Tallis hesitated, then pointed to his leg. “Thanks.” Lenrik waved his hand dismissively. Tallis had heard him explain it many times before. There was no longer a need to. It was Aureon’s will to heal him, the priest always insisted. Tallis wasn’t so sure he was doing any god’s work, but they hadn’t argued such theology in a very long time.
“Murder at the Ebonspire,” Lenrik said. “You were involved somehow?”
“How did you know?”
“The incident is drawing quite a bit of attention. A chronicler from the Sentinel was nosing around among the flock this morning after worship, asking questions of everyone. There is talk of an assassination.”
Tallis groaned. “When and how did I come in here last night? I’m a bit muddled on that part.”
“You entered through the side door, making no small amount of noise when you did. Had you come one hour before that, you would have interrupted a visit from Alinda.” He offered a weak smile. “I’d say we’re cutting it very close this time, Tallis. You must take this one seriously.”
Tallis sighed. Prelate Alinda Roerith was the head of Korth’s Cathedral of the Sovereign Host. She was Lenrik’s superior, a high priestess, and a politically connected heroine of the Last War. Sympathetic as the prelate would be to Tallis’s opposition to the Blood of Vol and its sponsors, an encounter with her would have been very bad for both of them.
No one knew of Tallis’s friendship to Lenrik, the esteemed caretaker of Aureon’s shrine. Aside from his flat in the Commerce Ward, this was Tallis’s only safe house in the city, and Lenrik was the only one he could trust unconditionally. Even if he evaded the Justice Ministry’s scrutiny, Lenrik’s religious vows would be called into question by the clergy and the prelate herself. Aureon was the god of law, and Tallis had been on the wrong side of that particular ethos for years. Mere knowledge of Tallis, much less actively sheltering him, could condemn Lenrik to excommunication or worse.
Tallis sat up. “I went there to take something-and that’s all-from someone. Just another well-to-do with too much gold and an unhealthy interest in the Blood. Apparently I was set up to take the blame for the massacre of a Brelish and his family. I saw it all happen, Lenrik. There were children …” Tallis stopped. The memory made him nauseous. “I’m … I’m taking this bloody seriously, don’t worry.”
Lenrik folded his hands. “I heard the name ir’Daresh.”
Tallis nodded, solemn. “It was him, Lenrik-all the more reason to think I’m being set up. He sure as Khyber looked different, but it was definitely him.”
“Gamnon became an ambassador after the Treaty of Thronehold,” the elf said. “Hence the political ramifications. Didn’t you know this?”
“Sovereign Host!” Tallis cursed. He’d long since stopped apologizing to the priest for taking the gods’ name in vain. “He became a politician? This is going to be complicated. What time is it now?”
“Fourth watch,” Lenrik said.
“I was out that long?”
“You needed the rest.” The elf looked around the room as though he would find an idea amidst the trappings of the spare bedchamber. “What will you do now? You could disappear for a while. Return to Rekkenmark, perhaps? Get away from this dark cloud.”
Tallis gave the thought only a moment of consideration. “No. I can’t just run from this one. I have to figure this out. The backstreets will be dark by the time I return. Besides, security’s going to get tight fast. They know who I am, and some of them saw me there. Getting out won’t be as easy as usual.”
“You could visit her,” Lenrik said with a grim smile. The way his friend made allowances for him warmed Tallis’s heart. The Midwife, the woman in question, was as illegal as they came.
“I thought of that,” he answered, “but even if I do, I can’t go tonight. She’s got rules about these things. And much as I love breaking rules, there are some people you just don’t cross. Besides, I’ve never gone to her for myself. It would be-”
“Odd.”
Tallis chuckled quietly for the first time since gaining consciousness. He fingered the frayed leather where the crossbow bolt had torn his boot. “I need to visit Verdax first, I think. I’m going to need every advantage in the coming days, so I’ll be clearing a few of my things out of here. Do some trading again.”
“If I can help, Tallis, I will, but I need to know what happened. Will you tell me?”
“No.” Tallis stood up. “You’ve done enough for me. Too much. I’m not going to get you involved in this, whatever happens. The less you know the better.”
Seeing the priest open his mouth to retort, Tallis held up his hand. “No. Not this time.”
Lenrik Malovyn watched his old friend go, slipping out of the west-facing sanctuary door onto the temple grounds. The grove of firs afforded Tallis enough cover to hide him, but he’d left in disguise as usual. Sovereign Lord, he prayed, watch over him now. He will need your vigilance to stay safe, and if it be your will, return him to me before long. His soul needs absolution.
The elf returned to the spare room and gazed for a moment at the Aerenal tapestry. The magecraft his ancestor had woven into the fabric formed a subtle glamer designed to relax the mind. Centuries ago, in her time, Aereni wizards who served the Undying Court often used such works of art to steady their minds before attempting complex spellwork. Shortly after crafting this family heirloom, she’d passed into the next phase of existence-mortal death.
Lenrik considered what lay beyond the ancient tapestry. Tallis wasn’t the only one with secrets.
The hood was pulled over part of Tallis’s face, but not so low as to suggest he had anything to hide. He assumed the gait of an older man, an easier feat now that he was limping sleightly and his whole body was still sore. His left sleeve was folded up, fastened to his ragged cloak with a cheap brass pin. His arm was twisted behind him under the oversized garment, loosely bound in place and well within reach of his dagger.
Karrns were raised to respect their elders, and Tallis had no qualms about seizing any advantage he could. Add to that the uniform of a veteran and most would leave him alone. Those unfortunates who had tried to take advantage of this particular old man were inevitably dismayed to find the crippled veteran both vicious and suddenly able-bodied.
Thus disguised, Tallis exited the park and made his way across the grounds.
“Sovereigns, stay with me,” he whispered, a token prayer to the Host for keeping him alive yet another day. His faith was a shallow thing compared to a soul like Lenrik’s, but guilt kept him tethered to this place.
When this present crisis had passed, he intended to make another generous and anonymous donation to the coffers of the Sovereign Host. Of course, he’d need to earn some more coin to do it. The Host knew, he would be handing over nearly everything he had left to Verdax. After two years of faithful, exclusive patronage, the cranky artificer still offered him only the slimmest of discounts.
When he took to the streets, Tallis marked the White Lions wherever he saw them. He could sense the tension within their ranks, the sleight deviations in their patrols and routines. For his vocation, Tallis had made a close study of the habits and patterns of the guards of each of the cities in which he was most active-Korth, Rekkenmark, and Atur.
Every White Lion of Korth would have been briefed at the start of their shift about last night’s massacre. Those who had known the three Lions slain at the Ebonspire now wore black and red brassards to commemorate their sacrifice.
But it was more than anger that disturbed the soldiers’ usual conduct. Pressure had been exerted on them from on high. Tallis could hear it in their terse conversations, could see the severity of their posture.