Sapphire Crescent (19 page)

The bowl with the coins and the water was empty, the sacrifice taken, as Kovrim knew it would be. Nodding in satisfaction, he took hold of the incense and carefully, almost reverently, ground it out, tapping the ash free of the remainder. Then he put his accoutrements away, setting them back in the drawer. Once he was finished, he sat back, staring at the wall for several moments, considering the answer to his prayer. He would find the answers he sought if he went and ransacked Lavant’s personal things in his office. Now he knew that evidence existed, and that he would find it if he had the courage to follow throug,h with his plan.

But should he? Kovrim wondered, still having doubts even after his divination. He supposed he should have expected to still feel reluctant, considering what was at stake. On the one hand, he still had no certain knowledge that the evidence would show anything other than that Lavant had arranged a business relationship between the temple and some merchants or similar partners. It might not give any credence at all to the suspicion that Lavant was actively covering up crimes. Indeed, Lavant might be truly guilty of nothing other than bad judgment in picking business partners.

On the other hand, if the high priest was guilty of much more than simple poor assessment of his associates, Kovrim felt a need to expose it, before it caused severe damage to the temple as a whole, both spiritually and financially. Regardless of the risk to himself, Kovrim had to know for sure. If he was wrong, then he might simply look the fool and receive punishment for invading the high priest’s personal quarters unbidden. But if not…

Quickly, before he could change his mind again, Kovrim got up and unbolted his door. He slipped out and padded through the brightly lit corridors of the temple, making his way toward Grand Trabbar Lavant’s offices. He knew the high priest would not be there during that time of the day, for it was common knowledge that he retreated to the gardens below to pray and meditate.

Kovrim chuckled, because what he knew that few others did not was that Lavant’s “meditations” were actually simply an excuse for an afternoon nap before evening services commenced. Kovrim had no personal problem with the idea of resting when one could. He just thought it humorous that the Grand Trabbar was vain enough that he needed to fabricate a reason to cover up his rest. Either way, Kovrim felt safe in choosing that particular time of the day to skulk into the high priest’s offices.

Though his heart was beating rapidly, Kovrim made a deliberate effort to nod and smile to anyone he met along the way. To do otherwise would cast suspicion on him, he knew, for his reputation as one of the more jovial and warm priests of the temple was strong. Indeed, he found that no one paid him a second glance so long as he maintained the facade of a merry priest strolling though the corridors on official business.

At last, he reached Lavant’s office. Noting that there was no one around to witness him sneaking

inside, Kovrim let himself in through the door and shut it softly behind him. Then he turned to the desk, where the high priest seemed to continually maintain a stack of parchment, records of numerous financial reports, business transactions, and proposals from underlings about potential deals the temple could make. Lavant was responsible for a great many things the temple was involved with monetarily.

Scratching his head, Kovrim realized he didn’t really know where to begin. He’d thought it a simple enough matter to simply go through the records, but once he looked at them, he saw that there were a great many. He would have to eliminate some of them, or he would never make it through the entire search without getting caught. The priest decided to ignore proposals and balance sheets for the moment. He doubted that anything related to what he was looking for would be at either of those stages of development. Instead, he would concentrate his efforts on the piles that held business plans.

The priest sat down and began to rapidly sort through the appropriate piles, scanning each page quickly for some recognizable text, particularly the name of House Pharaboldi. Of course, as he worked, his nerves were on edge, and every sound out in the corridor, every person walking by, every thump from an adjacent office caused Kovrim to nearly leap out of the chair, a half-formed explanation on the tip of his tongue. After the fifth such incident, the priest chastised himself for his cowardice and redoubled his efforts.

Finally, when he was on the verge of considering other places to dig, he found something. It wasn’t much, just a document containing some estimated figures of the full ranks of the mercenary armies the temple either controlled or had strong ties to. And there, at the bottom, was a note, scribbled quickly, showing another set of figures, and the names of three merchant

Houses beside each figure. Kovrim recognized the figures themselves as financial. They were substantial amounts, the kind of wealth the merchant Houses in Arrabar might pay to hire an army. The Houses that would pay that kind of coin for a professional army usually spent those amounts when they expected to keep them around for a while, or when they foresaw particularly bloody confrontations in their future. It was the kind of wealth a House spent when it believed it was about to fight a minor war.

