Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [168]
Marysa was there still, thank Bohr, though Jeryd felt a pang of guilt every time she looked his way. She accepted Tuya’s arrival without question, so he felt free to return to work.
After spending much of the afternoon thinking about recent developments, Jeryd saw the figure of Tryst walking off through the winding stone corridors of the Inquisition headquarters, heading out into the street.
He followed him hastily into the chill, his cloak wrapped tightly around him.
“Tryst,” Jeryd called out across the fresh snow, his voice echoing in the still of the early evening.
The young man stopped to look back and, on recognizing Jeryd, approached. “Investigator, you need me?”
Jeryd looked him up and down, rage fluctuating inside him. He felt a strange respect for the levels this treacherous bastard would stoop to in order to achieve his ends. “Walk with me awhile, I’ve something important to discuss.”
Through the alleyways of the old city, and down toward the caves. They passed two quiet irens packing up for the day, the street traders looking glum at the lack of business in such miserable weather. A few fires were still lit where women sold fried spiced pastries, the smoke trapped ghostlike in the frozen air. Eventually they came to a neighborhood where Jeryd felt able to continue the conversation. Graffiti covered the walls, tags and obscenities and protests of love. Moss gathered where it could in damp corners.
“The councilor murders,” Jeryd began, “has that prostitute come up with anything yet?”
“Afraid not, sir.” Tryst’s calm expression showed no sign of any deception.
“Where’s Miss Daluud now precisely?” Jeryd inquired.
A flash of anxiety in his eyes?
“I can’t be sure,” Tryst replied. “Not at the moment. You wish to speak to her? I think if I have a little more time I could get some answers for you. I’m keen to succeed.”
“Are you, now,” Jeryd muttered.
“Sir?” Tryst tilted his head, his expression still all innocence. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Jeryd looked around, at the run-down stone dwellings with their rotting wooden doors and windows. No one else was nearby. The sun had set almost completely, casting a dreary ambience over the scene.
He said, “I’ll be arresting her myself tomorrow, so I fear she’ll not be able to help you anymore.” Jeryd saw the panic in Tryst’s eyes, the collapse of a plan, and continued. “You know, that clone of my wife you both created, even though you already knew that she was a murderer. Withholding information from the Inquisition. That was particularly low, but there are quite a few black marks mounting up against you. Using banned substances to influence suspects. But it isn’t that which I’m really pissed off about.”
Tryst remained silent, instinctively backing away, nothing but cold stone behind him.
“No.” Jeryd looked this way and that. “What I’m really annoyed about is the fact that you dragged my wife into your little schemes.”
Tryst finally spoke up, “You were the one who struck her—”
Jeryd thumped Tryst in the stomach, doubling him up against the wall. The rumel then brought his knee up sharply into Tryst’s exposed face. Blood flecked the wall as Tryst collapsed into the snow holding his nose.
“Did you drug me too, that night?”
No response till Jeryd kicked his subordinate in the back. The human arched like a bridge, then moaned.
“Yes, but …”
Jeryd pulled a blade from his sleeve, stared at the man lying before him. He could slit his throat here and now, and no one would notice. He could move the body to Caveside, where this sort of thing happened daily. But then his rage subsided into something much calmer, much colder. If he did not kill him, Tryst would have to be arrested—but then he might reveal how Jeryd had struck his wife unconscious.
Tryst looked up pathetically, clutching his gut with one hand, his nose with the other. It was in moments like this that Jeryd realized lives could be altered forever.
“I’m … sorry, Jeryd,” Tryst gasped. “I was angry. I resented you.”
Jeryd looked down at him. “There were,” he snarled, “other ways to let me know.”