The Sapphire Crescent

CHAPTER SIX

"Even if Anista Pharaboldi or her husband are in some way involved in this mess, I honestly don't think Denrick knows what's going on," Emriana said to her brother. She had returned to his rooms right after Uncle Kovrim had left, and they were discussing what she'd learned that day. Vambran paced while she sat cross-legged on his bed. "I was watching him carefully when I told him what we'd seen, and he didn't even react. I made sure I didn't mention any names-well, at the time, I didn't know Jithelle's name-so that if he didn't know, I wouldn't get him riled up. If he was already aware of her death, I think I could have been able to tell, and he didn't blink at all."

"Maybe," Vambran said, still walking back and forth, pulling at his lips in thought. He had dressed in a fresh outfit and seemed none the worse for wear after his ordeal at the aszraun. "Or he could just be an incredibly good actor. You took an awfully big risk, testing him that way. If House Pharaboldi wants to keep their connection with the woman quiet, revealing that you know isn't going to help anything."

"I said I was subtle, Vambran. Besides, I did all that before I knew he was bedding her." Emriana rolled her eyes and sighed. "And before I knew about the attack on you. If I had already found out that there was that strong of a connection, I never would have brought it up in front of him. As it was, I pretended to be exhausted for the rest of the afternoon to avoid seeing him again."

"Yeah," Vambran said softly. "I'm sorry you had to find that out, Em."

"Oh, please," she said, forcing a laugh. "You know how I felt about Denrick before. It just confirmed my low opinion of him."

She gave Vambran a wink, but down inside, she had to admit there was at least a little pain. Finding out anyone wasn't being honest with her would do that.

"Do you think the maid who told you all this will keep quiet?"

"I imagine," Emriana replied. "It doesn't help her at all to admit she broke a confidence, especially one her mistress established with her."

"I sure hope so," said Vambran. "You need to be careful, especially now. If Denrick didn't know before, he's going to find out sooner or later. He's still likely to figure that it was Jithelle you were talking about. He may still get suspicious that you know more than you admitted."

"And do what?" Em asked dismissively. "At worst, he thinks I knew who it was during the picnic and didn't tell him. In the strictest sense, that's not true, but he might think that. Even so, what's he going to do? Get angry? Refuse to see me anymore? It's not like I'm ever going to allow him to think I'm taking him seriously again. Not when he sleeps with his family's staff."

"He might not be content with that solution, Em. From what you've said in the past, Denrick sounds like the kind of person who's used to getting what he wants. What if he still wants you, especially now that his secret mistress is no longer around?"

"It's never going to happen," Emriana said firmly.

"Or, what if the Pharaboldis are somehow responsible for Jithelle's and Hoytir's deaths? Even if Denrick isn't in on it, once he finds out and mentions that you know about it, don't you think they'll consider you a threat to them? Whoever was responsible for these murders, they won't be afraid to kill again to keep their secrets intact. They tried it once already, today."

Her brother was looking at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"You really think assassins would come after me?" Emriana asked, trying to sound off-handed, but more than a bit nervous. "They'd have a hard time getting in here, with all of Uncle Dregaul's security in place to keep me from getting out."

Vambran stopped pacing and turned to face his sister directly.

"Em," he said, "I know you're all grown up now, turning sixteen in a couple of days, but please listen to me on this." He reached forward and took his sister by the shoulders, forcing her to see his face. "You're not invincible; neither am I. Look what happened to me today, and I'm trained to expect it. There are people out there who are capable of a lot of unpleasant things, and you haven't been around them like I have. Even though Uncle Dregaul would probably prefer it, you can't hide in here your whole life. I'm just asking you to be careful. There's still so much we don't know."

Emriana smiled and leaned forward to hug her brother warmly.

"I know" she said, and held him tightly for a good long time, trying to let some of her worry for him melt away. Then she released him finally and sat back again. "I appreciate it. And I will. But you have to admit, it was a stroke of good fortune, my conversation with Patimi."

