After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, but which Kovrim knew was perhaps ten minutes from watching others perform such a prayer, he spoke the question aloud, calmly but firmly, requesting his goddess grant him guidance through its answer.
"Tell me, Lady of Trade, if I shall invade the sanctuary of my quarry and discover the confirmation I seek. Reveal to me, O goddess of coin and barter, if I peruse my adversary's private records, shall I discover the proof I need? Will I find a record of his secret business dealings?"
Almost immediately, a voice, an angelic voice-no, it was beyond angelic; it was power and love and wisdom itself-spoke to him, filled his mind with the answer.
The light of veracity will shine upon all that is hidden from you. Your heart will know the truth it seeks.
All at once the voice, the presence Kovrim had felt, the spirit of his deity, was gone, and he was left sitting alone in his office. He opened his eyes and peered about, feeling displaced for a moment, like he wasn't where he had expected to be. His fervent prayers always left him feeling that way, and it was comforting, in an odd sort of way, for it confirmed that he was totally devoted to Waukeen at those times, and let nothing else intrude on his deference and dedication.
The bowl with the coins and the water was empty, the sacrifice taken, as Kovrim knew it would be. Nodding in satisfaction, he took hold of the incense and carefully, almost reverently, ground it out, tapping the ash free of the remainder. Then he put his accoutrements away, setting them back in the drawer. Once he was finished, he sat back, staring at the wall for several moments, considering the answer to his prayer. He would find the answers he sought if he went and ransacked Lavant's personal things in his office. Now he knew that evidence existed, and that he would find it if he had the courage to follow through with his plan.
But should he? Kovrim wondered, still having doubts even after his divination. He supposed he should have expected to still feel reluctant, considering what was at stake. On the one hand, he still had no certain knowledge that the evidence would show anything other than that Lavant had arranged a business relationship between the temple and some merchants or similar partners. It might not give any credence at all to the suspicion that Lavant was actively covering up crimes. Indeed, Lavant might be truly guilty of nothing other than bad judgment in picking business partners.
On the other hand, if the high priest was guilty of much more than simple poor assessment of his associates, Kovrim felt a need to expose it, before it caused severe damage to the temple as a whole, both spiritually and financially. Regardless of the risk to himself, Kovrim had to know for sure. If he was wrong, then he might simply look the fool and receive punishment for invading the high priest's personal quarters unbidden. But if not…
Quickly, before he could change his mind again, Kovrim got up and unbolted his door. He slipped out and padded through the brightly lit corridors of the temple, making his way toward Grand Trabbar Lavant's offices. He knew the high priest would not be there during that time of the day, for it was common knowledge that he retreated to the gardens below to pray and meditate.
Kovrim chuckled, because what he knew that few others did not was that Lavant's "meditations" were actually simply an excuse for an afternoon nap before evening services commenced. Kovrim had no personal problem with the idea of resting when one could. He just thought it humorous that the Grand Trabbar was vain enough that he needed to fabricate a reason to cover up his rest. Either way, Kovrim felt safe in choosing that particular time of the day to skulk into the high priest's offices.
Though his heart was beating rapidly, Kovrim made a deliberate effort to nod and smile to anyone he met along the way. To do otherwise would cast suspicion on him, he knew, for his reputation as one of the more jovial and warm priests of the temple was strong. Indeed, he found that no one paid him a second glance so long as he maintained the facade of a merry priest strolling though the corridors on official business.
At last, he reached Lavant's office. Noting that there was no one around to witness him sneaking inside, Kovrim let himself in through the door and shut it softly behind him. Then he turned to the desk, where the high priest seemed to continually maintain a stack of parchment, records of numerous financial reports, business transactions, and proposals from underlings about potential deals the temple could make. Lavant was responsible for a great many things the temple was involved with monetarily.
Scratching his head, Kovrim realized he didn't really know where to begin. He'd thought it a simple enough matter to simply go through the records, but once he looked at them, he saw that there were a great many. He would have to eliminate some of them, or he would never make it through the entire search without getting caught. The priest decided to ignore proposals and balance sheets for the moment. He doubted that anything related to what he was looking for would be at either of those stages of development. Instead, he would concentrate his efforts on the piles that held business plans.
The priest sat down and began to rapidly sort through the appropriate piles, scanning each page quickly for some recognizable text, particularly the name of House Pharaboldi. Of course, as he worked, his nerves were on edge, and every sound out in the corridor, every person walking by, every thump from an adjacent office caused Kovrim to nearly leap out of the chair, a half-formed explanation on the tip of his tongue. After the fifth such incident, the priest chastised himself for his cowardice and redoubled his efforts.
Finally, when he was on the verge of considering other places to dig, he found something. It wasn't much, just a document containing some estimated figures of the full ranks of the mercenary armies the temple either controlled or had strong ties to. And there, at the bottom, was a note, scribbled quickly, showing another set of figures, and the names of three merchant Houses beside each figure. Kovrim recognized the figures themselves as financial. They were substantial amounts, the kind of wealth the merchant Houses in Arrabar might pay to hire an army. The Houses that would pay that kind of coin for a professional army usually spent those amounts when they expected to keep them around for a while, or when they foresaw particularly bloody confrontations in their future. It was the kind of wealth a House spent when it believed it was about to fight a minor war.
There were three Houses listed in a column, each one of them with a figure beside it, each figure enough coin to hire a mercenary army to fight such a war. Together, the funds were substantial enough to do something really serious, like invade another country or conquer a city. Pharaboldi was one of the three Houses, the name that had originally caught Kovrim's eye. But beneath that were the names of two other Houses. It was the third name on that list that made Kovrim freeze, made him reread the words three times to make certain he saw it correctly.
The third name was House Matrell.
Vambran paced like a caged animal in the barracks where his men were busily organizing supplies for the impending departure. He wanted to pound his fist against a wall, wanted to scream at someone. Captain Vertucio had refused to grant him any time to return to his estate, not even long enough to tell the family what was happening. The officer had explained, and rightfully so, Vambran had to admit, that the need to get the company ready had to be the lieutenant's first priority. If, after everything needed for the upcoming trip up the coast was readied-Captain Vertucio said the destination was confidential for the moment, and all Vambran needed to know was that they would be marching overland-perhaps Vambran could sneak away for a quick good-bye.
But those were not ordinary circumstances. Vambran realized that the change in orders, the accelerated pace of the departure time, even his own additional responsibilities to handle logistics for the entire unit, were all suspiciously convenient means of keeping him from pursuing the murderers' identities. Grand Trabbar Lavant knew enough to arrange it so that Vambran would have no choice but to abandon the investigation.