The Sapphire Crescent soa-1

by Thomas M. Reid

  "Foolish or not, the fear is real," Dregaul responded. "And it's powerful. Marking yourself is only inviting scorn and suspicion, both upon you personally and upon the House. It's a foolish risk that isn't necessary. But that never stopped you from taking foolish risks before, so I don't know why I would expect any different from you now."

  "Don't worry," Vambran said through clenched teeth, "I will certainly not 'disgrace' the family further and raise your ire by continuing to wear the third mark. I certainly wouldn't want the whole city of Arrabar to cringe in fear, thinking I was bringing the plague to one and all."

  He threw his hands up helplessly, as if to say he didn't know what else to offer to placate his uncle.

  "Fine," Dregaul replied. "And as for this other matter with the guards, leave it alone. Don't drag the Matrell name any farther into it. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes," Vambran said, rising up out of his chair abruptly. He stared hard at Dregaul, a dangerous gleam in his eye that Emriana had never seen before. "I understand exactly what's most important to you. I always have."

  The girl realized she had gasped at her brother's reaction, and she wasn't the only one. Her mother was patting her chest in anxiety, obviously feeling the threat of a fainting spell coming on. Even Grandmother Hetta seemed taken aback, and very little got her excited. At the far end of the table, Evester frowned, but he didn't react much beyond that. Emriana was finding it harder and harder to read him.

  For his part, Uncle Dregaul stopped pacing and stared right back at his nephew, his hands resting on the back of one of the tall, dark chairs. Emriana could see that his knuckles were white with strain, and she realized he was barely holding his own anger in check.

  "You've made it perfectly clear what you think of me," Vambran went on, his voice dangerously soft. "I tried to give something back to the family, to you, as best I could. And when that didn't work, I tried to keep my distance, for both our sakes. But it's never enough to change anything, and I guess it never will be. So I'm through trying. I'm not going to ignore what I think is a murder ostensibly disguised as the city watch 'doing its job'"-Vambran's tone grew sarcastic-"just because it might temporarily put the Matrell family name in an unfavorable light. If you can't abide it, then I'll make sure none of my actions trouble you ever again."

  Emriana's eyes widened in amazement. She couldn't believe what her brother was suggesting.

  The girl realized her mouth was hanging open, and she snapped it shut again, looking at Dregaul. The man's face turned red as he sputtered, unable to speak. Emriana turned to the rest of the family to see their reactions. At the same time, she was beginning to wish she could be somewhere else right then.

  "Vambran!'' Emriana's mother said, looking aghast at her son. "You should not speak to your uncle that way."

  "I'm sorry, Mother," Vambran replied, "but he's left me no choice. I can't continue to live under his baleful stare any longer. I'll make my own way in the world, on my own terms, if it means living in peace and without his scorn and scathing remarks."

  The lieutenant opened his mouth to say something else, but Dregaul slammed his fist on the table.

  "You insolent, selfish whelp! I will not be spoken to in that manner. If it weren't for me, and for… you'd be… "

  He stopped, seemingly unwilling to finish his line of thought.

  Emriana's heart was pounding. She had never seen either her uncle or her brother behave that way, and she hated watching it. She wanted to sneak out of the room and get far enough away that she wouldn't be able to hear any more. She eyed the open, arched doorway that led away from the dining hall and into the wing of the house where everyone's bedrooms were, wondering if she could slip through it unnoticed.

  "That's enough," came the quiet but commanding voice of Grandmother Hetta, seated off to one side. Everyone in the room grew quiet and turned respectfully toward her. The woman's face seemed tired and full of sorrow as she looked from Vambran to Dregaul and back again. "I'm too old to watch you two fight like this."

  Dregaul nodded and said, "Of course, Mother. You speak with the wisdom of many years. I only intended to-"

  "Dregaul, my son," Hetta interrupted, bringing up one wrinkled finger and wagging it at him in a gentle but stern way, "don't patronize me. You've never hidden your dislike of Vambran, and it disappoints me. I know you're feelings about-'' Hetta paused, took a breath, and continued in a different direction. "I think it's time you let it go."

  Emriana noticed her Uncle Dregaul's shoulders tense up, but the man said nothing.

  What is she talking about? the girl wondered.

  "And Vambran," the matriarch said, "I will hear no more talk of you leaving this family."

  Vambran turned his gaze toward his grandmother and nodded, regret washing over his face.

  The woman's voice softened, and she continued sorrowfully, "I've lost a husband and three children, and I will not sit by and watch what remains of my family tear itself apart like this.