"Yes. That's true," Vambran said, pacing once more. "Though I had already heard about the plague story as of this morning, at least we now know who the victims are. I'm not sure where that gets us, though. Maybe we could find out more from the rest of the staff at the Pharaboldis', or from Jithelle's or Hoytir's families."

"Now who's talking about taking risks? How are you going to do that without being noticed by the Pharaboldis themselves?" Emriana sat straighter and reached out to grab Vambran by the hand to force him to stop pacing. "More important, why are we trying to figure all this out ourselves? What good is it doing us to stick our noses in this mess?"

Vambran gave his sister a look that she couldn't read. "Because it's the right thing to do, Em," he said softly. "Because no one else in Arrabar seems at all interested in seeking justice. 'They're just a couple of working class servants,' " he intoned. "Maybe they're even guilty, and everyone has been reading them wrong. But no one has been able to prove it, yet. I can't let that go. Not again."

There it was again, Emriana realized. Those strange comments her brother was making. What was he talking about? She started to open her mouth to ask him, when suddenly, it hit her. The accident! Aunt Xaphira's disappearance! It all made sense, and the realization made her gasp.

"What is it?" Vambran asked, concern in his eyes.

"N-Nothing," Emriana stammered, remembering her vow to keep quiet about the whole affair until the time was right. "Just remembering something Grandmother Hetta told me this morning at breakfast." And, on impulse she added, "About Aunt Xaphira, and an accident."

Vambran stood very still, staring hard at Emriana, his face losing its color.

"She told you about that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Only that something happened," the girl replied, taking her brother's hand. "None of the details. She said the person involved would have to tell me in his own good time," she added pointedly.

Vambran spent so long just staring off into nothingness that Emriana began to worry that she had made a terrible mistake, mentioning her knowledge at all. The realization that it was her brother who had been involved had stunned her too, and she was still sifting through the emotional explosions in her head from that when he finally began to recount the story.

"I was twelve," Vambran began, "and it was the Night of Ghosts festival at the Generon. Adyan, Horial, and I were bored, so we decided to go take some target practice with a brand new crossbow Uncle Kovrim had given to me. We found a spot where we didn't think we'd bother anyone, but it was a stupid, stupid thing we did, because I shot someone."

He stopped there, taking several deep breaths and swallowing. Emriana squeezed her brother's hand reassuringly and nodded, urging him to continue.

"It was Lord Wianar's cousin Rodolpho. It was an accident, but everyone knew that Eles Wianar would bend it to his advantage any way he could. So Aunt Xaphira fixed it. She dressed up like an assassin, hid her face, and managed to get over the walls and out of the city with half the guardsmen in Arrabar chasing her. No one ever figured out the truth."

"Oh, Vambran, I'm sorry," Emriana said, her voice thick. "That must have been horrible for you! And Uncle Dregaul has held it against you ever since," she said, realizing then the origin of the animosity between Vambran and his uncle. "He blames you."

That thought made Emriana feel sick to her stomach. She realized for the first time that she truly hated her uncle.

"He has a right to. Every day since it happened, I've wondered how it must have felt for Rodolpho's family to wonder why someone would want to kill him. I've imagined the pain and hurt that not knowing the truth has caused them." Vambran blinked then and looked at his sister with determination. "I won't be a party to another covered-up killing. That's why I have to do this. I would hope that you would do it just because it's the right thing to do, but if you don't want to…"

He shrugged and began to pace once more. It was Emriana's turn to feel hurt.

"I never meant that," she said. "I want to do what's right, too, especially now that I know. I just want to make sure we're doing it for the right reasons, and in the right way. Uncle Dregaul isn't going to like us defying him, especially because of… because of what happened."

"I don't care what Uncle Dregaul thinks. I'm through cowering at his feet for my past crimes. I'm making amends, and this is my redemption."

"As long as you realize that he could be right. If by continuing to dig around, we hurt the family business, are we doing more damage than good?"

