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twenty-one

Griff

Griff watched from the edge of the domed marble chamber as the Pentarchy convened.

Other than the five councilors, he was the only person in attendance, and his presence drew the occasional look.

Some were curious, others disapproving at his intrusion into this most sacred of spaces.

The Pentarchy’s chamber stood in the center of Derimay, raised high enough that the sweeping windows set in the dome allowed for a spectacular view of the spreading ocean along the coast and the city far below.

At least, they usually did, if it wasn’t an emergency meeting called in the early hours of the morning.

Griff hadn’t had a chance to sleep yet, and he stifled a yawn as he swept his gaze around the room.

Colorful banners draped the wood engravings set along the walls, billowing in the sea breeze that came in through openings in the dome’s columned sides.

Five thrones sat in a rough pentagram around the exterior of the chamber, each on an elevated dais facing toward the others.

The symbols of their offices were carved into the backs, along with the names of every person to ever hold the title.

When the current councilor’s term ended, their name would join the rest. Griff had no idea what would happen when they ran out of room—make a new chair, perhaps?

Or more likely, simply raise up the backs.

He was drawn out of his nervous thoughts when High Commander Pern cleared his throat and spoke in a booming voice.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming on such short notice.”

“As if we had much of a choice,” High Merchant Teodoro replied.

His mouth twisted in a scowl beneath his oiled mustache.

“Now that we’re here, would you get on it? I have important contracts to negotiate soon.”

“Hear hear,” High Chancellor Dewani said, his words noticeably slurred.

He followed up his declaration with a colossal burp.

“My attendants dragged me away from a highly engaging party to be here, and I’d like to return before it ends if it’s all the same to you.”

High Scholar Vesalain cast a look of thinly veiled disapproval at the High Chancellor.

“May I remind my fellow councilors that there are rules to follow here for proper decorum. The High Commander has the floor.”

High Judge Septima murmured her assent as the others fell quiet, turning toward the High Commander.

Griff let his gaze wander over each of them in turn.

His glasses already tucked in his pocket, he took careful note of their auras as the High Commander proceeded.

“Thank you, Vesalain. Mere hours ago, I was attacked in my office. I barely escaped with my life. Most troubling of all, the attack was carried out using a voidflame relic.”

“A void relic!” the High Judge exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“By the Light, how did anyone gain access to such a thing? It couldn’t have come from Derimay.”

“Good question.” The High Commander’s gaze narrowed on the High Merchant.

“It would certainly require a great deal of resources, not to mention funds, to acquire such a rare and dangerous artifact. And to be so brazen as to attack a councilor in the middle of protector headquarters? Why, it seems almost personal, does it not?”

High Merchant Teodoro’s eyes widened.

The small man shoved to his feet, gesturing emphatically as he glared at the High Commander.

“If you’re insinuating what I think you are, Pern, then you are gravely mistaken!”

The High Commander shrugged, never taking his eyes off the High Merchant.

“I am not insinuating anything, Teodoro. Merely pointing out the facts. Though if you ask me, it seems like you have a guilty conscience.”

“Gentlemen, please, remain civil,” High Scholar Vesalain said with an aggrieved sigh.

Her face contorted in a grimace.

“By the Goddess, can you not put the needs of Sanjarka above your own selfish interests for a single moment?”

“Selfish?” High Commander Pern whirled toward the High Scholar.

“I hardly think it selfish to demand justice for attempted assassination! We all know that Teodoro would kill any one of us if he thought there was profit in it.”

“I am an elected official, same as you!” The High Merchant tugged angrily on one end of his mustache.

“I take my duty to Sanjarka very seriously!”

The High Commander snorted.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re very concerned with how much coin you can wring out of the city’s coffers before your term expires.”

“Come now,” High Judge Septima said with a long-suffering tone.

“I think everyone should take a deep breath before things get any more out of hand.”

The High Chancellor groaned, flopping back in his seat like a beached whale.

“By the Goddess, how much longer is this going to take? I have more important matters to attend to.”

