D& D - Greyhawk - Night Watch (18 page)

Korbian and Ellon Thigpen sat side by side at the large meeting table, a stack of papers before each, a map spread between them. Various aides bent over the directors’ shoulders, observing a red line marked on the map as Korbian trailed his finger along it and explained the route by which Kentellen Mar would enter the city.

Garett pushed his way to the table and leaned both his hands upon it, deliberately interrupting Korbian in the middle of his instructions. “We need to talk,” he stated quietly, including the mayor in his gaze. Then he added pointedly, “In private.”

Korbian put on a frown of annoyance and waved him away with a beringed hand. “Not now, Captain,” he declared bluntly. “We are in the middle of important preparations. Kentellen Mar arrives at noon, and we still have not determined exactly who will sit on the dais when the mayor presents his welcome. Such matters of precedence. ...” Ellon Thigpen reached out a hand and laid it palm down on the map. It was gesture enough to silence Korbian Ar-thuran. The mayor paused a moment to lean back in his chair and turn his penetrating gaze up to Garett. Then Ellon folded his arms across his chest, and his hands disappeared inside the perfect folds of the sleeves of the finest blue silk robe Garett had ever seen.

“I believe our Captain has something on his mind,” Ellon said with quiet patience. He rose slowly from his chair. Without a further spoken command, the room emptied of all but Korbian, Garett, and Ellon himself. “I assume you have something to report. Does it concern Acton Kathenor’s murder?”.

Garett shook his head. “I took a squad of men to Old Town last night,” he began.

Korbian Arthuran pushed his chair back noisily and stood up. “We hardly have time right now to worry about a few low-lifes getting their throats cut before being dumped in the river.” He leaned on the table and glared impatiently. “It happens all the time in Old Town, Captain. That’s why there’s a wall down there to separate Old Town from the civilized part of the city.”

Garett glared at his superior. At that moment, it was hard to contain the contempt he felt for Greyhawk’s captain-general. “If you bothered to read the reports that I have left on your desk every morning, you’d know the latest of those low-lifes was a young child, kidnapped from the streets while she was playing.”

“So?” Korbian began to fiddle with the pile of papers and maps spread before him. “Her family probably did the deed because they couldn’t afford to feed her anymore. As I said, it happens in Old Town.”

“Please, Korbian!” Ellon Thigpen slammed a hand forcefully down on the table, his face reddening with sudden anger. “Don’t make yourself sound any more like a fool than we already know you are!” The mayor turned away from a stunned Korbian and back to Garett. He let out a long sigh and straightened his resplendent robe. “Now, then, Captain. For better or worse, I am mayor of all Greyhawk, Old Town and New. What about these murders?”

Garett ignored the deadly looks Korbian Arthuran gave him over Ellon Thigpen’s shoulder. With a few harsh words, the mayor of Greyhawk had accomplished what Garett had tried hard to avoid for the past year, and driven an unremovable wedge between his superior and himself. From that moment, he knew he had best never turn his back on the captain-general.

He fixed his gaze on Ellon Thigpen and began a calm, methodical report on the latest murder, the events described by Rudi’s witness, and how it had led them deep into the city sewers last night. The mayor paced around the room as he listened. His expression grew grave, and he stroked his chin with one hand. When Garett began to describe the creature that killed two of his men and injured another, the mayor stopped his pacing and glared at Korbian Arthuran.

“You said nothing to me about two watchmen dying last night,” Ellon accused angrily.

Korbian stiffened. “Captain Garett is late with his report, as usual! ” he countered. He whirled to face the night watch commander and slammed his hand down upon the table for emphasis, just as the mayor had done. “Why was there nothing on my desk this morning about this?” There was nothing Garett could say. For once, Korbian was right. He was late with his report. The business with

Burge and the physician, Govaker, had consumed his time. Since he had no excuse, he offered none. He simply ignored Korbian and went on, instead, to describe the altar and the temple they had found, in all its crudity, in the sewer depths, hesitating only before describing in detail the symbols painted on the walls. He stopped then and waited.

Ellon Thigpen let out a long sigh and resumed his pacing. “And what conclusion do you draw from ail of this, Captain?” he asked finally, his hands disappearing once more into those finely crafted sleeves.

