Page 14

thirteen

Griff

Griff fidgeted with his aura blockers as he swept his gaze over the crowded ballroom.

The Pentarchy had certainly gone all out for their Cog Day celebration.

Festive banners depicting images of famous Vantoric inventors and their greatest creations draped the space, fluttering as people passed below.

More renditions of Vantor itself joined them, depicting their iron city of Barsong and the fearsome Dragonstar volcano.

Griff absently wondered if Amelie’s visage was up there somewhere.

She might not have been considered among Vantor’s greatest minds, but there had been no better crafter of runeflame weapons or relics in Derimay.

His own equipment was a testament to that.

A throat cleared beside him, and a drawling voice declared, “Where to now, Inspector?”

Griff glanced over, nerves pulsing in his gut as he took in Cal’s disguised visage beside him.

He’d donned his Lord Heneford persona for the event.

Though he hadn’t received his own invitation, no one had questioned his presence there when he’d arrived with Griff.

No one except Griff himself.

He’d been reluctant to let Cal come at all, telling himself it was out of fear someone might realize who he really was.

But Cal had persuaded him, promising to stick to his disguise and stay close.

“Now, we mingle,” Griff replied, his voice low.

“All five members of the Pentarchy should be here somewhere. We just need to find them and see what we can learn.”

It was still difficult for him to wrap his head around the fact that one of the city’s leaders—the very people he’d shared a theater box with a mere week ago—was involved with the Brotherhood and dangerous void magic.

But he wasn’t naive enough to dismiss it as impossible.

In his line of work, he’d seen plenty of good, upstanding citizens commit heinous acts.

People were good at justifying all sorts of self-destructive behavior.

His gaze flicked back to Cal and then away.

Case in point…

Cal nodded, rubbing his wrinkled hands together.

“Sounds fun. Shall I take the crowd of sycophants to the left while you take the right?”

The thief had already started to step away, his gaze drifting to the gathered people, when Griff said, “ No,” a bit too harshly.

He cleared his throat when Cal raised an eyebrow at him.

“We stick together, remember?”

“Sure,” Cal said with a hint of a frown.

“I remember. It’ll take us twice as long though if we do it that way.”

“Better to be safe and thorough,” Griff said.

Cal peered more closely at him, and Griff shifted uncomfortably beneath his scrutiny.

“Are you all right, Griff? You’ve seemed off all day.”

There was an unspoken question in Cal’s voice that Griff steadfastly ignored.

They hadn’t talked about what had happened the night before.

Griff had fallen asleep with Cal snuggled in his arms, only to awake the next morning and discover the bed beside him empty, Cal already up and reviewing their case notes.

He’d greeted Griff with his typical grin, acting like nothing had changed.

Griff had decided to follow his lead…

even as inside, he felt the same coiled tension he did right before confronting a dangerous suspect.

That feeling had only grown worse as the day went on.

Perhaps it was this strange closeness with Cal—the uncomfortable vulnerability the thief made him feel no matter how inappropriate he knew it was.

If he was honest, that was the real reason he hadn’t wanted Cal to come tonight.

After the intense intimacy of last night, he hadn’t known how to behave around Cal anymore, unsure exactly where they stood.

Cal had remained his usual smiling, joking self while they’d gone over the plan for tonight and prepared for the mission.

It was as if the previous night had never happened.

Griff wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Had it just been a one-night fling for the thief?

A way to relieve stress and deal with their budding attraction to one another?

Or had it meant something more?

He didn’t dare ask—not when he wasn’t sure which answer he wanted.

It didn’t help that seeing Lord Heneford made him recall that night at the theater.

Cal had used this very same disguise to trick him while carrying out a heist right under his nose.

Griff thought he knew Cal well enough by now to trust him to stick to their investigation…

but it still served as a stark reminder of the line between them.

The line they’d thoroughly crossed last night.

“Just the usual pre-operation jitters,” Griff said.

He started toward the left edge of the room.

It seemed as good a place as any to begin their circuit of the space.

Cal wordlessly fell into step beside him.

Griff could feel the thief’s questioning gaze still on him, and he resisted the urge to return it.

It wasn’t that he regretted giving into his attraction, even though he felt like he should.

It was what came next that concerned him.

The last time he’d opened himself up to someone, it had ended poorly.

