Sapphire Crescent (7 page)

The male of the two was turned face down and away from Vambran, and the mercenary couldn’t get a clear view of the man’s face. But the woman was on her back, her simple white dress stained with her own blood, her eyes staring sightlessly up into the night, as though she, too, were watching the flare

overhead. On her forehead Vambran could see three fuzzy marks, apparently dots made with a bit of blue chalk, though they were not the neat, orderly marks he would have expected to see on someone vain enough to paint herself as reader, writer, and wizard. They seemed to have been applied hastily.

The flare fizzled out after a moment, returning the courtyard to relative darkness, and Vambran turned his attention back to the sergeant, cocking one eyebrow expectantly. He realized quickly that the soldier could not see his expression, though, because he had gazed into the light of the magical flare and was suffering an inability to see clearly in the darkness.

“Well?” Vambran demanded at last, tired of waiting for the foolish man to admit that the lieutenant was who he said he was and no threat to the city watch.

“All right,” the sergeant said at last, waving Vambran away. “You’ve proved your point. You and your sister can go.” He motioned for his underlings to let the pair pass unhindered, then turned back to Vambran. “But let this be a lesson to you, and don’t go barging in where you aren’t wanted or needed.”

Vambran sniffed in bemused disgust. The suggestion that he was doing anything other than what was noble and right appalled him. That just wasn’t like the city watch at all, to go around insulting members of the merchant families, or of the mercenary companies, for that matter. There might be some resentment or even jealousy on the guards’ parts, but rarely was there such a level of animosity and lack of respect.

At that moment, there was a commotion from the opposite end of the courtyard, where the alley emptied into it. A new group of city guards had arrived, a full squad of twelve, moving out into the open with the obvious self-confidence that Vambran was used to in Arrabar. From the first sergeant’s expression, it was plain to Vambran that the man had neither expected

nor welcomed the intrusion, but he was at a loss as to what to do about it for the moment. More damning evidence against him, as far as Vambran was concerned.

Briefly, the lieutenant considered just outright accusing the original soldiers as imposters to the newcomers, exposing them through their own ignorance of proper procedure and letting the new squad arrest them for impersonation of city officials and, more important, murder, but he doubted it would end as simply as that. More likely, the original group would put up a fight, and Vambran didn’t want Emriana in the middle of a skirmish.

On impulse, Vambran decided to try something. Taking another drawn-out breath, he focused his attention on the sergeant in a new way, drawing on his spiritual connection with his faith and his deity to sense the man’s emotions, his surface thoughts. He let the sensation wash over him, building in strength. At first, all the lieutenant could sense was the presence of thoughts tumbling around, but then he was able to focus specifically on what the man was thinking.

The sergeant was standing there looking back and forth between Vambran and the new arrivals, frowning more deeply by the moment. The new squad of watchmen drew close, and Vambran could see that they were led by a captain, a crisply dressed woman with very short dark hair and a perpetual smirk. She was eyeing the first group askance.

She finally barked, “So? What’s going on here?”

Vambran smiled calmly and replied, “We were just waiting for you to arrive. The sergeant here was just about to tell me where I should report tomorrow. For the debriefing, of course,” he added, still grinning disarmingly.

All the while, he was still focusing on the male sergeant’s mental emanations.

“The debriefing?” the man opposite Vambran asked, obviously confused.

The watch captain nodded and said to Vambran, “Right. You need to be at the district headquarters first thing tomorrow, at seven bells. Do you know where that is?”

Vambran began to read nervousness in the fellow’s mind. He pushed a little further.

“Yes, absolutely,” he answered agreeably. “Seven bells. And you’ll perform the divine ceremony then, too, right? To contact the spirit of the slain victims? Standard procedure whenever there’s a death, right?”

The female captain nodded in agreement.

“Ask for me,” she said, “Captain Leguay.”

Vambran nodded, but his attention was on watching the male and still focusing on the man’s thoughts and emotions.

