L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“Cuff the two who are still with us. Let’s get them both back to the station,” I ordered.

They were heavy enough that we ended up dragging all four figures to the nearest pick-up pole, where we waited half a glass for the wagon.

By the time we reached the station, our prisoners were awake, if groggy, and I immediately set the smaller tough in the small room used for interrogation, not that we did much of that, since usually we knew what had happened by the time prisoners were in the station. Most crimes in Third District were obvious. I did have him tied to the chair. He said his name was Grohar. It probably wasn’t.

Grohar looked at me. It was fair to say he was anything but friendly.

“You shot at us. Why?”

“Frig you, trolie! Frig you…”

I clamped shields around him and began to tighten them. He said nothing. I released them. “Care to tell me who sent you?”

“Frig you.”

I tried a number of other techniques, well short of physical coercion, but, needless to say, anything that I could immediately think of that would leave him in one piece and unmarked wasn’t going to persuade him to talk. So I had the station patrollers cart him back to the holding cell and bring in the other one, the one who’d given the name of Haddad and who had fired the stronger weapon, something like a twin-barreled blunderbuss.

I’d spent some moments thinking while he was being restrained.

Just because I couldn’t do something painful and obvious to them didn’t mean I couldn’t suggest the possibility. So I held up the belt knife we’d taken from Haddad, then tossed it into the air…and suspended it in my shields.

“It’s not that sharp a knife,” I said conversationally. “Rather dull. I imagine it’s going to hurt if I have to use it to find out what I need to know.”

“You can’t touch me…”

“I’m not going to touch you.” I glanced to Alsoran, standing beside me. “I’m not even close to you. And it is your knife, not mine. And…if we failed to find it, and you slashed your wrists because you didn’t like being caught…”

His eyes fixed on the knife, seemingly suspended in mid-air. I eased the shields, and the knife, toward him. “It would be a lot easier if you just told us who sent you.”

I edged the knife closer.

I could see the sweat beading on his forehead. It was amazing how a knife hanging in mid-air and edging toward him brought out the fear.

I waited, smiling.

“It was Costicyn…he was the one. He told us…be a gold for every patroller we brought down. Didn’t matter which ones, but had to be inside the streets he told us…”

“Which streets?”

“North Middle and Quierca, the part east of Fuosta, and west of Fedre…”

Basically, the streets were those that bordered the taudis. That made sense, in a way, because any patrol deaths would be blamed on the taudis-gangs and my inability to control the taudis in difficult times.

“Who was there besides Costicyn?”

“He was the only one…he was.”

“There had to be other dealers involved…” I eased the knife forward again.

“Honest…he was the one…know he works with Sadharyn…but he never said…”

After I finished getting what I could from him, I had them bring back in the first tough. I had the knife almost in his eyeball before he cracked.

Neither could offer anything beyond than what I’d gotten from the first, except that they had the idea that Third District was the only one being targeted so far. Whether that was just what they were told or whether it was true…that I couldn’t determine.

When I’d gotten what I could, Alsoran and I went back to the duty desk.

“Sir?” Cemaryt looked up.

“Put it in the orders book that when those two we brought in are transported to headquarters tomorrow, I want four patrollers from here to accompany the wagon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want them to get to headquarters alive,” I added, although I had my doubts how long they’d last, given my suspicions. I just didn’t want their deaths to occur while they were in Third District custody. “And I don’t want anything to happen to them here.” I looked hard at the duty desk patroller.

“Neither the captain nor I would want anything to happen,” added Alsoran.

Cemaryt swallowed.

We walked back to my study, and I closed the door.

“I don’t like doing that, you know.”

Alsoran nodded. “I know, but they don’t. That’s what they’d expect, and they’d get worse in most stations.” After a moment, he added, “It won’t stop with them.”

“I’ll be working late most nights, but I won’t be here until after ninth glass tomorrow. I have to make a command appearance at the Council’s Autumn Ball.”

“Command?”

“We were asked by the Chief Councilor himself.”

“That’s command,” Alsoran affirmed.

My night duty didn’t even end then, because it was so late that I had to walk all the way to the Guild Square to find a hack to take me back to Imagisle. At least, I didn’t have to walk the whole way. Even so, my feet were aching when I finally stepped into the foyer, but Seliora was waiting with warm mulled wine.

Because I knew it was likely I’d be facing a very long night, on Vendrei morning I took my time getting up, although no one without a small child would have considered it late when I rose and greeted my wife and very active daughter. Before all that long, we were off to our various duties.

The newsheets both noted that Ferran forces had moved to positions less than a mille from the border in the areas closest to the Jariolan coal fields. Another grain freighter had caught fire, this time in Kherseilles. I could only hope that the fire had been contained on the pier and not spread, because I worried about Khethila. The Alusine Wool factorage wasn’t all that far from the piers.

As soon as I’d checked the daily reports and duty logs at the station, I headed out to see if I could find Jadhyl. I finally spotted one of his boy lookouts near the corner of Fedre and South Middle, and asked if he’d carry a message-for the promise of two coppers-that I needed a few moments with the taudischef.

While I waited for the message to be delivered, I walked up to the Plaza SudEste and studied the flow of carriages and wagons, as well as the people walking along the Avenue D’Artisans. I thought the traffic and the number of pedestrians was lighter than usual on a Vendrei, but not that much. Then I walked back toward Fedre, where I waited for another quarter-glass before the green-jacketed taudischef arrived with his lookout, who promptly vanished with the two coppers that I tendered.

Jadhyl addressed me, as usual, with his excessively precise intonation. “Master Rhennthyl.”

“Jadhyl, you may recall that I passed word about outsiders creating trouble.”

“I heard something of the sort, but I had also understood that they were looking for patrollers. Why might I be interested?”

“Because we caught two of them last night. It took a little persuasion, but they decided to tell us why they were attacking patrollers. They were promised a gold apiece for every dead patroller shot within the Third District taudis…by someone named Costicyn. Their instructions were very clear. Only to shoot patrollers within the taudis.”

“There were some shots last night, not far from here.” A faint smile creased his lips.

“I was with some patrollers. The assassins were not successful. Two of them died. The other two named this Costicyn…and someone named Sadharyn.”

“I have never heard either name. The last sounds Stakanaran.” Jadhyl tilted his head. “They wish to prove you cannot control your taudischefs, it appears.”