And that was with someone he’d known for years and fully trusted.

This thing between him and Cal, whatever it was, seemed far more volatile.

He barely trusted Cal with the case.

How could he trust him with his heart?

Hoping Cal wasn’t picking up on all this awkwardness, he tried to focus his mind back on the task at hand.

Slipping through the crowds undeterred felt very much like infiltrating enemy territory.

It was a constant struggle not to get drawn into distracting conversations.

Plenty of people recognized Lord Heneford, and after Griff’s recent fame, a fair few wanted to chat with him as well.

He quickly became adept at devising some excuse to politely extricate himself.

Drawing Cal away proved more of an issue.

The thief certainly enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

“Have you forgotten why we came here?” Griff said after dragging Cal away from yet another batch of nobles eager to pick his ear for the latest gossip.

“This could be our one shot to speak openly with the Pentarchy.”

“I have a certain reputation to uphold, Inspector,” Cal declared in his best imperious voice.

He lowered his voice, wry humor creeping in.

“Besides, if you haven’t noticed, most of these lords and merchants have nothing better to do than insult each other behind their backs. You never know what useful tidbits you might pick up. For instance, did you know that High Merchant Teodoro’s son was recently involved in quite the scandal involving a boy, a horse, and a vat of butter? It was a real slippery situation.”

Griff blinked.

He didn’t reply for a long moment before curiosity finally got the better of him.

“I know I’m going to regret asking this. But go on.”

Cal might’ve been wearing Lord Heneford’s face, but the twinkle in his eyes was all his own.

“I’ll leave it to your imagination to work out. Suffice it to say, he won’t be able to show his face in a kitchen for a while. Or a stable, for that matter.”

Griff gave a snorting laugh that he hurriedly muffled with a cough when he caught a few of the nearby nobles glancing at them.

“As…interesting as that is, I doubt it has anything to do with us. Let’s stay focused.”

Cal shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

They found the High Chancellor first. He was hard to miss, his boisterous voice rising above the general din of conversation as he held court at a table laden with drinks and sweets.

A small crowd of hangers-on surrounded him, nodding along and offering their encouragement of every word that came out of his mouth.

Cal gave the High Chancellor’s ruddy face a disgusted look.

“I can’t believe that is who the common people chose to represent them on the Pentarchy. Perhaps Ilthabard has the right idea with their monarchy.”

Griff couldn’t help but agree.

He watched High Chancellor Dewani a moment longer, then started forward through the crowd.

“Come on.”

“Do you honestly believe someone like him could be behind all this?” Cal asked.

“When you’ve done this as long as I have, you learn never to dismiss anyone as a potential suspect,” Griff replied.

They reached the front of the crowd, which put them near the High Chancellor.

Griff waited for a lull in the High Chancellor’s diatribe to snag his attention.

“Excuse me, sir. I don’t know if you remember me, but I was hoping I might have a moment of your time.”

High Chancellor Dewani frowned, peering at him.

Then, his face lit up.

“Ah, Inspector…Banton, was it? Of course, of course, how could I forget?” Wrapping a sweaty arm around Griff’s shoulder, he tugged him forward and spun him to face the crowd.

“Come, regale us with the tale of your recent triumph!”

Griff swallowed as he suddenly found himself facing over a dozen pairs of staring eyes that ranged from curious to openly hostile at the man who’d stolen the High Chancellor’s attention.

His roving eyes settled on Cal’s smirking face, and he regained his equilibrium, clearing his throat.

“Very well. It all started with a complaint registered by a foreman at one of the warehouses downtown…”

He launched into a recounting of the blackmail case, doing his best to liven it up for the audience.

He was no bard, but he seemed to hold their drunken attention well enough.

At least, until the High Chancellor decided to cut in.

“That reminds me of this recent encounter I had at the Beakeasy. Do you know the restaurant, Inspector?” When Griff shook his head, the High Chancellor appeared shocked.

“Really? Why, they have the best stews in all of Sanjarka! You simply must try it the next time you’re out. Now, where was I? Ah, yes! So, I was at the Beakeasy when out of the blue, this gorgeous woman approached me. I thought she was the server at first, but instead of taking my order, she sat right down at the table across from me. I could hardly believe it! Naturally, my guards went to remove her, but I waved them back. I must admit, I was intrigued. Who was this beautiful woman, and what did she want…other than me, of course.”