As the councilors continued to bicker and argue among themselves, Griff carefully monitored their auras.

The High Merchant was angry, of course, as was the High Commander.

Nothing surprising there.

The High Judge appeared tired more than anything, while the High Scholar pulsed with frustration, and the High Chancellor looked minutes away from drifting off to sleep.

Griff muffled a sigh.

Merciful Light, were all the council meetings this unproductive?

So far, nothing in any of the auras struck him as particularly meaningful.

Cal and the High Commander were probably right—High Merchant Teodoro was the obvious culprit.

Yet Griff remained doubtful, even if he couldn’t explain why.

If there was one thing his years of investigating had taught him, it was that things were rarely ever so nice and simple.

They’d already falsely suspected the High Commander.

This time, he wanted to be absolutely certain before he acted.

He let the argument continue to play out a while longer.

When he was convinced he wasn’t going to get anything else useful out of the discussion, he decided it was time to move on to their next gambit.

Shuffling over to the trap door set in the floor, he tugged it open to reveal a landing beneath, along with stairs descending lower into the tower.

Nodding at Cal where he waited on the landing, he turned back to the chamber and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Councilors, please! If I could have your attention! I have a witness here with me to confirm who is responsible for the attack on the High Commander.”

A wave of murmurs washed over Griff at that as the councilors fell silent.

Gesturing for Cal to come up, Griff waited for Cal to emerge into the chamber.

Thanks to his duskflame, Cal was the spitting image of Kelsith, right down to his patchwork cloak and coiled strand of rope.

As Cal played the part of the arrogant thief, sauntering into the center of the room, Griff focused his aura-sight back on the councilors to gauge their reactions.

Most appeared curious at this new stranger in their midst—all but one, where he caught the faintest flicker of fear.

Griff turned his head to focus his attention fully on High Scholar Vesalain.

There was no mistaking it—she had recognized Kelsith.

Griff muffled a small smile.

Got you.

“Before you interrogate him,” Griff said, striding out to stand beside the disguised Cal.

“I have a few questions for you…High Scholar.”

High Scholar Vesalain quickly masked her surprise behind a frown.

She gave a curt nod.

“Of course, Inspector. I’m happy to provide any information I can to help elucidate this troubling case. Ask your questions.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been outspoken in your support of peace with Nalax, have you not?”

The High Scholar blinked, appearing taken aback by the question.

“Er…that’s correct. The Sanjarkan Republic has long served as a trusted arbiter among our neighbors. I believe that all conflicts, no matter how dire, can be solved without resorting to bloodshed.”

Griff nodded, beginning to slowly pace with his hands clasped behind his back.

He caught Cal’s questioning look and flashed him a reassuring smile.

Don’t worry, I’ve got this.

“A noble sentiment, High Scholar. It must have frustrated you, then, to observe the rising tensions between the High Commander and High Merchant of late. With one advocating for war and the other for a restoration of free trade, either one of which might weaken Sanjarka’s position to negotiate. You said as much to me earlier tonight, did you not?”

High Scholar Vesalain’s frown deepened.

Her uncertain gaze flicked to Cal, then to the other councilors.

“Something to that effect. But perhaps you misunderstood. I have nothing but the highest respect for my fellow councilors, even when we disagree.”

“I’m sure you do.” Griff paused before the High Scholar, hardening his gaze on her.

“Which was why you concocted so elaborate a plot to get one of them out of your way.”

The High Judge shot to her feet.

“How dare you!”

“That’s a serious accusation to level against a councilor, Inspector,” High Judge Septima said, a note of warning in her voice.

“It is,” Griff agreed.

He didn’t take his eyes off of the High Scholar’s quickly paling face.

“And I do not make it lightly.”

“This is outrageous!” The High Scholar’s voice quavered as she pointed at Griff.

“I demand that he be removed at once! I don’t know about the rest of you, but I did not come here to listen to such nonsense!”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s nonsense,” Cal said in a perfect imitation of Kelsith’s voice.

He flashed the High Scholar a smirk.

