The Inquisitives [4] The Darkwood Mask (12 page)

Hyran nodded. “Tallis was also a graduate of Rekkenmark Academy and member of the Order. An officer who served in Warlord Dhejdan’s legion, deployed for special missions … 
before
being tried for treason. He was accused of murdering his own squad during one such mission, including a decorated marshal in the warlord’s favor. Tallis did not attend his court-martial and has eluded capture for years. Not surprisingly, his military expertise has complicated our attempts to apprehend him.”

Rekkenmark Academy. Quite possibly Khorvaire’s most esteemed military school. Before the Last War, nobles from every province of the kingdom would send their children to receive military instruction in Karrnath, to study the writings of Galifar’s greatest military minds. During the hundred year long war, only Karrnath’s sons and daughters could be enrolled at the Academy, but after the Treaty of Thronehold, the remaining Five Nations had at last begun to send their promising youths to the famous
training facility again, youths such as Halix ir’Wynarn, King Boranel’s youngest son.

The Order of Rekkenmark was another thing altogether. Only by graduating with honors at the academy or on the king’s recommendation could one join the elite order.

Soneste glanced at the opal ring on the older inquisitive’s finger. “Was he a classmate of yours, Jotrem?” she asked him. The tightening of his lips answered her before his words did.

“I
was
acquainted with him, yes,” he answered, following her eyes to the ring. “Several years before he joined the Order. But Tallis is a criminal now, Miss Otänsin, a traitor to the Academy, the Order, and to Karrnath.”

Hyran nodded, his voice growing cold. “Last night, two White Lions were brought in to the Jorasco house of healing. They were … severely beaten, to say the least. When debriefed, they claimed it was Tallis who had attacked them. If that is true, he is still in the city. The entire garrison has been given his description. Some, like Sergeant Bratta, already know his face. If you name him as the Ebonspire assassin, Miss Otänsin, I will call upon all resources and we will find him in short order.”

Soneste nodded. This Tallis was dangerous, of that there was no doubt. “Minister, may I speak with the witnesses?”

Hyran nodded, slipping a new document within the folder. “Of course, and I have for you a writ which will command the cooperation of most legitimate entities in this city. Major Dalesek can take you to the sergeant and the other White Lions.”

“Thank you,” Soneste said. “Before you leave, I wanted to ask about the ambassador’s travel itinerary.” She held up the small book but said nothing of her finding it. Hyran and Jotrem exchanged surprised glances. “There are a couple of names within I’m wondering if you’re familiar with.”

“Of course.”

“The first is Vorik ir’Alanso.”

Jotrem answered this one. “Vorik’s family owns a tailoring house—some say, the finest in all of Karrnath. Nearly every noble
in this town owns something from the ir’Alanso workshops.” Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Hyran absently examining the silver buttons of his sleeve. A fine uniform he wore, she thought, no doubt custom made. Ir’Alonso’s work?

Soneste considered Gamnon’s family business. The two industries, steel and fashion, seldom overlapped, unless one were outfitting an army of armored soldiers—or, she mused, putting clothes on warforged. “Would you know of any reason a foreign ambassador would wish to meet with a wealthy clothier?”

“It
is
possible, Miss Otänsin,” Jotrem said with a touch of sarcasm, “that the ambassador merely wished to purchase a new dress for his wife. I understand he was traveling on holiday?”

Soneste reddened. Yes, that was likely.

“But why meet with the owner himself? Why not simply visit the shop? His itinerary noted Vorik specifically.” She let the thought hang there, then held up the book again. “Who is Lord Charoth Arkenen?”

Hyran looked back at her then. “Lord Charoth? Another noble, one of the newer players in Karrnath’s export industries. Owns Arkenen Glass, along with a number of tenements and warehouses in the city. He is a wizard, formerly of House Cannith.”

Interesting
. “Formerly?” she asked. “An excoriate?”

