"A praetor," Berelas said almost conspiratorially. Jerenn had no idea what the term meant and his blank expression said so. Berelas decided not to inform him, or not yet at any rate.
"He is from the Great City," was all the scribe would say. "It is the duty of this House to provide him with accommodation for the duration of his stay. The mistress has given over the Rose Villa for his use. You are to go there and serve him for as long as you are needed. You will not be expected to provide his meals—Shanna will also go along for that. But you'll be expected to take them to him, of course." Berelas grinned again. "Be off with you now. The maids are already at the villa, airing and cleaning. You'll be on your best behavior when he arrives. And change those filthy clothes!"
Jerenn looked down at the dust, grain husks, and smears of barrel tar that showed even against the black of his slave garment. He made for the cellars, to wash the grime from his face and arms in the bowls of cold water there, and to smarten himself up to serve this fascinating, as yet nameless and purposeless stranger to his city.
Cassian had drawn the drapes to evade the many startled glances turned in the direction of the ornate carriage as it made its leisurely way down the Grandwalk, the huge central street of the Theran Quarter of Vivane, before finally passing through the enormous fortified doors of the Southern Barracks of the Eighth Legion. The barracks were the first buildings to be constructed following the capture of the city by the Empire, and they still dominated their surroundings.
Having disembarked from the carriage, Cassian found a tall and distinguished-looking man waiting to greet him. He looked to be in his late fifties, though his gray hair was still thick and his skin not as lined and wrinkled as one might expect in a human of such an age. The man gave the elf a bow rather lower than called for by protocol, but when he straightened up Cassian saw that his eyes were bright and alert. Human and elf exchanged a glance in that moment, each recognizing the intelligence in the other and adjusting his reactions accordingly.
Ilfaralek, akarenti of Vivane, smiled cordially. "It is a pleasure to have you in our city."
"I doubt that," Cassian said honestly. "Life here would doubtless be more pleasurable if there was no need of my presence."
"It might, but it would perhaps be less interesting." Still smiling, the man charged with protecting the security of the city led his guest into an officer's room, cool and well-appointed. Cassian needed no invitation before seating himself in one of the large, comfortable, leathered chairs.
"I have it on the Arbiter-General's authority that you are a man with good knowledge of this city and one whose judgment has proven sound and fair," Cassian said. Ilfaralek was just about to demur politely, when the elf seized the advantage with a sudden strike.
"Tell me of Dragold," he said swiftly. "I have my notes, of course, but I need to learn everything I can here. He appears to have been someone of cool and pragmatic nature, and well-liked."
Ilfaralek was just a little ruffled, not expecting Cassian to plunge so rapidly into an enquiry. Protocol more usually determined that pleasantries occupy a greater part of the initial exchange.
"He was justly well-liked," Ilfaralek said, not missing a beat. "He worked hard and, as a matter of fact, you are sitting in one of his buildings at this very moment. He usually served the military as an architect, but he also worked on the extension to the Overgovernor's residence and some private homes in the city. He was also deeply involved with the reconstruction of the city walls, of course."
"Who has taken on his work now?" Cassian inquired.
"Haughrald. The two worked together for some years and had developed certain plans jointly, so not much of Dragold's work has been lost."
"How convenient," Cassian murmured.
Ilfaralek looked uncomfortable. "You may hear insinuations regarding this from certain quarters."
"Really?"
"Various individuals in the military hierarchy were known to favor Dragold over Haughrald. But that is because Haughrald is of House Thaloss, you see. House Thaloss and many of our commanders often do not see eye to eye. Thaloss is charged with keeping expenditures as low as possible, while the commanders often request extra moneys to finance various ventures."
"Such individuals must be of senior rank," Cassian probed, noting Ilfaralek's increasing discomfort with his line of query. After a pause that threatened to turn into a silence, he added more kindly, "Any information you give me will remain quite confidential, and I will seek confirmation in any event. It will not be laid at your door. But helpfulness will not be forgotten back in Thera. This you know."