High Chancellor Dewani guffawed, and the rest of the crowd joined in.

Griff and Cal shared a look.

As the High Chancellor continued his story—which Griff doubted had any basis in reality—he casually removed his aura blockers.

Using his power was tough here with so many people crammed into such tight quarters, but he did his best to focus just on the High Chancellor.

The man’s aura was a hectic hodge-podge of flighty oranges and yellows—much as Griff had predicted when they’d first met at the Siren’s Call.

He searched carefully for anything else that might hint at a darker nature or hidden depths.

But the High Chancellor’s aura appeared as vapid and substance-less as the High Chancellor himself.

He and Cal tried several more times to draw him back into conversation or entice him to talk about anything more significant than his nighttime exploits and sexual conquests.

But it soon became apparent it was a lost cause.

After watching a while longer, they gave up and moved on.

Despite what he’d said earlier about not dismissing potential suspects, Griff had to admit that the High Chancellor would be near the bottom of his list. It was hard to imagine the man caring about more than where he’d get his next drink or lay.

They resumed their circuit of the ballroom, keeping an eye out for any of the other councilors.

They’d nearly reached the back when Cal tapped Griff on the shoulder and pointed.

Griff muffled an internal groan when he saw that it was High Judge Septima who Cal had spotted.

Griff considered steering past her, but the investigator in him wouldn’t allow him to risk compromising their case like that.

He couldn’t dismiss the High Judge as a potential suspect any more than the High Chancellor…

no matter how little he wanted to talk to her.

Best to just get this over with.

High Judge Septima was chatting with several nobles Griff didn’t recognize as he approached.

When she spotted him, however, she excused herself to join Griff.

“Inspector. I hope you’ve been well since the show.”

“Keeping busy,” Griff grunted.

Once again, he tucked his aura blockers into a pocket so that he could observe the High Judge’s aura.

Reading auras was far from an exact science.

There were usually multiple reasons why someone’s aura might shift or adopt a particular appearance.

But he’d still found it a useful tool for plenty of past interrogations.

“How about you?” he asked.

“Any tough cases keeping you up at night?”

High Judge Septima hmphed.

“Always. But I do my best, along with the other magisters, to interpret the law’s proper intent.” She peered at him with a slight frown.

“I recall you being quite good at that yourself. Do you remember that time you argued in favor of reinstating capital punishment? Your mother was quite impressed with how well-reasoned your argument was…even if she disagreed with your position herself.”

Griff tightened his jaw.

He jerked a nod. “I remember. Though my stance has evolved over the years.”

“Naturally. A good magister recognizes that laws must change alongside the society they are meant to represent. And you, Griffin—you would have been a great magister. Speaking of, have you given any more thought to what I said at the Siren’s Call?”

Griff had to admire her persistence, no matter how much it frustrated him.

“My answer remains unchanged, High Judge. I am perfectly content in my current work.”

“But your mother—”

“What my mother would or would not think isn’t my concern anymore, and it certainly isn’t yours.”

He met the High Judge’s stare, the air growing tense between them.

Before it could erupt, however, Cal inserted himself into the conversation.

“You know, I once dreamed of becoming a magister myself. Didn’t have the mind for it, though. I have nothing but the highest respect for what you do.”

High Judge Septima furrowed her brow.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you? You look familiar.”

Cal sketched a quick bow.

“Lord Heneford, at your service. We met briefly at the theater, though I daresay I’m not important enough to make an impression on such an esteemed personage as yourself.”

Griff was astonished to see the severe High Judge actually smile.

“Nonsense—we are all equal in the eyes of the law.” She started to turn back toward Griff, but before she could resume their argument, Cal cut in again.

“If I could have a moment of your time, I’d love to hear your perspective on the recent smuggling epidemic.”

That seemed to catch the High Judge’s attention.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cal feigned surprise.

“Really? My own contacts in the port authority warned me it was getting quite out of control. Rumor has it that the Brotherhood has been ramping up their operation. And not just the usual illicit fare either: dangerous magical artifacts, even ones tainted with voidflame.”

Thank the Light for Cal’s quick thinking to steer the High Judge away from her usual rhetoric.

