Egveny spoke up, his voice unsure of itself.
“Do you think that's really necessary? I mean, we are at an inn and all.”
Nerthus shook her head, but Edda spoke first.
“Our 'friends' were rather well-regarded members of the community around here, yet they managed to get...well who knows what. We are strangers about to do some snooping around, who are also inviting extra attention to ourselves by wearing the Consortium colors here. I'd be surprised if someone didn't take a shot at us by the end of tomorrow.”
Clyde nodded, almost to himself. His eyes never left the table.
“She's right,” Nerthus said. “Besides, that's kind of the point. Our 'friends' know to look for the Consortium if they are in trouble. And if we've walked into a trap, well I'm pretty sure the six of us can handle almost anything they can throw at us. So we'll stay here, have one more drink, keep waving the flag so to speak, and then we will start scouring the city tomorrow.”
“Oh, we are going to start so soon? Good!” Egveny stood up and began searching his pockets for something. “In that case, I need to get myself ready for tomorrow’s activities. I’ve got to make sure Cecil of the Consortium is respectable and approachable to all of Bellkeep’s illustrious workers. I shall see you ladies in the morning. Mr. Clyde.” Egveny nodded respectfully to Clyde, who returned the gesture.
Nerthus watched the nervous man go and then finished her drink. “Who are the two people we are looking for again?” She asked suddenly, still holding the mug to her mouth.
“Tom Acorn and Janice Helley,” Edda said, a touch of surprise in her voice. “It isn't like you to forget something like that. Are you alright?”
“Name me our three people of interest,” Nerthus said quietly, staring into her mug as she swirled around the foamy dregs at the bottom.
Edda sighed. “Really? A quiz now?”
“Indulge me,” Nerthus said.
“Fine. There’s Horrace Logun. Importer and exporter of specialty goods. He was the one bringing the equipment and materials into Bellkeep for the big experiment our friends were working on. Then there’s Captain Ignacio Gustav. Shift commander of Bellkeep’s City Watch. Him and his men were moonlighting as special security for the little operation going on here. And finally Felix Titus. Nobleman who is also the Chancellor of Coin or something-”
“Custodian of the Purse,” Clyde said quietly.
“-who privately funded the experiment our friends were helping with. He apparently has deep ties to the local Craftsmen Union. Gives them tax breaks and other benefits in exchange for personal projects.”
Nerthus nodded. “I’m impressed. It’s almost like you paid attention on the way here.” She ignored the tongue that Edda stuck out at her. “What do you think, Clyde? Where should we start?”
The quiet man hadn’t lifted his gaze from the spot on the table. He was good at making himself seem invisible, even when he was sitting next to you.
“Start at the bottom of the chain,” he said. “This Logun guy is probably the most accessible of our targets. If we find out what equipment he was bringing in, and where it was going within the city, we’ll have a place to start looking for your people. Personally, I’d stay away from this Captain Gustav guy. Watchmen are hardheaded, insecure pricks, especially their captains. Felix Titus should be our last resort for information. Since this project was off the books, I doubt we’d find anything of value at his place. Plus he’ll be rather hard to get to being a high ranking noble. If we hit a dead end, we can try and scoop him up, but let’s hope we don’t have to.”
Nerthus nodded. “Yeah that’s pretty much what I was thinking.”
“Just what was this big secretive experiment anyways?” Edda asked. “I mean, it had to have been pretty crazy if the Umbra sent in two agents to monitor it.”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Nerthus said. “We’re here only to find our people and get them out. The how’s and why’s of this place don’t concern us.” Her expression softened somewhat. “Sorry, Edda, I’m not trying to be a bitch about it, but it’s going to be easier if we just focus on our task at hand. Clyde? Are you going to mind if I stick you on baggage train duty? You stick with Carpey and Sailey and watch things here when the rest of us are out and about?”
Clyde shook his head. “Don’t mind it at all. Sounds like an easy paycheck to me.”
