Sapphire Crescent (18 page)

“Oh, be quiet,” Emriana said playfully, then jumped up from the bed and began to pace again. “By Waukeen, I wish Vambran would get back here. I can hardly stand this.”

“And what would you do if I never came back?” Vambran said, suddenly standing in the doorway off her patio.

“Vam!” Emriana shouted and jumped up to pull her brother inside.

Jaleene scowled and said, “Master Vambran, you shouldn’t approach Milady’s chambers unannounced. It’s not proper.”

Vambran gave the handmaiden a low bow. “Of course not,” he said, “but I hope you will forgive me in this one instance. I had a feeling she would pop if I didn’t come here immediately upon returning.”

Jaleene rolled her eyes.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered, but she dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand. “So long as you don’t make a habit of it,” she insisted, to which Vambran bowed again, more deeply.

“Oh, stop with the formalities and tell me what you found out!” Emriana demanded, guiding her brother to a single chair in the corner before moving to sit on the bed opposite him.

Vambran glanced sidelong at Jaleene, but Emriana shook her head.

“It’s all right. She knows most of what you were doing already,” the girl explained. “And besides, good luck getting her to leave. She’s terrified I’m going to sneak out again.”

“And shouldn’t I be?” Jaleene retorted. Then the handmaiden grew serious. “Mistress Emriana, Master Vambran, I must tell you both that it makes me terribly nervous, what you’re doing. If Master Dregaul finds out, there’s going to be a firestorm in this house.”

Vambran returned the woman’s look with a grave one of his own.

“I understand,” he said, “but do you know what it is we’re trying to do? A woman was killed the night before last because some very powerful people wanted her out of the way. Just like that”—and he snapped his fingers—”because she was a commoner. I mean to see to it that they don’t get away with it.”

“I know, sir, and I admire that about you. You and Mistress Emriana, the whole Matrell family, have always been very good to me, and I respect my good fortune. I would just hate to see something awful happen to either one of you.”

“There’s always that risk,” Vambran conceded. He set his jaw and continued, “But I am going to see this through to the end, and I think Em feels the same way.”

Emriana nodded solemnly and said, “I have no intention of giving Denrick Pharaboldi any reason at all to think there’s a future between us, but I want to know for sure just what he’s guilty of before I tell him to his face.”

“And you will. I promise,” Vambran replied. “Tonight, I think.”

“So, what did you find out?” Emriana asked, leaning forward. “Did you meet with Jithelle’s mother?”

Vambran sighed.

“I did,” he said. “It broke my heart, too. Did you know that Jithelle also had a sister?”

“No. Did you meet her, too?”

“I did. Her name is Mirolyn. I sat and talked with both of them for a good long time.”

“And?” Emriana asked. “What did they say? Anything useful?”

“I don’t know if I would call it useful, exactly, but I did learn one very important thing.”

“Spit it out!” the girl insisted. Her brother’s stalling was making her crazy.

“Jithelle was pregnant with Denrick’s child,” Vambran said.

Emriana sucked in her breath in shock when she heard her brother’s words. It took her another moment to fully register them in her head, to make sure she understood what he was telling her. She finally let out a long, slow breath and clenched her hands together to keep them from shaking from her anger. She glanced over at Jaleene and saw that her handmaiden was crying, a single tear trickling down the woman’s face from glassy eyes.

“We must make him pay,” Emriana said finally. “It’s more than just breaking off my relationship with him. He must understand how base he is, how utterly cowardly a person he really is.”

“Assuming he was in on it,” Vambran cautioned. “We don’t know that for certain.”

“Then we find out, once and for all, tonight,” Emriana said. “At the party. It will be our best chance to confront him, when he’s not hiding behind the guards on his estate.”

“All right,” Vambran said, nodding. “You will maneuver him into a private corner, and I will drop

in on the pair of you and have a nice long, pointed conversation with the young man.”

“I can do that,” the girl said with conviction. “I can do that very easily.”

