"Why?"
"Because," Vambran said, sighing in exasperation, "I'm a trained soldier, equipped to deal with the kinds of things found in dark alleys. I really can take care of myself. You aren't used to dealing with anything beyond the walls of House Matrell yet, though you may think you are. Em, didn't you see that woman lying there? She was dead, killed by those men. I don't want that to be you."
"Vambran," Emriana whispered, changing the subject, "I think I knew that woman."
"What?" Vambran said, spinning his sister to face him. "Who is she?"
"I don't know," the girl confessed, shaking her head doubtfully. "But I think I've seen her somewhere. Several times, in fact."
"Try to remember, Em," Vambran encouraged her.
"When I saw your signal, Master Vambran, I was about to drive home and fetch the house guards," Prandles said to the pair. "But thankfully, those city guards arrived. Is everyone all right?"
Vambran, realizing that they were standing in the middle of the quiet street, nodded as he turned Emriana and guided her to the steps of the vehicle.
"Yes," he answered as Prandles helped Emriana up into the seat. "The guards are taking care of it." He climbed in after his sister. "But we were lucky," he said, giving Emriana a stare as he sat down.
"You had me worried more than a man has a right to be, Mistress Emriana," the driver added, trying not to scold a superior, but making his point all the same.
"Prandles, the next time she tries to sneak off, even if she orders you to sit still and be quiet, you have my permission to hold her down and sit on her to keep her out of trouble," Vambran said, though he was still looking directly at Emriana as he said it.
The girl bristled and started to open her mouth to protest, but Vambran gave her a level look so scathing that she wilted under it and snapped her teeth shut again.
"As you say, sir," Prandles replied, though Vambran knew the man would never do any such thing.
All the way back to the front gates of the Matrell estate, Emriana sat opposite her brother and scowled. But Vambran was in no mood to soothe her feelings right then. He was figuring out what he was going to do about men pretending to be city guards.
Grozier Talricci, standing behind Bartimus and watching the events taking place in the mirror, made a strangled sound deep in his throat. Bartimus couldn't blame the man; it was an amazing stroke of bad luck that Vambran and Emriana Matrell had managed to stumble onto the scene when they did, and the arrival of a second squad of watchmen, legitimate guards who had claimed the body and were taking it back to the station house, just made everything worse. The uniforms for the team had been meant as a means of avoiding notice, but through terrible luck, they were being forced to pose as guards for who knew how long. Events had just gotten far more complicated than they really should have been, and Bartimus was very sympathetic toward Grozier's state of mind at that moment.
The wizard waited expectantly for Grozier to give him some kind of instructions, occasionally glancing around at his study. There were only a few candles burning, not really giving off enough light to make everything out clearly, though that wasn't causing a problem right then, since the scene the pair of them were currently scrying was dark, too. But he had been working by candlelight for quite a while, having run out of lamp oil at some point and never bothering to go fetch any more from the storerooms. So the place was constantly dark.
Matters weren't helped by the dim decor of Bartimus's chambers. He had always liked rich, dark furniture, things made of dark woods and leather. He had plenty of it in there, with shelves lining just about every wall, and more than a few chairs, tables, and desks in what space was left over. Of course, most of all that was stacked with piles of books, tablets, and scroll cases, with even more spilling over onto the floor in every imaginable corner. The few tapestries that hung on the walls, mostly covered up by shelving, had the same heavy colors, as did the rug on the floor. There was more of the same in the other room, where Bartimus slept. It was a consistent theme, he realized. Somehow, it contrasted nicely with Bartimus's incessantly pasty skin.
The place needed a good cleaning, Bartimus noticed, looking around more earnestly then, though the wizard told himself that at least once a tenday and somehow never managed to do anything about it. Too much else going on to take time for housework. And there was no way he was going to bring anyone else in there to do it for him. If he ever let anyone else into his chambers to move things around, he'd never find half his possessions again. Even having Grozier in there was making him nervous; one wrong step, and the man could send a whole pile of stuff scattering across the floor.
Perhaps a special sort of servant spell could do the trick, the diminutive wizard mused, pondering briefly if he had ever acquired such an incantation, and where it might be stashed in his collection of scrolls, books, and other magical writings.
I'll have to dig through those Sembian letters sometime, he thought. I think there might be something in there. Later, though.
Bartimus turned his attention back to the moment, still waiting for his companion to say something. His scrying spell wasn't going to last much longer. Grozier just continued to stare into the large mirror, a finely wrought piece of furniture worth thousands of gold coins, resting on a large easel in the middle of the study. The image in the courtyard continued to show Captain Dressus and his men milling about, discussing what to do with the bodies lying there. The original plan had been for them to haul the pair to the nearest guard station in the city and deposit them there, but it was obvious by then that the Waukeenar lieutenant's words had unnerved them, and they were uncertain what to do any longer.
"Oh, just run!" Grozier growled from behind Bartimus. He was beginning to pace. "Is there no way to talk to them through this damned mirror?"
Bartimus cringed as he said, "Unfortunately, no. It really only works one way. I could see if I have some other means of communicating with them, perhaps a scroll in my collection." He started to rise, completely enraptured at the thought of looking through some of his papers. "I think I might have just the thing," he muttered half-aloud, moving toward a distant shelf, "a little spell I acquired from a man I met in Cormyr several years ago. Let's see, I think I put those papers-"
"No, don't waste the effort," Grozier snapped, standing still and watching the scene again. "By the time you find something, it'll be too late. Besides, they've gone and mucked the whole plan up completely already."
Bartimus shrugged and sat back down as his counterpart sighed in exasperation.
"Dressus is an idiot," Grozier continued. "He should have just sent the Matrell boy away and cleared out of there. He got baited into that, you know."
Bartimus nodded, though he didn't, in fact, know that until just then, and he wondered how Grozier had come to that conclusion.
"Now," Grozier continued, "the city watch is concerned about our two dead victims, and Dressus is under suspicion. If not by the other guards, then at the very least, by the mercenary and his sister. We're going to have to take care of this ourselves."
He began to pace again.
Bartimus nodded, though he had no idea what his employer meant, and no desire to take the initiative to suggest some things until he knew more. He sat and waited while Grozier stewed.
Finally, the other man stopped his repetitive motion and said, "We're going to have to clean this up completely, you know."
Bartimus risked a glance over his shoulder at the other man, the head of House Talricci, to be sure he understood correctly.
"You want me to find someone?" the mage asked.
"No," Grozier replied, tapping the wizard on the shoulder. "You're going to have to do this yourself. I don't want to put it into anyone else's hands."