Minrah stepped in hesitantly, faking a smile that shone bright and warm in contrast to her chilled and fearful heart.
“Ah, Minrah Teamaker,” said a gentle voice, “it is you after all.” She turned and saw the purser from the betting window. He snapped his fingers once, sending an aide running down the hall, then he reached one hand out to her. She extended her hand and he took it and kissed it gallantly.
He smiled and bobbed his head. “I was beginning to fret about your absence,” he said. “The audience departed many bells ago, and you are the only one not to collect her winnings.”
“Winnings?”
“Indeed. You fared quite well this day. Your sole wager bore fruit, and I am pleased to give you your harvest. Quite a crop, if I do say so myself.” Just as he finished his words with a smarmy smile the aide returned, bearing a pouch and a small piece of paper curled tightly and tied with ribbon. The man turned, took the two items from the aide, and presented them to Minrah.
Amazed, Minrah reached out and took the bag. It sagged over her slender hands, heavy with coin. Her fingers clenched, gripping some of the coins through the coarse cloth. She shifted the bag to one hand and took the proffered curled paper. “What’s this?”
“A certificate for the balance of your winnings,” came the reply. “We’ve found that most of our clients like to have the security of a Kundarak-notarized promissory note, but still retain a portion of their winnings in ready coin for various means of immediate celebration.” He chuckled.
“Why … thank you,” said Minrah.
“No, we thank you, dear one, for patronizing our establishment. We do hope that you will choose to return soon.”
“How is Cimozjen?”
“Who?”
“The, uh, the person whom I was lucky enough to bet on. The fighter.”
“Ah. Obviously, he won, but beyond that I am afraid I do not know.”
“But he lived?”
The man shrugged, still wearing his insincere smile. “It is likely, although in fairness I must advance the possibility that he suffered what we call a ‘simultaneous finish.’ In those rare events, the house pays to the side that the judges deem to have prevailed, the actual results notwithstanding. And I find I must also add that even if I did know his status, it is against house policy for family members or employees to discuss or theorize about the health of any competitors. We must maintain our propriety and neutrality, and cannot be thought to be tampering with the odds by means of idle speculation. I suggest you watch the boards; if his name appears, you may draw your own conclusions.”
Minrah nodded, trying not to let her disappointment cross her features. “I see. So … when might I be able to come back? I’m not fully acquainted with your schedule.”
“The second night hence,” said the man with an eager bob of the head. “It’s a smaller event, but should provide quality amusement nonetheless. I’ll be sure to hold an excellent seat for you.”
Minrah smiled as best she could and clutched her winnings to her breast. “I thank you. I shall see you then.”
“So is Cimozjen dead?” asked Four. He had started to ask the question just after Minrah had left the building, but at that time she had silenced him with a gesture. She had led Four to several temples, the House Jorasco compound, and the undertaker’s, all the while demanding his utter silence.
Back in their lodgings, the warforged reckoned it might safe to try asking the question again.
“No,” said Minrah, slouched in her chair. She spoke in a distracted monotone around her thumbnail, which she chewed on as she thought. “I don’t believe he’s dead. Whoever these people are, they kept Torval alive for years, so I don’t think they’d be so clumsy as to let an old warhorse like Cimmer die. Even if he did anger them as he is wont to do.”
“So you believe he is captured?”
“Yes, I do. It was pretty clear from the way the customers behaved at the Flagons that the fighters were free to leave after the fights ended, was it not?” She leaned forward and gestured toward the window. “I mean, look at that snub-faced Jolieni. She barged in swinging a bag of coin and crowing about her victory and ready to celebrate. She was letting herself be carried on the emotion of a fresh victory, probably no more than an hour before.”
Minrah sagged back into her chair and pulled her legs up. She steepled her hands in front of her face, as she continued. “So if Cimmer suffered nothing more than a light injury, he’d have returned. If he were badly hurt, he would have been taken to a healer’s, or he would have healed himself, and again he would have come back. If he were killed in a fair duel, there’d be no reason to hide the body like they did with Torval. So the only reasonable assumption is that he’s being held in slavery, just like you were, or his friend Torval. Which is illegal by the Treaty of Thronehold.”
“You two released me. I am sure we can do the same for him,” said the warforged. “Just tell me what to do.”
“I don’t know.” She sat for a while longer. “If we’re to figure out what to do, we need to know for sure who’s behind this. Which house it is.”
“Is it not House Ghallanda?”
“That was Friar Hannel’s guess, but I’m not so sure he’s right. I don’t put much stake in his read of people, you know what I mean?”
“What does it matter which house, if they are breaking the law?”
“Because it’s someone that has some sway with the Sentinel Marshals.” Minrah shifted in her chair so she could drape her head across the back and look at the ceiling. “Remember how they released Rophis and Pomindras and kept the others? That means it’s someone the Marshals fear, or someone who had some sort of political sway over them. The Marshals have a reputation as being the toughest, most dedicated, law-upholding hunters in Khorvaire. They’ve got license to operate across the continent, regardless of sovereignty, and they still swear their duties to the Galifar Throne. So whom do they have to be afraid of?”
Four held up his palms in resignation. “I do not know. What houses exist?”
Minrah drew a deep breath, then sat up and swung her legs off the chair. “Let’s see,” she said, and began ticking the houses off on her fingers. “There’s Vadalis, but they deal with animal husbandry and the like. They seem an ill-suited choice to care for and transport prisoners. There’s Ghallanda, who has the mark of hospitality. They are as good a choice as any to care for prisoners as they bring them home, and they’d also be interested in putting together an entertaining evening of pit fights.”
“I thought you did not like pit fights.”
“I’m being sarcastic, Four,” she said, rolling her eyes. She drew a deep breath and blew a stray lock out of her face. “Hmm. House Kundarak, well, they’re deep into their lending and coin-counting. Would they support gambling? Sure, if there’s money to be made. But transporting prisoners? No. I just can’t see them guarding something they can’t lock in a vault. Then there’s Jorasco, but their house code would not allow them to participate in what we’ve seen here. They are required to render aid and succor.”
“Might not they send fighters against each other, then heal them afterwards?” asked Four.
“It’s conceivable, Four, but we should start with likely. While someone in the Jorasco family might possibly do something like this, it goes counter to the house’s charter, and if it were ever found out, the whole house would suffer.”
“I see.”
“Sivis. They have the mark of scribing. I doubt they’d take the job, and I damned sure know that no one would trust gnomes to transport prisoners back home. Those crafty little leeches would wring every piece of information out of them. House Cannith-they’re the ones who made you and the other warforged-not only is this not their strength, but they’re no longer unified. If one branch of House Cannith tried to transport prisoners, the others would try to assassinate the lot of them, just to make the first side look bad.