The Inquisitives [2] Night of Long Shadows by Paul Crilley

house.
    The light slowly dimmed. Cutter looked to the front and saw the balls condensing into tiny points of light. After a moment of near darkness, the balls burst open in a silent explosion, flinging globes of multicolored light in all directions. The audience gasped. Some tried to reach up and touch them, but the spheres darted away as if they were alive, drawing appreciative chuckles from the spectators. The balls stopped moving and again shrunk down in size, the light fading until Cutter realized with a small shock of perception that he was actually looking at the night sky, the balls of light now thousands of stars.
    Then tiny dragons swooped through the air, banking around tables, swooping in to hover before the delighted faces of the patrons.
    Cutter could see Salleon standing on the stage, the gnome’s hands extended as he wove the illusion with deft flicks of his fingers, his eyes closed in concentration.
    Cutter gave himself a mental shake and pulled himself away from the show, winding his way through the tables to a door in the far wall. The door led to a corridor, with the kitchen and private dining suites on either side. At the end was another door, which Cutter found to be locked.
    Cutter knocked and waited. It opened a moment later, and he stared into the face of a half-orc.
    Cutter racked his brain, trying to think of his name.
    “Uh … Dajin, right? How’s it going?”
    The half-orc said nothing.
    “Fine. Listen, I need to speak to Salkith. Instructions from high up.”
    The half-orc stared at him.
    “I know he’s here. And so does Tiel. You know who Tiel is?”
    Cutter saw the eyes flicker slightly. He took that for a yes.
    “Good. Now if you know Tiel, you know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I have information to deliver. Are you going to let me in?”
    Dajin paused for a moment, then stood aside.
    “Thanks.”
    Cutter stepped into a large room. Couches lined the walls, along with glamerweave tapestries depicting cityscape scenes from Gatherhold in the Talenta Plains. Seven doors nestled between the tapestries. “Which one?” he asked.
    Dajin gestured at a door to Cutter’s left. Cutter opened it and slipped inside the room. The door clicked shut behind him.
    The room was tiny. A young dwarf attendant stood beside a bed on which the tanned, wiry form of Salkith was lying. His long, sandy hair was carefully braided and placed on the pillow above his head. The attendant looked at Cutter in surprise, pausing in the movement of lifting a small vial of white liquid to the halfling’s mouth.
    “What are you doing?” she said. “You can’t come in here.”
    “Wrong. Salkith’s needed back at work. How much have you given him?”
    The attendant frowned and glanced at the unconscious figure. “He’s already had one dose tonight. I was just about to top him off.”
    “Don’t. I need him awake. How long before he comes out of it?”
    “It’s hard to say.”
    “Guess.”
    “About half a bell.”
    “Thank you. Now, get out and don’t disturb us. I may have to hurt you if I thought you overheard something you shouldn’t have.”
    The woman drew herself up in protest. “I resent—”
    “Resent all you want. Just tell me if you understand. That way, I won’t feel bad killing you if I catch you spying.”
    The woman paled. “I … I understand.”
    “Well done. Now get out.”
    The attendant hastily left the room. Cutter waited to see if Dajin would come bursting in, but either she didn’t tell the half-orc, or he thought it was best to stay out of it.
    The room was empty except for the bed. He checked underneath it and found two drawers built into the frame. They were filled with white sheets, freshly laundered and folded. Cutter pulled one out and used his Khutai blade to cut it into strips, then lifted Salkith’s arms above his head. He tied them together with the torn sheet, then ran the strip beneath the bed and did the same with his feet.
    Cutter stepped back and surveyed