard time for you,” Nightsbane sympathised; he almost sounded sincere. “It’s a real pity especially since you got caught up in this unpleasantness as well.”
“Yes Yes!” said the man, his eyes darting side to side. “It was horrible there where... there where...”
“Mages?” asked Nightsbane as if the question was of no importance.
The man tried to nod but only succeeded in rattling his chains in the end he settled for a quiet. “Yes lord.”
“They were part of this.... crawler gang?”
“No lord they... they... stopped them,” replied the man, “I was looking for my protégé but the Crawlers captured me then she and those mages arrived and distracted them,” the Physician shuddered. “I can only imagine what they would have done to me if I hadn't run when I did.”
“It would have doubtless been terrible,” sympathised Nightsbane for the first time in this interview with genuine emotion. “What did they look like?”
“There was a short one all in red with a mask with horns, another was all in black with a black iron skull mask and then there was one in white with what looked like crystal for a mask; like a block of quartz or something.”
Nightsbane looked down at the man with a calculating expression. “So.... there were three?”
The man looked up at Nightsbane but his eyes didn't rise. “... Yes, there were three.”
“And what of your protégé in all this,” continued the Inquisitor, backing off smoothly. “I assume she escaped unharmed?”
“I think so.”
“And what is she like?” Nightsbane whispered into the man's ear. “Is she skilled? She helped to save you. After all, I assume she is.... special.”
The Physician flinched away and nodded jerkily. “She's a very strong girl; clever two but...” he stopped speaking and sullenly returned his gaze to the floor.
“So very good for her,” hissed the Inquisitor. “Where is she? What is her name?”
“She’s of no interest to you.” Whispered the man.
“Then why do you hesitate to speak of her?” all trace of false honey is gone from Nightsbanes voice now; instead it drips real poison. “Why, if she didn't consort with the abominations.... or show herself as one?”
The chained elder didn't move as Nightsbane continued, “now it’s not your fault.” He said suddenly back to his sweet and friendly voice. “Mages lie as you or I would breathe, they swim in a sea of falsehood, they are evil; true evil and as such are not bound by the laws of honesty or morality if you were deceived no one would blame you... so answer me, why do you hesitate to speak of her?”
The man looked up with a firm and resolute gaze. “It's... it's because she's a half breed sir... a half Ladorian.”
Nightsbane actually recoiled at the notion, a half human, a being of sullied blood and sullied with the Ladorian FILTH of all things. That was almost worse than being a mage.
“I... I understand,” he said sweetly, " The fourth must have stayed out of his sight. Nightsbane thought quite shaken by the notion of a half-Ladorian anywhere near him, such filthy creatures... the notion that one might have even touched the same pavement he did.
The Inquisitor gagged softly then turned back to the Physician swiftly.
“Thank you for this apothecary your testimony has been entered into the record of the Order of Enforced Purity and Proper Though and as such I...”
“Please lord,” whispered the man, “I ask for mercy.”
Nightsbane patted him on the shoulder again, “oh you need not fear Koth is the most kind and merciful of gods,” he said with utter sincerity and as the man looked up and met his eye for the first time Nightsbane let himself smile widely. “Just ask him yourself when you see him.”
The Physician didn’t even manage to gasp before the jolnek fighting blade skewered his heart.
Nightsbane pulled the sword free and wiped it on the dead man's robes then he turned to one of the pyre-guards. “Have the testimonies entered into record and the warehouse sealed off for the standard five cycle magical decontamination sweep. Ensure Captain Pendleton is credited in the newspapers with leading a daring raid to destroy this warehouse.”
“Yes, Inquisitor Nightsbane.” Replied the man promptly.
The Inquisitor turned to go then remembered something, “oh and see that someone cleans up that rubbish would you?” He asked, gesturing at the Physicians corpse. “We wouldn't want to stink up this lovely watch house would we?”