“Of course I’d find you two here,” said Iridia. She looked at the both of them from the other side of the corpse. Storm clouds clotted the sky above, and flickers of lightning licked at the sea in the far distance. A brace of Gatewardens flanked her, while Luca the dwarven nightwatchman examined the body and checked the man’s pockets.
Viv crossed her arms and glared back. “I know how this goes. Now you’ll decide we had something to do with it, rattle your saber about trouble in your town, and toss us back in a cell, right?”
The tapenti regarded Viv stonily. “No. In fact, this is one less problem for me to deal with. And you clearly didn’t kill him.”
Viv had to admit she was surprised at that, and some of the tension in her shoulders unwound.
“Clearly?” said Gallina, with her hands on her hips. She sounded offended.
Iridia snorted. “He still has his magestone. An orc definitely didn’t sneak up on him from behind, and the wound that killed him is too high on his body for you to have dealt it. Besides, I don’t think either of you are stupid enough to hang around the corpse of someone you murdered.” She arched a scaly brow. “Should I revise my judgment?”
Gallina seemed like she was going to answer that, but Viv jumped in first. “This might be one less problem, but I’m pretty sure there’s more to follow.”
The wind kicked up higher, sending frills of sand down the lee of the dunes. Gulls squalled and fled for the fortress walls. Iridia knelt behind the corpse to examine him. “Obviously, I mean to find whoever killed him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Check under his shirt.”
The Gatewarden captain nudged Luca to the side and slid the garment all the way to his neck. She examined the symbol inscribed in his flesh, eyes narrowing. “Should I recognize this?”
“That’s Varine’s mark.”
Iridia snapped her gaze to Viv, instantly more present. “Then he is one of hers?”
“No doubt in my mind. So, why was he here? Is he a scout? Does that mean Varine is headed this way? Who the hells knows? But if you like Murk quiet, it might get real noisy real soon.”
“Could as easily be a deserter,” said Iridia, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Was there anything else here? He had a satchel before.”
“No,” Viv lied with a flicker of misgiving. “Why, was there something special in it?”
Iridia hadn’t been as dismissive as she’d expected, but Viv still didn’t actually trust the tapenti. Once she and Gallina had a chance to investigate the satchel’s contents, they could unexpectedly “find” it again, if need be.
Iridia studied her. “Nothing that seemed important at the time.”
One by one, heavy raindrops stippled the sand, and the wind skirled through the gaps in the outbuilding.
“Hells,” said Iridia with real feeling, clapping her hands on her knees and rising from her crouch. “Fold his cloak around him and let’s haul this mess back to the walls before the rain worsens,” she directed the wardens.
Glancing between Viv and Gallina, she said, “My turn to anticipate what you’re going to say, I think. You’re assuming I’ll ignore the possibility of Varine showing on my doorstep. Pretend this never happened. Like some sort of bad bard’s tale, yes? The pompous, stupid Gatewarden that can’t see past her own nose?”
Viv’s surprise must have shown on her face, because Iridia smiled for the first time since either of them had met her. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant smile, but it wasn’t without humor. “I’m happy to disappoint you. I take threats to my town very seriously. But let me fulfill at least one of your predictions.” She leveled a finger at them. “I want both of you to stay the hells out of it. In fact, it’s best if I don’t see you at all.”
The tapenti snapped her fingers at the dwarf, who was apparently still paying the price for his supposed dereliction of duty. “Luca, search the area more thoroughly. I want that satchel. It might get fouled by the rain.”
He squinted into the oncoming storm. “Uh, how long should I … ?”
“Until you think I’d be satisfied,” Iridia replied dryly.
Then she turned and followed the other two wardens back toward the fortress walls.
The rain whirled in, icy and earnest.
Luca began miserably searching the dunes and grass, while Viv and Gallina hurried for shelter, praying to all the Eight that the dwarf was no better at this task than he had been at the night’s watch.
* * *
They waited on the boardwalk outside the perpetually closed junk shop, watching the road to Murk as the storm built and blew inland. Ribbons of moisture whipped up under the eaves, licking their faces and bare arms. The ocean and docks dissolved behind the curtains of rain and the mist it drummed up out of the surf.
“Luca’s gotta be half drowned,” said Gallina. “Kinda feel sorry for him.”
“I’ll feel sorrier if he finds that satchel,” replied Viv, her hands gripping the boardwalk railing tight enough to creak.
At last, Luca stumbled into view from between a pair of dunes, hurrying toward the fortress walls, head bent. His lantern flashed at his hip, where the weak flame gleamed against the glass.
“Can you tell if he’s got it?” asked Viv anxiously.
Gallina shaded her eyes as though that might improve her vision. “Nah, can’t tell. Too far. Only one way to find out.” She glanced at Viv. “You stay here, stumpy. I’ll go check.”
Viv opened her mouth to protest, but the gnome bolted off the boardwalk and hurried through the wind, her hands over her head to deflect the pelting rain.
Gallina disappeared around the opposite row of buildings, leaping nimbly between the growing puddles where hard-packed sand didn’t swallow them up.
Drumming her thumbs on the railing, Viv leaned out, letting the rain catch her more fully. She considered her leg and contemplated following Gallina, but she controlled her impatience as best she could.
Still, it was taking entirely too long.
“Hells, don’t you remember where I stowed it?” said Viv under her breath.
Then Gallina rounded the buildings again, and even at a distance, Viv could tell she was grinning, with the satchel held across her belly, both arms clutching it to protect it from the rain.
At last, as she stood dripping on the boardwalk, Gallina unslung it and brushed away wet sand. Combing locks of wet hair out of her eyes, she groused, “If this thing is filled with a change of clothes, I’m gonna be real pissed.”
* * *
“Oh, thank the Eight!” cried Fern when they entered the shop together, Viv dripping and Gallina sodden. Potroast hooted anxiously and ran in little circles before them both, fluttering his vestigial wings. “What the hells happened?”
“Well,” said Viv, “you don’t have to worry about any trouble from our friend in gray anymore. And neither does anybody else.”
“Dead?”
“Couldn’t be deader,” supplied Gallina, doing the best she could to stamp clots of wet sand from her boots.
“What took so long?” Fern hurried over to them. “And what is … Is that his?” She pointed at the damp satchel.
“It’s a long story,” replied Viv. “We had to dance around Iridia a little first.”
“And yep, it’s his,” said Gallina, smiling triumphantly. “I gotta know what’s in this, and as the wettest gal in the room, I should get to do the honors.” She trotted over to the pair of chairs and set the bag on the side table. The gryphet followed, his stubby tail practically vibrating with interest. The hurricane lamp on the wall seemed to hiss louder, as though stoked by an errant breeze.
“Just be careful!” warned Viv.
Gallina shot her a reproachful look.
With a flourish, the gnome unclasped the front of the satchel and tossed the flap back with a creak of leather. She pried the top open further and peered inside, and then her brow wrinkled in consternation. “What the hells?”
“What is it?” Fern moved to get a better look.
Gallina shoved her arm in and drew out something long, knobbly, and cream in color. “It’s just a bunch of damn bones.”
21