Chapter 50

Zea entered the Harbor and scanned the place. Aldrick was nowhere in sight, of course, because that would have been too easy. She still couldn’t believe he’d just casually suggested moving in together like that, as if they hadn’t just met a few days ago and knew practically nothing about each other.

Though, she supposed from his perspective, that wasn’t true. She knew his biggest secret, something that would get him killed if the wrong people found out. It wasn’t like there was much she could do with it, not if she didn’t want to end up locked away in a cell under the nearest church with him. But still, she could see why he might have decided he might as well trust her completely.

But Gods help her, she’d nearly passed out from shock when he’d suggested that. Things like that just weren’t done between a young dwifkin lass and a man, let alone a human one. If anyone ever found out, she’d die of embarrassment. And he’d been so casual about it, like it was no big deal! Fucking ignorant off-worlder asshole.

Then he’d gone off and handed her the money, told her he trusted her, and just went on his way. The temptation to just take the gold and run for it was awfully strong, to get some distance from the most wanted apostate in the country, possibly the whole world. Smart Zea would have run and not looked back. She’d salvaged as much as it was reasonable to expect from the whole situation; it was time to extract herself before it blew up in her face.

Too bad she wasn’t Smart Zea. No, she was Dumb, Stupid, Idiot Zea who’d actually went and found a room for rent, and a big one too. At least, she thought it was. It was hard to tell what humans considered big. Everything about them was too big already. If it wasn’t enough space to… to share… then she’d just let him have it and find something else for herself.

“Hey there, what’s got you blushing so hard today?” Zammin said, popping up next to her.

She nearly punched him on reflex, not that it would have had a prayer of actually hurting him. “Nothing! What do you want?”

“To be nosy and hear the latest gossip.”

“Ugh. Go away, Zammin. Actually, tell me where Sideon is, then go away.”

“Not here right now. He went out about twenty minutes ago, said he’d be back in an hour. Want to have a drink with me and wait for him?”

“No, no I do not.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. Your guy’s already gone too, left with a girl on his arms.”

“Oh? He did?”

Zea wasn’t sure why she cared, or why she had a sudden spike of irrational jealousy. She was not soft on a human, especially not one as dangerous and touched in the head as Aldrick. Hell, she didn’t even know his real name. He could go fuck whoever he wanted, as long as he was back on time and won his fights. She couldn’t give less of a shit.

“Yeah, real pretty. Knew how to move too, which is weird because I thought I knew all the fighters who slum it down here on this side of the city, but I didn’t recognize her.”

Icy dread clawed its way into the pit of Zea’s stomach. She could think of several reasons someone who knew how to handle themselves in a fight but wasn’t instantly recognizable in the fight scene would be interested in Aldrick, and none of them were good. The absolute best case scenario was she was just some rando looking for a quick fuck before she moved on, but it was a lot more likely that whoever this bitch was, she was looking for someone she thought needed killing.

“You okay?” Zammin asked. “You look pale.”

“Describe her to me,” Zea demanded. “As much detail as you can remember.”

“Hey, no need to get jealous. He’s a human anyway. I’m sure you’d rather spend some time with a man of my stature.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Zammin! What did she look like?”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Zixin’s tits, lady. Let me see. She had black hair…”

* * *

The accent was subtle, but it was there. Aldrick wasn’t a native. That wasn’t enough to prove anything in and of itself, but combined with a few other discreet probes Myla had launched under the guise of casual conversation, it was obvious that the man didn’t know a thing about Valtira’s culture. He hadn’t been born there, or anywhere else that she could figure.

It was harder to ask the questions she wanted to ask while under the guise of a mild-mannered seamstress’s apprentice, but Myla didn’t have a rank 4 [Disguise] skill for nothing. Aldrick never suspected that she was anything other than what she’d presented herself as.

The more she listened to him talk, the more certain she became. He was the one who’d sold the armor, which meant he was somehow connected with the deaths of an entire templar brute squad. Normally, that would be enough right then and there to arrest him and throw him in a dungeon to be interrogated, but there was the shortie girl too.

There might be even more she didn’t know about yet, and if her suspicions were correct, he wasn’t just some heretic who’d committed sacrilege against the church. He was an off-worlder, and his influence had to be torn out root and stem. Anyone he was working with needed to be killed, anyone who knew who he was and hadn’t turned him in was an apostate too.

She would get them all, but it would take time. After they’d finished eating, she’d pretended to return to work, but had instead gone straight home. She needed some more tools, better equipment, stronger poisons. And she’d need a night to question him fully without anyone missing him. Depending on what she learned, she might have to place him back into his life without him being any-the-wiser. That would require some specialized poisons that she didn’t have on hand.

The only solution was of course to prepare them. Before she could even get started, the front door banged open and someone barged in. It took her less than a second to recognize the voice of Cardinal Gnox. Myla suppressed a sigh and leaped up to the hidden passage in the ceiling. Depending on why he was at her house and what he had to say, she might lead with the knife this time.

“Where is he?” Gnox yelled at the poor housekeeper.