“Oh, uh, right,” the sergeant said, befuddled. Vambran was reading clear uncertainty and panic in his thoughts by then. “You said you were with House Matrell?” the sergeant asked, and Vambran sensed desperation.

“Right,” he answered, smiling even more. “It’s just around the next bend, in fact.”

“Well, uh, then be sure to report at seven bells, just like she said.”

The captain looked quizzically at her male counterpart and said, “I don’t recognize you. Are you stationed in this district?”

The male’s eyes widened, and his fingers flexed, as though he wanted to go for his half-spear. Vambran sensed almost overwhelming panic, and he was afraid the man would lose his nerve and simply try to fight his way out of the situation, but instead, the greasy-haired fellow shook his head and said, “No, we’re from the other side of the city. We were, urn, working on a special assignment.”

The female cocked one eyebrow, then shrugged it off.

“Ah, well. Saves me from having to fill out the report,” she said. “Let’s get the bodies to the station house.”

The sergeant winced, then nodded and slunk off, just to get away from the woman’s scrutiny. Vambran’s smile grew even broader.

“That sounds fine,” he said, and he was smiling on the inside, too.

The sergeant was clearly scrambling to maintain his facade, struggling to appear legitimate, when all he wanted to do was get away from there. The lieutenant was picking up another line of thought, too. The sergeant was very worried about Vambran finding out about the others, and what sort of threat that would be to him. Who the others were, the lieutenant could not get enough of a read on to figure out, but the sergeant was obviously afraid of them and would do whatever it took to keep them placated. It was, of course, what the lieutenant had hoped to glean from the man, figuring that thugs wouldn’t go to all the trouble to kill someone and make it look like a crime on their own. Someone else had to be behind the deaths, and he figured the best way to find out was to the let the men get away with it, then track them down later.

“Tomorrow, then,” the captain said, and Vambran sensed that it was time for him and his sister to leave.

“Of course,” Vambran said, “We’re on our way.” He turned on his heel and moved over to where Emriana was still scowling at the soldier who had accosted her in the first place. “Come on, Em, let’s get you home and into bed. I’m sure this is enough excitement for you for one night.”

“But my—!” the girl started to protest, but Vambran clamped a hand over her mouth as he spun her around to lead her down the alley.

Emriana squirmed and tugged at her brother’s hand, but when it was clear he wasn’t going to let go, she relaxed and let him lead her away.

When they were far enough from the soldiers not to be overheard, Vambran released her mouth

after whispering, “Don’t make a scene. I have my reasons.”

“They have my dagger,” Emriana complained. “They never gave it back.”

“That’s right,” Vambran replied. “I want them to keep it.”

“Why?” the girl demanded, turning with a furious mien to face her brother. “That was your birthday present to me!”

“Shh!” Vambran admonished her, gesturing for her to quiet down. “Because I want to be able to find that first group of soldiers later,” he explained as they passed out of the alley and back into the street. “Now I have a way to track them.”

“What? How?”

“With magic,” Vambran said.

Across the street from the alley, Prandles saw the two of them emerge, and his shoulders slumped in obvious relief. As the siblings approached the carriage, the driver jumped down to open the door for them.

“And why do you want to track them down?” Emriana asked quietly.

“Because I don’t think they were city guards,” Vambran replied. “I think something else was going on here.”

He wondered if he was being as foolish as that comment just sounded. Even with all of the intrigue so common to Arrabar, thugs posing as the city watch seemed a bit farfetched.

“Then why didn’t you report that to the others when they arrived?”

“Because, my incorrigible sister, you were in the middle of it, and if a fight broke out, you’d have been in a risky spot.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did hiding behind those crates?” Vambran asked sarcastically, scowling. “That was really foolish, you know.”

No more foolish than you running down an alley by yourself.” Emriana replied smugly.

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Vambran said, sighing in exasperation, “I’m a trained soldier, equipped to deal with the kinds of things found in dark alleys. I really can take care of myself. You aren’t used to dealing with anything beyond the walls of House Matrell yet, though you may think you are. Em, didn’t you see that woman lying there? She was dead, killed by those men. I don’t want that to be you.”