"Are you saying that preserving the 'business as usual' attitude of Uncle Dregaul is more important than bringing murderers to justice?"

Emriana stared steadily at Vambran.

"No," she said quietly. "I am saying that we should be subtle, in case we're completely wrong, so that we don't unduly hurt House Matrell. Grandmother Hetta is a proud woman, and she deserves that much from us."

Vambran stood quietly, considering for a moment, then he nodded and said, "That's reasonable and fair. All right, I'll make you a bargain."

"Name it," Emriana said, smiling again.

"I'll keep a low profile while I sniff out what's going on, if you'll promise to be careful and not take any unnecessary risks."

"Deal."

"Good. Now, I have something for you."

"You do?" Emriana said, getting excited.

"Yes. This was supposed to be your birthday present, and I guess it still is, but you're getting it a day early, after all."

Emriana couldn't help but smile in glee as Vambran reached into one of his traveling trunks, which had been brought to the estate from Lady's Favor by wagon earlier in the day, and pulled out a small pouch made of fine satin. He handed the thing to his sister.

"What is it?" the girl asked breathlessly, pulling open the drawstrings and dumping the item inside into the palm of her hand.

It was a pendant, she saw, a large opal, mostly gray with swirls of mauve, orange, and green, in a teardrop shape. The narrow end had a fine gold chain threaded through it. It took Emriana's breath away.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she breathed, holding it up to let it shine in the light. She lunged at her brother and wrapped him in a big hug. "Thank you so much!" she gushed.

"Hang on," Vambran laughed, freeing himself from her. "Remember the message I sent you?" he asked. When Emriana nodded, perplexed, he pointed to the pendant. "I did it with that."

The girl's eyes widened even more.

"Oh, show me!" she pleaded, handing the gemstone to her brother.

Vambran took the pendant and held it up.

"Once per day, when you are holding it in your hand, you concentrate on the person you want to send the message to, and speak the message."

"Oh, I want to try it, right now!"

"No, wait a minute. Listen to me. I said once per day. If you try it any more often than that, it won't work. You have to hold it and concentrate on the idea of speaking a message to them. If you do that, it will work, no matter how far away from you that person is."

Emriana just smiled and slipped the chain around her neck.

"It's wonderful," she said, feeling her eyes welling up with tears of happiness. "Thank you, Vambran."

"The person on the other end of the message can talk back to you, if they want. But remember to keep the message short. You can't ramble on and on, because only the first handful of words will go through."

Emriana nodded and said, "I'll remember."

"If you ever get in a bind and need my help, use it to get my attention. I'll get to you as quickly as I can."

"All right," the girl replied, smiling and wiping her eyes with her hands. She considered it the best birthday present she had ever received.

Finally, after Emriana had regained her composure, she returned to the topic at hand.

"So, what's our next step?" she asked, feeling conspiratorial.

"Nothing, for the moment," Vambran replied. "I need to spend some time with the company. There's payroll to be distributed, plus I promised Adyan and Horial I would meet them tonight for drinks."

"Oh, you're no fun," Emriana said, pouting. "I was hoping for some real spying tonight."

"Not a chance," Vambran replied. "If nothing else, you're still under Uncle Dregaul's eagle eye at the moment. So you're not going anywhere." When she started to protest, Vambran wagged a finger at his sister. "Ah, ah, ah! You just got through saying we needed to keep a low profile. That goes for you, too."

"Fine," Emriana harrumphed. "You take all the fun out of this."

"I'm sure that there will be plenty of chances for you to play spy tomorrow," her brother said. "Your birthday party that Hetta is throwing for you is tomorrow night."

Emriana smacked herself in the forehead and groaned, "Oh, Waukeen, that's right. I completely forgot. And I'm supposed to be escorted by Denrick!"

The girl made a disparaging sound in her throat and rolled her eyes in misery. The thought of spending any more time with that self-inflated buffoon, especially once she knew his true character, was repulsive.

