“This is ridiculous!” Irulan growled, falling into the chair next to him so heavily that her braids jumped. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Can’t you just tell them we’re on the Keeper’s business and get us out of here? We’re not the ones who were masquerading as Orien waiters and trying to rob people in the first class cart. If anything, they should be giving us some sort of reward for coming to that man’s rescue, not interrogating us!”
“Considering that neither the victim nor the perpetrators are present to corroborate our story, what choice do they have but to question us?” Andri replied. “Just let them do their jobs, and we’ll soon be on our way.”
Irulan snorted. “Spoken like a man who’s never had dealings with House Orien security. We’ll be lucky if we don’t wind up in a cell. At the very least, they’re going to keep us here for hours, and we’ll miss the next run to Aruldusk.”
“There will be other runs. Patience is the most valuable weapon in a hunter’s arsenal,” he reminded her, only to be rewarded with a glare.
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered. “It’s not your brother rotting in the Bishop’s dungeons.”
Andri resisted the urge to point out that Bishop Maellas did not have dungeons. Prelates were forbidden to own property beyond their own homes, and he seriously doubted that the Bishop had a group of murder suspects cooling their heels in his wine cellar. Still, the shifter woman did have a point-he had no personal stake in the outcome of this investigation, and so perhaps did not feel quite the same sense of urgency she did.
He was about to apologize when Captain Entarro, a harried-looking elf with a stern face and incongruously curly blond hair, entered the lounge. As Andri made to stand, the elf waved him back into his seat.
“I don’t have time for that. I just got word that Baron Kwanti himself may be coming from Passage to look into this mess. That’s all I need, the House patriarch breathing down my neck while I try to conduct an investigation.” Entarro ran a shaky hand through his curls. “So I want your story again, from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”
“This is ridiculous-” Irulan began again, but Andri silenced her with a look.
“Of course,” he answered smoothly. “We’d be happy to help.” He ignored Irulan’s indelicate snort and began to relate-again-the events of the past night. This was the third time he’d had to recite them, but he tried not to let the redundant effort or wasted time bother him. Everything would unfold when and as the Flame decreed, and impatience with that unfolding would serve no purpose. “My companion and I boarded the lightning rail at Flamekeep at the ninth bell, on our way to Aruldusk. We entered our compartment to find another passenger already there, asleep on one of the couches. A blond man in a scarlet cloak. There was a wine glass on the floor next to him, so I assume he’d been drinking.”
“Could he have been passed out, not just sleeping?”
Andri paused, considering. “That’s possible. However, without knowing how long he’d been on the rail before we boarded, or how much he might have had to drink, there’s no way to say for certain.”
Entarro nodded. He’d pulled a thin book out from some hidden pocket and was busy scribbling down notes. “Go on.”
“Since it was late, we retired to our sleeping quarters. I-”
“Separate quarters?”
“Of course!” Irulan snapped, clearly affronted.
“Yes,” Andri replied, trying to curb his own annoyance. How their sleeping arrangements had any bearing on the case at hand was beyond him, but he knew the captain was just trying to do his job-and a difficult, thankless one at that-so he was bound to continue answering Entarro’s questions. For now.
Entarro wrote something else.
“So you went to your separate sleeping quarters. What did you do there?”
Irulan heaved a long-suffering sigh. “We slept.”
Andri nodded his agreement. “Yes, though I did rise before dawn to perform my morning devotions. I was just finishing my recitation of the Fourth Miracle when I heard the call from the compartment.”
“Ah, yes. The call. What were the exact words you heard, and how did you know their source?”
“ ‘Your armor is being stolen.’ Since my armor was in the compartment across the hall, it was reasonable to assume that the call originated from there.”
“And why did you leave this armor in another compartment, if it was so valuable?”
Andri allowed a hint of irritation to creep into his voice. “Because I knew the compartment was in the hands of House Orien security, so I had no reason to fear for the safety of my belongings.”
Entarro looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow at the tone, but he let the challenge pass without comment.
“And then what happened?”
“I grabbed my sword, woke Irulan, and crossed over to the other compartment. A food cart was parked just inside the door, blocking the entrance. Inside I could see two men in House Orien uniforms menacing the man who had been sleeping there. Realizing that he must have sent the call that summoned me, I went to his aid.”
“Can you describe the two men?”
Irulan had finally had enough of being interrogated. She stood.
“We’ve already been through this-twice now. We’ve given your men their descriptions and told you everything we know. Is there a reason we’re still here?”
Then she gave a small gasp and sat down again slowly, shaking her head. She looked at Andri, her eyes incredulous. “Don’t you understand? We’re suspects.”
Andri’s eyes narrowed, and he looked up at Entarro. “Is that true?” he demanded. “Is that why you’ve been detaining us here?”
It made sense. No one else had seen the two Orien imposters-except for the man they’d tried to rescue, who had fled the compartment and disappeared during the fight. Until they found some other witnesses who’d seen the two would-be waiters-not likely, given that it was a night run and most of the passengers had been asleep-or found the two members of the House Orien wait staff who’d been divested of their uniforms-preferably alive-all Entarro and his men had to go on was a broken window, a lot of blood, and Irulan and him. And with Baron Kwanti d’Orien’s arrival imminent, dubious suspects were better than none. In the captain’s shoes, he might well do the same.
But he wasn’t in the captain’s shoes, and he didn’t have time for this. Entarro would have to sort it out on his own.
“I’m truly sorry, Captain, but we’ve given you all the help we can.”
With that, Andri rose and pulled Cardinal Riathan’s letter from out of his tabard. He passed it over to Entarro, who took it after a brief hesitation. When he unfolded it and saw the crest of the Diet of Cardinals, his lips compressed into a thin line. They got thinner and thinner as he read through the letter, which instructed the reader to confer the same rights on its bearer as they would a member of the Diet, up to and including financial, military, and diplomatic support. By the time Entarro had carefully folded the letter and handed it back to Andri, his lips had practically vanished.
“Your pardon for the delay, sir,” he said, his words so stiff and brittle that Andri thought he must be choking on them. He almost felt sorry for the elf captain. Almost. “You and your companion are free to go.”
They reached Aruldusk just after sunset. As porters wrested Andri’s trunk onto a waiting carriage, he asked Irulan for directions to the Cathedral. She looked at him curiously.
“Why? There’s no way you’ll get in to see the Bishop tonight.”
“I have no intention of disturbing His Excellency this evening, but I do need a room.”
“You’re going to stay there?” she asked, surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s common practice for visiting warriors of the faith to abide at the local house of worship.”