City of Rogues: Book I of the Kobalos Trilogy (22 page)

Chapter Twenty Four

After the incident at the Asylum, a long day had just begun for Sergeant Gris. First there were the survivors to see to and to make sure they received proper care, which was helped by several healers and local clergy making an appearance once word spread. Then Gris had to interview survivors to find out what had happened, his conclusion from talks with Lord Belgad and Maslin Markwood being that Trelvigor the wizard had spotted an Asylum guard he thought responsible for burning his home, a man Belgad believed to be the mysterious Kron Darkbow. Then Trelvigor had cast a spell causing the eruption of water that had decimated parts of the Asylum and played a part in killing an unknown number of guards and inmates. The few survivors could not offer any evidence that differed from that of Belgad and Markwood.

Throughout all the questionings, Gris had one person on his mind. He had searched throughout the Asylum and its grounds for Lucius, but there was no sign of the man. Gris feared finding his friend alive almost as much as he feared finding him dead. The sergeant had had his own suspicions about Kron Darkbow, but he had never acted upon them other than questioning Lucius the one time, and the man had denied knowing anything about the mysterious figure in black. Gris corrected himself. Thinking back on their conversation, he realized Lucius had never denied being Darkbow, but he had not owned up to it either. It was all a moot point, because Lucius’s body had not been found at the Asylum. Gris ordered a search near the river, but put it off until morning because his men were exhausted by late afternoon. Besides, it was not likely they would find anyone alive.

The final surprise of the day was near dark when one of Belgad’s men, a small fellow Gris knew as Spider, approached the sergeant of the guard and invited him to dinner with Lord Belgad. Standing in the mud with thinning rain still falling around him, Gris had been taken back by the offer. He was tired, mentally and physically, and he yearned to rush to Lucius’s quarters at the Rusty Scabbard. Now that would have to wait. When Belgad called, one went. Gris could guess Belgad wanted to question him about Kron Darkbow, but the sergeant had no answers. If Lucius had been Darkbow, it was a secret he had taken to the grave.

Soon after the sun went down Gris found himself trudging through the muddy streets of the Swamps on his way to Belgad’s mansion. The rains had nearly let up, but Gris had another guard return his horse to the barracks. The poor animal had been in the heavy rains most of the day and needed a good warming.

The horse had been the furthest thing from Gris’s mind while he had questioned Spider about Belgad’s invitation, but the graying little man in dark clothes had no answers.

Approaching the wall surrounding Belgad’s property, the sergeant briefly took in the spacious grounds through the iron entrance gate. There were four guards on the other side of the gate, and Gris could make out half a dozen more near the main building. There was no telling how many protectors were hidden among shrubbery or on the roof. The place reminded the sergeant of the Asylum, and he wondered if it was sometimes a prison for its master.

As Gris neared, two guards pulled back the locking bar and pushed the gate open. They said nothing, obviously expecting him so Gris said nothing in return. He walked up the gravel path leading to the main house as if he had done so a thousand times.

At the house the door opened for him as he reached the top step. Lalo the Finder motioned for Gris to enter and the sergeant spared little time making his way inside.

“
Why does your master need to see me?” Gris asked as Lalo took his soaked cloak and hung it on a wall peg.

The Finder offered a friendly smile but his eyes told a different tale. “
You will have to ask Lord Belgad, sergeant.”

“
I’d wager you know more about your master’s business than he does.”

Lalo’s smile grew wider. “Please follow me.” Then he was off, up a winding staircase.

Gris huffed but followed. Exhaustion was beginning to set in his limbs. Wearing a chain shirt all day in the pouring rain wore on one’s shoulders. He hoped Belgad would be brief, but he doubted it. The underworld boss had invited him for dinner, which meant there was likely to be a lengthy discussion.

Minutes later Lalo opened a door to the personal library and allowed the sergeant to enter. Gris found the lord of the house seated by his desk while chewing what looked to be a strip of jerked beef.

Belgad swallowed and dropped the stick of meat onto his desk, waving Gris to a chair. “Please come in and seat yourself, sergeant.”

Lalo the Finder entered behind Gris and closed the door, taking his usual position standing just inside the door.

Gris sat where Belgad had pointed, noting a large block of white cheese and several buttered rolls placed alongside strips of dried meat on a small slab of marble in the center of the desk. Beside the piece of marble was a bronze ewer full of red wine. An empty wooden mug sat in front of Gris while its twin was full and next to Belgad’s right hand.

“
Please forgive my simple fare.” Belgad retrieved a cloth napkin from his lap and wiped his lips.

Gris wondered what else the Dartague had hidden beneath his desk. Perhaps a weapon?

“
It’s a habit from my brigandeering days,” Belgad said, waving a hand over the food. “Please, by all means, help yourself.”

Gris eyed the food with hesitation. He was hungry, having not eaten since late morning, but he did not trust Belgad. He could think of no reason why the man would wish him harm, but Gris knew the Dartague was up to something. As Gris reached for a slice of the cheese, he was glad he still wore his sword.

“
It’s Jorsican.” Belgad watched Gris bite into the cheese. “I have it shipped around the coast. The wine, unfortunately, is only Ursian. My little party last week has depleted my supplies. The bread is also Ursian, but that can’t be helped if one wants it fresh.”

Gris chewed the cheese and nodded as if food were the most important thing they would speak of that night. He did have to admit the fare was excellent, stiff and sharp.

Belgad planted his elbows on his desk and formed his hands into a triangle beneath his chin. “
I suppose you are wondering why I’ve asked you here,.”