"General Crotias did not care for Haughrald," the spymaster said slowly. "Though Haughrald was a dwarf, as was Dragold, he was known to have close relations with the family of Patracheus. Patracheus is the senior official in the Department of Bursaries here, and has much influence over discretionary expenditure. General Crotias has long railed at under-spending on her pet projects. Haughrald was disliked by association."
Enough for her to speak ill of the dwarf, Cassian thought momentarily. But this didn't feel like a rivalry between ambitious dwarfs. If he found evidence that both individuals were earning a good living here, it was likely that nothing but honest dwarven endeavor was involved.
Dwarfs didn't kill one another except in the case of some truly appalling crime or major feud.
"That is helpful," the elf said with an air of finality. A slight relaxation around the man's mouth said that he was ready for another rapid query; his guard would be lowered for an instant.
"I gather some enquiry was made, given the nature of the killing," Cassian pressed on.
"Well, as you can understand, it was such a vile act," llfaralek said. "The way he was murdered, I mean; a beast in a slaughterhouse would not have been treated such. I'm afraid the house servants discovered the body and they could not be stopped from talking. There were lurid rumors all over town and we could have had Horrorfear panicking the populace. So we let it be known that we were looking for a troll, driven insane by a disease of the brain, who had killed someone in the same way in Bartertown before fleeing here."
Cassian raised his eyebrows.
"Well, you see, trolls are so rare that everyone was calmed a little. They didn't have to worry that their next-door neighbor might be an insane, Horror-possessed murderer."
"I am not sure that the trolls of the town would be so pleased with the notion," Cassian said tartly.
"Almost all of them are in the army or navy, usually with skyships, and they were safe in barracks," llfaralek retorted. "They were not at any risk. Besides, would ordinary townspeople try to lynch a troll alleged to have a brain disease giving him supernatural strength—or would they leave it to the military to deal with the problem? And of course we said he came from Bartertown. That makes him a Barsaivian—a barbarian and, above all, an outsider who could be kept beyond the walls of the Theran Quarter among his countrymen in the other part of the city"
Cassian smiled. He couldn't help admiring the cleverness that had gone into the cover story, and he wondered whether Ilfaralek might have had a hand in concocting it.
"So then we went to Aralesh, given that we feared a Horror might be involved," the man said simply.
Cassian didn't twitch a muscle. His notes had not told him that the wizard, now gibbering and utterly deranged in his prison cell, had been consulted by the city authorities about the first slaying. Why not? He could only hope that Ilfaralek hadn't noticed any reaction of surprise on his part; the man did seem to pause, just for a split-second, before continuing.
"When it came to the Horrors, Aralesh was the most knowledgeable wizard in Vivane," Ilfaralek said. "If one were active here, Aralesh would have been the one most likely to discover it."
"And he must have investigated this matter for some time without coming to any conclusions," Cassian said quietly. "It was more than a month before his misfortune befell him."
"On the contrary, he informed us almost immediately that
he detected no Horror within the city," Ilfaralek said, slightly surprised.
"Yes, I'm aware of that," Cassian lied, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the unreliability of the advance information he'd been given. "I was suggesting that perhaps his official report was premature. The nature of his affliction might suggest as much."
"Perhaps so." The spymaster gave a thoughtful rub to his chin.
Cassian's heart sank. As an investigator, it was a praetor's job to maintain the advantage while making enquiries, but his own ignorance of certain information was giving Ilfaralek the upper hand here. He changed tack swiftly.
"I will wish to see him, though from your reports I know it may be of small value."
Ilfaralek seemed almost happy to settle for an honorable draw in this first skirmish. "Yes, yes, of course, that is easily arranged," he said, gesturing to show that it was virtually done. "But I have a more agreeable appointment for you this evening, Praetor. A small and select gathering at an informal meal. Some of Vivane's most noteworthy citizens, including some of our finest raconteurs, have been invited. House Medari has, of course, made a villa available to you and I trust it was not presumptuous of me to have arranged this little diversion."