Such heirs ejected from their prestigious houses were notorious for their bitterness. This was not surprising, as the dragonmarked houses rivaled nations in sheer wealth and influence. Excoriation, the legal and social severance from one’s house, quite often led to a life of crime as the unfortunate heir peddled out his house’s secrets to the highest bidder. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d heard of such a thing.

Hyran shook his head. “Not quite. Lord Charoth is a … 
self-imposed
exile of his house. In fact, it is well known that Baron Zorlan d’Cannith himself once made a formal offer to Lord Charoth to return him to a place of power within the house. The offer was immediately rebuffed.”

That was strange. When the Day of Mourning destroyed the
country of Cyre, it also claimed the lives of many House Cannith heirs, for the house’s base was in the city of Eston. Among the countless souls lost that day was Starrin d’Cannith, patriarch of the house. Since his death four years ago, three Cannith heirs had vied to succeed him as patriarch of the house. Baron Zorlan, the stern head of Cannith East, lived here in Korth.

“Why would he turn down an offer from the baron?” she asked.

“None know the
true
story,” Hyran said, “but everyone knows that Lord Charoth is the lone survivor of a forgehold disaster that claimed the lives of dozens of House Cannith workers. He emerged from the incident … disfigured.”

Lord Charoth was sounding more interesting by the second. She knew interviewing a wealthy businessman on short notice was far-fetched, but she would certainly try. One thing at a time, though. “Wouldn’t a man of his fame and wealth simply pay Jorasco to heal him? How bad could it be?”

“Evidently they tried. His condition was the result of some kind of creation forge explosion. There are many different stories told of what happened to him.”

“Would your chronicles have anything on him?” Soneste asked.

“They may,” Hyran answered. “I will grant you limited access to the Ministry archives. The
Korth Sentinel
is our local chronicle, back issues of which you can find filed there as well. After his presumed death, Lord Charoth’s emergence was quite the talk in Karrnath. It even made the
Chronicle
. But this was shortly after the Thronehold Treaty. There were more momentous events going on at the time. You will also be able to peruse the few files we have on Tallis, but I admit there isn’t much. The unique nature of his service in the army kept him off most records.”

“Thank you, again, Civic Minister,” Soneste said and meant it. “You’ve been very helpful. The King’s Citadel will be grateful. Will I be able to find you again here?”

Hyran smiled knowingly. “Yes. Use the writ to get their
attention, but I would tread cautiously, Miss Otänsin, if you feel the need to investigate Lord Charoth. He is a powerful man.”

Soneste nodded and tucked the book away. “One more thing. I examined the ambassador’s warforged bodyguard. Defeated by the killer, I assume, but I think he might yet be revived. He may be another witness. Could you send an artificer to assess his condition? The sooner the better.”

Jotrem shook his head. Hyran appeared to consider the request, then inclined his head, businesslike. “I will have the warforged taken to the House Cannith enclave for repair. Return here this afternoon. If it is possible to revive it, I will keep the construct here, under guard. More than a witness—it may be a suspect, no?”

Everyone
is, Soneste thought, even the two of you. “Minister, may I speak plainly?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been given the authority to identify the ambassador’s killer. If you want to find this man, Tallis, please do so. But he is not to be tried or harmed until I have decided he is guilty—or innocent—of this crime. I will not lose sight of the case at hand.” Her eyes flicked to Jotrem. “Nor be distracted by a suspect some obviously wish to pin this crime on. That Tallis is guilty of other crimes, I cannot say.”

Hyran nodded. “I understand your concern. We shall try none who may be connected to the ambassador’s death until you give assent. But understand, Miss Otänsin, Tallis is a Karrn. He is loose in
our
streets, even now, harming our citizens. His life or death is at the behest of our jurisdiction.”

She nodded, refusing to look at Jotrem’s face.

