Vambran, though, merely nodded.
"I'm sorry," Emriana's brother said, looking at his uncle. "I always have been."
Emriana blinked, confused by his words.
Sorry for what? she thought
Dregaul eyed his nephew for a heartbeat, then shrugged and said, "I know. We'll talk about it in the morning."
He turned and left the room, heading for his own chambers, leaving everyone to stare at his back as he departed.
Emriana watched her uncle go, feeling a great sorrow emanating from him. It made her throat thicken in sympathy. As the rest of the family began to file out, Emriana turned to Vambran, wanting to ask him what he had meant about always having been sorry, but he was nowhere to be found. Frowning, the girl padded off to her room, dismayed that his homecoming had turned into such a disaster.
Breakfast turned out to be little better than the night before, though at least Vambran and his uncle had remained civil during the discussion. Still, the older man refused to recognize the evidence the lieutenant presented concerning the events of the previous evening. About the only thing they had agreed on was that Emriana should be kept out of it when it came time to discuss those events with the captain down at watch headquarters. Vambran had seen everything Emriana had, and from a better vantage point, and dragging her into it would only complicate things, especially given that she never could remember where she thought she had seen the woman prior to her death.
So it was that Vambran found himself headed toward the district headquarters alone, a little before seven bells. He had chosen to walk, seeing no need to take a carriage on such a fine morning. He preferred the stroll, anyway, enjoying the quiet avenues of the merchant district and the salty air, which was still cool enough at that time of the day not to soak him through in sweat after only ten steps.
The streets were perhaps a little emptier that morning, given the lateness that Spheres went the previous night, though there were still plenty of folks out and about, mostly the laborers rushing to their jobs and servants of the wealthy doing the daily shopping. Scraps of shattered glass globes turned soft as parchment were scattered along the streets or wafting in the lazy breezes that blew in from the harbor. Gulls screamed and dived for bits of breakfast as they circled high overhead, shining in the morning sun and set off against the crisp blue sky. It was turning into an exquisite day, though with plenty of sunshine, it would be a muggy afternoon for certain.
At last, Vambran arrived at the city watch headquarters in that part of the city. Like the rest of the neighborhood, it was a nice building, a small compound surrounded by a low wall that served more as a decoration than as a deterrent to trespassing. Certainly, it was considered a choice assignment to work the rich side of town, where the accommodations were in keeping with the estates.
Vambran made his way through the front gates, passing inside the low wall and almost immediately into an open plaza, a tiled courtyard filled along its edges with fruit trees, thick hedges, bamboo, and climbing vines bursting to overflowing with brightly colored blossoms. A fountain gurgled in the center of the courtyard, a natural formation of rock with a series of tiny cataracts that cascaded down to a large pool filled with more lush vegetation. Swimming among the fronds and broad green leaves were schools of large orange, yellow, and blue fish.
On the opposite side of the plaza was a desk shaded by a gold and white awning. A civil servant wearing a simple gold and white tunic with the Arrabar crest stitched onto the left breast was seated there. The scribe was busy separating a stack of parchment forms into several piles and did not look up for quite a long time, even after Vambran approached and stood quietly.
Finally, the official glanced briefly at the lieutenant, and upon seeing Vambran's ornate breastplate, complete with the emblem of the Sapphire Crescent upon it, raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and scooted his chair back a bit.
"How can I help you?" the man asked, emphasizing the last word slightly as though wondering what a mercenary officer would need from the city watch.
Vambran smiled and removed his gauntlets, reaching out to offer a hand to shake.
"I am reporting here as ordered by Captain Leguay. I am to give a statement concerning a pair of killings from last night. My name is Vambran Matrell."
"Eh?" the scribe said, tilting his head to one side. "Matrell, eh? I don't think I have a record of your appointment," he added, looking down and thumbing through a series of pages in front of him. "Let's see," he muttered absently, licking his thumb as he lifted the pages up by a corner one after another. "Nay," the man said at last. "Nothing on my docket about you. Are you sure you're in the right place?"
Vambran shrugged helplessly and withdrew his proffered hand, wondering what the confusion was.
"Well, yes," the man continued, half to himself. "Obviously you came to the right station headquarters, since you mentioned Captain Leguay. I don't understand."
He flipped through the pages a second time, and when he reached the end, the official scratched his head.
"Let me check inside," he said, gesturing toward a bench to one side of the desk. "Have a seat, and I'll be back in a moment."
Vambran nodded his thanks and took a seat as the scribe hurried inside through an archway on the other side of his desk. As the lieutenant reclined on the rather uncomfortable wooden bench, studying the garden and listening to the gurgling of the fountain, he frowned, wondering if he had somehow been mistaken. It was possible that he misheard the captain, he reasoned, since he had focused so much of his attention on the sergeant's thoughts. But that seemed unlikely. Maybe the paperwork had just not made it through to the front desk, yet. With Spheres winding down, it was possible that there was a backlog, the mercenary officer told himself.
A pair of city watchmen entered the garden and headed straight toward the inside, giving Vambran a cursory if thorough look. He nodded and smiled at them, but they gave him only a slight nod in reply and were soon gone. Outside, beyond the low wall, he could see that the hustle and bustle of the city was beginning to pick up a bit more as the day got well underway.
A moment later, the scribe returned, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry," he said as he approached Vambran, "but there is no hearing for you this morning. You're free to go."
"What?" Vambran asked, standing. "But I'm sure I was supposed to-"
"Oh, you got your information correct enough, young man, but there won't be a debriefing. Captain Leguay said to tell you that you were free to go, and that the case was closed."
"Closed?" Vambran replied, growing exasperated. "But what about the two bodies? Aren't we going to commune with them this morning, find out their side of the story?"
"Isn't possible,'' the scribe said, adopting a more officious tone that implied he would brook little more of Vambran's arguing. "The bodies were destroyed last night. Burned. Carried the magic plague, apparently."
Vambran felt his face fall.
"I see," he said, trying to remain polite, but his mind was awhirl with the implications.
The bodies had been destroyed, so there would be no chance to commune with their spirits. But the plague? That seemed ridiculous. There had been no evidence of the magic plague inside the walls of Arrabar in several decades.
"Well, thank you," Vambran said at last, turning to go.
"If you want to find out more," the scribe said, his tone a little kinder again, "I suggest you go talk to your own people. It was a couple of Waukeenar priests who cleansed the bodies and everyone who came into contact with them. They actually showed up unannounced and informed Captain Leguay about the magical plague. "We were all mighty thankful they did, too."