"You have to act like nothing is wrong," Vambran warned. "You can't give him or anyone in his family a reason to be suspicious."

"I know," Emriana sighed, "but I don't have to like it."

The Crying Claw got its name from the sound of its sign-depicting a single bird's claw-squeaking as it swung in the wind that blew in off the bay to the west. The front doors of the place actually faced northeast, away from the harbor, and it maintained a sizable taproom just inside the entrance. That was only a small portion of the whole, though, for the bulk of the property rested on the side of a rather steep hill that sloped its way down toward the docks. It was there, off the back of the establishment, where the majority of the patrons gathered whenever the weather permitted. The entire hillside had been terraced, carved into wide, tiled patios connected by sets of ramps and stairs and filled with tables, most of them open to the sky but a few protected by wooden scaffolding draped with brightly colored awnings. Of course, there were the prerequisite planter boxes, trellises, and wooden railings generously placed to divide the space up, all overgrown with the tropical plants and vines that were so common in the Reach. The architecture created the effect of a hillside vineyard in the middle of the city.

The Crying Claw was hopping when Vambran got there, which was typical. It was one of the most popular taverns near the waterfront of Arrabar, and every ship's officer, mercenary captain, middling merchant, and sword-for-hire frequented it whenever they were in the city. Even the inside was busy, and it took the lieutenant a few minutes to squeeze through the morass of patrons and get to the wide arched doorways that led out into the back. The bar had been set up to face two directions, one side open to the interior of the establishment and the other at the top of the terraced patios. Jenis Glowarm, the half-elf proprietor with the ever-present smile, was behind the bar, just as she was every night, along with three assistants. A full complement of servers moved endlessly between the tables and the bar, making their way up and down the stairs and ramps to serve drinks. Anyone wanting a job working for Jenis had to be physically fit.

Vambran slipped into a bit of open space at the bar, and when Jenis spotted him, she gave him a quick wink, for he had been a customer there for a long time.

"Be with you in a minute, hon," Jenis said, scurrying to the far side to serve some customers who were clamoring for more beer.

Vambran gave the proprietor a wave of acknowledgement and kept his coin pouch safely in his hand while he waited.

He turned and let his eyes roam over the length of the terraced hillside, looking to see if any of his companions had beaten him there that night. Of Horial and Adyan, there was no sign. That was not surprising, though, for he was a bit early. He turned back where he could keep half an eye on the front doors and the other half on Jenis, wanting to make sure she remembered that he needed a mug.

The lieutenant considered again his plan for the evening and asked himself for perhaps the tenth time whether or not it was really a good idea. The notion of using his familiarity with Emriana's dagger to magically find the thugs who had impersonated city watchmen felt right, but everything that had happened since the previous evening was giving Vambran a sense of foreboding, as though he were standing on the precipice of something much larger and more sinister than a simple murder. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Of course, that in and of itself wouldn't be enough to dissuade Vambran from following through with his intentions. Adyan and Horial were good friends, made closer by the unfortunate secret they shared, and the lieutenant knew they would happily aid him. But he knew some might question whether it was proper for him to appropriate his own men to see the task to its end. He certainly had a high level of discretion regarding how he put the resources at his disposal to use, but for what he had in mind, he was completely on his own.

Vambran was still rationalizing his decision when he spotted the two sergeants entering the Crying Claw and peering around uncertainly. The lieutenant put his fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, which not only caught the soldiers' attention, but just about every other patron within fifteen paces. There was a brief lull in the conversations as several people glared at him and wiggled their fingers in their ears, then the issue was just as quickly forgotten. Vambran waved to the two mercenaries.

Horial and Adyan waved back and pushed through the throngs until they reached him, though there was no more room at the bar.

"Evening, Lieutenant," Horial said, clapping Vambran once on the shoulder. "I see you're planning to buy the first round," he added, nodding as Jenis sidled up to where Vambran stood, his elbows resting on the bar.

Vambran chuckled and waved the other two men toward the terraces.