“Good. In a pinch we may need you, but I have no problem if the Praetorian Umbra gets stuck paying you for nothing.” Nerthus stood up and Edda looked up at her. “You stay here with Clyde. Have another drink. Get some food. Order me whatever you’re having. I'm going to go for a quick walk. Going to ask around, see if I can’t find this Logun’s shop while I’m out. I'll be back in a bit.”
Edda's eyes narrowed.
“What, are you just going to go looking for trouble?” The suspicious look left her face, and her mouth pulled into a knowing smile. “Or are you going to send your gallant knight another message?” She put the back of one hand up to her forehead and fanned herself with her other in an exaggerated motion. “'Oh, brave Commander, how I have missed thee! And I have also missed thy thrusting sword you-ow!” She rubbed her shoulder where Nerthus had punched her. “You didn't have to use the metal arm,” Edda said under her breath.
“Right, of course I didn't,” Nerthus said, her mecharm unnoticeable under her glove. “Want me to add anything for your friend? Something about black leather and tattoos?”
Clyde, to his credit, managed to make himself almost invisible, blind, and deaf to the conversation next to him. It was all he could do to continue staring at the same spot on the table. Nerthus was almost surprised he didn't burn a hole in it.
“No, no that's fine,” Edda said, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance in her voice. “And consider yourself warned. I owe you one crushing comeback. I would have leveled you with my words, but you distracted me with your violence.”
“Promises, promises,” Nerthus said with a grin and she turned and went for the door. She only planned on sending Johan one quick message, little more a “Hi how are you?” than anything else. She suspected her life was going to get busy very quickly, and didn't want the man thinking she had forgotten about him. His prompt replies to her messenger birds had shown that, so far, he hadn't forgotten about her yet either, despite his own hectic life. She kept a tight smile hidden under her hood as she walked to the nearest messenger dispatch. It was almost kind of nice, pretending to have found someone who thought of her as unique, as something more. Her smile didn’t fade as she blended into the crowded streets, just one more face in the crowd.
Chapter Four
Kinnese rode his loaned charger down the main street of Oberon, the forest city. It seemed like it was just yesterday he had led a unit of krag there to claim the Phaedra for himself. Like it was just yesterday when Johan and his lieutenant went toe to toe with him in the Citadel. Then their pet Weaver Leonid put those infernal shackles on his wrists and threw him to the Judicators. The scars on his wrists flared again in pain just remembering. And yet, he found that he held no grudge against the young Commander and his lieutenant. The Weaver was one thing. He had locked those torture devices onto him, knowing full well what they would do. But Johan and Ryker were just men doing their job, thrust into the rapids just after climbing into a boat for the first time. As a man in a similar situation, he could respect that. And if he felt a small tinge of pride, however misplaced, that his former comrades-in-arms acquitted themselves so well...so be it.
After finalizing the list of potential recruits from his master, Kinnese had bathed and found a new change of clothes waiting for him at the inn. Where before he had worn plain, faded clothes and a dingy coat of mail when he had met with Regent Ebizar, he was now garbed in a black flaxen tunic with a high collar with a richly worked leather belt clasped at the waist. The buckle had a silver engraving of a wolf, it's head raised in a howl. The wrists and collar of the tunic were also embroidered with silver threading,
and to complete the theme, the buttons were also polished silver. Underneath he wore plain black breeches and high, heavy riding boots. Even a man with such an underdeveloped sense of fashion such as he had to admit that he cut a pretty striking figure. No one who saw him would doubt it if he claimed to be from a noble house. That said, he felt almost naked without a coat of mail, or a shield at his back.
His new appearance was but one more tool at his disposal for the task at hand. If he was to be the emissary of his master and become the face of the organization (of a sort, since one usually didn't put a brand on a secret conspiracy), looking the part was crucial. The skill and power to back up his authority was also a necessity, but he already had that. For despite the lack of armor and the fading pain in his wrists, he could still call upon the Power if he needed, and his skill with the sword at his waist was not to be taken lightly. So he had his looks, his skills, and his power. Now all he needed was the words and everything would be in place.