II II •

Vambran walked with a purpose as he entered the barracks of the Sapphire Crescent, which were bustling with activity. It surprised him. It was obvious that troops were preparing to depart, packing gear and standing in groups, talking in that excited way when they know they’re about to go on an assignment. Vambran frowned, wondering what might be up.

The lieutenant’s steps were quick, his demeanor businesslike, but he still offered a wave or arm clasp for those men who knew him and greeted him as he went by. Those men were professional soldiers, but many of them, like Adyan and Horial, had become friends. He wondered if, put into a position of having to make a choice between doing their duty to the temple or following him out of personal loyalty, they would aid him. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out, but he feared that such a moment might be drawing near. If things came to a head with the conspirators behind the murders, Vambran might need men he could trust to fight for him. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but he was smart enough to anticipate and plan for the worst.

In the meantime, he had an appointment to keep, one for which he was very late. Captain Vertucio, Vambran’s commanding officer, had sent a summons to him while he’d been visiting with Nimra Skolotti and her daughter. The lieutenant had not received the message immediately, even after returning to the Matrell estate, because of two things. The first, of course, was the fact that the entire household was in something of an uproar, preparing for Emriana’s

birthday party. The second reason was because Vambran had been careful to avoid being seen by too many people, particularly the rest of the family, when he’d returned from his excursion to the east side of the city. The less Uncle Dregaul knew of his whereabouts, the better.

Vambran made haste to the captain’s office, hoping the meeting would not last long. It was already growing late in the day, and Emriana would be devastated if Vambran wasn’t in attendance for the beginning of the party. He’d promised to be her escort during her presentation to the guests, and he had no intention of letting her down. If he could be in and out of the captain’s offices in only a few moments, he should still have plenty of time to get back, clean up, and be ready to go.

Vambran rounded a corner and nearly stumbled into Grand Trabbar Lavant, who was coming from the opposite direction.

The lieutenant stopped himself from scowling and stammered, “I—oh! Grand Trabbar!” He bowed and continued, “You don’t make your way down here into our part of the temple very often. What brings you here today?”

The Grand Trabbar looked Vambran over with a critical eye, and the mercenary began to grow uncomfortable under the high priest’s gaze. It was apparent that the older man was studying him, and Vambran knew that Lavant was aware of his involvement in the aftermath of Jithelle’s and Hoytir’s murders. He wondered if the Grand Trabbar was on to him, if the high priest knew that Vambran had continued to seek out answers even after Kovrim’s warning to be subtle.

Finally, Grand Trabbar Lavant smiled and said, “Vambran Matrell, I was just beginning to wonder if you were going to appear at all today. Your captain sent that message out quite some time ago.”

Vambran sucked in his breath and replied, “My apologies, sir. I was indisposed for most of the morning, and tonight, my House is celebrating my younger sister’s sixteenth birthday. You can imagine what sort of chaos is taking place today as everyone in the household prepares.”

“Yes,” the Grand Trabbar said coolly. “I had, in fact, heard that. Well, we must be quick. There’s no time to waste.”

“Of course, sir,” Vambran replied, trying not to appear wary, though he was feeling very suspicious.

There was no reason why someone as high in the temple’s hierarchy as Lavant would bother to sit in on a meeting between officers of the mercenary company. That told the lieutenant that the Grand Trabbar was up to something, and he was pretty sure it had to do with getting him out of the way of the cover-up of the murders. He smoothed his expression as the pair of them entered Captain Vertucio’s office.

The captain was seated behind a desk, looking over some roster lists, when the high priest and the lieutenant arrived. His eyes brightened at the sight of Vambran.

“Ah, good, he found you!” the officer said. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to send out a search party.”

Vambran smiled slightly and said, “I’m very sorry, sir. As I explained to the Grand Trabbar, things are just a little bit manic at our estate right now. My sister’s birthday party is tonight.”

“Ah, right!” Captain Vertucio said. “I remember you mentioning that. Well, then, I’m sorry to pull you away from your family affairs, but I’ve got important news. We’re going to be shipping the entire company out at first light tomorrow. I’m putting you in charge of logistics. You need to get started immediately.”

