The Inquisitives [2] Night of Long Shadows (34 page)

He looked up and saw the raver’s face not inches from his
own, mouth open to reveal serrated teeth. It lunged in to take a chunk out of Wren’s neck.

Wren jerked backward and plunged the dagger up in an instinctive movement. The blade caught the raver under the chin and thrust up into its brain. The creature’s mouth snapped shut on its tongue, cutting the tip clean off. One of its eyes closed. The other opened wide, the eyelid fluttering as if it had a tick. Wren wrenched the dagger out and the raver collapsed onto the side of the coach. The half-elf helped it on its way, kicking it over the edge.

The other raver still burned. The fire had spread up its legs and across one arm. Wren leaned over and stabbed whatever was in reach, hitting the upper arm that wasn’t on fire. The raver screeched and whipped around to glare at Wren, then it stood up and leaped over the side. Wren grabbed the side of the skycoach and watched the creature plummet directly into a huge shard of glass. The spire punched through the raver’s stomach and the creature slid down the shaft, the width at the spike’s base ripping the creature apart.

Wren collapsed into the seat, gasping for breath. Col had righted the skycoach and was guiding it straight up into the air. Col looked over his shoulder, and Wren was astounded to see the man grinning.

“Now was that an escape, or was that an escape?” he shouted.

“Yes. Well, something like that, certainly,” said Wren.

Col let out a whoop of delight. “Where to?” he called.

Wren struggled to pull himself up and climbed over the seats to the front. “To Skyway. All we can do now is find Cutter and hope he got the shard from Tiel.”

“We’re on our way.”

T
he first thing Cutter did when he left Tiel’s place was find a House Jorasco healer, using some of the money he had picked up at Silvermist to pay. He wanted to be in top condition when he took on the halfling. He was confident he could take Tiel, but he wasn’t sure about Bren. He still had to figure out what to do about him.

As he was leaving the healer, he stole an expensive thigh-length coat with intricate embroidering around the cuffs. It belonged to a nobleman visiting one of the other healers for a broken arm. Cutter buttoned it up over his bloody shirt, trying to look halfway respectable. Halfway—because no matter how expensive the outfit, he always looked like he was wearing someone else’s clothes.

The House Lyrandar skycoach carried Cutter up into the late afternoon sky. The summer day had turned humid. Black clouds piled up on the horizon over the Dagger River. Thunderheads climbed high into the sky, lit golden on one side by the lowering
sun. As the coach took him to his destination, the heavy clouds slowly moved across the sun. Golden streamers punched through the dense curtain to dance across the water below.

The storm would hit before the day was out.

A shadow fell across the coach as the driver took them beneath the massive floating district of Skyway. From this angle, it looked like a massive white cloud, the layers of magical cloud-stuff the floating island rested on obscuring everything else from view.

They glided out from under the shadow and rose above the lip of the island. From this height, it was abundantly clear to Cutter the kind of money needed to live here. Mansions ten times the size of Tiel’s dotted the landscape. Their gardens were so large they could have been parks. Cutter watched as a griffon padded sedately along a wide boulevard, the rider sitting tall in his seat. He nodded at a carriage that trundled past, pulled by a pair of hippogriffs.

Skyway was separated into two halves—Brilliant to the north, and Azure to the south, with Cloudpool Park cutting through the middle. Cutter had heard people speak about the park, but he’d never expected to see it for himself.

Cloudpool Park was formed of clouds—or at least, a magical version of clouds that had been teased into the shapes of trees and bushes, statues, and animals. As the coach drifted slowly over the park, Cutter could see people walking along the pathways, tiny splashes of color amidst the whiteness. The scene appeared as if a blanket of snow had fallen over everything, so fresh it still held its lightness and color.

The hotel he had heard Tiel mention was not far from the park. The skycoach circled the hotel a few times, waiting for another coach to land on the roof and deliver its passengers. His driver followed suit and Cutter disembarked. The skycoach lifted
back into the air, banked to the right, and soared away over the palatial estates.

Cutter glanced around. Expensive skycoaches and coaches with empty harnesses were parked neatly on the rooftop. Trees had been planted around the perimeter of the roof, adding color to the gray stonework.

A door opened into a small foyer, and two pairs of doors led from the room. One gave access to a lift, the other to a set of stairs. Cutter took the lift and it whisked him down to the ground floor.

He pushed the door open and stepped into a brightly lit entrance hall. Expensively dressed guests milled around, glancing surreptitiously at each others’ clothes and jewelry. Skylights spilled the last of the lowering sun into the foyer. The dark clouds had drawn closer, now towering high above Skyway.

A huge desk occupied the center of the foyer. A well-dressed elf stood behind it, talking to a tall woman wearing—Cutter stared hard at her clothing as he approached—was she really wearing lizard skin? It certainly looked like she was. She turned and he saw fierce claws gathered around her neck. Maybe something from the Talenta Plains, then. He shook his head as she walked past. Some people just had too much money.

“Can I help you?” asked the elf. Cutter saw the brief flicker of confusion on his face as he tried to reconcile the expensive coat with the cuts and bruises on Cutter’s neck and face.

“I was mugged,” said Cutter, indicating his face.

“How absolutely dreadful!” exclaimed the elf. “Not here, surely?”