“And I have a feeling no one else here will either. Not after they hear what I’ve got to say.”

“You were behind everything,” Griff said.

Though he was still looking at the High Scholar, he knew it was really the rest of the Pentarchy he was speaking to now.

“You used the Pentarchy’s discretionary funds to hire the Brotherhood to smuggle in a void relic so that you could use it to kill the High Commander. It wasn’t enough for him to die—you wanted him to die in a way that would take attention away from Nalax and give Sanjarka a new threat in the Empty Eye cultists. That’s why you waited until tonight to make your move: a high-profile assassination on a national holiday? It’s hard to imagine something more incendiary. And even if someone put the pieces together and saw through the ruse, everyone knows about the High Merchant’s recent spat with the High Commander. He made the perfect scapegoat.”

With every word Griff spoke, he could sense the High Scholar’s aura churning with more wild emotion.

Her gaze darted about the chamber as if seeking escape.

A flutter of panicked yellow in her aura gave away her intent to bolt an instant beforehand.

What Griff didn’t anticipate, however, was her twisting the jeweled band on her finger and vanishing from view with a brief flare of runeflame.

An invisibility charm!

Griff cursed, scanning the chamber amid startled cries from the other councilors.

Thankfully, normal vision wasn’t the only means he had of seeing.

It didn’t take long for him to spot a faint flicker of color over by the trap door.

Whatever magic High Scholar Vesalain was using wasn’t perfect.

It had helped cloak her aura, but it had failed to disguise it completely.

“This way!” Griff shouted, barreling toward the trap door.

It creaked open ahead of him, seemingly of its own volition.

He reached it seconds later, squinting at the stairs down.

Cal appeared at his side, his gaze roving over the stairwell and the nearby landing.

“Where is she? Do you see her?”

Griff caught another flicker near the bottom left of the stairs and pointed.

“There!”

He started down the stairs, but he’d barely taken a handful of steps when Cal leaped past him.

Griff’s eyes widened in shock.

The Void-cursed fool had literally thrown himself down the stairwell!

Cal crashed through the space just ahead of where Griff had pointed.

Griff heard a heavy thump followed by a pained cry as Cal toppled to the landing, his arms wrapped around seemingly nothing but air.

Griff hurried down the stairs after him.

“The ring!” he shouted.

“Take off her ring!”

Cal grappled with the air for a moment, then let out a triumphant shout as the High Scholar flickered back into view amid a burst of dissipating runeflame.

“Got you!”

The High Scholar struggled a moment longer in Cal’s grip, her eyes wild.

She stared up at Griff as he approached.

“Please, Inspector. Surely, you of all people understand. I did only what I had to for the sake of Sanjarka. Pern’s warmongering was a threat to us all! This was the only way to preserve peace!”

Staring down at the frantic councilor, it wasn’t pity Griff felt this time, but disdain.

“You’ve lost sight of what really matters, Councilor. And now, you will pay for it.”

Shouts rang out nearby.

Griff helped Cal keep the struggling High Scholar restrained until protectors arrived to take her into custody at the High Commander’s orders.

Griff watched them lead the defeated woman away, a sense of victory rising in his chest. Another case closed.

He turned to congratulate Cal, then frowned when he realized Cal had shuffled back.

At some point, he’d abandoned his Kelsith disguise, returning to his own natural appearance.

“Come on,” Griff said, holding out his hand.

“Aren’t you the one always telling me to celebrate?”

Cal managed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes…

or his drooping aura.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. You… we did it.” The smirk Cal flashed him was brittle around the edges.

He bowed, tipping a hat that appeared in a burst of duskflame.

“Which I guess is my cue to leave. It’s been fun, Inspector.”

Griff’s stomach clenched, his pulse quickening.

“You’re leaving? Now?”

Cal offered a shrug, not meeting Griff’s eyes.

“Seems like as good a time as any, now that the case is done.”

He stepped past Griff toward the stairs leading down.

Griff’s heart leaped to his throat.

“Wait!” he said, holding up his hand.