  "Now" Hetta said, her tone businesslike as she reached out her hand for Emriana's mother to help her to her feet. Ladara was there instantly, taking hold of her mother-in-law and providing support as the older woman rose up out of the chair. "It's late, and we're all tired and angry. I don't want to hear any more about this tonight. I want you two"-and she looked at Vambran and Dregaul, who still stood facing one another across the table-"to agree to put this aside for tonight and speak of it after a good night's sleep, perhaps tomorrow after breakfast. Your feud has gone on long enough. Resolve it."

  She stood there, waiting.

  Emriana turned, as did everyone else, to see how the two would react. Dregaul's jaw worked, clenching and unclenching, as though the man were struggling with complying with his mother's instructions.

  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 dive
d 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."

  He gave Vambran a hopeful smile.

  Vambran stared at the official for a moment, unsure what to make of that revelation. Priests of the temple of Waukeen, insisting the corpses bore the magic plague? How would they know before even examining the bodies? He meant to find out.

  "Look," he said to the scribe, trying to sound both deferential and urgent at the same time. "Do you think Captain Leguay could see me for a few moments anyway? I really think she needs to hear what I have to say."

  The official pursed his lips, staring at Vambran uncertainly.

  Finally, he sighed and said, "I'll speak to her and see if she has a few moments to spare."

  Vambran nodded in thanks and returned to the bench to wait once more. After a few more minutes, the official returned and motioned for Vambran to follow him.

  "Make it quick," he warned as he turned and led the way inside.

  The lieutenant nodded again and followed the scribe, thankful for the coolness of the interior and struggling to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. He followed the man into a hallway that passed several smaller offices near the back. The scribe stopped before one and gestured for Vambran to enter, then departed again almost immediately.

  Captain Leguay was seated on a stiff-looking wooden chair with the traditional Chondathan high back, though it was very workmanlike in appearance, with none of the piercing, chasing, and bas relief Vambran was used to in more affluent decor. He stood and waited for a moment while the captain finished reading a scroll open in front of her. She clicked her tongue in exasperation once and took up a quill, scribbling some notes in the margin of the scroll, then she released it and let it furl up again. Slipping the quill back in its proper spot, she looked up at Vambran.

  "Ah, yes. My mercenary from last night." she said. "I thought I made it clear you were no longer needed for questioning. Why are you still here?"

  "1 think you should hear what I have to say."

  "I've got to go on patrol in another few minutes. Make it quick."

  Vambran said, "I think there might have been more to last night's events than initially meets the eye. I think those other watchmen were imposters."

  "That wouldn't surprise me in the least," Captain Leguay replied. "They somehow managed to slip off into the night while we were transporting the bodies back here, and I have put in a few inquiries this morning to try to find out who they were, with no luck."

  Vambran was surprised that the soldier was agreeing so readily with him.

  "Then are you tracking them down?" he asked, wonde
ring if she would accept his help.

  "I've got a couple of watchmen on it, but I doubt they'll find anything out."

  Vambran tried to suppress his shock and asked, "Is that it?"

  "Look, Master Matrell, I'm not sure what your concern is. Did you know the victims? Was there something stolen from you? What is it you want me to do?"

  Vambran scowled. "I was hoping you might try to bring them to justice. They committed two murders, after all."

  "We don't know that," Captain Leguay snapped. "Those two were thrice marked, and as best as I can tell, they had absolutely no arcane ability to speak of. You, I can easily accept. Them, no."

  "But how can you be sure, when you let priests burn the bodies before performing a divination of any sort on them?" Vambran asked, his tone verging on sarcasm. "Did you happen to get the priests' names before you let them destroy evidence?"

  "Master Matrell, they were a couple of common laborers. What difference does it make?"

  "Beggar or king, we're talking about a possible murder. You should be out there, trying to find those imposters. I can help you track them, if you'll give me a chance."

  "Are you presuming to tell me how to do my job?"

  "No, I'm just asking you to do it properly!" Vambran could not believe how callous the captain was being toward the whole investigation.

  "It's time for you to go, Master Matrell. I'm a busy woman, and I've got no time for pampered boys with delusions of grandeur."

  "You're unbelievable!"

  "Leave now, or I will have you arrested," she said, and her visage made it clear she wasn't kidding.

  Vambran was so stunned he couldn't even retort. He simply glared for a full two heartbeats then, shaking his head, he stormed out of the station house.