“No, no. In Menthis. Can’t even have a peaceful night out at the opera nowadays.”

“I know, I know. What is the world coming to?” The elf smiled. “How may I help you?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting a friend of mine. His name’s Tiel. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

“A friend of Master Boromar’s? How delightful. Master Boromar has taken one of our best suites. Room 412. But I think he’s in the restaurant at the moment.”

“Oh. That’s fine, then. I’ll join him there. Thank you for your help.”

“Not at all. And watch out for muggers,” he called jovially as Cutter turned away.

Cutter looked back to see him smiling. “Will do,” he said brightly, matching the elf’s tone.

He waited until the elf was occupied with another customer, then walked quickly to the stairs, running up them two at a time until he reached the fourth floor. He pulled the door open and walked onto a carpet so thick it covered the toes of his boots.

Room 412 was at the end of the corridor. Next to it, another staircase rose behind a dark wooden door carved with a bas relief of … Cutter squinted at it. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought it may have been something to do with the Silver Flame. He pushed at the door to the halfling’s room to see if it was locked. It wasn’t.

Perfect. He looked around to make sure he was alone, then took out a knife and jammed it between the door and the frame of Tiel’s chamber. He moved it about a bit, then took it out and stepped into the stairwell, keeping the door open a fraction so he could see into the hall.

Bren sat opposite Tiel and stared out the window at the ominous clouds building in the distance. His shirt was sticking to his back in the humidity.

He liked storms. There was something … primeval about them. Something to put people in their place, remind them that they weren’t as important as they thought.

This one looked like it would be big.

Bren took a sip from the brandy Tiel had insisted on ordering for him. “It’s a celebration!” he’d said. “After tonight, everyone will know who Tiel Boromar is.”

Bren had accepted the drink even though he wasn’t in the mood for celebrating. He’d learned a lot in the past few hours that he wasn’t happy with. He needed time alone to sort through everything, to figure out how he felt.

No. He knew how he felt. He glanced at Tiel from the corner of his eye as the halfling devoured a steak so rare the blood pooled on his plate.

Disgusted. That was how he felt.

And guilty. That was another one.

The fact was, he’d liked Cutter.
And
Rowen. He thought they made a good couple, reckoned they would soon leave all this stuff behind and try to make a life for themselves.

He’d found himself wondering if he wanted that, too.

“You know what to do?” asked Tiel, interrupting his reverie.

“You’ve told me ten times already. I know what to do.”

“You understand I’m not scared,” said Tiel, around a mouthful of food. He swallowed. “Because I’m not.”

“I know you’re not, Tiel.”

“I just can’t be at the Tain’s house when all this happens.”

“I know.”

He looked like he was about to say something else when that irritating elf from the front desk nervously approached the table.

“Master Boromar?” he said, wringing his hands.

Tiel looked up. “What? Wasn’t the tip I left big enough?”

“No, no. You were more than generous. It’s just that … uh, we have a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” asked Bren.

“It seems that the, ah … wards on your rooms have been broken. We’ve sent guards up. They haven’t found anyone there, but we thought you would want to take a look around. Make sure nothing’s been stolen.”

Bren raised an eyebrow at Tiel. The halfling shook his head and tapped his pocket. “Safe and sound. But you’d better go have a look around. Make sure my clothes are still there.”

Bren nodded and rose from the table.

The elf moved aside. “We’re most dreadfully sorry about this. Nothing like it has ever happened before.”

Tiel leaned back in his chair. “I’m most disappointed. I hope you don’t expect me to pay for my stay now. If I were forced to pay, who knows who I might talk to? Break-ins are very bad publicity, you know.”

“Of course, of course. You’ll be well looked after, Master Boromar.”

Bren shook his head as he left the restaurant and walked through the foyer. All that money and he was still trying to scrounge free room and board. Some people never changed.

Bren took the lift to their floor and headed down the corridor to Tiel’s rooms. A guard stood outside the door.

“You can go now.”

The guard nodded. “The wards will reactivate once you close the door.”

Fat lot of good they did the first time, thought Bren, but he didn’t say anything.

He stood in the doorway and looked around the room. Nothing had been disturbed. Nothing touched. He frowned. Nobody had been in this room. He could tell. Had they been scared away?

Or was it some kind of trap?

He whirled around even as this thought entered his head. Cutter stood in the doorway, his hands raised in the air, waiting for Bren to notice him.

“I was standing there for five seconds, Bren. I could have taken you.”

Bren straightened. “Cutter,” he said. “Good to see you alive.” And he meant it.

“Yeah. I’m pretty happy about that myself.”

“Jana?”

“Dead.”

Bren nodded. “You want a drink?” he asked.

Cutter shook his head. “I want to talk.”

“That why you broke the ward? To talk to me?”

“Actually, I was hoping Tiel would come up, but this is fine.”

Bren strolled over to an armchair and sat down. Cutter followed him into the room and sat on the bed.

“Tiel doesn’t like creased bed sheets, Cutter. You’d better straighten them when you’re done.”

Cutter shook his head. “Why are you working for him?”

“That’s my business. What are you doing here, Cutter?”

“I want a favor.”

“Oh? What makes you think I’d do you any favors?”

“Because you knew Rowen. And you know she didn’t deserve to die.”