Crafty swine, Cassian thought. He hopes I will be tired from traveling, and has arranged what will obviously be a late-night gathering. How clever of him to make sure that the high, mighty, and curious have their first chance to see me when I might not be at my best.
"Well, that was most thoughtful of you," the elf said with as much cordiality as he could summon. "I shall certainly hope to speak with you further about the other recent deaths, at your convenience, but for now I had best get some sleep before facing such a distinguished company."
"Of course," Ilfaralek replied, slightly irritated. He had apparently hoped to keep Cassian in conversation for some time, but now that must be postponed to some later date. "I will have a carriage sent for you. The villa is in the heart of town—or, rather, in the center of our rebuilt part of it! Most convenient."
"Indeed." Cassian smiled, getting to his feet and refusing to yield to the desire to yawn and stretch his muscles. This was not the moment to indulge in even the slightest display of weakness.
It took the carriage barely two minutes to arrive at the gates leading to the villa. Cassian liked the place as soon as he saw it. Its design was simple, in the classical geometric style, using local stone instead of the marbled affectations so many Therans were fond of. Large trees kept it shaded from the sun, and a profusion of flowers, vines, and other vegetation carpeted the walls. It was the house of a Medari, of course; hospitality was the duty of the House that supplied the praetor. The logic of that, Cassian had been taught, was that it helped minimize attempts to spy on the praetor’s work. Somehow, that clashed with the idea that a praetor was supposed to be objective and curry no favor, but Cassian supposed it was just a tradition from times long past. The servants were timid, and seemed almost disappointed at how little baggage he carried.
"I would very much like a bath," Cassian told one of them. She blushed, and he was still wondering whether she might have assumed this was a coded request to have her in it, when a scrawny youth, still trying to gather his black garments about him in some semblance of order, came dashing through the front door of the villa.
"All is ready, sir," the boy managed to blurt out in Theran that was only lightly tainted with the local accent. "A light meal is ready, though we can have more substantial fare prepared swiftly should you require it. And I took the precaution of drawing a bath for you, lest you were tired after traveling."
"Did you?" Cassian said with interest. "Well, you are a most resourceful fellow. Medari has provided me with a useful servant, I think."
At the time such words did not sound like a prophecy.
4
By the Passions, these people lack judgment, Cassian thought, glancing around at the guests who'd assembled at the villa for the evening's festivities. That should make my job easier.
Nonetheless, he felt almost saddened for a moment, as if oppressed by the foolishness of his fellow creatures. Though he'd watered his wine heavily, and drunk only sparingly, a number of his Vivanian guests had shown themselves delighted at the prospect of excess. They had drunk, and eaten, more than well, with indiscretion giving way to recklessness among some. He even detected the sweet scent of opara, the Indrisan drug, and a casual inspection of the crystallized, sugared fruits in one of the more elaborate ceramic bowls on the dinner table revealed the origin. Careless people, to risk being drug-addled before a praetor, he thought. Several of the males also seemed to relish the pursuit of other men's wives, as Cassian discovered when he'd stepped out into the herb and flower gardens hoping for a brief respite from the heat and noise within. But instead of a refreshing breath of the cooler night air he stumbled over a display of lustful ambitions fulfilled upon distressingly ill-conditioned flesh. It was a sight not at all agreeable to his elven sensibilities.
Still letting his gaze wander over the crowd Cassian observed those few others who had abstained as he had. The spymaster Ilfaralek, he noted, had drunk but little. A tall, auburn-haired wizard he had initially tagged as effete and foolish also kept mostly to himself, though Cassian noted how his eyes darted around. But the eyes showed keen observation and interest, not the mistrust so many wizards often developed for one or more of a thousand reasons. The handful of military Zanjan folk were either screaming drunk or very sober and simply going through the motions of socializing; relatives of the suicide twins, he imagined.
