Vix shook her head. “I never asked.”
Then, thought Kalev, that’s what I need to find out next.
Vix narrowed her eyes at him, as if she could read his thoughts. “Are you planning on spying on him?”
“I’m afraid I must.”
He waited for her to protest, but she just sighed. “Don’t get caught. I’ve got enough problems.”
“I’ll do my best. Sheroth’s also on the case. He said to meet him by door twelve after your act. We can all rendezvous there once you get off stage, and plan our next move.”
“You invite yourself along very easily.” Vix snorted. “Why should we trust you?”
“Because you’re in trouble, and there’s no one else to help you.”
Vix pressed her lips together in a hard line but he could tell she realized he was right. “My set lasts exactly fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you at door twelve.” She grabbed a spangled cloak and marched out the door.
Which left Kalev with one problem-how to find this Nemar in the Arena’s labyrinthine backstage without being noticed and thrown out. He scanned the dressing room, hoping for inspiration. He found it on the broken writing desk that had been shoved into one corner of the dressing room.
Kalev buttoned his black coat all the way up to his throat and pulled his breeches out of his boot tops. He tucked his gloves into his pockets and dipped his right index finger into the inkwell. He plucked up a pen and ink pot and strode purposefully to the door. Now, if anyone spared him a glance, they would see nothing but a clerk, and who ever gave a clerk a second thought? It was almost as good as being invisible.
He emerged from the dressing room in time to peer over the railing to the main floor and watch Vix join a gaggle of sparkling costumed dancers all heading in the same direction.
“Now that’s a beautiful sight.”
Kalev jumped. A man stood beside him, a half-elf by the look of him. He’d moved into place so silently and easily, that for all his skills Kalev hadn’t even noticed him. Then, Kalev realized he recognized him.
The half-elf was Gledeth Shore, the lead actor of the Arena. Kalev had seen him in his new drama less than a month ago, before the murders started. He had the fine-boned structure of a Valenar war prince combined with the lively energy of a charming human male. On stage, it was a lethal combination.
Kalev remembered his character of fussy clerk and sniffed.
Gledeth laughed and slapped his shoulder. Kalev flinched as if the blow was too hard, which only made Gledeth laugh harder. “Just don’t get caught staring too long,” he said, his eyes suddenly serious. “Or you might wind up in trouble.” Then chuckling once more, he strolled off.
Kalev watched him go, thoroughly disquieted. What did the most famous actor in all of Fairhaven care what a clerk did or did not stare at?
Kalev wavered and cursed silently. He hunched his shoulders and shook his head so his hair flopped down across his brow, and started down the stairs. If Nemar was the stage manager, he would be in the wings, ready to line up the members of the dance troupe and give them their cue. Kalev would know the man as soon as he spoke and then…
“You!” shouted a furious voice. Kalev froze on the last step. A woman clad in a long black coat and carrying a huge ledger under her arm shouldered her way through the bustling stagehands. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Then Kalev realized his disguise had a fatal flaw. No one spared a clerk a second thought, except, of course, another clerk.
Ten minutes, three flights of stairs, and half a dozen corridors later, Kalev found himself in the office of Mirias Jadering Phiarlan, a surprisingly stocky elf who wore his golden hair in a single braid that hung between his shoulder blades and displayed the great green earring that had given him his name. Kalev knew Mirias only by reputation, but that reputation was extensive. Mirias could make Kalev disappear so thoroughly not even the Eyes would be able to find his corpse.
Kalev sat beside the hearth in his office. Mirias’s gaze bored straight into the back of his mind.
“So, tell me,” Mirias said. “What brings you backstage at my Arena without ticket or invitation?”
Kalev crossed his legs, feigning relaxation. “There have been a rash of murders among the city’s merchant aristocracy. I’m sure you heard.”
Mirias nodded once.
“I am investigating these crimes. I have reason to believe they are connected to the Arena, and to the theft of a magical artifact known as the Memory Eye.”
Mirias’s green eyes narrowed.
“It was stolen from the study of Duke Arisor,” Kalev continued, “who was murdered tonight, and now I find one of your stage managers is astonishingly eager to get his hands on it.”
“Why is this any of your business?”
“As I said, I’ve been hired to find out the cause of the deaths.”
“Hired by whom?”
Kalev smiled pleasantly and made no answer.
Mirias flexed his long fingers. “Nemar has bad luck at the gaming tables,” he said at last. “He tends to… acquire objects of value and sell them. Good stage managers are difficult to find, so we have tolerated it.”
“And now?” Kalev inquired.
“We may have to rethink this policy.”
“In that case, I have a proposition,” said Kalev. “Let me continue my investigations. If Nemar is behind the murders, I will make the problem go away, without anyone asking a single question, or casting any aspersions on House Phiarlan.”
Mirias considered this. “I will give you one day. After that, I will take matters into my own hands.”
Kalev inclined his head. “One last question. What is the Memory Eye?”
“The Memory Eye projects a copy of the last thing it’s seen. For example, if it was on the main stage now, it would see Lady Daria Goldeneye in one of her most popular scenes. If its recall were activated, it would project that same scene so perfectly you would not be able to tell it from the original.” He paused, attempting to gauge Kalev’s reaction to this. “As such, it is very useful, particularly if a popular artist has fallen ill, or succumbed to a fit of temperament. The performance can go on and no one in the audience is any wiser.”
Or demanding their entry fee refunded. “I can see where such an artifact would have… many uses,” Kalev said. It could allow a person, say a stage manager, to be in two places at once. As he thought this, another face flashed in front of his mind’s eye and Kalev found himself wondering if Nemar was working alone. The stage manager was already employed by House Phiarlan in one capacity, why not another? It was possible the story of Nemar’s gambling debts was just that, a story. Mirias could very well be holding Nemar’s leash, and the skulk’s.
If House Phiarlan was engaged in a campaign against the Queen’s intelligence sources…
Kalev got to his feet. “Thank you for your time. I will not forget this.”
“Neither will I,” said Mirias softly, as they shook hands.
“Where have you been?” Vix demanded. After his meeting with Mirias, it had taken Kalev almost another half hour to track down the street exit with the big white twelve painted on its black surface.
“Finding out about the Memory Eye, and about your blackmailing boss.” And possibly getting led down a garden path. He looked around the alley where they stood. “Where’s Sheroth?”
“I don’t know.” Vix wrapped her arms around herself.
Worry prickled Kalev too. Despite his brief acquaintance with them both, he knew Sheroth would never leave Vix waiting.
Kalev was beginning to see that whomever was behind this had spun an incredible web. The Memory Eye would allow them to be in two places at once, so they could work the social networks of the city and identify key information agents, but always with an alibi. Then, they could send in the skulk, who could hide in plain sight, to take out any agent who was getting too close to something important, or who might be about to change sides. Everyone knew skulks killed at random, so no one would ask why one person or another had been murdered.