"Go find us a table," he said. "I'll bring us three tall, frothy ones."

The other two men nodded in hearty agreement and departed, peering through the openings in the lush, green walls in search of an empty spot. Vambran turned back to Jenis and ordered three mugs of her finest dark ale. Soon enough, he had the drinks in his hand and was working his way through the various patios, seeking his companions. He finally spotted them in a corner around a table meant for two. Shrugging, Vambran set the drinks down and grabbed an unused chair from another table and squeezed in beside them.

"Here's to gold weighing my pockets down," Adyan drawled, hoisting his own mug up to clink it against the other two before downing a long gulp.

"And to the ladies we spend it all on," Horial added, winking as he slurped from his own mug.

"Hear, hear," Vambran agreed, smiling. After each of them had savored the taste of their ales, Vambran settled back in his chair. "Did the men get their payments?"

"Aye," Horial said, drawing his finger through a wet spot on the surface of the table. "All except Ludini, who had to tend to some family matters in Mimph and caught the ferry there first thing this morning. But I already knew he wouldn't be around for several days. I put his share away for him."

Vambran nodded and replied, "We may have a job in a tenday or so, not sure yet. Will Ludini be back by then?"

"Should be," Horial replied, sketching something with the moisture. "What sort of job?" Vambran rolled his eyes.

"Oh," he said, "some merchants the temple has been using keep complaining that the competition is bullying their caravans whenever they try to use a certain waypoint on the Golden Road. We may tag along on their next run to see to it that it stops."

Adyan snorted into his mug.

"Merchants," he scoffed.

Vambran raised a single eyebrow at the sergeant who, realizing he had just insulted all three of their families, raised a hand in placation.

"Oh, not our Houses, sir," he said quickly. "I just meant the foolish, no-sense kind."

Vambran couldn't maintain the glare though and broke into a grin.

"That's all right, Sergeant Mercatio, you just keep right on insulting my family. You'll make captain in no time."

Horial guffawed as he was drinking and nearly choked.

"Adyan never met a man he couldn't insult sooner or later," the man said, wiping foam from his nose.

The three of them chuckled a moment longer before Vambran grew serious.

"Listen, you two," said the lieutenant. "I have something weighing on me that I need some help with."

"Name it," Adyan said, setting his empty mug down. "I'm there."

"Absolutely," Horial added. "Whatever you need. We've been friends a long time, Vambran."

Vambran nodded, having known to expect the two men's willingness. "Yes, we have. And we've been through some rough scrapes along the way," he said, looking at each of them intently. "Some things we don't even talk about anymore." The lieutenant raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point. "This may be one of those times before the night's through."

Both men's faces turned solemn.

Good, Vambran thought. They understand.

"We're your friends," Horial said. "Whatever's going on, nothing's changed in all these years. Not even that."

"We'll help you any way we can," Adyan drawled, frowning. "Just tell us what you need."

"Are you both sure?" Vambran asked. The two sergeants nodded. "All right, then," the lieutenant continued. "Last night, Emriana and I ran up against some fellows who I think were pretending to be city watchmen. These thugs killed two people, supposedly in the line of duty, but I think there's something else going on. Today, I got jumped by three vermin who definitely weren't after my coin. Someone is hiding something and is awfully intent on keeping me from finding out what it is. But that's exactly what I intend to do, and I need someone to watch my back."

"Sounds like a mighty good time to me," Adyan drawled, popping his knuckles and grinning, emphasizing the diagonal scar on his chin. "What's the full story?"

After flagging down a barmaid and ordering another round of drinks, Vambran proceeded to explain his tale to his two friends. When he was finished, they nodded.

"Hey," Horial said, "I already told you I was your man, but after hearing that, you know we have to set things right."

Adyan nodded in agreement. "If nothing else, you'll be wanting that dagger back," he joked. "When do you want to kick their door in?"

"Tonight," Vambran said. "As soon as you two are ready to go."

