He found his quarry in a rundown bar, drinking zestri and playing cards.

Nahl Bergdahn was a stocky man with brown curly hair and a beard. He wore civilian clothes that looked worn and stained, with a few tears in the back. He frequently wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing before taking a swig from his mug.

It would make everything so much easier if the man was drunk, but Halden knew he had better not count on it.

He glanced at the pouch on his belt and hoped he hadn’t forgotten anything. His eyes went back to the door as he settled comfortably in the back of his glider. It was just a waiting game now.

After an hour, he saw the bulky man throw his arms in the air as he jumped out of his chair, gesturing angrily at the three who sat with him.

He walked up to the counter to pay the woman who worked there, then stormed out of the bar.

Bergdahn looked around, spotted the hovercab, and waved.

Halden smiled as he leaned to set the glider in motion. It moved up to the man and stopped so he could hop in.

As soon as he was inside, the questor froze and blinked.

“Hey, what are you doing here? This is my cab!”

“No, Nahl. It’s not.”

Before the other could react, he stabbed him in the neck with a syringe.

The man fell like a rock as the glider rose into the night sky.

A few minutes later, he woke in a chair, hands tied to his back.

“What the—”

“Now, now, watch your language. We’re between civilized people here.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

Halden laughed. “Do I? Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Your name is Nahl Bergdahn, and you have been a questor for three decades—the last five years as a prime. And, of course, you do all the dirty work the Emperor asks you to do. In a way, I suppose one could say you are his lapdog.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The man squinted at him.

“Watch what you say, little man.”

“Are you telling me it’s not true? Which part did I get wrong?”

“I’ll have your skin for this, whoever you are.”

Halden tsked. “How low has the once mighty questor fallen.”

“What are you talking about?” spat the tied man.

“Look at you. You’re a wreck. Wearing rags and smelling like you haven’t showered in a week. It’s disgusting.”

“Watch your tongue! I’m still a prime,” he growled.

“Sure. But for how much longer if you keep this up? I’m recording this, by the way. What do you think your superiors will say when they see you like this?”

The man fell quiet, his jaw tight.

“Right. That’s what I thought.”

“I remember you,” said Bergdahn. “You’re that scientist.” The word sounded like a sour taste in his mouth. “The father.”

Halden’s voice went cold. “I was wondering when you’d connect the dots.”

“What do you want?”

“Can’t you guess?”

The man remained quiet for a long time, his eyes locked with Halden’s unflinching ones.

“How did you find out?” he hissed.

“Rees told me everything.”

“That little shit. Couldn’t leave well enough alone. Now you’ll both have to die.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know that won’t happen. We both are too valuable—”

“You’re nothing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy. I’m now working for his Imperial Majesty himself.”

The questor squinted at him. Snorted.

“You’re lying.”

Halden shrugged. “Doesn’t matter either way. Point is, I’m safe. Rees is safe. You? Ah, now, that’s a very different matter, isn’t it? Unlike us, I’d argue you are quite disposable. Especially once those above you see how low you’ve fallen.”

The man snarled. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“Answers, that’s what I want! Who put you up to it? Who ordered you to kill my daughter?”

Bergdahn laughed. “You think I did it? Come now, you can’t be so naive.”

“You made others do it, it’s the same thing.”

“You’re wrong, Prof. Roche. I was only a messenger. I was not involved in... in what happened to your daughter.”

Halden crossed his arms, frowning. Was the man lying? He had no way to check for that. But he couldn’t be. It had to be him! Otherwise...

He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t drag this on for too long if he didn’t want to get caught.

“Then who was?” he asked.

A sneer formed on the man’s lips.

“Who indeed,” he muttered. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Halden went cold inside.

He didn’t want to believe it.

It couldn’t be true.

He had hoped beyond reason that this despicable man was the one responsible. That he had orchestrated everything. It had to be him.

“Oh, I don’t mind telling you, since you’re so out of your mind you kidnapped a questor. You have to know this won’t end well for you. But are you sure you want me to tell you?”

He knew the name the man would give him, but he had to hear it.

He needed to hear it, to have it confirmed.

So he nodded.

“It was your good friend, Marthus Wirdej. He’s the one who gave the order.”