Shadowrun - [Earthdawn 05] - Shroud of Madness

by Carl Sargent, Marc Gascoigne (v0. 9) (epub)

  "Is Karlanta being well cared for?"

  "Look, what business is that of yours?"

  "My business is whatever I choose it to be, and you would do well to remember that when I am making an enquiry motivated by concern," Cassian said sharply, thinking Tarlanth's rudeness totally uncalled for.

  Though still looking grumpy Tarlanth seemed to relax slightly.

  "I'm sorry, Cassian. Forgive the rudeness. I'm so busy I forget my manners on occasion. I have men in and out of here every hour of the day, what with Kypros's feast day so close. I have so much to arrange, you know. Hundreds of people to organize, supplies to obtain and deliver and pay for and distribute and a thousand and one other things to worry about. Well, as to your query, Karlanta is being well cared for and is in good hands. We expect her back in two weeks or so, though that depends of course on how well she recovers. The loss of her husband and son has, after all, been an appalling shock to her."

  "She will presumably inherit Daralec's properties, which should be some comfort. She will not have to worry about penury."

  Tarlanth's eyes grew narrow7 and his body tense. "Medari would take care of her in any event," he growled. "She need not fear. We made that very clear to her. All her needs will be met. That is our duty."

  "Indeed so. It is well for her that Medari is so conscientious about such matters," Cassian said glibly. "And of course the House will be enriched itself."

  "Meaning what?" Tarlanth's venomous emphasis on the second word was tangible.

  "Meaning that Daralec's commercial will is known of," Cassian said flatly "That is a matter between Daralec and myself," Tarlanth said. "The document is wholly in order. It was witnessed by—"

  "By Patracheus, I know. A figure of unimpeached integrity and a man with much political power. Not someone whose word could be readily opposed." Cassian looked Tarlanth full in the face, locking the other man into a battle of wills. "Nonetheless many people will be surprised by it."

  "It will be none of their damn business," Tarlanth half-shouted.

  "Perhaps Darnius's will will interest even more people," Cassian replied, quietly. This was his parting shot, planned in the hope of making even Tarlanth crumble. The man's response both surprised and gratified the elf.

  "Darnius? Mordain's son? What on earth does he have to do with anything?" Tarlanth looked totally mystified.

  "Ah, well, perhaps I should not have let that slip," Cassian said in a mollifying tone. "A little indiscreet. Well, it is nothing of real importance. You will hear of it in due course, I dare say. I'm sorry to have taken up your time when you are so busy, Tarlanth. Forgive my intrusion."

  Leaving the man gaping open-mouthed behind him, Cassian smiled to himself as he left the opulent villa.

  Tarlanth doesn't know, Cassian reflected, certain that the man's reaction had not been feigned. He really knew nothing of the will. He may or may not have murdered I )aralec, or arranged for him and his son to be killed, but lie had nothing to do with the misfortunes of House Thaloss. Which is exactly what Cassian would have expected of him. No noble worth his salt would risk , assaulting the scions of two noble Houses at the same time. Not unless he was supremely daring and arrogant; and though Tarlanth was arrogant, daring was not a quality of a man of his age. At least, only very rarely was it so.

  Cassian glanced over his shoulder toward the villa even as he heard the footfalls of an approaching division. Perhaps it was just a routine patrol, perhaps Ilfaralek already had his Writ from Kypros, the elf mused. Then a window opened on an upper floor of the great house, the glint of sunlight reflected from the angled glass catching Cassian's eye. He gazed up to see Lyn standing there, his face and shoulders framed by the window, a frail figure with a pale face looking down at him.

  Poor boy, Cassian thought with sympathy; what will become of him? If his father is stripped of all he owns, he will be cast into poverty; his House will not care for him, being an outcast tainted by the sins of his father. The youngster did not seem to possess the will to survive alone in the world. Cassian's own suggestion that Tarlanth should send the boy away for safekeeping had been meant in earnest.

  The sun was beginning to sink in the sky now, the longer days of summer receding into the past, and the evenings drawing in. Cassian recalled with a jolt that he'd forgotten to send a kedate after Ziraldesh and, as he thought of the barracks and the need to go there yet again, he suddenly remembered Jerenn.

