“Lies.” The Geshtai herald made up in pure disdain what helacked in fury. “Piddling lackeys of a third-rate god, they have stolen thetrident from our treasury and now invent tales to distract attention from their crime.”
This brought about the inevitable fresh burst of anger. Clerks and witnesses from both the temples shouted out their evidence, and the baron could only breathe hard, drink deep, and try to sift evidence from invective. Finally, he hammered on the tabletop with a heavy iron mace, tearing a fresh set of scars on the walnut table. The noise brought no results until the man roared in a voice more used to parade grounds than palaces.
“Shut up!”
An offended silence fell.
“Quiet!” The baron slammed his mace flat upon the conferencetable. “If neither of you are lying, then you have each raided one another’stemples! If both weapons have been stolen, then you are both even.”
“Search our treasury!” The Geshtai herald rose, his wholebeing seething with hate. “Cast scrying spells. You will not find Bleredd’shammer in our halls!”
“They have shielded it from spells!” Bleredd’s herald threwopen his arms in rage. “Where is justice? If the army will not help us, then thetemple will take the law into its own hands!”
The baron leaned forward across the table and said, “Transgressions against the civic peace will not be tolerated. If either of youmove against the others temple, if you riot once again, the city guard will fight you! Both of you will be declared enemies of the state!”
There was a confident sneer from the priests.
“It will take more troops than you have here to take downBleredd’s temple… or Geshtai’s.” The Geshtai herald spewed forth his wordslike poison. “Will you run whining to the countess, my lord? What will she thinkof a man who cannot even keep the peace in his own city?”
The baron wrenched his mace up from the table, only to be held in place by a interruption from the far end of the conference room. A young man stood, deliberately blocking the way between the baron and the herald.
“M-my lord? Neither temple may have wronged the other afterall.”
Seated amongst Trigol’s three law officers, young Allain hadrisen to his feet. He intruded into the midst of the hatred, trying to let reason calm the storm.
“My lords and holinesses, there may be another explanation.”The lawman waved a hand at the shaven-headed, scar-faced man who kept well to the far side of the hall. “This man is on a commission from the countessherself. He has an… alternate solution.”
All eyes turned toward the Justicar. The priests slitted their eyes and made a calculating appraisal. The law officers beside Allain shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The priests leaned back in their chairs and did not deign to speak. The Justicar had a grim, monastic simplicity that contrasted starkly with the law officers and priests in their golden robes.
The senior law officer shot a distasteful look toward the Justicar and said, “Who is this… person?”
The baron poured more wine, took a sip, and said, “He is ondirect commission as an agent of the countess of Urnst.” He seemed far fromhappy about this, since it meant that the Justicar was beyond his own jurisdiction. “His credentials are correct.”
“Credentials,” the lawman sneered. “Why should we place faithin a damned adventurer?”
“I doubt if he gives a damn if you do or not.” The barondrank. “He doesn’t answer to me. He doesn’t answer to you. For once, just shutup and listen.”
The baron jerked his goblet at the Justicar, signaling him forward. Contemptuous of the priests, lords, and clerks, the ranger arose with a creak of leather armor, striding dark and huge toward the watching men.
“Yesterday we saw a set of illusion spells used to triggeroff the riots in the marketplace. An erinyes is in the city. She had control of a soul-eating sword with a black blade.”
Priests stiffened, and law officers stirred uncomfortably. The heralds leaned in to conduct whispered, intense conversations with their masters.
Bleredd’s herald finally straightened, wiped the palms of hishands against his tunic hem, and spoke. “How… how do you know it is anerinyes?”
“I fought it.” The Justicar turned toward the herald, hisblack armor gleaming in the firelight. Behind him, Cinders leaked sulphurous steam. “It was a baatezu, a shapeshifter, a seducer-and it controls a force ofhuman thieves within the city.”
The herald hastily waved away the scent of sulphur and said, “So this devil-creature now has our sacred weapons?”
“Unlikely.”
The Justicar’s own blade caught sparks of firelight, itswolf-skull pommel glittering in the gloom. “The erinyes had her own weaponstolen during the market riot. The thief is a sorcerer of considerable power.”The man slowly raised up his hell hound skin and draped it across his helmet and his shoulder blades. “If the temples’ sacred weapons are missing, the sameculprit is responsible. He boasts that he now holds three weapons for us to retrieve.”
The Geshtai herald gave a sour laugh and leaned contemptuously back in his chair. “How do you know?”
“I know.” The Justicar turned, his face cold andsavage beneath the grinning hell hound mask. “He has a date with justice.”
The baron held out his goblet as a servant poured more wine. The Justicar drank but did not join the politicians at their table.
“Who else saw this… erinyes?” the baron asked.
“I did, my lord. Briefly.” Allain licked his lips. “And forthe past month, there have been… occurrences. Bodies of murder victims.Each and every one of them had… had lost its soul.”
“The erinyes’ sword is called Blackrazor.” The ranger putin. “It is a soul-eater. The man who stole it from the erinyes was chief of theSorcerers’ Guild library.” The big man tossed back his wine. “Your city isbreeding maggots.”
Far down the table, a clerk cast a disdainful glance at the Justicar.
“An erinyes? Soul stealers? Mysterious wizards?” The clerkset his goblet down with a thump. “A convenient little fantasy concocted by youalone. My lords, you can’t seriously be suggesting that we take the word of thisvagabond.”
The Justicar gave a low, feral growl. His red eyes gleaming, Cinders echoed the noise with a thump-thump-thump of his tail. At this point, Escalla popped into view above the center of the table and briskly clapped her hands like a carnival announcer.
“Bzzt! All right, important safety note at this point! Donot piss off the Justicar!” The girl rowed backward through the air withher busy wings. “This is a nice room, a flammable room. So, lest we all want ademonstration of the mystic fighting arts, let’s at least show minimalbelief in each others’ integrity.”
The Bleredd high priest finally deigned to speak. He resettled his golden mitre, spared a scathing glance for Escalla, then turned to face the baron.
“And what is this… this winged thing?” The manprodded at Escalla with one huge fingertip. “Why is a pixie at this council?”
“Hey, for your information, I happen to be a faerie!”Escalla swatted the fat man’s hand. “And no one touches the faerie!”
“What’s the difference?”
“We have cuter butts!” With a sudden flash, Escalla providedherself with illusory scholar’s robes. “Now, just to recap: We have a new theoryon these thefts, and it has the added bonus of avoiding internecine war.”
A temple clerk glared at the faerie, leaned back in his chair, and folded up his arms. “So to corroborate this… Justicar’sstory, we are relying upon a pixie?” The man gave a sour laugh. “What do youtake us for?”