Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (13 page)

I
ducked down a side street and stopped. It was early, so it was empty. I’d never
been able to dispel a mind intruder and walk at the same time. Not coordinated
enough, I guess. I stilled my thoughts and waited. My visitor was impatient, so
I didn’t have to wait long. My action was rewarded by a pained shriek from the
other side.

Visitor
gone. Problem solved. For now. I knew he’d be back, and he’d probably bring a
friend or two with him—or his boss. Sarad Nukpana must have either been a late
sleeper or busy getting in a little prebreakfast torture. Before he had some
time to spare for me, I was going to do everything I could to make sure my mind
wasn’t such an interesting destination, or myself such an irresistible target.

One
big way to do that would be to take off the amulet. Not recommended under
normal circumstances, but I had been thinking. If I had the white stone box the
amulet came in, half of my problem might solve itself. Quentin had dropped the
box when the Khrynsani shamans came through the Gate. Through my link with
Quentin, I had seen that there were runes carved into the surface—runes that
were probably containment spells. If I could find that box, I might be able to
take the amulet off. I’d worry later about what to do with an amulet-in-a-box.
One problem at a time.

First
stop, Nigel’s house. I’d done work for the city watch, and counted several
officers as friends. I didn’t think it’d be all that difficult to talk my way into
the house. Finding the box and having my idea work was another thing, not to
mention a slim hope, but at this point I’d take what I could get. At the very
least, it put a spring in my step for the rest of the way to Nigel’s house.

I
took a shortcut through Brightleaf, the Elven District’s oldest and most
elegant section. Trouble rarely came to Brightleaf, and on the rare occasions
when it did, it had the decency to use the back door. The old blood disliked
disruptions to their well-ordered lives, and maintained bodyguards to ensure it
didn’t taint their doorsteps. High-walled gardens further insulated them from
the baser elements. If they couldn’t make trouble go away, they at least went
to great lengths to pretend it didn’t exist.

Just
because I didn’t care to be around most elven aristocrats, didn’t mean I
couldn’t appreciate their taste. Mermeia was built on a marsh, but a stroll
through Brightleaf convinced you otherwise. It was amazing what a lot of money
and a little magic could do. Aristocratic elves had a thing for trees, and the
more the merrier. Since this section of Mermeia didn’t have enough for them,
the elves had planted additional trees. Now Brightleaf looked like a woodland
park in the middle of the city. The flowers of the kembaugh tree attracted
fireflies, and I had to admit it made for a pretty sight at night with all the
twinkling lights. All in all, a nice way to live if you could afford it.

As I
walked along the cobbled and tree-lined avenue that ran next to the Old Earl’s
Canal, I caught an occasional glimpse of shaded courtyards through ornate—and
securely locked—gates. Mermeia’s canals rose and fell with the tide, and the
smell along with it. Not in Brightleaf. An elaborate system of filters had been
installed at the entrance to every canal where it entered Brightleaf. The water
was always pristinely clean, and smelled the same way.

A
lone boatman leisurely poled his way down the canal. He sang as he went, a
simple tune I had heard boatmen sing on canals all over the city. His voice was
pleasant enough, but not really all that memorable. That was what I heard. What
I felt flowing quietly under his song was something else entirely. Paladin
Mychael Eiliesor was up early. I wasn’t the only one with a morning mind
visitor, but the boatman seemed oblivious. Unlike the Khrynsani shaman,
Eiliesor didn’t invite himself into my head, and using the boatman’s voice
wasn’t all that invasive either. As far as doing something like that went, it
was actually quite polite. It was also sneaky. The Guardian wasn’t inside
my
head, so I couldn’t do a thing to get rid of him. Eiliesor could follow me
anywhere in the city using the same trick with any susceptible passerby.

I
didn’t feel like being followed. Time for a little sneakiness of my own. I felt
bad about involving the boatman, but I’d feel worse if Eiliesor tracked me long
enough to locate me physically. I didn’t know if I could break Eiliesor’s
contact with the boatman, but I could sure give him something else to think
about. I could move small objects with my mind, and a gondola pole was a small
object. I concentrated, yanked, and the boatman took a swim. When the baffled
boatman managed to heave himself back into his gondola, his sputtering sounded
a lot like a certain Guardian commander.

I
grinned and darted around the corner and out of sight. Mission accomplished.

Nigel’s
townhouse must be crawling with city watch by now. Considering who and what
Nigel was, Janek Tawl would probably be in charge of the investigation. And the
hands-on type that he was, Janek would be overseeing things himself. If that
was the case, I should be able to talk my way into the house for a little
investigating of my own.

After
that, I’d put myself out of circulation for a few hours at one of Markus’s
safehouses. The peace and quiet would be welcome. A nap, a bath, and a decent
meal wouldn’t hurt, either.

I
ducked out of sight once I crossed the canal at Wormall Mews. This part of the
Sorcerers District was a rabbit’s warren of twisting streets and alleys that no
one was going to follow me through—at least no one using feet. And if someone
did pick up my trail, it was broad daylight, I was armed in more ways than one,
and if my follower wanted a fight, I was more than willing.

The
bridge across the canal to Pasquine Street was busier than usual for that time
of day. Hardly surprising considering what had happened there last night. I
stepped to the railing to allow a cart to pass, and a flash of red caught my
eye. Pasquine Street had the dubious distinction of being the closest point in
the Sorcerers District to the goblin embassy. The Khrynsani banner had joined
the royal standard already flying over the compound. I guess after last night,
there wasn’t much use in Sarad Nukpana denying that he and his boys were in
town. The amulet thrummed under my shirt.

“Oh,
shut up,” I muttered.

Wormall
Mews was thick with small businesses popular with nonsorcerers.
Fortune-tellers, alchemists, astrologers, and the like did a healthy business
parting the local Mermeian population from their coin. Most of the proprietors
were only marginally talented, but a convincing performance went a long way
toward building a successful business.