As Cal spoke, Griff focused on the High Judge’s aura, watching for any shifts that might signify strong emotions or attempts at deception.

High Judge Septima frowned at Cal.

“Such rumors have not yet reached my ears. If true, that would be serious indeed. Please, tell me everything you’ve heard.”

Griff wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed at her lack of a reaction.

Her aura barely shifted, the vibrating blue hues Griff caught attributable to curiosity.

Either she didn’t know anything about the void orb still safely stashed in Cal’s thief’s mark…

or she was a master liar.

Griff watched and listened for a while longer as Cal chatted with the High Judge, keeping an eye on her aura.

Still nothing. Raised voices drew his attention, and he turned to glimpse High Commander Pern and High Merchant Teodoro having a heated discussion nearby.

From what he could make out of their roiling auras, whatever they were talking about had them both riled up.

A moment later, the High Merchant threw his hands up in the air and stormed off, practically shoving his way through the crowd.

His aura churned with streaks of furious red and violet.

Excusing himself from Cal and High Judge Septima, Griff hurried after him.

“High Merchant, wait! I need to speak with you!”

At first, Griff thought the High Merchant would ignore him and keep walking.

Then, he skidded to a halt, whirling toward Griff as Griff caught up with him.

“Whatever Pern sent you to say, don’t waste your breath. I’ve made my position quite clear.”

Griff did his best to focus on the High Merchant’s roiling aura as he replied.

“The High Commander didn’t send me, sir. I just wanted to—”

“Save it, Inspector!” The High Merchant’s aura writhed like a nest of tangled serpents as he tugged furiously on his mustache.

“People like you and Pern are all the same! You’d sooner see this city drown in a sea of blood than accept the possibility of change. I’ve had my fill of warmongers for the night. Now, get out of my way!”

Shoving past Griff, High Merchant Teodoro stormed off through the crowd, vanishing through an archway.

Griff stared after him, thoroughly confused.

What in the Light had all that talk of blood and warmongering been about?

He hadn’t been able to sense much from the man’s aura except his rage, which had seemed genuine enough.

Could this have anything to do with the void orb?

He debated pursuing the High Merchant in search of answers before deciding to let him go for now.

Tonight was about gathering intel, nothing more.

He didn’t want to risk pushing things too far.

Perhaps he could learn more about the argument from the High Commander.

Squinting in a vain attempt to tune out the sea of auras, he retraced his steps through the crowd.

Thankfully, High Commander Pern hadn’t moved from his spot off to the side of the chamber.

Griff had almost reached him when Sasha stepped in front of him.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Sasha said.

“With the mood he’s in, he’s as likely to fire you as he is say hello. Unless it’s urgent, best to leave him be.”

Griff glanced past him to where the clearly agitated High Commander was pacing in place, then turned to Sasha.

The protector’s pale aura jittered in fits and starts.

Griff didn’t blame him for being on edge—not after the argument he’d just witnessed.

“Thanks for the head’s up, but I’ll take my chances.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sasha muttered as Griff stepped past him, approaching the High Commander.

“Um, sir.”

High Commander Pern whirled, fixing him with a furious glare.

When he saw who it was, some of his anger ebbed.

“Inspector Denton,” he said, his voice tight.

“What can I do for you?”

Griff thumped his fist against his chest in a quick salute.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I couldn’t help overhearing your argument with High Merchant Teodoro. Is everything all right?”

The High Commander’s expression darkened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“I suppose that depends on your definition. You know better than anyone the importance of constant vigilance to keep Derimay and the rest of Sanjarka safe. But that…that… selfish, money-grubbing Void-eater can’t see past the weight of his own coin purses! He’s been stonewalling me at every turn, hobbling the Watch at the knees and refusing to compromise on even the smallest issue. Thanks to him, we’ve been stuck in deadlock for weeks now over how to respond to the latest Nalaxian demands. And all the while, our enemy grows stronger while our defenses stagnate.”

High Commander Pern shook his head, the edges of his aura curling with disgust. “By the Goddess, what I wouldn’t give to be rid of him…Derimay would certainly be better off. If Teodoro had his way, he and his cronies in the Merchant’s Guild would let the Void-cursed Nalaxians buy the city outright!”