  That boy should be over his hangover by now, he thought with a grin. I'd better see how he's doing. He, at least, I can save when the legion arrives to strip Tarlanth's household bare.

  Behind him, the one he was not able to protect stared long and hard at the elf as he climbed into his carriage and disappeared in a trail of dust down the drive.

  29

  Tomorrow, if I go anywhere I shall make a list of all the things I need to do when I get there so I don't forget, Cassian reflected as he showed his pass to the guards at I he barracks gates yet again. Fortunately, the guard had been changed so at least he didn't have to put up with disrespectful looks from soldiers who would have wondered whether he might have developed a case of terminal forgetfulness.

  He made his way to the room where Jerenn was locked up and had himself let in. The boy looked pale, but lie stood up easily enough when the elf entered and didn't look too much the worse for wear.

  "I think you may go whenever you wish," Cassian told him. "The soldiers have rounded up nearly three hundred people now—everyone anywhere near the tunnels. You should be safe from any magical threats hanging over you. Stay if you wish, though."

  "My master may be wondering where I am, sir," the boy said doubtfully.

  "Ah," Cassian said. "I wouldn't go too near Tarlanth's home at the moment if I were you. Best not to be seen there, I think."

  "What's happened?"

  "I'll tell you of it tomorrow," the elf replied, regretting the admission.

  "I think I might feel more comfortable away from here," Jerenn confessed.

  Leaving here will also allow you to go snooping around Tarlanth's, Cassian thought at once, and said so. Jerenn looked down at his boots.

  "Really, don't go there today," the elf insisted. "You'll be safer well away from there. Please, Jerenn, take my advice on this."

  The boy looked surprised to be presented with a request rather than an order. Slave life was not supposed to be like this.

  "I promise not to, sir."

  "Good. Well, actually I must say I think the Rose Villa could do with your presence to keep those maids in order," Cassian said with a grin. "I may also have a visitor or two, I suspect, and having you on hand might be useful. Collect your things and I'll take you back with me."

  While the youth got together what few belongings he had, Cassian found the busy akarenti and inquired as to his progress.

  "Tarlanth should be on his way here now," Ilfaralek said happily. "Together with his wife, of course. I have little doubt she must have taken charge of matters magical during their schemes."

  "If one supposes his guilt, that seems like a plausible assumption," Cassian said smoothly, ignoring the man's frown. "But it's doubtful that he'll confess. Proof may be difficult to obtain."

  "Well, I can hardly hand him over to the ghareez,"

  Ilfaralek admitted. "Not without permission from a full Conclave, and getting that could be difficult, given that Tarlanth has his fingers in every pie in the city. However, what I can do is search every last inch of his house from top to bottom and I'm sure we'll find something."

  "Apart from cobwebs, I trust," the elf said sweetly "Well, I wish you luck and good hunting. Actually, I was here to request a kedate from you for the remainder of the day."

  "I think that's possible, but with all the preparations for the feast, roping off half the damn Broken Quarter, and now having to send men to search Tarlanth's, it's a bit difficult," Ilfaralek replied. "Is it absolutely urgent?"

  "Hmmm. No, well, perhaps I can go myself," Cassian rumina
ted. He reasoned swiftly that he should be able to get back to the city well before nightfall. "It's nothing of any real importance. Chasing shadows, probably."

  "An occupational hazard, I shouldn't wonder," Ilfaralek said wryly.

  "Indeed, and for an akarenti too," Cassian returned lightly. "Well, I shall be going. Thank you for taking care of Jerenn."

  "Thank you for taking him away. I have some important visitors arriving shortly," Ilfaralek said, and right on cue a trio of sonorous raps on the door announced the arrival of one of them. Cassian took one look at the black-helmed Vasgothian emissary and excused himself from the company.

  Hard-faced men, those, from hard lands, Cassian thought. The Scourge is something they still live with even more than we do, with another kaer found every day, it seems—or at least it did during my brief time among them. Girls are married off there as soon as they can bear young, and if there are no suitable young men for marriage—and there often are not—they will bear young anyway. So many die in that gray land that it's the only way they can survive, by having as many children as possible as swiftly as possible. It shows on their faces; happiness doesn't seem to be a feeling that even exists among them. Cassian had disliked Vasgothia and found his sojourn there very depressing. Indeed, he'd done his best to avoid Vasgothian company at all times ever since.