Adyan looked forlornly at the half-finished ale sitting in front of him. "Might want to finish my drink, first," he said hopefully.

Vambran rolled his eyes and laughed.

"I think we have time for that," he said.

The trio sat and conversed for a little while longer, finishing their drinks, and set out to begin their night's work. As they departed, Vambran glanced skyward and noted that clouds had rolled in off the Reach, obscuring the waxing moon and bringing the smell of rain with them.

It would be a good night for hunting, the lieutenant decided as he withdrew his sacred medallion with Waukeen's profile graven on it. Closing his eyes briefly, Vambran drew upon the divine blessings of his goddess, visualizing his sister's dagger in his mind and concentrating on discerning its location. He felt an urge to travel west, toward the docks. Nodding, he set out, leading the way.

None of the three noticed a single figure lurking among the deeper shadows of a doorway across the street from the Crying Claw. As the three friends made their way down the street, the figure cautiously stepped out of those shadows and began to follow them.

"Yes, I was the one who sent the two Halanthi priests down to the city watch station house with instructions to burn the bodies," Grand Trabbar Lavant said. "How is this a concern of the Sapphire Crescent?" he asked Kovrim, who stood in the Waukeenar high priest's offices, staring at the rotund man with the pudgy fingers, each of which sported a gold ring, heavy with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds.

"Then you interfered with an investigation of murder!" Kovrim replied angrily, ignoring for the moment how unbecoming it was for him, a mere Syndo priest in the temple's hierarchy, to speak to the Grand Trabbar that way. "Why would you do that?"

Lavant smiled. "Please, Syndo Lazelle, calm yourself. If you will hear my explanation and give this matter a moment's thought, I think you will come to understand the importance of seeing the events play to this conclusion. But I will not abide you raising your voice to me."

Kovrim bowed his head in acquiescence.

"Of course, Grand Trabbar," he said. "I was out of line. My apologies."

"Not at all, my brother. It is often a narrow and treacherous line we must walk in order to ensure a bountiful return on our spiritual investments. The Merchant's Friend would have everyone enjoy the windfalls of shrewd trade, taking us ever closer to the golden age that lies ahead, but there are many poor investments that beckon to us during our dealings. We all struggle from time to time, allowing anxieties over whether or not our coin has been spent wisely to cloud our judgment. You speak from the heart, and that is good, but you must remember that only cool heads can prevail at the bargaining table."

"Of course, Grand Trabbar. Thank you for helping to guide me in my spiritual commerce. May you have many returns on your investments in me."

Lavant smiled, nodded, and said, "Now, to the issue of the two unfortunate victims of last night's crime. What occurred was a result of some very delicate business negotiations that had hit a snag along their course to completion. Those deaths were an inelegant and short-sighted solution, and if I had been privy to the plans from the beginning, I would have counseled strenuously against it. But what was done was done and, by the time I found out about it, could not be reversed. Rest assured that those responsible have been harshly dealt with.

"But there was no sense in throwing the baby out with the bath water. It serves no purpose to publicize the events, or to expose those who are tied to, but not guilty of, the crimes. A strategic business alliance hangs in the balance, and destroying potential commerce for the sake of disclosing the details does far more harm than good. The truly guilty have been punished, and the profits to be earned from staying the course can still be realized."

Kovrim nodded, not satisfied, but understanding the situation. He respected Grand Trabbar Lavant, not just as a spiritual leader, but as a man who could prioritize the needs of various individuals or groups in the scope of Waukeen's greater plan for a golden age, when all would find the bounty of wealth. Still, it was sometimes a little too easy for the man to turn a blind eye toward injustices in the name of wealth. Particularly when the temple itself stood to benefit from the endeavor. Kovrim had no doubt in his mind that that was the case with those particular circumstances. Otherwise, he knew, Grand Trabbar Lavant would not be rationalizing his actions in such a way. Kovrim decided he would need more time to contemplate his position on the matter. Alone, where he could really think and pray.

