round up any elves in the area so we can talk to them.”
Nodding, Osric said, “All right, I’ll have Grint do a sweep. You can talk to them at Dragon—by the time Tresyllione’s done with her apology, they should’ve gathered up at least enough for you to get started.” Then he turned his fierce gaze on Torin. “Tell me that isn’t all you have.”
“No, we still have the others and the real reason why they’re in Cliff’s End.”
“Which,” Danthres said, “is the lead we should be pursuing instead of chasing elves around.”
“I fought against the Elf Queen’s troops, Tresyllione,” Osric said. “I wouldn’t put it past one of those fanatics to go after Brightblade and especially lothSirhans. Besides, if that’s a lead that Ubàrlig gave you, then you will pursue it.”
“Why?” Danthres asked. She had, Torin noticed, regained her acerbic tone, as if Osric had never read her the riot act. “We know that they’re trying to deflect us. This is obviously part of that.”
“Because, Tresyllione,” Osric said slowly, “they’re staying in the castle as the guests of Lord Albin and Lady Meerka. You remember Lord Albin and Lady Meerka—they run the place. They’re also pissed off that Olthar lothSirhans died in their city-state under mysterious circumstances. After getting one ear filled with Sir Rommett’s bitching and moaning about the thuggish behavior of my lieutenants, the other ear was then filled with more bitching and moaning from Lord Albin about letting war heroes die on my watch.” He leaned forward again. “The only thing I want filling my ears from now on is you two telling me how far you’re coming with the case.”
“You won’t get that as long as we’re wasting time with this ‘lead’ of Ubàrlig’s.”
“Perhaps, but the Lord and Lady will view it as progress, which is what matters at the moment. Besides, I think it’s best that both of you stay away from that group until tomorrow. Give Sir Rommett a chance to cool down.”
“So we’re supposed to let our only real witnesses sit for two days, while—”
Osric leaned back again. “They’re not going anywhere, Tresyllione. If they are conspiring, you’ll have your shot at them tomorrow. If they’re being targeted, they’re safer in the castle than they would be at the Dog and Duck.”
Torin put a hand on Danthres’s shoulder before she could speak further. “We’ll talk to the elves this afternoon, sir.” He stood up. “Come on, Danthres, let’s get to work.”
“No, ban Wyvald, you’ll get to work. Tresyllione’s on her way to meet with Sir Rommett.”
Through clenched teeth, Danthres said, “No, I’m not.”
Osric spoke in a low, quiet, menacing tone. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I’m not. I will not apologize to that imbecile. If it costs me my job, so be it.” With that, she got up and left Osric’s office.
The captain turned to Torin. “Ban Wyvald—”
Holding up a hand, Torin said, “I know, I know, I’ll talk her into it.” He got up and looked at the door. “Somehow.”
He found Danthres gathering up some material on her desk. Aside from the pair of them, the squad room was empty. Dru, Hawk, Iaian, and Grovis were all out, presumably following leads in their own cases.
Torin stared at her from his side of their desk for several seconds. “So this is it? After ten years, you’re just going to abandon the job because you don’t want to make an apology?”
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t let bastards like Rommett win.”
Torin slammed his hand down on the desk. “It’s not a battle, Danthres!”
Pursing her lips, Danthres asked, “Isn’t it?”
“Unlike you, I’ve actually been a soldier. Trust me, this isn’t war—this is politics.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Yes.” Torin smiled. “Wars have more clearly defined rules. But in politics, you can’t treat everyone as if they’re an enemy the way you
Nodding, Osric said, “All right, I’ll have Grint do a sweep. You can talk to them at Dragon—by the time Tresyllione’s done with her apology, they should’ve gathered up at least enough for you to get started.” Then he turned his fierce gaze on Torin. “Tell me that isn’t all you have.”
“No, we still have the others and the real reason why they’re in Cliff’s End.”
“Which,” Danthres said, “is the lead we should be pursuing instead of chasing elves around.”
“I fought against the Elf Queen’s troops, Tresyllione,” Osric said. “I wouldn’t put it past one of those fanatics to go after Brightblade and especially lothSirhans. Besides, if that’s a lead that Ubàrlig gave you, then you will pursue it.”
“Why?” Danthres asked. She had, Torin noticed, regained her acerbic tone, as if Osric had never read her the riot act. “We know that they’re trying to deflect us. This is obviously part of that.”
“Because, Tresyllione,” Osric said slowly, “they’re staying in the castle as the guests of Lord Albin and Lady Meerka. You remember Lord Albin and Lady Meerka—they run the place. They’re also pissed off that Olthar lothSirhans died in their city-state under mysterious circumstances. After getting one ear filled with Sir Rommett’s bitching and moaning about the thuggish behavior of my lieutenants, the other ear was then filled with more bitching and moaning from Lord Albin about letting war heroes die on my watch.” He leaned forward again. “The only thing I want filling my ears from now on is you two telling me how far you’re coming with the case.”
“You won’t get that as long as we’re wasting time with this ‘lead’ of Ubàrlig’s.”
“Perhaps, but the Lord and Lady will view it as progress, which is what matters at the moment. Besides, I think it’s best that both of you stay away from that group until tomorrow. Give Sir Rommett a chance to cool down.”
“So we’re supposed to let our only real witnesses sit for two days, while—”
Osric leaned back again. “They’re not going anywhere, Tresyllione. If they are conspiring, you’ll have your shot at them tomorrow. If they’re being targeted, they’re safer in the castle than they would be at the Dog and Duck.”
Torin put a hand on Danthres’s shoulder before she could speak further. “We’ll talk to the elves this afternoon, sir.” He stood up. “Come on, Danthres, let’s get to work.”
“No, ban Wyvald, you’ll get to work. Tresyllione’s on her way to meet with Sir Rommett.”
Through clenched teeth, Danthres said, “No, I’m not.”
Osric spoke in a low, quiet, menacing tone. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I’m not. I will not apologize to that imbecile. If it costs me my job, so be it.” With that, she got up and left Osric’s office.
The captain turned to Torin. “Ban Wyvald—”
Holding up a hand, Torin said, “I know, I know, I’ll talk her into it.” He got up and looked at the door. “Somehow.”
He found Danthres gathering up some material on her desk. Aside from the pair of them, the squad room was empty. Dru, Hawk, Iaian, and Grovis were all out, presumably following leads in their own cases.
Torin stared at her from his side of their desk for several seconds. “So this is it? After ten years, you’re just going to abandon the job because you don’t want to make an apology?”
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t let bastards like Rommett win.”
Torin slammed his hand down on the desk. “It’s not a battle, Danthres!”
Pursing her lips, Danthres asked, “Isn’t it?”
“Unlike you, I’ve actually been a soldier. Trust me, this isn’t war—this is politics.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Yes.” Torin smiled. “Wars have more clearly defined rules. But in politics, you can’t treat everyone as if they’re an enemy the way you
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