I
walked the two blocks down Pasquine, keeping to the side of the street opposite
Nigel’s house. I spotted Janek talking to someone who looked like he might be
one of Nigel’s wealthy merchant neighbors. Janek saw me about the same time.

Chief
Watcher Janek Tawl was human, Brenirian by birth, and a watcher by natural
talent. People trusted Janek, even people who weren’t particularly trustworthy
themselves. His knack for getting results had put him on the fast track to
second in command of the watch in the Sorcerers District. That was as far as he
wanted to go. Janek liked being on the streets with the people. He looked like
a watcher. It wasn’t just that he was built like a soldier, all ropy muscle—it
was an attitude. An attitude that said “Don’t even think about trying that in
my District.”

Janek
had helped me in the past, and I had given him more than a few leads. He was
probably hoping for one or two more this morning, but I didn’t see myself being
helpful, at least not yet. Janek could toss me in jail for where I had been
last night, what I had done, what I was wearing around my neck, and how it had
gotten there.

I
crossed the street. One of the watchers charged with keeping the curious away
moved to head me off. I pushed back my hood just enough for him to see my face,
and he waved me through. Sometimes it’s nice to be recognized.

More
than a few seekers found their way onto the city watch. Logical enough, I
guess, since things and people manage to get themselves lost on a daily basis.
The money seekers made on the watch wasn’t good, but it was steady. I’d admit
to being tempted from time to time, but never any more than that. I’ve always
had problems with orders—especially the taking and following part.

From
what I could overhear, Nigel’s neighbor didn’t realize what had happened until
this morning. Janek took a few notes, thanked the man for his time, and
strolled over to me, shaking his head in amazement.

“Goblins
demolish the bedroom, break most of the windows on the back of the house, and
have a full-scale battle in the garden, and Master Owen doesn’t hear a thing.”

It
was my turn to be amazed. “He was home?”

“Yes.
He said he slept through the whole thing.”

“You
believe him?”

“No
one could sleep through that. Though from what we found in the garden and canal
out back, part of me can’t blame him for wanting to turn a blind eye.”

“That
bad?”

Janek
tucked a small notebook into his belt. “Pretty grim. No one liked Nigel, but
more than a few powerful people are suddenly interested in his well-being now
that he’s missing.”

“Nigel’s
missing?” That was news.

The
watcher nodded. “And when powerful people are interested, the commissioner’s
interested. Which means I’m supposed to find Nigel, and fast.”

“Easier
said than done this week.”

“Yeah,
he picked a hell of a time to make himself vanish,” Janek said. “The city’s
crawling with foreign nobles, so it’s not like we don’t already have our hands
full. Everyone’s working overtime, and the local criminals are the only ones
who don’t mind.” He chuckled. “To add insult to injury, they’re making more
money at it than we are. First time to the big city for a lot of the nobles,
and they don’t have the sense to keep their purses and jewels to themselves.
Our locals just can’t resist that much temptation.”

I
could attest to the craziness. Alix had been run ragged for the past month with
costume fittings for Mermeian social climbers invited to the goblin king’s
masked ball. Costumes weren’t her normal business, but most of the better robe
designers had expanded their services to meet the sudden demand. It was the
only chance some would get to rub elbows with goblin royalty, and they weren’t
about to miss the opportunity. It was the aura of danger even more than the
prestige that drew many of them to the ball, but they’d be better off—and a lot
safer—if they just stayed at home.

“Where
was Nigel last night?” I asked.

“He
was scheduled to do a séance for the Marquis of Timur. The marquis’ gondola
arrived at Nigel’s dock at nine bells last night. Nigel got in, the gondola
pulled away. Neither he, the boatman, nor the gondola have been seen since.”

“What
did the marquis have to say?”

“All
he could do is complain that he was missing his best gondola and boatman. I
think he was more upset by losing the gondola.”

“Kidnapping?”

“That’s
my guess. I’ve got men out looking for Nigel, the boatman, and the gondola, but
so far we’ve come up empty on all counts. When I got here this morning, I found
my men busier keeping people out than gathering evidence.”

“The
curiosity factor’s bound to be high,” I said.

A
grin spread across Janek’s unshaven face. “I wouldn’t call these people
curious. Desperate is more like it. Riggs said they were doing a pathetic job
of covering it up. A couple of them turned out to be servants of some rather
highborn ladies—and a few highborn gentlemen. If Riggs was the bribe-taking
type, he could have earned his retirement this morning.”

I
remembered the viewing screen concealed in Nigel’s bedroom wall. I was willing
to bet Janek’s men were going to find all sorts of interesting evidence, and
most of it probably wouldn’t have a thing to do with last night. Good for me.
Bad for the local aristocracy.

“You
heard what happened?” Janek asked.

“Everyone’s
heard.”

I
didn’t give anything away with that. One good thing about lack of sleep, you
only had one expression—tired. Janek was wearing the same one.

“Nigel’s
not too popular with the locals, goblins included,” the watcher continued.
“There are probably more than a few people waiting to help him into permanent
retirement.”

“You
think the goblins expected Nigel to be at home?”

Janek
shook his head. “I’d say the break-in was for robbery, but with Nigel missing,
there’s no way to find out for sure just what was stolen, if anything. One hell
of a fight is about the only thing we can say for sure happened.”

He’d
get no argument from me on that one.

“That
and a Gate ripped into Nigel’s upstairs front hall. Messy one, too. Rush job,
and they didn’t stay around to clean up the residuals.”

I
knew it. “Any idea who made it?”

“The
Khrynsani are in town, so they’re definitely suspect. But they’re not the only
ones in Mermeia capable of creating a Gate.”