  Jerenn was loafing about outside, waiting for him. Together, they walked slowly to the elf's carriage and set off at a leisurely pace for the Grandwalk, and then on to the Rose Villa.

  Upon arriving, Cassian decided not to just drop Jerenn off, but to make sure that the boy got up to as little mischief as possible. He began rattling off a list of tasks. "I shall require a bath when I get back, and supper. One of the maids, Shalstra, is it?"—the boy nodded—"she has a fever. Ate a boiled pig's foot that had apparently not been sufficiently well-cooked," the elf continued, grimacing at the thought. "So you may have to do some shopping and even some vegetable-peeling and the like. Make sure whatever is required is all done in readiness for me when I return."

  "I will, sir," Jerenn said faithfully. Cassian gave him a meaningful look and headed back towards his carriage, leaving the boy standing at the front door, waving him farewell as the carriage headed back out into the thoroughfare.

  It took Jerenn five minutes to ascertain that Hysilde, the second maid, had everything ready for supper, as he'd expected. She was not intelligent, nor comely, but she worked hard enough for two people and Jerenn had always liked her for that. It made his own life less arduous. Shortly afterwards, he began to consider what disguise he would need.

  The journey took Cassian longer than he'd planned, because of so many visitors to Vivane headed in the opposite direction. Many people had obviously decided to arrive well in advance of Kypros's feast day, to sample the markets, spend time with relatives, enjoy the fine weather, and swim in one of the few rivers that offered nothing more hazardous than overexcited t'skrang sailors, or for more nefarious or debauched purposes. Their caravans, slave-carried biers, entourages, mounts and beasts of burden seemed at times to blanket the entire road.

  Drumming his fingers on his knees in annoyance, Cassian managed not to yell to the coachman to go faster, since the delay could not be helped, but he fancied the beginning of cramp in his legs by the time he was able to stretch them out of the carriage door and head for the guards of Vrontok, the city settlement beneath Sky Point. It took nearly half an hour before he could get through, even with his pass; the number of people thronging for admission or, more commonly, egress was enormous and the guards were overworked and harassed. Cassian made for the offices of Admiral Tularch. Not that Tularch would be there, of course, but that was where he would find records of travel.

  "I shall need to inspect lists of departures for today," he said sweetly to an overworked captain. The dwarf looked at him with fury until he saw Cassian's Imperial badge and then sighed loudly

  "Praetor, I cannot be absolutely certain that we have everyone," he admitted. "We had to make two entirely unexpected searches of arrivals from Marac and Indrisa. We confiscated nearly half a ton of contraband during our work. We cannot be everywhere at once."

  "Of course not," Cassian said soothingly. "Not under such circumstances." He turned around the ledger the dwarf passed to him, to take in the meticulous writing the right way up. Double-checking it took him the best part of half an hour, seated quietly amid the mayhem of the office, but by the time he came to the last name he still had found no sign of what he was seeking.

  "Did you find what you were looking for?"

  "I'm afraid not," Cassian said.

  "Oh dear." The dwarf was obviously alarmed, no doubt fearful that he'd be held to blame for any omission, whatever Cassian might have said. "Someone specific, was it?"

  "A man named Ziraldesh, from Vivane."

  The dwarf's eyes lit up. "Well, why didn't you say? One of our young wizards here knows him well. He's been inspecting all departures from Sky Point today, ever since nine in the morning—if your man would have left after then?"

  "Definitely."

  "Right you are, then," said the dwarf with evident relief. "Oi! Belrundi, go and fetch Akalar. Tell him it's important and he must come now. There's nothing left for him to check at this time anyway."

  One of the junior ranks trudged off and returned in some ten minutes with a willowy young man whose complexion suggested he might be allergic to sunshine. The unfortunate odor about him suggested that he might also be allergic to baths. Cassian tried to remind himself to make allowances for the occasionally unworldly nature of wizards. Mercifully, given his sensibilities and the proximity of the young man, it took only a few moments to ascertain the truth.

