Paul Crilley - Night of Long Shadows

The house had once been a mansion for a wealthy family, but all that was left was a dilapidated ruin. The windows were boarded up and scrawled over with the sigils and runes of local gangs. The roof sagged dangerously and had a huge hole in the center, almost as if a massive rock had fallen onto it.

Anemic weeds and bristly grass covered the garden. Wren was surprised anything could grow there, cut off as it was from most of the healthy sunlight. The front door was completely missing. Wren stepped through first, his strong night vision giving him an advantage over Renaia.

“Where?” he said softly over his shoulder.

“Straight down the hall. Last room on the left.”

Wren led the way down the corridor, stepping around gaping holes in the floor where the boards had been stripped for other uses. No doors concealed any of the rooms. The empty frames hung with broken hinges.

He reached the end of the hall and stepped into the room, his hands held up to show he was unarmed. Rowen was probably skittish enough without wondering if he carried a weapon.

At first he didn’t see her. The room was bare but for a few pieces of dirty sheets. One of the planks had been removed from the window, letting in a small amount of light.

She was seated on the floor, slumped into the corner. At first Wren thought she was looking directly at him, her large eyes wide and staring.

But then he saw the blood, and he realized there was no life left in those eyes. He looked away, bile rising in his throat, but his brain had already registered what he didn’t want to see … the pool of dark blood surrounding her, the gaping hole in her stomach, the severed fingers, and the angry red line across white skin where her throat had been cut.

Renaia entered behind him. She saw Rowen and screamed, her voice rising hysterically. Wren turned to the door.

“Torin,” he said softly. “Take her into the next room.”

Torin glanced at the body, his face darkening with anger. He took Renaia by the hand and led her next door. Wren could hear her screams and Torin’s soft voice as the dwarf tried to calm her.

Wren leaned forward, his forehead against the wall. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the body again. It was one of the few things that got to him-seeing a woman violated like that. He hadn’t encountered it often, and he was thankful for that, but when he did, he found it was something he simply couldn’t face.

Torin returned to the room. “Are you well?” he asked.

Wren shifted his head to look at the dwarf. “No, Torin, I’m not. Could you …?”

Torin nodded and went to examine the body. “Red hair,” he said. “It’s definitely her. Fingers cut off. I reckon she was tortured for information.”

“The location of the dreamlily,” said Wren.

“Possibly.” Torin looked thoughtful for a moment. “A cleric could probably find out if she talked.”

“She’d have to be a very strong woman not to,” said Wren. “But it’s a good point. Anything else?”

“Not that I can see. There’s a lot of blood. She must have held out a long time.”

Wren forced himself to turn around and look at Rowen. People always said that death brought peace to the features, but Rowen didn’t look peaceful. She looked angry. “Cover her with that sheet, Torin. We need to speak to Renaia.”

He went into the next room and found the courtesan staring at the wall, her tear-streaked face blank and empty. She was shivering.

“Renaia,” he said gently. “Renaia, I need you to tell me everything Rowen told you. Everything. No matter how trivial you think it was.”

She ignored him.

“If we’re to find out who did this, you need to help us.”

“Can’t,” she whispered, still staring into space.

“What?” Wren leaned closer to hear what she was saying.

“Can’t. Promised Rowen I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Renaia, that hardly matters now. You may have information that will help-”

“I said I can’t!” she screamed, turning to face Wren. “I promised! I said I wouldn’t tell.”

Wren’s patience ran out. He grabbed hold of Renaia and dragged her into the next room. He pushed a surprised Torin aside and pulled the sheet away, revealing Rowen’s tortured corpse.

“Do you see that!” Wren shouted, forcing Renaia forward. “Look at her, Renaia! hook!” He shook her when she tried to turn her head away. “That was your friend. Someone did that to her. We want to find out who. Now you will talk. Otherwise I’ll lock you in here with her until you change your mind. Do you understand?”

“I promised-”

“No!” thundered Wren. “Wrong answer. I said do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes, I understand!” Renaia screamed. “Just take me out of here. Please!” She started sobbing, and Wren helped her to her feet, enfolding her in his arms.

“Shh. I’m sorry, Renaia. I’m so sorry.” He led her from the room.

“Out-outside,” she said, her voice shuddering. “I can’t be in here.”

“That’s fine.”

Wren led her from the house, Torin following close behind. Wren helped her sit on the steps outside the front door and wiped the tears from her face. She took a while to compose herself, Wren and Torin waiting patiently.

“It’s my fault,” she said.

“No. It’s not your fault. Whoever did this-it’s their fault. No one else’s. Now, start at the beginning.”

“The beginning. That was … earlier tonight. Is that all the time that’s passed? It seems like days now.”

“The beginning …” prompted Wren.

“What? Yes. I ran into her earlier this evening. She was scared, looking for Cutter. She said she needed to hide for a while, and I knew of this place.”

“Why did she need to hide?”

“She said she stole something from a client-an old man. I think she called him the professor. She said a man called Salkith came to the rooms to pick up a package. Rowen thought it was dreamlily because Cutter had told her this Salkith was a dream-lily courier for the Boromars. But she said the professor changed his mind and sent Salkith away.”

“Where was Rowen during this meeting?”

“In a hidden room-like a closet or something. She … she found the package there. When the professor kicked Salkith out, he went to get a drink. She took the drugs and ran.”

“Renaia, did she have this package when you ran into her?”

Renaia looked thoughtful, trying to remember. “No, she didn’t.”

“Interesting.” Wren stared out across the garden as he tried to piece together the events.

“Rowen did say she was confused about one thing.”

“Oh? What was that?”

“She said she’d overheard the professor planning this, and that she thought the professor was buying the dreamlily from Salkith. But when he arrived, it was to collect something from the professor.”

“I see. Renaia, this is important-did you tell anyone else about Rowen’s hiding place?”

“Only our Boromar handler. He looks out for us, watches to make sure we don’t get hurt or anything.”

Wren stood up. “Thank you, Renaia. We’d better get you back to civilization.”

“What? Oh, no, it’s all right. I live down here.”

Wren frowned and looked around. “Where?”

“At a tavern a few streets over. My brother owns it. That’s why I knew about this house.”

“Come, then. We’ll walk you there.”

After seeing Renaia to the tavern, Wren and Torin headed back through the streets, looking for a lift they could use to ascend.

“I think Renaia signed Rowen’s death warrant,” said Wren after a while. “I think this is most definitely a bad drug deal. Rowen steals Boromar drugs meant for distribution. Renaia accidentally reveals her hiding place, Boromar heavies track her down and torture her into revealing where she’s hidden the goods.”