The Inquisitives [2] Night of Long Shadows (12 page)

This was something that quite upset the Boromar clan, as they secretly owned Silvermist and were using it as an illegal dreamlily den.

Steps had to be taken, and Cutter had been one of the Boromar employees hired to hassle and intimidate the guests until they stopped visiting. It had been his first job for them.

He nodded to the doorman and stepped into a dimly lit dining room. The smells of the night’s dinner service lingered in the air. Roasted meat and vegetables. Seafood and lemon. Fried potatoes. His stomach grumbled in response. He ignored it and looked around.

A bright flare of blue and orange light forced him to shield his eyes. An intake of breath sounded throughout the room, sounding like a sigh of wind. He had entered right at the beginning of a show.

The blue and orange light coalesced into a gently spinning ball that hovered in the air over the stage, the separate colors
twining and bleeding into each other like paint in water. Then it split into two separate balls that drifted apart until they were hovering close to the walls. They spun faster and faster, their glows growing in strength until one side of the room was bathed in blue, while the other was suffused in orange.

The onlookers’ faces were bathed in color. Cutter looked around and saw that the dream parlor had a full house.

The light slowly dimmed. Cutter looked to the front and saw the balls condensing into tiny points of light. After a moment of near darkness, the balls burst open in a silent explosion, flinging globes of multicolored light in all directions. The audience gasped. Some tried to reach up and touch them, but the spheres darted away as if they were alive, drawing appreciative chuckles from the spectators. The balls stopped moving and again shrunk down in size, the light fading until Cutter realized with a small shock of perception that he was actually looking at the night sky, the balls of light now thousands of stars.

Then tiny dragons swooped through the air, banking around tables, swooping in to hover before the delighted faces of the patrons.

Cutter could see Salleon standing on the stage, the gnome’s hands extended as he wove the illusion with deft flicks of his fingers, his eyes closed in concentration.

Cutter gave himself a mental shake and pulled himself away from the show, winding his way through the tables to a door in the far wall. The door led to a corridor, with the kitchen and private dining suites on either side. At the end was another door, which Cutter found to be locked.

Cutter knocked and waited. It opened a moment later, and he stared into the face of a half-orc.

Cutter racked his brain, trying to think of his name.

“Uh … Dajin, right? How’s it going?”

The half-orc said nothing.

“Fine. Listen, I need to speak to Salkith. Instructions from high up.”

The half-orc stared at him.

“I know he’s here. And so does Tiel. You know who Tiel is?”

Cutter saw the eyes flicker slightly. He took that for a yes.

“Good. Now if you know Tiel, you know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I have information to deliver. Are you going to let me in?”

Dajin paused for a moment, then stood aside.

“Thanks.”

Cutter stepped into a large room. Couches lined the walls, along with glamerweave tapestries depicting cityscape scenes from Gatherhold in the Talenta Plains. Seven doors nestled between the tapestries. “Which one?” he asked.

Dajin gestured at a door to Cutter’s left. Cutter opened it and slipped inside the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

The room was tiny. A young dwarf attendant stood beside a bed on which the tanned, wiry form of Salkith was lying. His long, sandy hair was carefully braided and placed on the pillow above his head. The attendant looked at Cutter in surprise, pausing in the movement of lifting a small vial of white liquid to the halfling’s mouth.

“What are you doing?” she said. “You can’t come in here.”

“Wrong. Salkith’s needed back at work. How much have you given him?”

The attendant frowned and glanced at the unconscious figure. “He’s already had one dose tonight. I was just about to top him off.”

“Don’t. I need him awake. How long before he comes out of it?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Guess.”

“About half a bell.”

“Thank you. Now, get out and don’t disturb us. I may have to hurt you if I thought you overheard something you shouldn’t have.”

The woman drew herself up in protest. “I resent—”

“Resent all you want. Just tell me if you understand. That way, I won’t feel bad killing you if I catch you spying.”

The woman paled. “I … I understand.”

“Well done. Now get out.”

The attendant hastily left the room. Cutter waited to see if Dajin would come bursting in, but either she didn’t tell the half-orc, or he thought it was best to stay out of it.

The room was empty except for the bed. He checked underneath it and found two drawers built into the frame. They were filled with white sheets, freshly laundered and folded. Cutter pulled one out and used his Khutai blade to cut it into strips, then lifted Salkith’s arms above his head. He tied them together with the torn sheet, then ran the strip beneath the bed and did the same with his feet.

Cutter stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. No way he was getting out of that. Cutter pulled the other Khutai blade from its sheath and knelt on the floor, placing the knives to either side of him.

He closed his eyes and waited.

It took a little more than half a bell for the halfling to wake. Cutter heard the rustle of the sheets and opened his eyes. He saw Salkith turning his head from side to side as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Cutter picked up his blades and stood. Salkith’s eyes widened
slightly as he saw Cutter rise up from the floor.

“Who—” Salkith licked dry lips. “Who are you?”

“Here’s how it works. You’ve already wasted my time—”

“I’ve been
asleep,”
he protested.

“Is that what you call it? Anyway, that’s not my problem. I’ve been waiting here more than half a bell now, and that’s all the time I was going to give you. Which means you need to talk very fast to tell me what I want to know.”

Salkith strained against the bindings, his corded muscles standing out against his tanned skin. Cutter was glad he’d tied him up. The halfling looked like he could be quite a handful.

