James Davis - Circle of Skulls

Quessahn, after informing them of the archmage's disappearance, had remained strangely quiet, she and Mara regarding one another with a chilled silence he hadn't yet deciphered. He ignored their discomfort. Having last seen Tallus at the Storm's Front, just before Allek had been killed, he was more than eager to question the wizard.

As the bells of gateclose sounded, pealing through the streets, one crowd's dispersal seemed to cue the slow appearance of another. Jinn smiled slyly as they passed by the alley's mouth in small groups. Formal costumes of black and white, chased in silver and gold, were the favored looks for the evening as early celebrants gathered in the failing light. Painted masks leered as they drifted by, some simple with subtle designs, a few others garishly designed with feathers and fanged mouths. A pair of coaches sped toward one or another of several celebrations, false faces blurred within the confines of thin glass as they turned left up the street.

Jinn had no particular love of the revived Winterfirst celebrations, an archaic and mystical ceremony reduced to an excuse for expense and pomp among the wealthy. But he could not deny its usefulness. He adjusted the plain white mask over his features and pulled his hood low, nodding respectfully to a passing patrol of the Watch. For one night at least, he could conduct his business without too much complication.

"We can't just knock and expect to be invited in as guests," Quessahn said as they made their way up Flint Street. "Tallus is not entirely fond of either of us to begin with. If he's involved in these killings…"

"We'll only observe," Jinn replied. "At first."

"Then we'll knock," Mara added, smiling from behind her thin-handled mask. "I am infinitely curious to peruse his library."

They passed the hollowed remains of the Storm's Front, the windows not yet boarded up and the area still smelling of smoke. Jinn turned toward a district of tall towers and large homes, putting the tavern to his back, his stride quickening at the thought of Allek left to bum inside. He whispered a prayer for his friend's forgiveness just as he caught sight of a swaggering figure near the end of the street.

"Dregg," he said and slowed, sliding casually into the shadows of closed shops on the north side of the street. Though well out of sight, he soon realized he needn't have bothered. The former swordcaptain's swagger seemed well enhanced by early drinking. His uniform still dirty from the previous evening, his boots still grayed with ash, the acting rorden seemed comfortable in his new role-until, Jinn reasoned, the Watch superiors caught up to him.

Fortunately for Lucian Dregg, much of the Watch's attention was focused elsewhere; a gang war stretching from Mistshore into Downshadow had left the relatively peaceful Sea Ward under Rorden Allek's supervision for some time. Dregg would have time to enjoy his usurped title.

"Jinn," Mara whispered, pointing at the human. "The dagger."

Jinn narrowed his eyes, noting the glint of silver at Dregg's belt, an ornate dagger standing out on the unkempt rorden like a lit candle in a dark room. He balled his fists, eyeing the number of people in the streets with a curse.

Too many witnesses, he thought.

"What is it?" Quessahn asked.

"The dagger belonged to Allek," Jinn explained. "I gave it to him when he became rorden."

"Gods," she replied. "He stole it from Allek's body."

"No he didn't," Mara said, lowering her handled mask. "Allek never wore the dagger."

Mara's eyes remained fixed on the rorden as Jinn turned, seeing something in her face he'd glimpsed only a few times. She had been friendly with Allek Marson out of habit, a part of her disguise, but she had been among mortals for longer than even he knew. He would never see tears in her eyes, never remorse or regret, but the hag knew revenge, that he could count upon.

"Stay here," he told Mara. "Keep an eye on Dregg. See what he gets up to."

"Where are we going?" Quessahn asked, laying a firm hand on Jinn's arm and forcing him to face her, adding, "Do not even think you'll leave me here as well."

"No, I'll need your help," he answered and turned back the way they'd come. "We're going to Allek's home first. We'll catch up to Tallus later."

They rushed back down Flint Street to the southern end of the ward, hiding themselves in groups of party-goers, ducking down side streets to avoid Watch patrols. He had no fear of being recognized by Dregg, but he expected the men under his command to be more competent. They would begin questioning random citizens, ask for masks to be removed before moving on-all the trademarks of a well-trained force. It was Allek's legacy in uniform, and Jinn worked to avoid each patrol, not wanting to have cause to harm that legacy.

After several turns and a long, winding path through the southern part of the ward, they approached the modest home of Allek Marson warily, hiding in the shadows of early evening between the houses. Few in that area of Sea Ward would be attending any of the night's festivities, unless they were hired to cook or serve.

Satisfied that no one was around, Jinn and Quessahn ascended the short steps and tested the front door. The lock was smashed, the brass doorknob still lying on the ground, smudged by dark prints. Jinn entered the house, noting the ashy boot prints just inside and feeling his blood boil at the thought of Dregg violating the privacy of his friend's home. The office had been ransacked, though to Allek's credit, there was little to destroy save a small desk, a comfortable chair, and a low table covered in various broadsheets from across the city.

Quessahn lit a lantern, and Jinn's gaze immediately turned to the fireplace on the opposite side of the room. An empty knife stand remained on the mantle where Allek had kept the gifted dagger stolen by Dregg. A fine painting, one of Allek's few valuable possessions, lay on the floor, sliced to shreds.

"Should we be looking for anything specific?" Quessahn asked.

"No," Jinn answered. "But I expect we'll know it when we see it. We know how Allek was killed; now we need to know why."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly, taking in the details of the room. Aside from the general mess, Jinn saw little out of order save for the dark smudges of heeled boot prints throughout the room. He followed them as Quessahn raised the lantern high, tracking them to the base of a narrow stairway just outside a small kitchen. He took the stairs and Quessahn followed. The eerie silence set his nerves on edge, and he kept a hand on his sword, wondering if they were truly alone.

Allek's bedroom was just as sparse as his office: a simple bed, a chest of drawers, and a small desk by the single window. Nothing appeared disturbed and the shadows created by the lantern revealed no hidden assassins. Just the same, Jinn did not let down his guard, sensing something beyond the mere ghost and memories of a murdered friend.

"How long before Dregg is replaced, do you think?" Quessahn asked as she set the lantern down and laid out a scroll on the bed, her rune-covered dagger in hand.

"Long enough," he replied and sat down at the desk, opening drawers. "It is not unknown for some officers to take private donations-sharpening the blade, I believe they call it. If someone in particular wants Dregg in charge for some reason, then it can be afforded."

"Long enough, then," she said as Jinn pulled forth a bundle of letters from the desk's bottom drawer, each of them smelling of fine perfume. He leaned closer to the lantern, making out the name Rilyana Saerfynn on each of the missives. Quessahn cleared her throat, waving her dagger over the scroll and whispering arcane words, each followed by a spark of glowing light from the parchment as the writing burned itself away.