Paul Crilley - Night of Long Shadows

Far, the 27th day of Vult, 998

Wren had traveled a lot over the years. He’d spent time in nearly all the Five Nations for one reason or another, usually accompanied by Torin. During that time, he’d come to the conclusion that you could judge the quality of a city by the liveliness of its night life.

And Sharn’s night life was the best he had ever found.

He smiled as he walked through the Firelight District of Lower Menthis, nodding genially at faces he recognized, looking around with interest at new inns or taverns that had opened since his last visit. A fortune teller’s shop had replaced old Fintal’s place. He used to sell the best spiced hot potatoes. And he was open all day and all night. Wren had often wondered how he did it. He’d eventually asked the old dwarf and it turned out he had a twin brother and they worked shifts. Wren had been slightly disappointed at that.

Artificers and illusionists had bent and tweaked magical light into signs of a hundred different shapes and sizes, all of them inviting the lucky customer inside for one form of entertainment or another. It had become something of a competition to those in the trade, to see who could devise the brightest, most outlandish and eye-catching display. Wren had even heard they gave out awards these days.

The familiar noises of the streets washed over him in waves. Not gentle waves, but storm-tossed, violent waves, beautiful yet dangerous, alluring yet life-threatening. It was the cacophony of all things at once: the hoarse cry of stall merchants, the seductive calls of courtesans, the cries of fear or pain as someone became a nightly statistic. It was all here. Every aspect of city life in all its brutality and beauty.

Wren loved it.

“Stop grinning like an idiot,” said Torin.

“Come now, Torin. It’s a beautiful night. The stars are shining-”

“How would you know? You can’t see the stars from here.”

“It’s stopped raining, at least.”

“It’ll start up again soon. And anyway, it’s misty.”

“Torin! Always the pessimist! Look how the mist reflects the lights! Nature and craft, joining together, creating something that couldn’t exist one without the other.”

Torin shook his head in disgust. “You’re so full of it, you know that?”

“Of course I do. And therein lies my charm.”

A loud roar erupted from somewhere up ahead, and then three goblins smashed through a glass window and skidded across the road. A second later, a huge minotaur stepped through the opening. It stomped across the street to where the first of the goblins was trying to rise. It pushed the smaller creature back to the ground, then lifted its huge foot and brought it down on the goblin’s head with a savage bellow of anger. The minotaur did the same to the other goblins, staring down at them with satisfaction before turning and walking into the mist.

“We shouldn’t be down here, anyway,” said Torin nervously. “The nights of Long Shadows aren’t for normal people.”

“Rubbish. It’s just a festival like any other.”

“Yes, but it’s a festival where minotaurs and bugbears creep out of their holes and do nasty things to people like us.”

Wren indicated the dead goblins. “How do you know that was anything to do with the Shadow? The goblins could have cheated the minotaur at cards. Or tried to steal from him. This is Lower Menthis, Torin. You don’t need a religious festival for the crazies to come out of the woodwork.”

“Exactly! Which begs the question-what are we doing here?”

“Visiting a friend,” said Wren. “One who may be able to help us.” He glanced down at Torin. “What do you think of all this, anyway?”

“Not sure yet,” said Torin thoughtfully. “Not enough information. The killer wanted something from the professor. That’s a given, judging by his broken fingers.”

“You noticed that, did you?”

“Of course I did. This girl you mentioned. Either she was in on it, or she witnessed it. Either way, I think she’s the key.” “My thoughts exactly.”

They reached the end of the road and turned into a closed-off street. At its end was a huge building with an understated sign glowing above the double doorway. The sign spelled out the owner’s name as well as the name of the establishment.

“Savia’s?” said Torin. “What are we doing here?”

“I told you-she’s a friend who may be able to help.”

A hulking bugbear stood by the doors. He stared at them, then evidently decided they posed no threat and opened the door for them. Wren and Torin stepped into a small greeting area, a quiet room with tasteful paintings on the walls and ornately carved furniture situated around small glass tabletops that floated in the air. Violin music wafted from somewhere. Wren made a mental note to ask Savia how she accomplished this. He would love to have music playing throughout his apartments. What a wonderful idea.

A young woman in a low-cut white dress with blue leaves embroidered around the hems approached the two of them, a charming smile playing about her exotic features. Her skin was dark, her hair black as a raven’s wings. Wren bowed extravagantly.

“My lady,” he said.

“My lord,” she replied. She smiled down at Torin. The dwarf blushed furiously. “And what can we at Savia’s do for you tonight? Are you interested in gambling? Companionship? A meal, perhaps? We have a new chef from Aundair who is rapidly gaining a name for himself among our more discerning clients.”

“Companionship, I think,” said Wren.

The woman smiled. “Of course. Male? Female? Elf, dwarf, changeling? Anything you desire we can provide.”

“What an extraordinary claim,” mused Wren. “Anything, you say?”

“We pride ourselves on it.”

“I don’t recognize you, my dear. Are you new here?”

“I’ve been here for two months.”

“Host, has it been that long since I visited? How lax of me. Savia will never forgive me.”

“Are you an acquaintance of Savia’s?”

“I am indeed. We’re old friends. Is she available? I’d like to talk to her, if that can be arranged.”

The young lady’s face took on a sorrowful look. “I’m afraid Savia has retired for the night.”

“How disappointing. Is there no way I can convince you to rouse her?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Ah, well. On second thought, I think I’ll join the gambling tables. But my friend here-I think perhaps Lia?”

The young woman glanced at Torin, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Of course. If you’d care to take refreshments at the bar, I’ll just see if she’s available.” She smiled again, showing bright white teeth amidst the dusky skin, and turned from them with a swish of her filmy skirt.

“What a remarkable woman,” said Wren. “Simply stunning. Wouldn’t you say?”

“What are you up to?” asked Torin, ignoring his question.

“Nothing. I just thought you looked tense.”

“I am tense. It comes from working with you.”

Wren smiled and led them through the door into an open room with tables and chairs for dining and a huge bar that took up two full walls. It was quiet within, but Wren could hear voices and music coming from a doorway to their right. That was where the gambling tables were situated. Many were the times that Wren, unable to sleep, had paid a visit to Savia’s and greeted the dawn with fellow players.

Wren turned to Torin. “I’ll be in there, waiting for your signal.”

Torin frowned. “What signal?”

Wren ignored him and smiled as a willowy elf walked toward them.

“Wren! How are you?”

“Lia! I’m ecstatic now that I’ve seen you.”

“You say that every time you come here.”