Kovrim closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in frustration. He held

that for several moments, massaging the flesh to stave off the headache he could sense was coming. The priest let out a long, slow sigh, trying to relax his whole body, and the effect was startling. He hadn’t realized how tense his shoulders were until he consciously relieved them.

The Syndo was getting nowhere in his search for some evidence that would reveal who was involved in the business deal at which Grand Trabbar Lavant had hinted. Whatever Lavant had going on that might be connected to the deaths of the two commoners, no one knew anything about it, and there was no record of it in the temple’s business logs, current or archives. The high priest

had done a good job of hiding it, if it did exist, which Kovrim was beginning to doubt. He was about ready to throw his hands up in despair and tell his nephew that there was nothing to pursue. Or, that Vambran would have better luck following up other leads, such as with the dead girl’s mother.

Then Kovrim considered a possibility that hadn’t occurred to him before. It made him feel ill at ease, for it was far from honest.

Then again, he told himself, if there’s something going on, do I not have a responsibility to expose it before it brings woe to the entire temple?

The argument didn’t feel terribly convincing. Claiming that the ends justified the means had never held much water with Kovrim, and he certainly didn’t like falling back on it simply out of convenience then. Still, he felt a sense of urgency to do whatever it took to uncover the truth. If that meant a tumble from grace, then so be it. He could atone later, if that was what was required, or suffer the persecutions otherwise. He had to exercise every available option given to him. For Vambran’s sake.

After all, he thought, I gave him that crossbow when he was twelve.

Nodding as if to convince himself, Kovrim scurried out of the records room and back to his own offices. If he was going to do it, he would have to know beforehand that it would offer up results. He shut the door and slid the bolt home, locking the portal securely. Then he sat down at his desk and took several deep, calming breaths. Afterward, he pulled his ceremonial prayer accoutrements out of the drawer of his desk and arranged them carefully on its surface.

First, Kovrim lit a taper from one of the lanterns in his office and used it to light some incense, which he placed in an open bowl. Once the smoke from that began to fill the room and he was sure it would not go out, the priest poured a bit of water from a stone pitcher

he kept handy into a second bowl, a larger one, and set that right before him. He pulled a pouch open and dumped a handful of gold coins, five-sided Sembian nobles, out onto the desk, which he began to drop into the bowl of water one by one. As each coin splashed and tumbled to the bottom of the bowl, Kovrim spoke a word of thanks, or of offering, or a plea for divine favor. When twenty-five coins were piled in the bowl, Kovrim closed his eyes and began to pray.

The priest sat that way for a very long time, murmuring his entreaties to Waukeen, fervently asking for guidance in what he was about to do. He formed the question he wanted answered in his mind, thinking only of it, letting the words of the prayer fall from his lips by rote, focusing every other part of himself on divining the answer. He willed himself to perfect calmness, let the odor of the incense and the joyous presence of his deity wash over him. He was at peace when he prayed, whether he was simply acknowledging his goddess’s favor with appreciation, or he was drawing on the Merchant Friend for miraculous magic. That was his life, his dedication, and he felt no fear, no doubt, when he was in such a state.

After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, but which Kovrim knew was perhaps ten minutes from watching others perform such a prayer, he spoke the question aloud, calmly but firmly, requesting his goddess grant him guidance through its answer.

“Tell me, Lady of Trade, if I shall invade the sanctuary of my quarry and discover the confirmation I seek. Reveal to me, 0 goddess of coin and barter, if I peruse my adversary’s private records, shall I discover the proof I need? Will I find a record of his secret business dealings?”

Almost immediately, a voice, an angelic voice—no, it was beyond angelic; it was power and love and wisdom itself—spoke to him, filled his mind with the answer.

The light of veracity will shine upon all that is hidden from you. Your heart will know the truth it seeks.

All at once the voice, the presence Kovrim had felt, the spirit of his deity, was gone, and he was left sitting alone in his office. He opened his eyes and peered about, feeling displaced for a moment, like he wasn’t where he had expected to be. His fervent prayers always left him feeling that way, and it was comforting, in an odd sort of way, for it confirmed that he was totally devoted to Waukeen at those times, and let nothing else intrude on his deference and dedication.