"Well, sir, you have certainly cleared that up for me," Kovrim said finally, rising to go. "I wish that it had not come to such, but I will take comfort in the fact that you believe this was the right course of action, even if I do not completely understand its importance myself."

"Indeed I do, Syndo Lazelle. If there's anything else I can do to assuage your concerns, please don't hesitate to speak up."

"Not at all, Grand Trabbar. You've calmed my fears and concerns admirably."

Kovrim turned to depart.

"Oh, uh, Syndo?"

Kovrim stopped and asked, "Yes, Grand Trabbar?"

"I realize your nephew is also trying to determine what truly went on," the high priest said. Kovrim nodded fervently, working hard to mask his surprise. Lavant continued, "As he is serving under you in one of our esteemed companies, it would behoove you to speak with him and get his attention on something else. It really doesn't sit well with the Overgold of the temple to have one of their own working against them, however inadvertent and well meaning it may seem."

"I understand, Grand Trabbar. I will see to it immediately," Kovrim replied, his mind racing. How had they discerned Vambran's involvement so quickly? Was Grand Trabbar Lavant responsible for the suspected eavesdropping? Perhaps even the attack at Dark She Looks Upon Me? One thing was for certain; they were keeping closer tabs on the situation than Kovrim had previously thought.

"Yes. Perhaps something to occupy his time with? Say, a new assignment?" Lavant suggested.

Kovrim frowned slightly and said, "It would be difficult at this late juncture to shuffle the schedule of services for the Crescent, but I can look into it."

"Something else, then. A little entertainment, perhaps. Is he in need of fresh companionship?" The Grand Trabbar was drumming his fingers on his belly as he said that. "If he already has someone at his arm, then maybe the two of them just need a special time together. Something we could help arrange. With a suitable amount of leave time?"

"I can try to find out, sir."

"I'm only making suggestions that will help ease him off this scrutiny. It's for his own good, you realize."

"Of course," Kovrim said, really wanting to be finished with the conversation. "I will take care of it, Grand Trabbar. Don't fret over it for another instant."

"Thank you, Syndo Lazelle. I knew you were a man to be counted upon."

Vambran, Horial, and Adyan stood before the front entrance to a large warehouse connected to a meat-salting business. It sat at the end of a cul-de-sac at one end of the wharf. The cloudy weather had turned into rain, a light, misty drizzle that really only made the cobblestones slick but didn't feel wet to anyone caught in it. The air felt mildly cooler because of the sprinkle, and the shadows a little deeper due to the lack of a moon, but that was about it.

It had taken the lieutenant three castings of his divine magic before he had been able to pinpoint the location of Emriana's dagger. The three of them had wandered through the streets, having only a direction to go on, working their way closer and closer to the harbor before turning to one side and finally finding the place. It was completely dark and shuttered, a business that catered to ships wanting to restock their supplies for sea travel. Vambran had ordered salted pork and beef from the place for some of his own excursions on more than one occasion, and he knew the proprietor to be a fair and friendly businesswoman. She had continued to run the place even after her husband and son had died, and her dried meats were quite good.

"Well?" Horial said, looking at Vambran expectantly. "You're sure it's in there?"

Vambran nodded and said, "No doubt at all. And I'm thinking these men are in there without the consent of the woman who owns the shop. I don't think she'd let a bunch of thugs live in her warehouse."

"They might be paying her rent," Adyan suggested, frowning as if he didn't believe that possibility himself.

"No miscreants I ever ran across paid for anything they didn't have to," Horial said with a mild snort. "They've got a secret way in and out, and your shopkeeper knows nothing about it."

"That's what I'm thinking, too," Vambran said. "Let's find it."

The three soldiers began to circumnavigate the place, examining every wall for a hidden or concealed door. They also checked the various windows, which were open arches covered with broad awnings to keep the weather out and sealed off by strong steel grates.

At the fourth such opening, Horial discovered that the grate was loose and could swing wide of the wall.

