Diablo 3: The Reaper of Souls (21 page)

"Where are they now?" Anajinn asked quietly.

"They're someone else's problem. It sounded like they wanted to search the rest of Caldeum's Rest." Reiter pulled back, satisfied at the look on her face. "So. You've caused me enough trouble. I want you to leave my inn. Now."

Anajinn and her apprentice exchanged unreadable glances, and then the crusader let the edge of her shield slide back onto the sand. She shook her head. "We can't leave."

"Good," Bea announced. "You two need to rest before going anywhere."

Reiter's mouth fell open. "Bea!"

She gave him a challenging stare. "We have plenty of room. We have no customers. We can keep them safe for a couple nights of sleep."

"The paladins!"

"What about them? They left," Bea said. "These two came in from the south. The desert, not the main road. Nobody saw them. We'll set up cots in the second storeroom and pile boxes of turnips and dried beef in front of the door. If the paladins return, they won't know there's a room there. You can even invite them to search. That's what we did when the bandits showed up last year. You thought it was a great idea then."

"There's a bigger problem," Anajinn said. Bea and Reiter both turned to look at her. "The paladins will return, and it won't matter whether they see us."

"What? Why?" Reiter asked.

"They already blame you." Anajinn's voice was cold. "They are not in their right minds. There is a very high chance that when their search of the town yields nothing, they will take out their anger on you. Or others. They are fueled by hatred, not divine purpose. You and your family are in danger, innkeeper."

"Because of you!"

"Yes," she said. "And I will not leave you and your town to their mercy. If you don't want me to protect your inn directly, my apprentice and I will set up camp in the desert, out of eyeshot. If we hear or sense—"

"Oh, don't be absurd. You'll be fine in one of our storerooms," Bea said. She cut off Reiter's splutters of rage with a sharp look. "It won't be trouble. Let me talk with my husband for a moment."

Reiter allowed her to lead him and Lilsa back inside, out of the crusader's earshot, before erupting in harsh whispers. "Are you out of your mind, Bea? Those paladins will kill us!"

Bea waited until he finished. "Lilsa, can you go up to your room for a minute?" she asked. The girl disappeared up the stairs. Bea rounded upon Reiter, her tone filled with contempt. "That's what you want your daughter to see? Her father sending two people—one of them wounded!—into the desert because he's scared of what three strangers will think?"

"That's completely unfair," Reiter said. "Anajinn has brought death on our heads, and no matter how much those men hate her, they wouldn't possibly kill us just because she stayed here six or seven years ago. Not unless they actually did find her here. Think of Lilsa. Think of the one on the way." Reiter laid a gentle hand on Bea's swelling stomach. "Our children need Anajinn to leave. Now. Be reasonable."

Bea looked down at his hand and then raised her gaze to meet Reiter's. "So you're willing to believe those paladins over Anajinn?"

"As I said, I'm sure Anajinn is just overreacting," Reiter said.

She removed his hand from her belly. "Those men threatened to kill you. She has been nothing but kind and honest." Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know why you dislike her so much, but I believe her. If the paladins might still harm us, we need her here. To protect our children. How's that for reasonable?" She turned but offered a final parting shot over her shoulder. "Whatever your father's faults, he was not a coward. He would be ashamed of you right now." She stepped outside to speak with the other women.

Reiter felt sick. She doesn't understand. She'll get us all killed. He could hear armor rattling outside; the crusader was preparing to enter. He fled to the common room. He didn't want to see her. He needed to think.

My father would be ashamed? Reiter frowned. His father certainly once had a fondness for charity, which Reiter had never shared, but above all he was a practical man. A reasonable man.

Though Reiter had to admit Bea was correct about one thing: the paladins might come back. He shivered.

Maybe, just maybe, Anajinn and her apprentice could stand against them. He had seen what she had done to that other paladin all those years ago. Reiter hadn't understood it, but he'd seen it.

But she had been healthy that day, he reminded himself. Rested. Confident. Today was different. She was near death only minutes earlier. No matter how powerful her apprentice was or how effectively they fought together...

She can't beat them, Reiter decided. All it would take was one surviving paladin, and his family would suffer the consequences.

Inform us without hesitation, the paladin Cennis had told him.

Reiter stood up. That was the way out, he realized with a rush of hope. The paladins might be unreasonable until they found Anajinn, but once they did, they would undoubtedly calm down. And if Reiter was the one who led them to her, they'd know he was sincere about not wanting to help her. They'd probably even praise him for his forthrightness.

But Anajinn... she and her apprentice would die. Better them than my family, he told himself firmly. He quietly slipped out of the inn.

Caldeum's Rest was not a large place. Reiter was confident he could find them. He strode west. Inform us without hesitation. His calm strides quickened. Then he began to jog.

Soon, he was running.

***

The blacksmith didn't slow his stroke on the anvil. "I understand, good sir." Sparks flew each time his hammer landed. "If a woman in strange armor enters—"

"If any woman enters," Cennis snapped. "The heretic may try to disguise herself. She would seek to trick you and lead you into sin."

"Yes, good sir," the blacksmith said. "If any woman enters, I should come find you or one of your brothers." He picked up the thin slab of red-hot metal with tongs and examined it closely. With a grunt, he laid it back on the anvil and began hammering the edges again. "Was there anything else you needed, good sir?"