There were three Houses listed in a column, each one of them with a figure beside it, each figure enough coin to hire a mercenary army to fight such a war. Together, the funds were substantial enough to do something really serious, like invade another country or conquer a city. Pharaboldi was one of the three Houses, the name that had originally caught Kovrim’s eye. But beneath that were the names of two other Houses. It was the third name on that list that made Kovrim freeze, made him reread the words three times to make certain he saw it correctly.

The third name was House Matrell.

Vambran paced like a caged animal in the barracks where his men were busily organizing supplies for the impending departure. He wanted to pound his fist against a wall, wanted to scream at someone. Captain Vertucio had refused to grant him any time to return to his estate, not even long enough to tell the family what was happening. The officer had explained, and rightfully so, Vambran had to admit, that the need to get the company ready had to be the lieutenant’s first priority. If, after everything needed for the upcoming trip up the coast was readied—Captain Vertucio said the destination was confidential for the moment, and all Vambran needed to know was that they would be

marching overland—perhaps Vambran could sneak away for a quick good-bye.

But those were not ordinary circumstances. Vambran realized that the change in orders, the accelerated pace of the departure time, even his own additional responsibilities to handle logistics for the entire unit, were all suspiciously convenient means of keeping him from pursuing the murderers’ identities. Grand Trabbar Lavant knew enough to arrange it so that Vambran would have no choice but to abandon the investigation.

Unfortunately, that also meant that Vambran could not aid Emriana, nor could he warn her to back off without him there. His sister would be on her own against Denrick Pharaboldi that evening, plotting to wrest the truth out of the young man and falsely thinking that Vambran was nearby should she need him. And that didn’t even take into consideration how devastated she would be that he’d missed her birthday party. It had all gone horribly wrong, and Vambran was at a loss as to how to manage both crises at once.

The irony of having come full circle was not lost on the mercenary. It had only been two short days before that he’d stood on the deck of Lady’s Favor, hesitating to go home, loving the freedom and excitement that serving in the mercenary company afforded him. And yet, there he was, about to muster out again, on the verge of another interesting campaign with his soldiers, his friends, and he wanted more than anything to get clear of it, to run home. It nearly made him laugh, except that he was seething at the injustice of it.

“Sir, we’re going to need to procure additional horses for the supply wagons,” one of the young soldiers said, saluting Vambran as he stepped near.

The lieutenant sighed.

“How many?” he asked. “And what happened to our regular supplier?”

The soldier shrugged.

“I don’t have a clue, sir. Sergeant Grolo just told me I should pass that message on to you. He says to come to the stable yard immediately so the two of you can assess the situation.”

Vambran paused in his pacing and turned to regard the soldier delivering the message.

“Did he, now?” the lieutenant asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Vambran tried to hide a smile.

“Very well,” he said, “I’m on my way. Get back to what you were doing, soldier.”

The younger man nodded and ran off to whatever task he’d been about before the dwarf had interrupted his work.

Vambran began to head toward the stables, which were clear on the other side of the compound from where the barracks were. Grolo was the last officer Vambran would have put on horse detail; the dwarf hated horses and couldn’t ride one to save his life. He would be a poor choice for making decisions about them when it came to supply logistics. Something else was going on.

Vambran worked his way across the compound and to the stables. When he got to the yard, he found the dwarf standing outside the large building, huddled with a number of other men, all soldiers who served in Vambran’s platoon. He strolled up to them, noting that they didn’t seem to be paying any attention to any horses at the moment.

“I got a message that we have a horse problem,” Vambran said casually, eyeing the small group. Grolo turned to face the lieutenant.