Cassian was also aware that everyone he met had been careful to limit conversations with him to the subject of Thera. They feigned hungry interest in events at the hub of the Empire, and an unwarranted curiosity regarding the sights and sounds of other lands where he had traveled. Cassian soon decided to humor them, considering it a breach of courtesy to pump his guests for information about Vivane so early in his stay. Besides, it would be easier later on after they had drunk too much of the excellent wine.
"That fellow appears to be out of his depth," he said to Ilfaralek, nodding in the direction of the solitary wizard. The man was not even taking refuge in one of the knots of folk using House allegiance to shield themselves from unwanted attention.
"Ah yes, that's the wizard Ziraldesh. Of House Narlanth." That was almost an explanation in itself, given the traits of moodiness and solitariness that typified so many of that aloof, scholarly House. "Actually, he's not a bad sort usually. But his wife is in mourning, so he's come , alone, and I think he usually relies on her to carry out the social niceties."
"In mourning?" Cassian could not conceal his interest, but Ilfaralek was almost dismissive in his rejoinder.
"His wife's father was killed in a hunting accident yesterday. Not that they were close; she was a child by a first marriage and took very much after her mother. She herself has a son by an earlier marriage, though I have seen or heard nothing of him for some time; he is abroad, I believe. I don't think she'd seen much of Daralec for some years. However, the niceties must be observed so she could hardly turn up for a party."
"If he relies on her so much, I'm surprised he came at all," Cassian observed with the slightest hint of interest in his voice.
"I'll introduce you." Ilfaralek took Cassian's arm and the two of them descended upon Ziraldesh, who was openly contemplating his options for retreat, but apparently dithered too long.
"I'll just go see about the carriages," Ilfaralek said, leaving the wizard gazing at the elf like a cornered rat.
"I must console you on your loss," Cassian said smoothly. "It was most good of you to come, given the circumstances."
"Doesn't matter a shit to me," said the wizard forthrightly. "I didn't have anything in common with him, and Shusala wasn't on speaking terms with the bastard."
Cassian's eyebrows flicked upwards. Not just at the wizard's fondness for swearing, but at his wife's name. It had a distinctly elven ring to it, yet marriage
s between humans and elves were rare indeed. That interested him.
"Well, then, perhaps I ought not offer sympathies if the loss is not felt. I understand why you might have been content to attend a light-hearted gathering such as this."
"Poppycock," the man replied tartly. "Light-hearted, my rear end. Everyone's here to see what they can of the inquisition before it arrives at their front door."
Cassian grinned. "You express yourself freely," he said invitingly.
The man refused the bait. "Sometimes," he said defensively. "Depends what it is. I mean, who I'm speaking to. What it's about. That sort of thing." Then he wrung his hands as if apologizing for incoherence. "Some things are better left unspoken."
"Indeed. How interesting," Cassian said inquiringly. Realizing that he was digging himself into a hole, Ziraldesh suddenly claimed a pressing need to visit the privy Since Cassian had seen him return from a prior visit but minutes ago, he made a note to track down the man at some later time.
He has something to hide, Cassian thought, and wondered whether it had any relevance to his investigation here in Vivane. If Ziraldesh already thought of him as an inquisition, it would probably bear further enquiry.
The wizard scuttled away as llfaralek returned from helping some of the more hopelessly inebriated guests take their leave. Looking around him, Cassian judged that he'd seen enough to tell which people were buffoons, which ones were worthy of further study, and which ones were simple, honest souls. Of the latter he had seen very few so far. If there were virtuous, industrious folk among the nobles of Vivane, not many of them had decided to accept the invitations llfaralek had sent.
To his delight, llfaralek had just finished a large goblet of strong, fortified wine, and was wiping his lips with a sigh of weariness. He must consider his work done, Cassian thought, and he's probably preparing to leave. Now's the time to refill his goblet and lead him off toward the study, where we can resume our conversation of this afternoon.
Shadowrun - [Earthdawn 05] - Shroud of Madness Page 3