"Zreem?" he asked, almost disbelievingly.
The bodyguard looked down at the humbled man on the steps. "Well, Lord," he said rather disapprovingly, "you give me the night off, and I return to find your house in some disrepair. You might have told me you were contemplating redecorating."
He turned to look at the soldiers behind him-and his eyes immediately locked on Tantaerra and The Masked, staring straight through the concealing shadows. "I see your Lord Investigators have returned as well," he added dryly. "I hope you gave them a suitable welcome."
Lord Telcanor covered his face with his hands and collapsed into sobs.
∗ ∗ ∗
It was a bright and breezy day, and the unmarred guest bedchamber high in the Telcanor manor looked grand.
Onstal Zreem had firmly closed the door and ordered the soldiers outside to take themselves out of earshot.
Then he'd turned back to the man with the ruined face and the halfling with one hand, and ordered them to tell him everything.
Tantaerra could tell he knew he'd get far from that, but in the end, he seemed satisfied with what he'd heard.
She held up the rings they'd taken from the Shattered Tomb, hoping they'd be payment enough for a priest of Braganza to restore her missing hand.
Zreem gave the gems a wry smile. "These are pretty finger adornments, not magic. Nor are the stones worth more than the cost of a few good meals."
Wordlessly Tarram handed the giant a few blackened pieces of the gauntlet he'd found, but Zreem handed them right back.
"Very little magic left there," he said. "You didn't take very good care of it."
He peered at Tantaerra's exposed stump and rubbed his chin. "Not much magic-but maybe enough. Get the pieces you've got reforged, and resized in the doing, and it might make a handsome replacement, jointed and mated to your tendons so it can hold things at your bidding. It'll be expensive; I hope you've saved your coins."
"We-" Tarram blurted out, then ran out of words.
The man-mountain of a bodyguard favored him with a calm, cold gaze, and waited.
Tarram chose his words carefully. "We slew a dangerous monster, we killed Mahalagris and his traitorous apprentice … we saved this city."
"Did you?" Zreem asked coldly.
The silence that followed was long and tense. The bodyguard broke it almost gently. "Don't push, Tarram Armistrade. In case you haven't noticed, the powerful push back."
Tarram opened his mouth to reply, then slumped down dejectedly, not knowing what to say.
"However," Zreem continued, "what I told you about spells that would kill you if you abandoned your mission, back when you rode out of Braganza? An utter lie. And with Tartesper gone, there's no one left to twist it into truth."
"Why are you telling us this?" Tantaerra demanded. "You're Telcanor's bodyguard!"
To her surprise, the big man smiled.
"Am I?" he asked. "Then I suppose I'd best go find his body."
With that he turned and left the room, leaving Tarram and Tantaerra staring astonished at the closed door.
∗ ∗ ∗
Tantaerra held her new metal hand up to the light. It would take a while to learn to control it, and her forearm ached with the unaccustomed weight and effort, but …she had a hand again!
She waggled her fingers. They clattered, just a little. She'd have to steal some oil.
Or, no, they could buy some, now. The smith and priests who'd crafted it had taken most of their reward money, but they still had a bit left over.
Laden with food, Tarram couldn't see her waggling her fingers.
Poor Tarram. With Mahalagris and Karm both dead, the curse might well be broken, but the damage it had done remained. She'd wanted to try getting his face healed by the priests, but there had only been enough money to fix one of their disfigurements, and he'd insisted that she be first. After all, he said, they could earn-or steal-the rest of the money they needed faster with four hands than three.
"There remains," he was saying, "the prudent matter of getting out of Braganza before the Bailiff can have all his guards find us and flay us alive, or whatever is customarily done to people who falsely claim to be investigators working for the General Lords."
"I'm sure you'll think of something," Tantaerra replied happily. "Then we can-"
She stopped abruptly.
A familiar looming armored figure was blocking their way, leaning casually against the frame of the doorway they'd been heading for, massive arms folded across an even larger chest.
"One task remains," Onstal Zreem told them calmly. "There's something I need from you."
Tantaerra felt her stomach drop. She'd known it was too good to be true-the reward, the exoneration. All from this Zreem. Neither she nor Tarram had seen Lord Telcanor since the staircase.
"Of course there is," she spat. "You damned Braganzans and your games. Have you come to conscript us for Telcanor again?"
"No," Zreem said simply. "For Imperial Governor Teldas himself."
"Hah!" Tantaerra scoffed-then stopped as she saw his expression. Slowly, she asked, "Who are you?"
"The Imperial Governor has lately grown irritated with Braganza's wastefulness," he said. "Telcanors, Mereirs, Lord Ravnagask's ceaseless building. As such, he's taken the prudent step of quietly placing people of his own in positions of influence."
Tantaerra's mouth dropped open. "You're a Lord Investigator. A real one."
"Yes," Zreem said. "And you can be as well."
"Both of us?" Tarram interrupted sharply.
"Both of you," Zreem confirmed. "As a team. Reporting to the General Lords, and fairly well paid to travel Molthune and search for foreign spies and disloyal Molthuni."
Tarram and Tantaerra gaped at him, then at each other.
"I should point out," Zreem continued, almost to himself, "that both the Telcanors and the Mereirs still want you dead. And Lord Ravnagask is likely to be looking for a politically convenient scapegoat for the recent troubles. Naturally, anyone truly working for the Imperial Governor would be beyond their reach."
Tarram eyed the mountainous bodyguard. "I'm curious: why does your master-your true master, I mean-allow all this? Why did you let us reach Braganza with the gauntlet?"
Zreem's smile widened. "Ambitious men become a nuisance if they go too long untested. And every ruler has his critics, but the ruler of Braganza needs testing every bit as much as the most ambitious men who dwell in his city. It would not do to leave a city so close to Nirmathas in the hands of someone …inadequate."
"He lets them all kill each other to keep them from challenging his authority?" Tantaerra asked. "And to see if Lord Ravnagask is any good at his job?"
"I see," Tarram replied slowly. He looked at Tantaerra. "Well? What do you think?"
"Becoming a Lord Investigator?"
"Yes."
"What do you think?"
"I believe I'd enjoy it very much. If we're together."
Tantaerra's smile was slow in coming, but dazzling when it arrived.
"Then, Tarram Armistrade," she announced, "I believe I feel the same way."
∗ ∗ ∗
It was another clear, dry night, of a steady breeze and bright moonlight.
Tantaerra looked back, but Braganza was lost behind the hills, a good day's ride west of them now, on good, formerly Telcanor horses.
She and Tarram had eaten dinner and banked their fire, and were about to bed down. First watch was his.
She raised the dregs of her last mug of broth to him. "All hail Tarram Armistrade, newly ordained investigator for the General Lords."
He gave her back the same toast, and they drained their mugs in unison.