sounds from the outer watch room were muffled only a little. Still, that little was a grateful relief.
“I gather it’s been some time since you’ve visited us,” Soja said, walking to a cabinet that stood in one corner, opening it, and taking out a bottle of local Greyhawk wine. He offered each of them small, thimble-sized cups and poured.
Usually Garett shied away from wine, but the taste of the honeyed melon cake was still in his mouth, and he welcomed anything that would wash it down. “Most of my duties keep me in the Citadel,” he admitted. It had, in fact, been some months since he’d visited any of the watch houses. He intended to correct that quickly. “Recent events, however, have compelled me to take a personal hand in an investigation.”
“The murders of the seers?” Soja interrupted over the rim of his cup. He nodded briskly. “Nasty business, especially old Kathenor. I’ll bet his followers are foaming at the mouth.”
Burge downed his thimble cup in a quick swallow and held it out for a refill. “It’s another seer we’re interested in tonight,” he said.
“His name is Duncan,” Garett added. “He works the streets around here.” He raised his cup and took a delicate sip. The taste of cinnamon warmed the inside of his mouth. An instant later, the alcohol warmed the inside of his belly. “I want him found.”
A knock sounded on the office door. “Come in, damn it! ” Soja shouted impatiently.
The door swung open. In walked the junior sergeant Garett had encountered outside the watch house. At his side stood a frightened-looking young woman. Her clothes were an amazing collection of color. Green skirts were layered on red skirts, which were layered on orange. Her blouse was purple and blue and yellow, as if it had once been three garments sewn into one. Her left arm was covered with jingling bracelets from wrist to elbow, and cheap, gaudy rings bedecked each of her fingers and thumbs. A yellow scarf tied back her night-black hair, which spilled almost to her waist. She was not pretty at all, yet there was something appealing about her. Her black eyes sparkled in the light from the cressets.
“Well, don’t say we’re not efficient in the River Quarter,” Soja said with a sardonic gesture. “Come on in, Kael. Bring her with you.”
Burge tossed off his drink and set the cup on Soja’s desk. “This is Duncan?”
The young woman moved nervously into the center of the room. She clutched her hands together just under her bosom, but her gaze darted to each of their faces. She trembled visibly. “My father had quite a sense of humor,” she explained in a meek, apologetic voice.
Garett felt suddenly sorry for her. Obviously, she was terrified, though she struggled to hide the fact. Who knew what the junior sergeant, Kael, had told her when he picked her up? She didn’t know what she was doing here, or why the watch would want her. “Don’t be frightened, girl,” he said, going forward, taking both her hands reassuringly in his. He pulled her around Soja’s desk and held the chair for her. “Sit down,” he urged. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I haven’t done anything,” she insisted quietly.
Garett put on a gentle smile. “I know that,” he said. On an impulse, he poured a dollop of cinnamon wine into Burge’s cup and offered it to her. She’d probably never tasted cinnamon wine. “There’s no charge against you,” he continued. “I just want to talk to you.”
Like a timid mouse eyeing the cheese in a trap, she stared at the cinnamon wine. Finally she lifted it in a trembling hand and raised it to drink. Her lower lip was like a flower petal unfolding to catch a drop of dew. When she lowered the cup, she put three fingers of her other hand shyly to her lips, bent her head almost to her chest, and swallowed. It was all an act of great delicacy.
“I’m told that you can see the future,” Garett said slowly, keeping his voice low and soothing.
Duncan
“I gather it’s been some time since you’ve visited us,” Soja said, walking to a cabinet that stood in one corner, opening it, and taking out a bottle of local Greyhawk wine. He offered each of them small, thimble-sized cups and poured.
Usually Garett shied away from wine, but the taste of the honeyed melon cake was still in his mouth, and he welcomed anything that would wash it down. “Most of my duties keep me in the Citadel,” he admitted. It had, in fact, been some months since he’d visited any of the watch houses. He intended to correct that quickly. “Recent events, however, have compelled me to take a personal hand in an investigation.”
“The murders of the seers?” Soja interrupted over the rim of his cup. He nodded briskly. “Nasty business, especially old Kathenor. I’ll bet his followers are foaming at the mouth.”
Burge downed his thimble cup in a quick swallow and held it out for a refill. “It’s another seer we’re interested in tonight,” he said.
“His name is Duncan,” Garett added. “He works the streets around here.” He raised his cup and took a delicate sip. The taste of cinnamon warmed the inside of his mouth. An instant later, the alcohol warmed the inside of his belly. “I want him found.”
A knock sounded on the office door. “Come in, damn it! ” Soja shouted impatiently.
The door swung open. In walked the junior sergeant Garett had encountered outside the watch house. At his side stood a frightened-looking young woman. Her clothes were an amazing collection of color. Green skirts were layered on red skirts, which were layered on orange. Her blouse was purple and blue and yellow, as if it had once been three garments sewn into one. Her left arm was covered with jingling bracelets from wrist to elbow, and cheap, gaudy rings bedecked each of her fingers and thumbs. A yellow scarf tied back her night-black hair, which spilled almost to her waist. She was not pretty at all, yet there was something appealing about her. Her black eyes sparkled in the light from the cressets.
“Well, don’t say we’re not efficient in the River Quarter,” Soja said with a sardonic gesture. “Come on in, Kael. Bring her with you.”
Burge tossed off his drink and set the cup on Soja’s desk. “This is Duncan?”
The young woman moved nervously into the center of the room. She clutched her hands together just under her bosom, but her gaze darted to each of their faces. She trembled visibly. “My father had quite a sense of humor,” she explained in a meek, apologetic voice.
Garett felt suddenly sorry for her. Obviously, she was terrified, though she struggled to hide the fact. Who knew what the junior sergeant, Kael, had told her when he picked her up? She didn’t know what she was doing here, or why the watch would want her. “Don’t be frightened, girl,” he said, going forward, taking both her hands reassuringly in his. He pulled her around Soja’s desk and held the chair for her. “Sit down,” he urged. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I haven’t done anything,” she insisted quietly.
Garett put on a gentle smile. “I know that,” he said. On an impulse, he poured a dollop of cinnamon wine into Burge’s cup and offered it to her. She’d probably never tasted cinnamon wine. “There’s no charge against you,” he continued. “I just want to talk to you.”
Like a timid mouse eyeing the cheese in a trap, she stared at the cinnamon wine. Finally she lifted it in a trembling hand and raised it to drink. Her lower lip was like a flower petal unfolding to catch a drop of dew. When she lowered the cup, she put three fingers of her other hand shyly to her lips, bent her head almost to her chest, and swallowed. It was all an act of great delicacy.
“I’m told that you can see the future,” Garett said slowly, keeping his voice low and soothing.
Duncan
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