Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [25]
The other genasi, apparently Garel, jumped to his feet. He said, “I concur with Jett. Something’s not right with this fellow.”
“Hold on,” said Chant from the doorway. “Demascus came here to inform you, with no expectation of reward, how one of your patrols came to a bad end. And this is how you think to repay him? Anyway, you don’t have the authority to do any such thing. I’m a citizen of Airspur.” The pawnbroker folded his arms.
“You’re trespassing in a Firestorm safehouse,” said Jett. “Which means we can do whatever we like. Plus you’re self-admitted thieves, starting with this fellow’s coat and sword. Thieves and spies aren’t tolerated in this city.”
Demascus began to protest, but the lieutenant raised her hand, “Jett, enough. These two would have to be extraordinarily incompetent spies to wander straight into the Motherhouse and announce themselves to us, wouldn’t they?”
Demascus wondered if his cheeks were coloring.
Garel said, “That’s what they want you to think.”
“Oh, please,” said Leheren. She gestured for Chant to enter the chamber and said to him, “Were you with Demascus when he chanced upon this slaughtered group of the Firestorm Cabal?”
The human moved a few paces into the room. He said, “No. I don’t travel the Akanapeaks if I can help it. Demascus came to me in my shop and told me his story.” The pawnbroker didn’t bat an eye relaying the falsehood, which after all, was close enough to the truth.
Demascus said, “You can have this coat and sword. I came here … to tell you what happened to your people at the shrine, and learn what it meant. It wasn’t my goal to flaunt what I’d taken from the dead.” He shrugged out of his coat. Beneath it he wore the thin leather armor he’d also liberated from the dead. The genasi didn’t remark upon it.
The lieutenant took the jacket from Demascus and examined it. She ran her hands through the pockets, then said, “Did you find any identification?”
“No. None of the dead carried any papers, except a map showing the shrine’s location.” He produced the map and handed it over.
Leheren took it and smoothed it out on the table over the other documents.
“Nothing extraordinary; this old shrine appears on other maps. What’s more troubling,” she said, looking up from the table, “is that every Cabal member must carry identification at all times. I don’t understand why those you found did not.”
Demascus shrugged. “It’s what I found.” When I woke up there naked, he didn’t say.
A pensive look on Jett’s face transformed into one of calculation. He said, “If these men Demascus found carried no identification, perhaps they were the imposters! Attempting to sully the Cabal’s good name with acts of … of demonic ritual!”
“We certainly have our enemies,” murmured Leheren. “How very odd. A place of old power, and demons. Just like …”
“Just like what?” asked Demascus.
The woman looked at him. Pulses of silver seemed to flow through the szuldar that threaded her skin. She cocked her head slightly, as if she were mentally weighing him. Finally she said, “Just like other stories of demons we’ve recently heard. At least, monstrous creatures of some sort. Perhaps it’s a sign that you show up now speaking of creature incursions, on the heels of a contract we’ve just taken from the queen.”
“I knew it!” said Chant. Demascus looked at him, and the pawnbroker smirked. He said, “A royal carriage was leaving as we arrived.”
“Yes. Well,” said Leheren, “Since you two are already involved, it shouldn’t hurt to tell you that this is not the first such incident to trouble Airspur of late. We’ve heard rumors, but the queen’s envoy laid it out for the deputy commander.”
The lieutenant pushed aside Demascus’s map and revealed a detailed sketch of a city built up on either side of two cliffs framing a deep bay. It was Airspur. Four sites were circled in red ink.
Leheren said, “Each marked location represents an attack by nightmarish entities. Descriptions are vague and vary