His thoughts drifted to words, and turned some over them again and again in his mind as he rode. He needed to sound strong, but not intimidating. Confident but not brash. Intelligent but not arrogant. Kinnese let out a frustrated breath. He had no idea what he was doing, and he suddenly felt foolish in his new getup. Like a pig dressed up for a festival. Shaking his head, Kinnese tried to banish those self-defeating thoughts from his mind.
He led his horse to a large, solitary house just outside Oberon proper. While the majority of the homes and houses in Oberon were log cabins, or constructed using logs in some manner, this house was a sturdy stone building. It was three stories tall, with many open windows. There were shutters on each window, but all of them were open, with warm light coming from within. As Kinnese dismounted, he could hear the soft sound of music, and could already smell scents of cinnamon and lavender. Taking a short moment to compose himself (and perhaps convince himself he wasn't nearly as foolish as he felt), he walked up to the large red double doors and let himself in.
A young woman, a girl really, sat at a table immediately facing the door. The table was covered in flowers and candles. She wore almost too much makeup, Kinnese thought. She had large gold earrings, sunny blonde hair that spilled over her shoulders and a blue dress that was thin enough to be almost see-through. And in case that wasn't enough, it's neckline plunged almost beneath her breasts. Her eyes were weary looking, but she smiled as Kinnese walked in. A trained smile, he noted. She had been doing this for quite a while already.
“Welcome to the Manorhouse, m'lord. Did you have an appointment with one of our specialists today, or were you hoping to look around first? I have a number of girls not currently occupied with a client.”
Specialists Kinnese thought to himself, trying not to grin. It was a better title than “whore”, he had to admit. He looked the girl in the eyes, his face friendly but neutral.
“Actually, while I don't have an, ah, appointment, I am here to see Naria, if she is available. I have a pressing matter to bring to her attention.”
The girl hesitated for just a fraction of a second, the smile dropping from her face, but she quickly recovered.
“I'm sorry m'lord, but there isn't anyone here by that name.” She feigned looking around and dropped her voice, almost to a whisper. “I'm not supposed to say this, but if you're looking for a specific girl by that name, you could try the Honeybread Bakery. It's on the other side of Oberon, but they have almost as many girls as we do. Your girl is probably there if she's anywhere.”
Kinnese's face remained placid.
“No, I'm pretty sure she's here. In fact, I believe she is..” he raised his hand upwards and pointed to the ceiling. He moved his arm a few times in a smooth motion but finally came to a stop. “...she's right up there. Third floor, if I'm not mistaken.” He gestured to a small metal flower amongst the others on the table. “She's probably listening in to this conversation as we speak. So I am going to have a seat over here and wait. I'd also like a drink. Maybe a firebrandy, aged ten years, if you can find such a rarity.” He didn't wait for the girl to respond before walking over to a small row of cushioned chairs and sitting down, resting one hand on the pommel of his highly visible longsword. He crossed his legs and rested his head back.
The wait was short. Much shorter than he had anticipated. The girl at the table had never moved or spoken to anyone else that Kinnese could see, but she hurried over to him and said in a low voice, “Follow me,” all sense of professional courtesy gone. Keeping his face calm, he rose and followed the girl up two flights of stairs. He caught glimpses of open rooms with richly appointed rooms, and always the scent of cinnamon and lavender. There was also the occasional sighting of a barely clothed, heavily made up girl hurrying by. The place oozed sexuality, and Kinnese wondered how he never heard of this place when he was still in the Legion. When he was a younger man, he would have signed his pay directly over to them. His “escort” (“Hah” he thought to himself) brought him to a sturdy oak door and stood to one side. Her eyes were wary as she turned to face him.
“Your sword.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, knowing full well what she wanted.
“Your sword. Take it off. You don't get to be armed in there.”
Shrugging his shoulders and suppressing a grin, he drew his longsword out and flipped it in his hand, handle towards the girl.
“Don't lose it now,” he said mildly. “I may need to use it soon.”
The girl took the sword quickly, her face quickly going white. Kinnese braced himself internally, readying the Power within him if needed, opened the door and stepped through.