“More like a priority problem,” the dwarf replied, and he stepped aside and let Vambran get a better look at the rest of the group. Hiding in the midst of the others were Adyan and Horial.

Vambran broke into a quick grin at the sight of his two sergeants.

“What are you two up to?” he asked slyly.

“We’ve just been explaining our little problem to Sergeant Grolo here,” Horial said, tilting his head sideways to indicate the dwarf. “We explained how this latest campaign is likely to turn out rotten, what with our lieutenant distracted by events going on at home and all.”

“He thinks that’s bad for morale,” Adyan drawled. “He doesn’t want a lieutenant who isn’t fit for battle heading up any part of the company.”

“And you, sir, aren’t fit for battle right now,” Horial remarked. “At least, you aren’t so long as your family’s in the middle of some trouble.”

Vambran turned to look at Grolo, who stood with his thick arms folded across his stout chest.

“And you believe these two no-good, worthless soldiers?” he asked the dwarf.

Grolo spat on the ground and said, “From what I hear, you’re the best thing that ever happened to these two, and most others who have served under you.” At that, there was a murmured chorus of assent from the rest of the group. “And, after what I saw last night at the warehouse, I’m pretty much figuring they’re right.”

Vambran gave the dwarf a shrug of placid acceptance.

“They’re good men,” he said in all candor. “I’m honored to have them in my unit.”

“When the politics of the temple starts getting in the way of the effectiveness of the Crescent, something’s wrong,” Grolo said, spitting on the ground again. “And I’m thinking something’s wrong.”

Vambran nodded again, still unsure what the dwarf was getting at.

“We’ll cover for you as long as we can, Lieutenant,” Sergeant Grolo announced. “You go take care of what you need to, and we’ll make do here while you’re gone.”

Vambran’s smile became a much larger grin, then. He reached out a hand and clasped the dwarf’s.

“You have my gratitude,” he said sincerely. “I owe you for this. All of you,” he said to the whole group. “I can tell you now, though, that by stepping into the middle of this mess with me, you’re putting yourselves directly in front of the temple’s scowling eye. There may very well be severe repercussions.”

“Ah, we’ll repercuss when the time comes,” Adyan said, his country accent stronger than normal. “They can’t do much without an army, can they?” he added, laughing, and the rest of the men nodded their assent.

“All right, then,” Vambran said, turning to go. “I’ll try to get word to you or get back here as soon as I can.”

“Ah, sir?” Horial said, causing Vambran to pause and turn back. “You forgot your ride,” the sergeant told him.

Vambran didn’t understand until one of the men led a saddled and bridled horse out into the yard from the stables. Then he grinned anew.

“Very clever,” he said, moving to the animal and mounting up. “Thanks again.”

He urged the horse into a trot out through the gate, and very quickly, Vambran was riding at a rapid canter toward his family’s estate.

• • •

Kovrim stepped out through the great front doors of the Temple of Waukeen and made his way down the broad steps to the pathway below, which led to the street. Instead of following the path, though, the priest turned to the side and began to walk across the great lawn that surrounded the temple. As he walked, he studiously observed his footfalls, avoiding the temptation to glance around to see if anyone was watching.

Even though the priest believed he had restored Grand Trabbar Lavant’s office to its original condition, he was fearful of being discovered. A sense of dread pervaded his mood, made him worry that he’d forgotten some minute detail, some crucial piece of information that would make none of his concerns real. But every time he examined it, Kovrim came to the same conclusion. He had the information that had been eluding him and his niece and nephew for the past three days. He knew who was behind the murders of Jithelle and Hoytir, the two servants who’d worked at House Pharaboldi. Not only that, but he had a pretty good idea just what the three Houses were plotting, and it made his stomach heave to contemplate.

Just considering the possibility made Kovrim quicken his steps, and he had to force himself to slow down to avoid looking suspicious. He continued across the grass, past the tall trees and the benches in the little groves, down the hill toward another boulevard that he could take up to the next district, and he would cut across a small plaza and head directly toward the merchants’ district. He had to let Vambran know.