It was Garett’s turn to draw a breath and give a long sigh. He rubbed his nose and looked askance for an instant before saying bluntly what he knew neither of the men before him would want to hear. “These murders are the work of the Homed Society,” he stated, “or one of its cults.” Korbian Arthuran slammed his hand down again. “That’s preposterous!” he shouted.

“These murders’’ Ellon Thigpen repeated, turning his back to Korbian. “You mean just the Old Town murders?” Garett hesitated, then shook his head. “I think they’re linked,” he admitted. “The Old Town killings, Acton Kathenor, all the seers.” Without realizing he’d been doing so, he found himself with one hand tucked deep into his belt, his fingers playing with the amethyst crystals contained with a few coins in his purse. He pulled his hand out at once.

“You think’’ the mayor said pointedly. “Do you have any evidence they’re connected?”

Garett thought. He had to admit it was still mostly just a gut feeling. But there was one piece of evidence. “We tried to find an old seer in the Slum Quarter, a man called the Cat. He was gone, and investigation indicates that he fled the city. But in his quarters we found the symbol of the Horned Society—the horned skull above intertwined serpents—carved into his wall.”

“Well, then he must have been the murderer!” Korbian declared. “He knew we were closing in and ran before he could be apprehended. If he’s gotten away, that’s probably the end of it.”

Garett couldn’t hide the look of scorn that danced across his face. “The little girl was murdered after the Cat vanished,” he said with an open sneer in his voice. “And Rudi’s witness claims two men dumped the body in the South Stream.”

Ellon Thigpen was barely listening. He paced back and forth with his head in one hand, deep in thought, his blue silk robe swirling about his feet. “\bu know what it means if the Homed Society actually is involved, don’t you?” “Why would they be killing Greyhawk citizens?” Korbian asked in a more reasonable voice. “Especially Old Towners? How would it possibly profit them? When you deal with the Horned Society, you have to think in terms of profit!”

Garett frowned. “We obviously don’t have the complete picture yet,” he admitted. “But it must be part of some bigger plan. I think that’s why they went after the seers who might have divined their schemes and given warning.” Korbian Arthuran came around the table and stood between Garett and the mayor. “This is sheerest conjecture!” he declared, glaring from one man to the other. He whirled on Garett, sternly tapping one index finger against the palm of the other hand. “When you described the symbols on the sewer wall, you said the skull had wings, not horns. That alone is enough to cast doubt on this ridiculous theory.”

Ellon Thigpen looked suddenly peevish. He went to the table, gathered up all the notes and maps piled there, and pushed them into the captain-general’s arms. “None of this must spoil Kentellen Mar’s arrival,” he stated brusquely as he seized Korbian Arthuran’s elbow and ushered him toward the door. “And I’m sure you still have security arrangements to oversee, friend Kotbian. We mustn’t keep you from those duties any longer. I’ll finish up here with the captain.”

“But, Ellon!” Korbian shouted with a look of hurtful

surprise as the mayor moved to push the door closed in his face. “We still haven’t decided who will stand with you on the dais!”

“I trust your judgment, Korbian,” Ellon Thigpen answered with a sweet smile that vanished instantly the moment the door clicked shut. He leaned his back against it and drew a breath before striding back to the center of the chamber, where he resumed his pacing.

From outside the chamber windows the noise of the gathering crowd drifted up to Ellon and Garett. It was still hours before Kentellen Mar was due to arrive, and the hammering that rose from outside told that the dais was not yet even completed, but already people were staking out the best places from which to watch the welcoming ceremonies.

Ellon Thigpen went to one of the windows and stared down. “Captain,” he said quietly, “how certain are you of any of this?”

Garett could only shrug as he, too, moved closer to the window. Below, the High Market Square was half-full of colorfully dressed citizens, all milling about, waiting for something wonderful to happen. More and more people streamed up the Processional. Soon the square would be full. Some citizens had opted for the roofs of buildings that lined the parade route. They would not be able to hear the speeches, but they still wanted a glimpse of Kentellen Mar.

“I’m not certain of any of it,” Garett confessed as he watched the mayor out of the comer of his eye. “These are not ordinary crimes, sir. We’re dealing with magic. Of that, I’m certain. And crime and magic are a very subtle mix. I request again that the city directors allow me to consult with the Wizards’ Guild.”