“Vambran,” Emriana whispered, changing the subject, “I think I knew that woman.”

“What?” Vambran said, spinning his sister to face him. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know,” the girl confessed, shaking her head doubtfully. “But I think I’ve seen her somewhere. Several times, in fact.”

“Try to remember, Em,” Vambran encouraged her.

“When I saw your signal, Master Vambran, I was about to drive home and fetch the house guards,” Prandles said to the pair. “But thankfully, those city guards arrived. Is everyone all right?”

Vambran, realizing that they were standing in the middle of the quiet street, nodded as he turned Emriana and guided her to the steps of the vehicle.

“Yes,” he answered as Prandles helped Emriana up into the seat. “The guards are taking care of it.” He climbed in after his sister. “But we were lucky,” he said, giving Emriana a stare as he sat down.

“You had me worried more than a man has a right to be, Mistress Emriana,” the driver added, trying not to scold a superior, but making his point all the same.

“Prandles, the next time she tries to sneak off, even if she orders you to sit still and be quiet, you have my

permission to hold her down and sit on her to keep her out of trouble,” Vambran said, though he was still looking directly at Emriana as he said it.

The girl bristled and started to open her mouth to protest, but Vambran gave her a level look so scathing that she wilted under it and snapped her teeth shut again.

“As you say, sir,” Prandles replied, though Vambran knew the man would never do any such thing.

All the way back to the front gates of the Matrell estate, Emriana sat opposite her brother and scowled. But Vambran was in no mood to soothe her feelings tight then. He was figuring out what he was going to do about men pretending to be city guards.

• • •

Grozier Talricci, standing behind Bartimus and watching the events taking place in the mirror, made a strangled sound deep in his throat. Bartimus couldn’t blame the man; it was an amazing stroke of bad luck that Vambran and Emriana Matrell had managed to stumble onto the scene when they did, and the arrival of a second squad of watchmen, legitimate guards who had claimed the body and were taking it back to the station house, just made everything worse. The uniforms for the team had been meant as a means of avoiding notice, but through terrible luck, they were being forced to pose as guards for who knew how long. Events had just gotten far more complicated than they really should have been, and Bartimus was very sympathetic toward Grozier’s state of mind at that moment.

The wizard waited expectantly for Grozier to give him some kind of instructions, occasionally glancing around at his study. There were only a few candles burning, not really giving off enough light to make everything out clearly, though that wasn’t causing a

problem right then, since the scene the pair of them were currently scrying was dark, too. But he had been working by candlelight for quite a while, having run out of lamp oil at some point and never bothering to go fetch any more from the storerooms. So the place was constantly dark.

Matters weren’t helped by the dim decor of Bartimus’s chambers. He had always liked rich, dark furniture, things made of dark woods and leather. He had plenty of it in there, with shelves lining just about every wall, and more than a few chairs, tables, and desks in what space was left over. Of course, most of all that was stacked with piles of books, tablets, and scroll cases, with even more spilling over onto the floor in every imaginable corner. The few tapestries that hung on the walls, mostly covered up by shelving, had the same heavy colors, as did the rug on the floor. There was more of the same in the other room, where Bartimus slept. It was a consistent theme, he realized. Somehow, it contrasted nicely with Bartimus’s incessantly pasty skin.

The place needed a good cleaning, Bartimus noticed, looking around more earnestly then, though the wizard told himself that at least once a tenday and somehow never managed to do anything about it. To much else going on to take time for housework. And there was no way he was going to bring anyone else in there to do it for him. If he ever let anyone else into his chambers to move things around, he’d never find half his possessions again. Even having Grozier in there was making him nervous; one wrong step, and the man could send a whole pile of stuff scattering across the floor.

Perhaps a special sort of servant spell could do the trick, the diminutive wizard mused, pondering briefly if he had ever acquired such an incantation, and where it might be stashed in his collection of scrolls, books, and other magical writings.