Expecting a tiny office or bedroom, Kinnese was surprised to find himself in a small, cozy library. A single row of bookshelves, lined all four walls. But upon closer inspection, Kinnese could see cobwebs on the shelves. There was a slight musty smell in the air, as if the room was barely used. A workbench with a little used mortar and pestle, and other alchemical equipment Kinnese had never seen before sat to one side, collecting dust. Off to the side was a small wooden desk, a few empty wine bottles its only occupants. There was a chair pushed off to one side of it, empty. The chair behind the desk, however, was occupied.
Seated in the chair was a pale-skinned woman, and despite the severe disapproval on her face, Kinnese found her striking. He couldn't place her age, although she appeared to be younger than him. He didn't know if that had more to do with make-up or some more magical means. Women, he knew, had many powers both magical and mundane. She wore a simple silken robe, dark blue in color. Her black hair was drawn up in a loose ponytail, hastily done. Her hands were steepled together in front of her lips, which Kinnese saw had a dark red color to them. They stood out sharply against her pale skin. Her eyes were a deep blue, and glinted like sapphires in the firelight. To either side of the woman stood a young girl. They looked at Kinnese with open hostility. They were also armed with cruel looking knives and wearing leather jerkins. There was an almost impossible to detect rustle behind him and without looking he knew there were two more girls flanking him, no doubt similarly armed and angry looking.
“I'm in it now,” he thought. “Better go all the way.”
Kinnese walked towards the vacant chair, paying no heed to the four armed women staring intently at him. He stopped at the chair and bowed slightly at the waist, feeling awkward as he did so.
“Mistress Naria, I do apologize for the rather odd intrusion, but I would very much like to talk to you.” He finished his bow and placed a hand on the chair. “May I?”
The woman behind the desk, Naria, narrowed her eyes a bit, making her look even more angry – and attractive – to Kinnese. She nodded once, and he brought the chair up to the desk and sat down in it, leaning back slightly until he found himself comfortable. He hoped he didn't look as foolish as he felt.
Kinnese swung his head to take in the library they were sitting in. He hoped it made him look at ease, but honestly his words disappeared for a moment and he needed to stall. “Pike it,
” he thought. “Let's see if she's the one.” He brought his gaze back to Naria, who seemed to be controlling a steadily rising agitation. He crossed one leg over the other.
“What is a woman like you doing here?” The woman's brow furrowed. Obviously not the icebreaker she was expecting. “Ah, what I mean to ask is, why are you here?” he asked, changing tacts. “Someone with your skills, your experience, and if I may add, your drive, someone with all of that shouldn't be here, rotting away in isolation above a, an...establishment like this. You should be out there, with the support of others, making the world a better place.”
Naria remained quiet, but her hands dropped to the desk in front of her.
“I know that the Weavers dismissed you. I believe their reasons were...” he paused, looking for the right word, “kneejerk. I also know you didn't agree with the direction the Weavers were going, nor of the boundaries placed upon you by the Dominion.” His voice softened of its own accord, and he rubbed his wrists. “I sympathize with that. Believe me, I do. We make the choices we make because we think we're doing the right thing, or setting the right example. And yet, sometimes, doing what we think is right ends up damning us in the long run.”
Naria was silent for a moment, her blue eyes never leaving Kinnese. Her unhappy expression did not disappear, Kinnese noticed, which couldn't have been a good thing. Finally she spoke, her voice catching him off-guard with it's rich, husky tone.
“Just who are you? You claim to know me so well, that you sympathize with me, but how could you really? She sighed, and her eyes seemed to look past Kinnese. Or rather, through him. “You mentioned firebrandy. Please, tell me what you know of that.”
Kinnese blew out a small breath. “I know that you were-are one of the most skilled healers in the Dominion. And I know that, before your dismissal from the Weavers, you were working on some sort of cure for something. The specific disease escapes me at the moment, but that really isn't important. What is important is that the Praetorian Magus herself ordered your work halted, and your access to regents and components taken away. Despite that you continued your work and used a potent firebrandy as an emergency substitution for a needed ingredient.” He paused a beat. “This led to your dismissal.”
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 4