“I’ll kill you,” said Salkith. “And your family. Do you have a wife? A woman? Children? They’re dead, you hear me? I’m going to strip their skin and hang it out to dry!”

Cutter stared at him for a moment. “You have no idea what a bad choice of words that was,” he said softly. He leaned over the incapacitated halfling. “Listen to me carefully,” he whispered. “I’m going to hurt you now. I’m going to keep on hurting you until you tell me what I want to know. If you scream, I’ll kill you. I’ll slit your throat. If you make any sound above a whimper, any sound that can be heard outside this room, you’re dead. Do you believe me? Just nod.”

Salkith stared into his eyes. After a long, trembling pause, he nodded.

“Good.” Cutter drew the razor-sharp edge of the blade down Salkith’s arm. Blood welled from the cut and stained the white sheets. Salkith squirmed and moaned, his eyes never leaving Cutter’s.

“That was to show you I’m being serious. Now, what happened tonight at the professor’s rooms?”

Salkith’s brows drew together at the sudden change in topic. “What … happened? I don’t understand.”

Cutter punched Salkith in the face. Hard. The halfling’s head jerked to the side. Droplets of blood sprayed over the white wall.

“Wait!” he snarled. “I don’t understand! What do you want to know?”

“What happened?”

“But … nothing happened. I was supposed to pick something up from him. A … a package. But he changed his mind and didn’t want to give it to me.”

“You were supposed to pick it up from him?”

Salkith nodded desperately.

“What was in the package?”

“I don’t know. I’m just a courier!”

“So what did you do?”

“I left. I wasn’t about to argue with him. I reported it and came here. That’s all I know.”

Cutter frowned. “What were you supposed to do with the package?”

“I was supposed to meet someone at a tavern in Khyber’s Gate. The … the Goblin’s Revenge, it was called.”

“Khyber’s Gate?” said Cutter in surprise. “But that’s Daask territory.”

“That’s all I know! I swear.”

“Last question. Did you see a girl there? With red hair?”

Salkith frowned. “Nobody else was there. We were alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am! Now let me out of here!”

Cutter gathered his knives, then leaned over and picked up the vial of dreamlily the nurse had been holding. The bottle held at least twenty doses.

Cutter poured it all down Salkith’s throat, clamping the halfling’s mouth shut so he was forced to swallow.

That should keep him out of commission for a while, he
thought, closing the door on the halfling’s incoherent cries.

Cutter sighed. Another dead end. He was no closer to finding Rowen. He sheathed his knives. What was he supposed to do now?

Dajin was nowhere to be seen. Cutter yanked open the door that led to the corridor.

Two men stood there. Cutter reached for his knives but someone gripped his arms from behind. He kicked out, feeling his boot connect with a hard stomach. One of his attackers staggered back, struggling to regain his breath.

Cutter was just about to kick out again when the other man lifted a glass vial filled with white fluid. He splashed it into Cutter’s face.

The scent of the liquid hit him and seemed to crawl down his throat of its own accord. He felt it course through his body, a trail of warmth and heaviness.

Couldn’t swallow.

Couldn’t breathe.

His veins felt like they were filled with sluggish fluid. His whole body felt heavy. He sagged, his eyelids drooping.

The last thing he saw was the boot of the man he had just kicked coming at his face.

Cutter yawned and stoked the fire, sitting close to the low flames in an attempt to feed some warmth into his body. Dawn was approaching, a single line of pink and orange that stretched across the wide horizon. The solitary cry of an eagle echoed over the steppe. He looked up, but the bird was invisible against the night-touched sky.

A slight wind shivered the short grass of the steppe, but it
was warm, carrying the scent of flowers and rain. Finally, thought Cutter. The first hint of spring.

The camp began to stir as the morning slowly brightened. Elves crept from their low, stretched-out tents and called greetings to each other. Wood was piled atop banked fires, hands held before the flames. The wind might promise spring, but the early mornings still belonged to winter.

He heard movement behind him, the scuffing of soft leather soles on the dry scrub. A moment later, Thalian knelt next to him.

“The Ancestors bless your day,” the Keeper said formally.

“And yours,” replied Cutter.

Thalian didn’t say anything else. Cutter glanced sideways at him, studying his angular face. The young elf was a Keeper of the Past, the priesthood of the Valenar elves that maintained the memory of the great elf heroes of Xen’drik. They had known each other for three years now, so Cutter could tell when something was bothering the elf.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The messenger who arrived yesterday …” began Thalian.

“Yes?”

“King Vadallia has called our clan to serve him in Taer Valaestas.”

“And?”

“And, slaves are … frowned upon by the King.”

Cutter frowned and turned to the fire. The events of three years ago ran through his head. It was as if he were seeing them in the flames, replayed in the fire like they were replayed every night in his dreams.

He had been sleeping when it happened—or more accurately, passed out. He awoke to the horrendous rending of splintering wood as the ship he traveled on hit a reef off the southeast coast
of Valenar. He was flung from his bed into the cabin wall. All around him was pitch darkness. He hadn’t bothered to activate the everbright globe when he started drinking that afternoon. He could hear the screams of the passengers, the shouts of the captain and his crew as they tried to do something to save the foundering vessel. But it was too late. He crawled on hands and knees to where he thought the hatch should be, and yanked it open. Icy cold water lapped at his hands and knees. A few seconds later, it was up to his wrists.