Marth was truly mad, Shaimin reflected, if he believed himself a match for House Thuranni. Or was the Legacy truly so powerful that it could challenge even the dragonmarked houses?
“Your elf assassin isn’t here, Marth!” Zed Arthen called out with a bitter laugh. “He betrayed us just like he betrayed you!”
“Your lies will accomplish nothing, Zed Arthen,” the changeling said. He smiled bitterly. “For I make you no such offer of mercy. Know, as you die, how truly foolish you have been. Had you remained closer to the road, those badges you stole would have actually offered you some protection. Fleeing into the woods only assured your demise.”
Marth leveled his weapon at the chapel. A burst of boiling green energy surged into the ancient ruin, scattering stone and timber in a furious sphere of destruction. Within seconds, the entire structure had been reduced to seared rubble. There was no way Zed Arthen and Eraina d’Deneith could have survived such a conflagration.
Well, at the very least Shaimin wouldn’t have to worry about them being angry about abandoning them. Though he had technically upheld his oath, only fleeing them when they proved unable to protect his own interests, it was nice when problems solved themselves. It even seemed as if Marth truly believed Shaimin had perished in the chapel, for the changeling departed as well, leaving only his soldiers to pick through the rubble.
With a quiet sigh of relief, Shaimin d’Thuranni crawled off through the leaves as quickly as he dared. He made his way back toward the road and the safety of Nathyrr.
FIFTEEN
Captain Draikus and his men did not lead them back to the prison, as Seren expected. Instead he escorted them into the inn itself, to a large room on the second floor. He left one of his three knights in the hall to keep watch, then locked the door behind them. The other two knights took up positions on each side of the door.
“Please, have a seat,” Draikus said, gesturing to the shabby couch and rickety chairs that furnished the room. The tall knight remained standing, slowly pacing the room. Seren sat on a chair in the corner, giving her a good view of all her captors.
“This is most unorthodox,” Dalan said, sitting back on the couch. He removed his small cap and set it on one knee. Tristam sat beside Dalan. Ijaac remained standing, arms folded across his barrel chest.
“How did you arrive in Nathyrr?” Draikus asked, ignoring the question. “You have no steeds. The watchmen at the city gates reported an anonymous d’Cannith, which can only be you, arriving on foot with three others. Surely you didn’t walk all the way from Wroat.”
“I will not answer your questions until I know on what charges we have been arrested,” Dalan said.
“You are not under arrest, Master d’Cannith,” Draikus said. “I am well aware that, if you were, diplomatic entanglements would likely place you well out of my jurisdiction and force me to release you. Fortunately, that is not the case.”
“Then why are we here?” Dalan snapped.
“For your own protection. These questions only serve so that I might protect you more adequately. The innkeeper said that you seek Marshal Eraina d’Deneith?”
Dalan nodded.
“The Marshal is a known associate of the former knight Zed Arthen, who is wanted for questioning in connection with several recent murders,” Draikus said. “You know Arthen well, as I recall. While I am certain that a son of House Cannith would never knowingly accomplice himself to a criminal, I cannot allow such a high profile visitor to our city to endanger himself. You and your employees will remain in my custody until I am certain you are safe.”
Draikus offered a smug smile. Seren noticed that Draikus carried himself with almost the same swagger as Zed Arthen and spoke with the same inflections. The two might have passed as brothers under other circumstances.
“This is ridiculous,” Dalan said. “You know Arthen. Regardless of what passed between you two, you know that Arthen is no murderer.”
“Circumstances strongly suggest otherwise,” Draikus said, “but if you believe differently, help me find him. Allow him to state his case. If he is innocent, the Flame will protect him.”
Dalan sighed. “I don’t know where he is. I was looking for him when you arrested me.”
“What was Arthen doing in Nathyrr?” Draikus asked. “Did you send him here?”
“I’m not sure if I should tell you,” Dalan said.
“You would interfere with justice?” Draikus growled, leaning close. “You may be able to slip through my fingers, d’Cannith, but I can retain these others as long as I like. The girl and the dwarf aren’t even carrying traveling papers. I could arrest them as spies. With the assortment of magical powders and reagents we found on the boy, I’m sure we can find something suspicious enough to detain him.”
“And this is why I won’t help you,” Dalan said, his voice calm and even. “Because you are still so filled with hatred for Zed Arthen that it blinds you to your true duty. If you are the example to which the knighthood aspires, it is no wonder Arthen lost his faith.”
“How dare you insult me, d’Cannith!” Draikus snapped. He leaned over the guildmaster, one gloved hand balled into a fist.
“Do not try to intimidate me, Captain,” Dalan said, “and don’t try to threaten my friends. If you are prepared to approach me as an officer of the law instead of a thug, then perhaps we shall have something to discuss.”
Draikus leaned back, scowling deeply. His lips were pursed into a thin line, as if he were struggling to hold back an angry reply. It was obvious to Seren that Dalan and Draikus knew and hated each other from somewhere, and it was preventing them from saying anything useful to each other.
“What did Zed do?” she asked, attempting to throw the conversation back on course.
“What?” Draikus snapped, looking at her sharply. “Who was speaking to you?”
“What do you believe Zed Arthen did?” she pressed, ignoring his retort. “Obviously it must be important if the captain of the city watch is willing to stake out his room personally.”
Draikus looked at her for a long moment. “Does the name Niam Kenrickson mean anything to you?” he said, watching each of them for their reaction.
“No,” Dalan said. “None of us have even been to Nathyrr before today.”
“Zed Arthen was arrested after a drunken public disturbance yesterday afternoon,” Draikus said. “His fines were paid by a local undertaker, Niam Kenrickson. This morning we discovered Kenrickson, his brother, and six other men in the mortuary, dead from sword and knife wounds.”
“Won’t have to carry the bodies far, I guess,” Ijaac said.
Draikus leveled a glare at the dwarf. Ijaac laughed nervously and fell silent. The captain returned his attention to Dalan.
“There’s more,” Dalan said. “Isn’t there?”
Draikus’s eyes narrowed.
“It isn’t just the bodies, or Zed’s involvement,” Dalan said. “As much as you hate Arthen, you wouldn’t have bothered to stake out his rooms personally unless you had found something much more disturbing. What did you find, Draikus?”
“I am asking the questions here,” the captain said.
“And I am not under arrest,” Dalan said, rising from the couch. “If you do not answer me, I will leave.”
“Then your friends are under arrest,” Draikus said.
“Then I will report your actions to my House and you may deal with the repercussions.” Dalan brushed past Captain Draikus and strolled to the door of the room. “Move,” he said to the guards, “or I promise you will share in his disgrace.” They looked at their captain frantically.
“Fine,” Draikus said, his voice nearly a growl. “Sit down, d’Cannith.”
Dalan returned to the couch, looking up at Draikus intently.
The knight paced the room a bit more rapidly, his arms folded behind his back. “For some time my guards have reported strange activities in the forests,” Draikus said. “There’s been a lot of movement in and out of the woods, along with rare sightings of a large, unmarked airship. I always felt it merited further investigation, but there are certain dangers in the deep Harrowcrowns.”