Sergeant Bratta’s demeanor was quite a contrast to the civic minister’s. While Hyran ir’Tennet suppressed his personal opinions beneath a diplomatic veneer appropriate to his station, the mouth of the sergeant before her spewed biased conjecture with every breath.
But for his stilted Karrnathi accent, she might have taken him for a member of the Sharn Watch.

“Killing women and children,” the soldier said for the fifth time. “It was Tallis, I know it. Cowardly bastard. Didn’t realize it until after he left, but I remembered his face.”

“You’ve encountered him before?”

“A few months back,” the Lion growled. “Sabotaged a caravan from Atur as they were coming in Northgate. Took out several of my men then too.”

“Killed?”

“No,” he answered.

Soneste wasn’t yet convinced. She’d questioned each of the White Lions in turn, but only Sergeant Bratta had recognized the man as Tallis. The others described the man they’d seen, and it matched Bratta’s account well enough, albeit with a few hyperbolized embellishments. Another White Lion at the Ebonspire, posted on a balcony several stories directly below the ambassador’s suite, had been attacked by a masked man shortly before the time of the slaughter. Struck down, but not slain.

But the slaughter of the ir’Daresh family was so complete, so
deft
, that she had a hard time believing the same man was responsible. Could this Tallis have partnered with another? Magic could well be involved. How else could the killers breach the Ebonspire’s defenses so easily and escape again? Perhaps Tallis had been double-crossed to take the fall?

Soneste waited for Sergeant Bratta to finish his tirade, then said, “Can you tell me how he escaped?”

“On the balcony. Jumped for the edge, so I put a bolt in his leg. If he climbed down, it would have hurt like Khyber’s own breath.” The man shook his head.

“But?”

“He didn’t climb down. At least not much. The bastard must have been part wizard. Jumped from a balcony clear across to the next tower like a giant frog.”

Such magic was not uncommon in Sharn. Some citizens,
including the Watch, even carried enchanted rings that could slow a fall should they topple from one of the lofty bridges. Soneste turned to Jotrem. “What is the tower across—?”

“A tenement complex,” he cut in, “of individually owned private flats. Tallis would have accessed the Ebonspire that way. I’ve already searched there and interviewed witnesses. The only ones who saw an intruder were private guards, most employed by House Medani. They described a man in a black mask.”

Would have been nice if you’d told me this first, she thought.

“Masked going in, but not going out?” she asked. She’d found the mask, but why would he have removed it and allow himself to be identified? That Tallis had been there, she did not doubt, but something clearly had not gone according to plan.

“I saw no mask,” remarked Sergeant Bratta, irritated. “I saw his face. It was him.”

To Jotrem, she asked, “Could a changeling have impersonated Tallis, knowing you’d love the excuse to go after him?”

“That was no changeling,” Bratta said.

“Anywhere else, perhaps,” Jotrem replied, ignoring him, “but not the Ebonspire. Kundarak magic prevents illusions or shapeshifting of any kind. It’s part of the very walls, not some simple ward one can bypass with a spell.”

“And the Medani guards were well enough to interview?” Soneste asked him.

There was his mouth twitch again. “They’d been knocked out.”

Soneste turned to the White Lion. “Does that sound like the work of the assassin to you, Sergeant?” she asked, but the question was again for Jotrem.

“It means nothing,” the older inquisitive growled. “Tallis has a long history of harming his own countrymen. Whatever shred of loyalty he maintains to Karrnath takes the form of sadism. And you Brelanders? Breland was our enemy once. I doubt he would hesitate to kill
you
, Miss Otänsin.”

“Brel
ish
, Major Dalesek,” she corrected, using his surname for the first and last time. “And Breland has also been Karrnath’s
ally. Ambassador ir’Daresh once served as a captain in a regiment alongside Karrnath. You
were
in the army, weren’t you? Perhaps Tallis knew the ambassador then? Harbored a grudge for some reason, and decided to wait until
after
the war to take revenge?”

Jotrem was silent.

“Thank you for your time, Sergeant,” Soneste said to the White Lion. “If I have any more questions, I will find you.”