Ellon Thigpen rolled his eyes melodramatically. “"You know what old Fester-face thinks about that,” he said, waving a hand in the air. He raised his voice an octave and whined in an almost perfect imitation of the fat tax collector. “The cost, the cost!”

Garett was too tired for such games. “What of the cost to Greyhawk if the Horned Society is really involved?” he stated flatly. “There’s a powerful wizard behind these murders. And have no doubt—he is an enemy to this city. I say, consult with the guild and worry about the fee afterward. After all, Prestelan Sun lives here, too. He has a stake in this.”

Ellon Thigpen moved suddenly away from the window and resumed his pacing. He glanced at Garett with a troubled expression, then glanced quickly away again. “Yes, well,” he started. “That was my attitude, also, Captain.” The mayor drew a deep breath and let it out in a gush, his shoulders suddenly sagging in the folds of his fine silk garment.

“I trust you, Captain Starlen,” Ellon said abruptly. There was an intent gleam of determination and worry in his eyes as he fixed Garett with his gaze. “I think you care about this city in a way that Korbian does not. To him, the watch is just one step on a ladder to a better social position. But you actually care about the job you do.” He took another breath and paced to the window, where he looked out over his people. “So I’m going to tell you something that must not leave this room.”

The mayor turned around and faced Garett. His expression was completely serious. His hands came together, and the fingers interlocked. The thumbs rubbed nervously against each other. “No word has come in or out of the wizards’ guildhall for two days,” he said, unable to disguise a raspy note of fear in his voice. “I’ve sent messengers,” he said. “I even went myself. The porters do not even answer at the gates, and the gates themselves are sealed fast.”

Garett was incredulous. “There is no word from Prestelan Sun?” Even as he spoke, though, he recalled the archmage and guildmaster had not attended the meeting of directors the morning before, something that was unheard of.

“None,” the mayor affirmed.

Garett scratched his chin. “No one has tried to get inside?”

Ellon Thigpen scoffed. “Come now, Captain. You know the dangers in that as well as I.”

The mayor had a point there. It was a known fact that the walls and gates of the wizards’ guildhall were protected by formidable spells and wards. More than one petty burglar, usually a foreign adventurer not familiar with the ways of Greyhawk, but with more ego than brains, had learned that at the expense of his life, and possibly his soul.

“I’m afraid you’re on your own, Garett Starlen,” the mayor said. “It’s up to you. Greyhawk is in your hands.” Garett regarded the mayor through suddenly narrowed eyelids. He didn’t particularly like Ellon Thigpen’s choice of pronouns.

“But if you can stop these murders and find out clearly what is going on,” Thigpen continued smoothly, “then Greyhawk may have itself a new captain-general.”

Garett bristled, though he tried to hide his reaction, “’You’d dump Korbian, just like that?”

“Dump him?” Ellon Thigpen frowned and shook his head. “Of course not. He has his uses. But I’m sure I could arrange to move him up his ladder,” he hesitated, and the faintest trace of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth, “and out of our way.”

Garett raised an eyebrow. “Our way?” he queried.

The mayor nodded firmly. “You must keep me completely informed. I want to know everything you learn as soon as you learn it, every phase of your investigation.” The noise of the crowd in the square rose again, louder than before, and the hammers rang furiously. Outside the window, all in the city waited for their hero, Kentellen Mar.

Garett knew he must step carefully. He had little desire to take Korbian’s place as captain-general, and less to let Ellon Thigpen use him as a lackey. The seat on the Directorate that would come with such a promotion was no lure to him, either. Politics in general, and Greyhawk’s politics in particular, held no attraction for him. He sensed it would be unwise to say so at this moment, however.

“As soon as I have anything to report, you’ll know about it,” Garett answered diplomatically.

“Good,” Ellon Thigpen said with a sigh. “Now, I must return to the business at hand, I’m afraid. And, please, Captain. This is the second time you’ve come before me smelling of the Abyss.” He made an unpleasant face and added paternally, “Try to clean yourself up a bit, as befits your station. Otherwise, our newfound friendship might not stand the strain.”

Garett only inclined his head before he turned and left the mayor’s chamber. He didn’t even stop at his office. As quickly as he could, he exited the Citadel and hurried down into the crowded square. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Never in his life, he thought, had he needed fresh air so desperately.