Paul Crilley - Night of Long Shadows

“I think it would be a waste not to. I mean, since we’re here and everything. Unless … did you have something better in mind?”

But Torin was already walking away from Wren, keeping an eye on Cutter’s back as the human walked as fast as he could without falling over. Wren picked up his pace to catch up with Torin.

“He’s heading for the lifts. Run ahead and catch it, a few levels up. I’ll keep an eye on him from this side. If you see the Watch, alert them.”

Torin nodded and slipped away into the crowds. Wren followed Cutter as he made his way along the streets to the nearest lift. It took some time, as the human wasn’t moving very fast. Wren was worried that maybe the man had forgotten where it was and he’d have to tackle him on his own, without Torin’s help. Had he been drinking? It certainly looked that way.

The reached the lifts without much incident. A couple of goblins had thought to take advantage of what they thought was a helpless drunk, but Cutter proved himself capable of taking care of himself. He slammed his fist into the throat of the first goblin. It dropped to the ground with a broken neck. The second came at Cutter with a rusty short sword. He slid inside the goblin’s guard, grabbed its sword arm, and pushed it back in a direction it was not meant to go. The arm snapped and the blade sank deep into the goblin’s chest.

Wren made a note to be very careful around Cutter.

When they arrived at the lift, Cutter climbed aboard and leaned wearily on the safety railing, his head resting on the backs of his hands.

Wren checked to make sure his dagger was easily accessible, then followed after. Cutter didn’t look up.

The lift jerked and started to move. Cutter was definitely as big close up as Torin had said. But, Host, did he look a mess. Wren’s gaze dropped to the weapons hanging from his hips. The scabbards were curiously shaped-long and curved. It took Wren a moment to realize they were Valenar blades.

Wren had barely gotten over his surprise when Cutter spoke to him.

“Why are you following me?” he said.

Wren’s eyes snapped up. Cutter had turned his head to stare at him over his shoulder.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I am merely returning from a night’s frivolity. I like to slum it, you see. Much more exciting.”

Cutter didn’t move. Wren did his best to keep his face nonchalant, the kind of look he frequently saw on the rich and bored.

“You’re lying. Are you from Tiel?”

Wren frowned. “Where is Tiel?”

“Not where. Who. Tiel is a person.”

“Oh. Then no, I’m not. I take it this Tiel is after you for some reason?”

Cutter was silent for a while. “A misunderstanding,” he said.

“Ah.”

The lift rose past the lower levels of the city. It stopped at a darkened street and a halfling and a dwarf staggered aboard, laughing as they passed a flask of spirits between them. Wren realized he didn’t know where Cutter was getting off. If he wanted to learn anything, he’d have to take a calculated risk. Just as the gate swung closed and the lift started to move again, Wren straightened up and cleared his throat. “Go to the university often?” he asked.

Cutter tensed and pushed himself up from the rails. He glanced at the halfling and the dwarf, then locked eyes with Wren. Neither looked away.

The two drunks lurched off at the next stop. As soon as the lift was rising again, Cutter moved, yanking his blades out and stepping toward Wren faster than he thought possible for a man in his condition. At the same moment, Wren pulled out his depleted wand with one hand and his dagger with the other. Cutter froze.

“Why are you asking about the university?”

“Curiosity,” replied Wren.

“Curiosity about what?”

“About why you killed the professor. I think it had to do with dreamlily, but I’m not sure.”

“I didn’t kill anyone! It was that damn warforged.”

Wren frowned. “What warforged? What are you talking about?”

Cutter hesitated.

“You don’t seem to understand,” said Wren. “Everyone thinks you killed him. I think you killed him. If you have a different story, now is the time to tell it.”

Still Cutter hesitated. He glanced at the towers drifting past. Then he sighed.

“When I reached the university, the professor was dead. I was looking for … something, and this … black warforged attacked me. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It wrapped shadows around its body like a cloak. I barely got away in one piece. If it wasn’t for some dwarf coming to investigate the noise, that thing would have killed me.”

“Interesting. And where does Rowen fit into all this?”

Cutter’s eyes narrowed. He moved to grab Wren, but the half-elf twitched the wand in the direction of Cutter’s face and he stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “What do you know about Rowen?” he asked in a low voice. “Where is she? Have you seen her?”

Wren hesitated, trying to decide which route to take. Lies, or truth? Which would glean him the most information?

Probably the lie.

But he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the man deserved the truth.

“Cutter, Rowen is dead. I’m sorry. Whoever she stole the package from killed her.”

Wren watched as Cutter tried to reject his words. It was almost as if he was fighting a battle, the words ricocheting against some kind of armor he had hastily erected around his mind.

But even the best armor had weak spots.

“You’re lying,” Cutter whispered.

“I wish I was.” He paused, searching for words. “She was a very beautiful woman,” he finally said.

“You … saw her?”

“I did.”

Cutter shook his head. “No. I was with her earlier tonight. It’s impossible.”

“Death can happen in an instant, Cutter. Believe me, I speak the truth.”

“No. It can’t be. We … we fought. We can’t leave it like that. She can’t be gone. Not when we’re fighting. That … that’s not fair.”

Wren didn’t know what to say. He was dimly aware of the lift slowing to a stop, but all he could see was the pain in Cutter’s eyes. The man was massive, a brute by any other name, but he was brought down by his love for a woman.

Wren heard the scrape of metal on metal. He blinked, pulling his eyes away from Cutter to see the lift surrounded by the Watch. Torin stood with them. The commander stepped aboard, sword point leveled at Cutter’s heart. Wren took a step back, unsure how the man would react in his current state of mind.

He didn’t do anything. He looked as if the life had simply drained out of him. He stood still while he was disarmed and then cuffed. He locked eyes with Wren just before he was pulled off the lift. He didn’t say anything, but Wren felt some kind of connection there, a kinship.

The Watch led Cutter through the streets, his head hanging low.

“Pretty good, aren’t I?” said Torin.

“What?” Wren glanced down at the dwarf.

“I found the Watch.”

“Oh. Yes. Well done. I think that’s it for tonight, Torin. Go home to your wife.”

Wren stepped onto the street and walked away.

“I can never please you, you know that?” Torin called behind him.

Wren returned to his apartments overlooking Skysedge Park. He stood on the balcony and stared over the gentle hills as the morning mist slunk down the banks and slowly filled the hollows and depressions.

It was over. For all intents and purposes, the case was solved. No judge would look beyond the facts as they were presented. Two lovers, one a courtesan, conspired to steal something from one of her clients. The man then killed the client in a fit of jealousy, and the courtesan was killed as revenge for the theft.