Cal paused, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not seriously about to arrest me, are you? Because a deal’s a deal, and I’d say I’ve more than fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

A jolt of hurt shot through Griff.

“Of course not,” he huffed.

Gathering his courage, he stepped forward and gripped Cal’s hands in both his own.

Cal’s eyes widened, flicking down to stare at their linked hands.

“I’m not arresting you, Cal. I’m asking you to stay.”

“To…stay?” Cal repeated, his voice hesitant.

Griff nodded. Recalling what his father had told him, he swallowed and finally let out the words that had been brewing there.

“This has been way more than a bargain to me, Cal. I see the real you, even if you don’t. I’m not naive enough to think this will all be smooth sailing. Light, I don’t even know if it’ll work out. But I want you to stay anyway.”

Griff held his breath as Cal stared at him.

For once, he found Cal’s bright aura utterly unreadable.

Then, just when Griff thought he might pass out from his heart beating in overdrive, Cal broke out into a beautiful smile.

Wrapping his arms around Griff, he tugged him close and kissed him until Griff worried he might collapse from lack of oxygen instead.

“Is that a yes?” Griff said, struggling to catch his breath.

Cal rolled his eyes.

“Of course it is. I’ve wanted to stay for a while now. I just…I didn’t think someone like you could ever feel the same way about a gutter rat like me.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Griff said.

Cal scoffed and playfully shoved his shoulder.

Then, something shifted in Cal’s expression, his grin fading.

He straightened his shoulders, a sudden look of determination gripping him.

“But if I’m going to stay, that means taking responsibility for what I’ve done.”

Turning, he strode purposefully back up the stairs.

Confused and a touch worried, Griff followed him up to the top chamber.

Protectors and attendants filled it now, seeing to the remaining councilors.

Cal strode through the crowd, heading straight for the High Judge.

Frowning, Griff followed.

When High Judge Septima spotted him, she flashed him a weary smile.

“Ah, Griffin. Splendid work as always. To think that one of our own could have fallen so far…” She shook her head sadly before turning toward Cal, her brow scrunching.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Cal jutted a hand out toward the High Judge.

“Oh, we have, even if you don’t remember. I’ve gone by many aliases, but there’s one in particular I’m sure you’d recognize: Blackjack.”

Griff’s heart froze in his chest. He stared at Cal, barely able to comprehend what the Void-cursed fool was doing.

High Judge Septima appeared equally taken aback.

She glanced from Cal to Griff, seeming uncertain.

“Is this some sort of joke, Inspector?”

Cal shook his head.

He clasped his wrists together and thrust them out toward her.

“Nope. No jokes, no tricks. I’ve come to turn myself in.”

Swallowing, Griff managed to find his voice.

“He speaks the truth. This man is Blackjack.” He strode forward, resting a hand on Cal’s shoulder.

“But he’s also the one who helped me solve this case. Without him, I never would have been able to recover the void orb or stop the High Scholar’s plot. He’s done this city a great service, and no matter what crimes he’s committed in the past, I’m willing to vouch for his character in the present.”

Cal shot him a grateful smile.

Their gazes met and held, something unspoken passing between them.

The High Judge stared at the two of them a moment longer, then cleared her throat.

“Well then…this is a very serious matter. Blackjack’s recorded crimes are numerous, and punishment will need to be served. You must stand trial before a magister and be sentenced accordingly.”

Cal bowed his head.

“I know, and I understand. I fully accept the consequences for my actions.”

High Judge Septima stared at him a moment longer.

“Indeed. Glad to hear it.” Her voice softened.

“However, in light of recent events and your aid to Inspector Denton, I believe a certain degree of leniency might be in order. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I leave this matter in your capable hands, Inspector.”

Griff smiled at the High Judge, mouthing his thanks.

Cal peered up at Griff, appearing dazed.

“Did I really just do that?”

Griff pressed a kiss to his forehead, warmth flowing through him.

“You really did. Congratulations, Cal. It looks like Blackjack’s days were numbered after all.”