Hyran nodded. “I understand your concern. We shall try none who may be connected to the ambassador’s death until you give assent. But understand, Miss Otänsin, Tallis is a Karrn. He is loose in our streets, even now, harming our citizens. His life or death is at the behest of our jurisdiction.”
She nodded, refusing to look at Jotrem’s face.
Sergeant Bratta’s demeanor was quite a contrast to the civic minister’s. While Hyran ir’Tennet suppressed his personal opinions beneath a diplomatic veneer appropriate to his station, the mouth of the sergeant before her spewed biased conjecture with every breath. But for his stilted Karrnathi accent, she might have taken him for a member of the Sharn Watch.
“Killing women and children,” the soldier said for the fifth time. “It was Tallis, I know it. Cowardly bastard. Didn’t realize it until after he left, but I remembered his face.”
“You’ve encountered him before?”
“A few months back,” the Lion growled. “Sabotaged a caravan from Atur as they were coming in Northgate. Took out several of my men then too.”
“Killed?”
“No,” he answered.
Soneste wasn’t yet convinced. She’d questioned each of the White Lions in turn, but only Sergeant Bratta had recognized the man as Tallis. The others described the man they’d seen, and it matched Bratta’s account well enough, albeit with a few hyperbolized embellishments. Another White Lion at the Ebonspire, posted on a balcony several stories directly below the ambassador’s suite, had been attacked by a masked man shortly before the time of the slaughter. Struck down, but not slain.
But the slaughter of the ir’Daresh family was so complete, so deft, that she had a hard time believing the same man was responsible. Could this Tallis have partnered with another? Magic could well be involved. How else could the killers breach the Ebonspire’s defenses so easily and escape again? Perhaps Tallis had been double-crossed to take the fall?
Soneste waited for Sergeant Bratta to finish his tirade, then said, “Can you tell me how he escaped?”
“On the balcony. Jumped for the edge, so I put a bolt in his leg. If he climbed down, it would have hurt like Khyber’s own breath.” The man shook his head.
“But?”
“He didn’t climb down. At least not much. The bastard must have been part wizard. Jumped from a balcony clear across to the next tower like a giant frog.”
Such magic was not uncommon in Sharn. Some citizens, including the Watch, even carried enchanted rings that could slow a fall should they topple from one of the lofty bridges. Soneste turned to Jotrem. “What is the tower across-?”
“A tenement complex,” he cut in, “of individually owned private flats. Tallis would have accessed the Ebonspire that way. I’ve already searched there and interviewed witnesses. The only ones who saw an intruder were private guards, most employed by House Medani. They described a man in a black mask.”
Would have been nice if you’d told me this first, she thought.
“Masked going in, but not going out?” she asked. She’d found the mask, but why would he have removed it and allow himself to be identified? That Tallis had been there, she did not doubt, but something clearly had not gone according to plan.
“I saw no mask,” remarked Sergeant Bratta, irritated. “I saw his face. It was him.”
To Jotrem, she asked, “Could a changeling have impersonated Tallis, knowing you’d love the excuse to go after him?”
“That was no changeling,” Bratta said.
“Anywhere else, perhaps,” Jotrem replied, ignoring him, “but not the Ebonspire. Kundarak magic prevents illusions or shapeshifting of any kind. It’s part of the very walls, not some simple ward one can bypass with a spell.”
“And the Medani guards were well enough to interview?” Soneste asked him.
There was his mouth twitch again. “They’d been knocked out.”
Soneste turned to the White Lion. “Does that sound like the work of the assassin to you, Sergeant?” she asked, but the question was again for Jotrem.
“It means nothing,” the older inquisitive growled. “Tallis has a long history of harming his own countrymen. Whatever shred of loyalty he maintains to Karrnath takes the form of sadism. And you Brelanders? Breland was our enemy once. I doubt he would hesitate to kill you, Miss Otänsin.”
“Brelish, Major Dalesek,” she corrected, using his surname for the first and last time. “And Breland has also been Karrnath’s ally. Ambassador ir’Daresh once served as a captain in a regiment alongside Karrnath. You were in the army, weren’t you? Perhaps Tallis knew the ambassador then? Harbored a grudge for some reason, and decided to wait until after the war to take revenge?”
Jotrem was silent.
“Thank you for your time, Sergeant,” Soneste said to the White Lion. “If I have any more questions, I will find you.”
Jotrem led them several levels beneath the Justice Ministry as Soneste used Hyran’s writ to pass six levels of security stations. While the bureaucrats did a fine job of shuffling paperwork, Karrnath’s military personnel were omnipresent. Every guard scrutinized the writ, tersely admitting them at last into the Ministry archives. Even there, two uniformed clerks lingered near to keep an eye on her. Jotrem’s presence did much to allay the Karrns’ hesitance to allow a Brelish civilian within their walls, but Soneste had no intention of admitting it.
“Why do you call him a traitor?” she asked Jotrem as they entered another cramped room. “If he’s a traitor to Karrnath, why hasn’t Tallis fled the border to seek a life somewhere else? He knows you’re after him. It’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?”
Jotrem’s hand settled upon his sword hilt as he propped his back to a wall. “Aside from his treasonous crime, Tallis has taken it upon himself to decide what is best for this nation. Apparently, harassing its aristocracy serves it well.”
“Aristocracy? Is that all?”
“He has also been known to strike out against Seekers,” Jotrem added.
“Seekers?”
“Followers of the Blood of Vol.”
An unusual assassin, she thought. “Do you know why?”
“Why does a madman do anything?” Jotrem returned. “I couldn’t tell you why.”
He leaned forward and gestured to the room at large. “The annals of the Ministry say only that on some crucial mission, Tallis turned on his own men. He killed a dread marshal and destroyed the undead assigned to his unit. That was his first known crime, and it made him a traitor to the crown.”
“So Tallis has a vendetta against the undead. Strange, for a Karrn.”
“Few of my countrymen have a love for the undead, Miss Otänsin, but they are useful. Tallis has no respect for the law and the decisions of the crown. He is an embarrassment to this country, and I will see him executed for his crimes.”
What is your problem with him, Soneste wanted to ask. Instead, she merely said, “Before his court-martial, had Tallis scorned the Blood of Vol before?”
Soneste knew something of the history of the war before her time. It had been the Cult of Vol that had brought its prowess with necromancy to Karrnath early in the war. King Kaius I had accepted their terms and raised the first undead legion against his enemies. Though his successors had tried to rid Karrnath of the Cult’s grasp, they could not erase its presence from the land. Soneste had even heard that the Karrnathi city of Atur was home to a great temple of the Blood of Vol.
“It’s possible,” Jotrem answered. “It’s an old religion in this country, and the undead soldiers it raised to support our armies were usually kept in separate military units from the living soldiers. But there were joint operations.”