  "He was here earlier today," Belrundi said thoughtfully, "but he wasn't where I was. I saw him when I was on my way to answer the call of nature; he was walking about staring at everything and nothing in particular, if you know what I mean. I said hello, but he didn't seem to notice me."

  "When was this?"

  "About mid-morning, sir. I'm not sure exactly when, but I can check the departure times and—"

  "That won't be necessary, so long as you're certain he hasn't left?"

  "Oh, definitely not," the young man said confidently, a smile betraying a mouthful of teeth in which decay had been running amok for some time. "I didn't see him. And I saw everyone. I even see people who can't be seen."

  "He means people who try to get on board invisibly," the dwarf captain put in.

  Passions preserve me, Cassian thought. Being sent to work here must be a sign of severe disfavor.

  "Well, thank you for your time. You've been most efficient."

  Taking his leave, Cassian thought hard about what he'd just learned. Ziraldesh had been here, but not to leave. So what had he been doing? Waiting for someone to arrive, most likely, Cassian thought. But take his wife and son as well? That was unusual. If he'd come to meet a relative, why bring his wife along? After all, it was but a short journey home. Puzzling.

  Well, doubtless he has returned to Vivane now, Cassian told himself, and there seems little point in my slogging all the way through the list of arrivals to guess who his friend or relative might be. It will be simpler to find out for myself.

  Jerenn was torn between curiosity and fear. He feared Mother Grishin had been taken away by the soldiers, so he wanted to find out whether or not she was safe. He also wanted to hear all the scraps of gossip around the Broken Quarter about what had been occurring at the Rat Circus. In part, he wanted to know if the wizard who had his blood had been captured, certain that he wouldn't learn of it from any soldier or from Cassian. He also wanted, slightly vainly, to hear whether there was anything about him in rumors and tales; the unknown slave boy who'd run back to the city and saved his friend from being murdered by the orks and the woman-wizard. Finding out called for a disguise rather better than his normal one.

  A swift raid on the maid's chambers, assisted by Shalstra's absence, provided him with what h
e needed. Jerenn had dressed as a girl before, when fleeing Bartertown and trying to elude the half-dozen people who pursued him, ever asking whether a boy had passed this way or that way. The ruse had saved his life, he had little doubt of that.

  He didn't feel too happy about doing it now, older and more self-conscious, but he also recalled that passing for a girl had allowed him to overhear some of the things girls said about boys and men, comments that had been as enlightening as they'd been embarrassing.

  He still had some of Cassian's gold, and his gate pass; the elf had neglected to ask for their return. He would have to be sure the guards at the gates weren't those who'd inspected his pass the night before last and knew him for a boy, but he'd be able to observe them first and make sure he wasn't detected. He certainly couldn't risk his old route through the small passages accessed through the cellars; that would be far too dangerous. Stooping to conceal his height, which was that of most full-grown women rather than the girlish figure he attempted to make himself, he pulled a silk wrap about his short hair and stepped carefully out the back door, leaving Hysilde to the cooking pot.

  Within half an hour, allowing himself plenty of time to observe the guards, Jerenn was back in the Broken Quarter. By attaching himself to the tail end of a huge rank of laborers, washerwomen, and drudges who earned a daily pittance working for Theran households not wealthy enough to maintain a full retinue of slaves, he got through with his pass hardly inspected at all by the phalanx of dwarfs and human soldiers who'd apparently had to check thousands of the things during the day and were probably sick enough of it to get careless. Jerenn did notice, though, that they were considerably more attentive concerning people coming in. If he spent any time at a drinking hole in the Broken Quarter, he'd have to be careful to drink only a very little. He would need his wits about him when he tried to get back in behind the walls.

  Finding himself a spot to take a little bad beer and a crust, Jerenn deliberately adopted the air of one looking about for someone, his head moving this way and that and his eyes darting hither and thither. Eventually, the trick had the desired effect. A burly ork, half-spilling his tankard of what claimed to be hurlg but was closer in taste and viscosity to something the vendor's dog had contained inside itself earlier in the day, leered at Jerenn and asked who she was looking for.