"Here we go," the man whispered. "This is probably how they're coming and going."

Vambran nodded and motioned for the mercenary to proceed. Horial went first, followed by the lieutenant, and Adyan brought up the rear. As Vambran set his feet down, he could tell by the feel of it that the floor was hard-packed earth. Other than that, he could discern nothing. Once all three were inside, they stood together in the darkness, trying to let their eyes adjust to the gloom. As they waited, Vambran listened intently for any telltale sounds that might provide a clue as to whether the thugs were there or not. It was totally quiet. Even after several minutes, it was still too dark to see anything clearly, but Vambran felt confident there was no one besides the three of them inside the building.

Vambran reached into his coin pouch and pulled out a single Sembian raven, then he found by feel the gold emblem of Waukeen he wore on the chain around his neck and grasped it firmly.

"Watch your eyes, boys," he said softly. "I'm going to shine a little light on things.'' He uttered the words of a quick and specific prayer, directing the magic onto the silver coin in his other hand, and instantly, the surroundings were bathed in soft white light, as if the lieutenant held a torch high in his hand.

The trio of mercenaries were standing in a jumble of crates and barrels, stacked haphazardly all around them and high enough that they couldn't see anything beyond the containers. A narrow walkway filed between two stacks and deeper into the environs of the warehouse. Vambran motioned for them to continue, and Horial filed into the gap and wound his way along the path, the other two close behind.

Perhaps ten paces through the walkway, it emerged on the other side of the stacks, right in the central part of the warehouse. The rest of the place, or as far as the dim light would reveal, was filled with more of the same. Rows of crates, boxes, and barrels lined either side of the long, narrow building, with a wide path running down its center and a row of thick square posts in the middle of that to support the ceiling high overhead. On the near end, where the trio stood, all the equipment needed to salt meats was spread out. Overhead, an assortment of already-cured meats hung from the rafters, ready to pack for shipment. A small door was set into the wall nearby. Vambran assumed that it led into a large smokehouse, and indeed, he could detect the odor of wood smoke strongly there.

"So? Where are they?" Horial asked softly as he and Adyan fanned out, peering among the stacks of boxes and crates. "You're absolutely sure it's in here," the sergeant asked again.

"Yes," Vambran said, pointing toward the far end of the warehouse. He could still sense the dagger's location through the use of his divine magic. "It's down that way," he said.

Nodding, Horial set out in the direction Vambran had indicated, and the other two fell into step with him, still watching and peering everywhere the light reached.

"They must have dumped it and lit out," Adyan drawled as they advanced. "Because there's no one… "

The words died in the man's throat as the first body came into view.

"By the Lady," Horial gasped, staring down at the corpse.

The body was of a man, and Vambran thought it might have been one of the thugs from the previous evening, though he couldn't tell for sure, because its skin was covered with hundreds of tiny, bleeding wounds. Each mark was in the shape of a three-sided star, no larger in diameter than the girth of Vambran's index finger, but the blood that leaked from them pooled around the victim. The man's skin was sallow when it wasn't stained crimson, and his form looked emaciated.

"Something sucked all of his blood out," Vambran said grimly, stepping closer.

The light from his silver piece revealed the next corpse, a little farther on. It was in the same condition. As the lieutenant advanced along the broad walkway between the corpses, he spotted two more. One was draped across a single crate, the man's back exposed through a shredded shirt, and the other was slumped in a sitting position next to the crate, a club lying next to his outstretched hand.

"What in the Nine Hells would do that to a man?" Horial rasped, nudging one of the bodies.

Adyan made a strangled sound as he held his nose and asked, "What's that wretched smell?"

The hair on the nape of Vambran's neck prickled. He spun back to Adyan and tried to call out, "Watch yourself!" but he wasn't quick enough.

A dark form, its whole shape writhing, lunged out of the shadows from between two stacks of crates. It grabbed at the mercenary. It took Adyan in both arms and hugged him tightly, dragging the man backward into the darkness.