Cennis's fingers twitched. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, blacksmith," he said softly.

"Of course," the blacksmith said. He gave the paladin a cursory glance and went back to work. "Whatever you say, good sir."

There wasn't an ounce of mocking in the man's voice, but Cennis felt anger bubbling up anyway. He stepped closer to the blacksmith. "Am I distracting you? Am I keeping you from your important work?"

"No, good sir, I'm listening," he said. He met Cennis's eyes again and blinked, seeing something dangerous there for the first time. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the steel haphazardly into the nearest quenching barrel. Steam rose with an angry hiss. "I apologize. What else do you need to know, good sir?"

"What were you making?" the paladin asked lightly.

"A barrel scraper," he said. "The innkeeper down the road needs one."

"The owner of the Oasis Inn?"

"That's him."

Cennis nodded calmly. "I understand." He truly did. He understood more than this fool would ever suspect. This entire town is close-knit. They live in sin together. They deserved punishment together.

A wonderful idea occurred to him. He glanced around; his fellow paladins were elsewhere, interrogating other people. Good. "And if you had already seen the heretic, you would tell me, right?"

"Of course, good sir," the blacksmith said.

"I don't believe you."

The blacksmith frowned. Cennis casually raised his right hand, as though inspecting his gauntlet. Wiggling his fingers, he leaned over the anvil. The blacksmith took an instinctive step back. Afraid of a servant of the faith? What are you hiding?

"I want you to know how serious I am," Cennis said. He clenched his fist, and the Light filled him. A glowing shape appeared between the two men. "I'm sure you make fine barrel scrapers. What do you know about hammers?"

The blacksmith stumbled backward. Even his sinful eyes could not mistake the hammer of pure Light suspended in midair. Oddly, the man's gaze darted around the room. Cennis followed his look but saw nothing of interest. Maybe the shadows seemed a bit strange. Growing and shifting. Cennis remembered when a blessed hammer of Light would banish all shadows. That felt like a long time ago. A lifetime ago. When he was a boy.

Cennis held a hand to his forehead and frowned. His head hurt. The hammer wavered and vanished. Thinking about his childhood brought pain and interrupted his concentration. He grimaced and shook away the notion. A lifetime ago. Not relevant now. The hammer reappeared.

"Good sir." The blacksmith's voice trembled. "I—"

Cennis lightly swung the hammer. The anvil exploded away from him. The blacksmith clutched his middle and fell, screaming, a piece of metal lodged in his guts.

"I'm sorry, good sir," Cennis said. "You were saying?" The look on the other man's face was delicious. Total helplessness. Total fear. Cennis held the glowing hammer mere inches from the blacksmith. "Why don't you tell me what you really know about the heretic?"

The blacksmith begged. He wept. He swore he knew nothing. He cried out for Akarat's mercy. A little late for that. What sort of lost creature would continue to lie? What had he seen with his eyes that he refused to mention? Cennis hesitated. Perhaps stronger measures were needed. He reached out, just a bit, toward the blacksmith's face, and...

The other man's cries went silent. His eyes, wide open, reflected the hammer's Light in an interesting way. In a pure way. Unblemished by iris or pupil.

Then red crept in, ruining the perfectly white orbs, pooling beneath the man's eyelids. Cennis watched, fascinated. Twin pops, unexpectedly loud, sent crimson flowing down his cheeks, joined by tiny streams of white fluid. Still, the man didn't scream. His tongue was paralyzed by sheer terror.

Cennis abruptly realized what he had done. This man would likely be unable to answer questions for hours, if not days, he chided himself. A waste. Shaking his head, the paladin reached out with the Light and removed the blacksmith's tongue with a quick tug. He didn't even need to use his hands. The pink flesh flopped onto the sandy floor, and finally, the blacksmith screamed, a tortured, wordless sound. Cennis let him. This was a fine idea. The crusader was in the area; he was certain of it. But what sort of shelter could she find if the entire town was filled only with the blind and the mute? It was no less than they deserved for harboring a heretic years earlier. Yes, he decided, he would go door to door—

"Akarat save us." A breathless whisper at the smithy's entrance. Cennis turned calmly. The innkeeper. That innkeeper. He stared at the blacksmith, who continued to wail.

"Akarat cannot save you," Cennis told the innkeeper. "Nobody can."

"I..." The innkeeper's eyes jerked between Cennis and what remained of the blacksmith. "I came to tell you... as you commanded... without hesitation..."

"Oh, I doubt that," Cennis said sadly. He hooked his finger, and a shimmering loop of Light encircled the innkeeper's throat. The paladin cinched it tight, very tight. The innkeeper began to choke. "The woman returned, didn't she? And you waited to tell me. I know your kind. You waited." He hooked his finger again, and again. More loops of Light cinched tightly, pinning the innkeeper's wrists together, pinning his elbows together. The gasping turned into whispered screams.

Cennis stepped outside, tugging the innkeeper along. "Brothers!" he called out. "Brothers, the sinner is here!" After a moment's thought, he raised his hands again and showered sparks across the smithy's roof. Smoke rose instantly, tiny flames joining together into large sheets of fire. He nodded with satisfaction. His fellow paladins sometimes felt squeamish about treating evil as... decisively... as Cennis preferred, so he would ease their minds of the knowledge. Fire was wonderful for cleaning up loose ends.