Paul Crilley - Night of Long Shadows

“Ah, I see. So you’re saying that you do all the work and your boss gets to attend one of the most sought-after dinners in Sharn.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. See, with me it’s about what you don’t say that matters. Since we’ve been talking, I’ve seen jealousy, fear, anger, irritation, cockiness, superiority, and subterfuge cross your face. And we’ve been sitting here-what? Two minutes? So I know when you’re lying. It’s what I’m trained for.”

“How dare you-”

“And please, don’t start with the whole ‘I know powerful people’ routine. You have no idea how much that irritates me. Why don’t we just lay it all out? We know about Anriel. We know about the dragonshard. The man you thought was Salkith? He wasn’t. He was an undercover agent. So we can tie you to the Shadow priest and the stolen shard, which then ties you to the deaths of the professor and the courtesan.”

Xavien looked afraid, and not a little confused. “What courtesan?” he asked, his voice filled with bewilderment.

“Please don’t insult me, Lord Xavien. As it stands, you’re taking the blame for everything.”

Xavien paused. Wren could see him running all the evidence through his mind, trying to decide how damning it actually was. Quite damning, he concluded.

“Please,” Xavien said, leaning forward on his desk, “you must understand. I didn’t want to get involved. I was threatened. I had no choice.”

“Involved in what?”

“It was Tiel. A halfling. He’s in the Boromar clan. He thinks he’s some kind of unrecognized heir of Saidan Boromar.”

“I know who Tiel is.” Col turned to Wren. “We weren’t sure if he was involved or not. He’s very good at keeping himself clean. All we knew was that Jana did some work for him. That was why I got myself attached to her squad.” He looked back to Xavien. “So what is he up to?”

“I don’t know. All I did was put him in touch with Anriel. My department is in charge of keeping track of worshipers of the Dark Six, to make sure they don’t try anything dangerous. He threatened me. I had no choice! Surely you can see that?”

Wren certainly couldn’t. Something wasn’t making sense. If Xavien was lying, he was very good at it, the best he’d ever seen, but something didn’t feel right. He decided to take a risk.

“And did you also put him in touch with Diadus?” he asked.

Xavien’s response was astounding. As soon as Wren uttered the name, his eyes fixed on Wren’s and his face broke into a snarl of rage. He yanked open the desk drawer and pulled out a small crossbow. Wren stared in astonishment, too surprised to move.

Good thing he wasn’t the target. Xavien swung the crossbow at Col, but he was already on his feet and diving across the desk. He grabbed hold of Xavien’s wrist and they went over backward onto the floor. Wren got to his feet and hurried around the desk. Xavien was struggling with Col, trying to free the hand holding the crossbow.

“To Khyber with you!” shouted Xavien. “You’ll ruin everything!”

Wren stood on Xavien’s wrist and put his weight on it until the councilor cried out in pain and released his grip on the crossbow. Wren kicked it out of reach. As soon as he did this, Col punched Xavien hard in the stomach, incapacitating him. He looked around.

“Get me some rope, something to tie him up with.”

Wren looked around “Where am I going to get rope?”

“I don’t know! Just find anything!”

Wren’s glance fell on the curtains. They were made from thick velvet. He yanked one down and cut it into long strips with his knife. Col took them and tied the councilor to his chair. The man was still wheezing in pain from the punch, struggling to take in breath.

Col stood back once his work was finished. Wren glanced at him. “What was that all about?”

Col shrugged. “Guess he doesn’t want us to know about Diadus.”

At the sound of the name, Xavien’s head snapped up. “You’ll never get anything out of me.”

“We’ll see,” said Col mildly. He sighed. “Why can your lot never make it easy?” He opened up a pouch that was slung over his shoulder and took out a tiny bloodspike.

“What’s that?” Wren asked.

“It’s a type of clerical magic,” said Col. “Took our people ages to adapt it this way.” “What does it do?”

Col held up the small glass vial. “Whoever is injected with this is forced to tell the truth.”

“Oh.” Wren thought for a moment. “That’s handy.”

“Extremely. And top secret. So I’m afraid I may have to kill you once this is all done.”

Wren waited for him to laugh or follow the comment with a joke, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to Xavien.

“Last chance,” he said. “These things are still a bit unreliable. I know of a few people who still can’t tell lies, years after they were injected.”

Xavien glared at Col, but said nothing.

Col shrugged. “Your choice,” he said, and jabbed it into the councilor’s neck.

“How long does it take to work?” asked Wren.

“Lord Xavien,” said Col, “are you currently involved in any criminal activities?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Five projects that are currently active, four more that will soon begin.”

Col raised his eyebrows at Wren. “Projects. I like that.” He turned back to Xavien. “Tell me about Diadus.”

“He’s an artificer. Cannith. But he was excoriated when the family found out he was experimenting with creating warforged.”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Wren. “I knew I’d heard that name before. Remember that warforged mass murderer a few years ago? Just after the war? After he was caught, there were rumors going about that it was this Diadus who created him.”

“What happened to him?”

“He disappeared. No one knew where he went.”

“Looks like we’re about to find out. Xavien, where is Diadus now?”

“In Fallen. Where the Glass Tower fell.”

“And what is his involvement?”

Xavien hesitated. Wren could see the man trying to hold back the words.

“Xavien,” said Col. “I order you to tell me what Diadus is doing.”

“He helped Anriel trap the Shadow elemental inside the dragonshard.”

Wren and Col exchanged glances.

“Why?” asked Col. “What is the purpose of this dragonshard?”

“Tiel plans to release the elemental at the Tain gala dinner. The elemental has been ordered to kill Saidan Boromar and then wipe out all the members of the city council.”

“But that’s absurd!” snapped Wren. “For what purpose?”

“Tiel got tired of waiting for his father to acknowledge him. He plans on taking over all of Boromar’s business.”

“And the council?”

“They will be replaced by politicians who are sympathetic to Tiel.”

“And grateful,” said Col grimly.

“Correct.”

“Are you one of those?”

Xavien smiled. “Most definitely. You are looking at the next mayor of Sharn.”

Wren turned and walked to the window. “But this is insane. King Boranel will never stand for it. There will be investigations. Arrests.”

“Why do you think Tiel used Anriel?” Col asked.

Wren turned. “Explain.”

“Anriel is a member of Daask. He has lodgings in Daask’s headquarters, for Khyber’s sake. Tiel has planted enough evidence to let the blame fall on Anriel and the heads of the Daask clan.”

“Clever,” said Col. “In one swoop, he becomes head of one of the biggest criminal organizations in the land, plants a city council that will never speak out against him, and gets rid of the Boromar clan’s closest rivals.”