“Cardinal, please! He’s not back yet. I can’t tell you wh-eeeeh! Let go! Let go!”

Myla crossed the intervening distance in an instant and produced a thin needle, which she promptly jammed into Gnox’s elbow. He let out a gasp of pain, and the housekeeper pulled her shirt out of his fingers. If Myla had done it right, his arm would be numb down from the point of impact to the tips of his fingers. The way Gnox cradled the arm to his chest suggested she’d hit the spot exactly right. That was good; Master Lath had wanted her to practice the technique while he was away.

“Why are you assaulting this poor girl?” Myla asked calmly. “And why are you barging into my home?”

“You little bitch,” Gnox said. “I’ll have your head for this.”

“I doubt it,” Myla told him blandly. If she’d been an ordinary inquisitor, he would probably have been correct. She wasn’t though, and he damn well ought to know that. Myla was starting to get the impression that Gnox wasn’t all that bright.

“Go fetch your master this instant,” the cardinal snapped. “We’ll be having words about your behavior and his failure to appear as summoned.”

“I’m afraid he is not available at the moment, not even to you, Cardinal Gnox. I will certainly relay the details of your visit to him as the earliest opportunity. All of the details of your visit.” She let a hint of threat seep into those last words, and it looked like the buffoon had enough wits about him at least to grasp the implications.

“This is unacceptable. His services are required, and he works to our schedule, not the other way around. The will of the Six is made manifest through me!”

Perhaps she’d overestimated his wits after all. The idiot just wasn’t getting it. “I understand, Cardinal, but that does not change the fact that he is already hard at work and is not available for you to speak with. I suggest you leave and attend to your other duties. When Master Lath is available, I’m sure he will speak to you.”

“No! Tell him to get out here right now.”

A knife appeared in Myla’s hands. “I am at the limits of my patience. You will leave, now. You do not have the authority you think you have in this house. If you require a second demonstration of this, I will make sure it is one that leaves a permanent reminder for you.”

Gnox sputtered in fury, but he spun on his heel and stomped out of the house.

* * *

“That impudent little bitch! Who does she think she is,” Gnox snarled as he strode along. His templar escort remained silent behind him. “We’re going to speak with Jemil immediately. Come on.”

“Yes, Cardinal,” the templar said.

The two of them entered the Grand Holy Cathedral, dedicated to all six gods, and paced through its intricate and convoluted passages. Gnox knew where he was going; he had after all been a cardinal for going on five years now. The better part of his forty years had been spent in service to the church, and the last half a decade at the Grand Holy Cathedral specifically.

The underground section of the cathedral that was controlled by the Inquisitorial Department was far less opulent than the upper chambers. That was to be expected. It was after all part dungeon, part confessional chambers, and part training grounds for prospective new inquisitors. Head Inquisitor Jemil’s offices were thankfully near the front, so Gnox would be spared the smell of the confessionals.

He shoved the door open and barged in without knocking. Cardinals didn’t do things like that. It was already stretching propriety that he personally traveled to see someone. By all rights, a servant should fetch whoever he wished to speak to and bring them to Gnox’s own offices. For the Head Inquisitor though, and for their Master of Poisons, Gnox wasn’t quite so bold as to demand that they attend him.

Jemil was hunched over his desk, scribbling away at something or other. He looked up at the sudden interruption and the barest hints of a frown creased his face. “May I help you, Cardinal Gnox?” he asked.

“You damn well may,” Gnox said, stalking across the room and flopping down into the chair opposite Jemil. “One of your inquisitors needs to be pulled in for behavior corrections. She assaulted me and then further threatened me.”

“Oh really?” Jemil sat up straight and put his quill pen down. “Please, tell me all the details.”

Gnox laid out the encounter in short, terse statements, how he’d gone to recruit Master Lath, for the second time no less, and been turned away by his apprentice, how she’d stabbed him with a needle and spouted ridiculous threats.

When he was done, Jemil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Cardinal Gnox,” he began slowly, “Are you in fact the world’s biggest fucking idiot?”

“Excuse me?” Gnox said, half standing and leaning forward.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe our Master of Poisons isn’t available to attend your every whim because he is an exceedingly busy man and we’ve already got him working elsewhere?”

“But this is the voice of the gods! Whatever he’s doing couldn’t possibly be more important. The Sign of the Six itself stands behind this mission.”

“Be that as it may, no one is going to be able to get word to Lath until he finishes his current job. Unless the gods themselves deign to whisper in his ear and bid him return to us, he. Is. Unavailable. Do you understand?”

“Fine, but what about the girl? She needs to be punished.”

“You will not go anywhere near Lath’s apprentice. If I find out you have, I will take you to confession myself. Do you understand me?”

Jemil rose to his full height while he was speaking, and all the XP he kept hidden away with various skills unfolded around him. Gnox caught his hands trembling against the desk. His eyes darted away from the Head Inquisitor, flicked across the room, and then came back.

“I said, ‘do you understand me?’” Jemil said again.

“I… I understand.”

“Good. Get the hell out of my office.”