A shiver coursed down Griff’s spine at the High Commander’s threat.

He didn’t really mean it…

did he?

“I can understand your frustration, sir,” Griff said carefully.

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

High Commander Pern’s aura seemed to deflate a hair.

He puffed out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Apologies, Inspector. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. It’s been a long day…and I’m afraid it’ll be another late night at my office. If you’ll excuse me.”

With a brief nod, the High Commander stalked off.

Sasha flashed Griff an apologetic grimace.

“Told you.” He glanced after the High Commander and sighed.

“Looks like I’m in for another late night. At this rate, I’m worried Lucile will forget what I look like. I’ll be glad once all this business with Nalax is behind us. Unlike most of the sheltered elite here, I’ve witnessed the horror of real battle. Trust me, the last thing anyone wants is outright war.” He shook his head and gusted another sigh.

“Guess I’d better go enjoy the rest of the gala while I can. Later, Griff.”

His aura appeared resigned as he limped off, favoring his bad leg.

Griff watched him vanish into the crowd, frowning to himself as he considered what he’d learned.

He didn’t really see how the current trade tensions with Nalax related to the void orb, but he couldn’t dismiss the coincidental timing out of hand.

It certainly seemed to be on the minds of at least two members of the Pentarchy.

Might the void orb conspiracy somehow be involved?

His gaze swept over to where he’d left Cal with High Judge Septima, and his eyes widened, a jolt of concern spearing him.

Both of them were gone.

Merciful Light, he never should have left Cal alone for so long!

What if something had happened to him?

Or what if he finally seized this opportunity to split, just like Amelie did?

Squashing that tiny voice in the back of his head, he hurried back over to the spot, glancing around for any clues to where they might have gone.

But there was nothing.

No sign of them nearby, and with so many people crammed together, he’d never be able to identify an aura trail to follow.

He set off around the chamber, scanning everyone in sight for Cal’s familiar bright aura.

Each passing moment tightened the knot in his gut and intensified the dull ache in his head from overtaxing his aura-sight.

When he’d finished searching the main chamber without any luck, he moved through the archway the High Merchant had vanished through.

It was quieter in here, more secluded, with couches and plush seats set in small groups to allow for easy conversation.

His breath caught when he spotted a flash of bright hues off to the side.

Hurrying toward it, relief gripped him when he found Cal disguised as Lord Heneford deep in conversation with High Scholar Vesalain.

Griff hesitated a few paces away, not wanting to interrupt if Cal was gathering useful information.

He was saved from his uncertainty when Cal noticed him hovering.

A grin split his face—one that, judging by the thrumming in his aura, was genuine.

“Ah, Inspector Denton! Please, won’t you join us?” Cal glanced at the High Scholar.

“Assuming that’s all right with you, of course.”

“By all means,” the High Scholar said.

She gestured to an empty chair, a jeweled band gleaming on one of her slender fingers.

Bowing his head, Griff took the offered seat.

“Thank you.”

“We were just discussing you, actually,” the High Scholar said with a smile.

“And what a fantastic job you did with your most recent case. Stronger ties with Khordan couldn’t have come at a better time.”

Griff gave a polite bob of his head.

“I appreciate the praise, High Scholar. But I was just doing my duty.”

He hesitated a beat.

He’d come here searching for Cal, but he supposed he might as well make the most of this opportunity to speak with the final member of the Pentarchy.

Focusing his aura-sight on the High Scholar, he said, “If only there were so easy a solution to resolve our current tensions with Nalax. I couldn’t help but overhear the High Commander and High Merchant arguing.”

High Scholar Vesalain heaved a heavy sigh and took a sip of amber-colored liquid from her glass.

Her aura appeared worn around the edges, deeper hues of blue hinting at weary regret.

“Both of them mean well, I’m sure. They are simply trying to preserve Sanjarka’s future. Nevertheless, I fear they are misguided. Neither war nor free trade will magically solve all our problems. Which is why I, for one, continue to hold out hope for a diplomatic solution. If you ask me, Sanjarka faces far greater threats than distant Nalax. Why just the other day, I heard some troubling rumors about increased activity among the cultists of the Empty Eye…”

Settling into his chair, Griff shared a quick glance with Cal while he continued to listen.

He had a sneaking suspicion this was going to be a long night…