Despite the formalities of the simple meal, Gris knew the man before him was not one to meander around a conversation. The sergeant nodded, keeping his right hand across his waist and near the pommel of his sword while his left hand reached for a strip of meat.

Belgad’s gaze was flat. “
It is, as you can likely guess, concerning today’s incident at the Asylum.”

The large northerner waited for a response, but none came. Gris was smart enough to keep his mouth shut until he knew what the other man wanted.

Belgad eased back in his cushioned chair, dropping the pretense of eating. “You have interviewed myself and others this day, so you know the basic story, that Trelvigor pointed out Kron Darkbow, and then the poor, mad wizard lost the last of his sanity, literally bringing the roof down with his magic.”

Gris swallowed his food. “
That is what I was told, but there was no proof the guard was Kron Darkbow. For that matter, there also is no evidence Darkbow started the fire at Trelvigor’s home.”

The Dartague appeared unconvinced. “
Are you suggesting the burning of Trelvigor’s home and the timely appearance of Darkbow are coincidence?”

Gris knew he was treading on dangerous ground. One did not tell one of the most powerful men in the city that he was wrong.

“
I am not saying Darkbow was not responsible for the fire,” Gris said, weighing each word carefully, “but there is no clear evidence I can use in an official capacity.”

Belgad’s white eyebrows furrowed above his steel gaze. “It was my understanding you personally knew the Asylum guard in question.”

The sergeant’s eyes locked onto those of Belgad. The Dartague knew much. After a brief hesitation, Gris decided it was not in his best interest to lie. Lucius was dead. There was no need to hide what little he knew.

He gave a short nod. “
I knew the man.”

Belgad traded a glance with Lalo that told Gris much. Whatever Belgad knew, or thought he knew, had been proven by Gris’s admission.

The big man looked back to the sergeant. “
How did you know him?”

“
We were border wardens in the Prisonlands,” Gris explained. “I hadn’t seen Lucius in several years, since I left the service. He appeared in town about a month ago. He asked me to help him find work, so I put in a word at the Asylum.”

“
What do you know about him?”

Gris thought back on his days in the Lands. He was nearly a decade older than Lucius, and the younger man had been little more than a boy most of the days they had spent together. Still, Gris supposed he knew quite a lot about Lucius Tallerus.

“
He hailed from here in Bond originally, but was raised by his uncle near the Lands. He was practically raised to be a border warden, and he was one of the best.”

Lalo stepped around to face the sergeant. “
In what manner?”

Gris did not turn his head to speak directly to the Finder, but kept his gaze on Belgad. “He was one of the most talented wardens. He spent most of his days studying with whomever would give him their time. The wardens hail from all nations, because that was part of the original treaty. Lucius picked up skills from all lands, all peoples. He could climb, track, fight. He even studied different languages and picked up some alchemical and healing skills.”

Belgad leaned forward once more. “
You said he was raised by his uncle. Why not his parents?”

“
They died when he was young.”

“
That’s all you know of them?”

“
I don’t know the circumstances of their deaths, if that’s what you mean. I just know Lucius’s father was brother to the uncle who raised him.”

Lalo moved around beside his employer so both faced the sergeant. “
Was the uncle’s name Kuthius?”

Gris’s face grew pale. He nodded in the affirmative.

Belgad planted his elbows again and leaned his chin onto his fisted hands. “
Was this Asylum guard’s full name Lucius Tallerus?”

“
Yes.”

Belgad’s gaze narrowed. “
Do you know where he was residing before this morning?”

“
He had a room at the Rusty Scabbard.”

The Dartague looked up at Lalo and snapped a finger. The Finder strode past the seated sergeant. Gris could hear the door squeak open behind him and the patter of Lalo exiting.

The tension in the room was building, and Gris needed to calm that feeling, to assuage his own fears. “
If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what is the meaning of these questions? Usually I’m the one doing the interrogating.”

Belgad’s eyes fell upon the guard sergeant and they did not look pleased.
“
Whatever you might believe about your friend, I strongly suspect he was Kron Darkbow. It’s time for you to tell me more.”

The sergeant gulped, feeling a need for air. “
I’m not sure I know any more, sir.”

“
I’m sure you can come up with something.”

***

Finding a cloak was a simpler matter than Kron would have thought. Not far from the North River he found a pair of bodies, one a guard from the Asylum and the other one of Belgad’s men. The Asylum guard must have been preparing to leave for home when the basement had flooded because a dark green cloak was still clasped around his neck.

Kron gave the bodies a nod, all he could spare for last rites, then slung the soggy cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood up to cover his face.

Winding his way around the Asylum, Kron noted he was not far from Belgad’s mansion. He grinned at the thought of the northerner lounging on a couch with his head on silk pillows, believing Kron Darkbow was dead.

Kron eased between an empty storage building and a closed bakery while working his way into the depths of the Swamps. He knew he was lucky the flooding had not been worse or he would be swimming instead of walking right now.

Soon he found himself in another alley next to an apothecary shop. Kron worked his way to the end of the alley and glanced up and down the street in front of him. The weather was working to his advantage. There was no one on the street and the torches were dark from the wet.

Across from the alley was the three-story house with a hanging sign out front proclaiming it The Frog’s Bottom.

Kron knelt, grimacing at the pain the movement caused his ribs, and waited. He couldn’t risk going inside the brothel in case he was recognized, so he would have to be patient.

Soon the front door of the Bottom opened to reveal dim light from inside. Kron could see a man and woman silhouetted in the open doorway, the man leaning toward the woman for a kiss before tromping out into the wet road. The woman stood in the doorway watching the man wander down the street.