“Very good, Mistress.”
“You can call me by my name, Aegis.”
Recovering her rapier was Soneste’s priority in the first hours of the morning. The weapon was magewrought, a perfectly balanced blade of Brelish steel she’d saved up to buy. She wasn’t about to lose the sword. It was bad enough that Tallis had stolen the crysteel blade-its personal value was greater by far, a gift from Veshtalan.
Soneste searched among the fences who worked the Community Ward, threatening the hand of the Justice Ministry upon those she questioned. An enchanted rapier would have been pawned quickly into Korth’s black market to avoid evidence of theft. She thought she’d found the trail, but it remained ever out of reach. Given time, she knew she could track the rapier down herself, but she felt she was wasting time not searching for Tallis.
Swallowing her pride, Soneste settled for help. She walked into the city’s House Tharashk enclave, fully expecting expedience and a good deal. She cited employment in Thuranne d’Velderan’s agency-drawing disapproving looks at the half-orc’s family name-and found cooperation in the form of a sleight discount. Evidently, the Karrnath branch of House Tharashk didn’t care much for the Velderan family or its retainers.
Nevertheless, a human heir employed the Mark of Finding to locate Soneste’s missing rapier. With a pair of Tharashk mercenaries accompanying them both and Aegis clomping along behind, it didn’t take her long to convince the knave who had her rapier that it was in his “best interest” to give it up for free.
The entire episode hadn’t been a complete detour, for it had yielded a new lead. While searching among the rogues of Korth’s underground she learned the existence of the Midnight Market, a secretive bazaar that set up only night each week. On Zol.
Tonight.
“Drink this.” Ranec unstoppered a small vial of black liquid and held it out to Tallis. While he’d worked on Tallis, applying skills both alchemical and mundane, the changeling had worn his own face. Tallis had never quite grown accustomed to the pallid skin and vague features of changelings, so he tried not to stare.
When he swallowed the thick solution, Tallis felt an uncomfortable strain on his muscles throughout his body then a fierce itch along his scalp. He winced. “Can I scratch?”
“Best to wait,” Ranec said, and sure enough, within a few seconds he felt normal again-although his hair had flowed down over his eyes.
“Come, see. I think you will agree that the change is sufficient.”
The changeling led Tallis from the stool to a full-length mirror where he stared in wonderment upon his own reflection. His hair, once almost shoulder length, had grown longer-was still growing as he watched-until it fell to his shoulder blades, curling sleightly as it did.
“Aundairian ladies love this philter the best,” the changeling said with a smile. Ranec’s face reshaped to resemble a human’s now that his work was complete. He bound Tallis’s hair into a tail with a thin leather cord.
Although his face was still his own, Tallis’s features had been altered in subtle ways. His brows were sleightly arched, his silver-gray eyes had shifted to green, and even his ears appeared to have a sharper point. His face was perfectly clean shaven.
“Now, these affectations will disappear over the course of a few days,” the changeling explained, “so do whatever it is you need to do, sooner than later.”
Next Ranec gestured to a bench, where a fine coat of forest green with silver buttons was folded neatly with a shiny brooch resting atop it. When Tallis tried the coat on, both men looked into the mirror at his image. The changeling smiled again, and Tallis noted the single silver-capped tooth. He felt like he was trying on fine suits at ir’Alanso’s Clothier. It made him vaguely uncomfortable.
Finally, Ranec produced a matching tri-cornered hat and placed it on Tallis’s head. “These garments and the signet brooch are accounted for in the Midwife’s fee.”
“Thanks, Ranec. You’re really good at this.”
The changeling gave a half bow.
Soon after, the Midwife emerged from another room, now dressed in the work clothes Tallis was accustomed to seeing. Her attire included a many-pocketed apron and a pair of thick lenses which she’d tucked up into her hair.
The Midwife held out a slim metallic case. She flipped it open to display new identification papers within. “Ranec, add a portrait to this,” she said, handing the case over to him.
She turned to Tallis as the changeling produced a set of colored inks. “You are now Findel d’Lyrandar, an upstanding member of the Windwrights Guild. It’s just one of the names I put into circulation some time ago, so there will already be a record of you active in this city.”
Tallis nodded. “Where am I supposed to be from?”
The Midwife gave him a funny look. “I know you can’t convincingly pull off an accent, so you’re still from Karrnath. However, you spent some time in Cyre during the months of tenuous peace between the two nations. You lost your immediate family on the Day of Mourning-convenient, eh? — and are now based out of Rekkenmark. You come to Korth all the time, for pleasure as much as business. Maybe you have a lover who works somewhere in the Temple Ward?”
Was that a veiled reference to Lenrik? No, she couldn’t know about him. Even if she did, she wouldn’t care. Information to the Midwife was armor and weaponry, to be used only when necessary. She’d get along well in Zilargo, Tallis had always thought.
“Lyrandar. Windwrights Guild. Pious sweetheart. Yes, sounds like me.” Tallis smiled. “Do I possess a dragonmark?” He pulled up one sleeve, on the chance that Ranec had somehow applied a false tattoo without his knowledge.
“No. Believe me, you don’t want that much attention. Your father did, however, and you’ve just hoped to live up to the prestige he once commanded within the house. Don’t try to fool anyone for too long, Findel, especially real members of House Lyrandar. The papers will show your reader precisely what they expect to see and nothing more. Don’t linger. Just show it and move on.”
“Marvelous work, as always.”
“I know,” she answered, accepting the compliment, “but I don’t want to see you here again. King’s fire is on you, and the authorities are stirring all over the city. Clear things up or don’t come back. Fair enough?”
The Midwife’s motherly tones carried a true sense of menace. Tallis looked to Ranec, who minutes ago had gently applied a shaving razor to his throat. Now the changeling fingered a fine-bladed stiletto.
“Fair enough.”
Soneste searched the archives of the Korth Sentinel for two hours before finding the same article that Tallis had tacked to his wall. With Jotrem working nearby, she quickly skimmed the article and buried it again among the stacks of broadsheets. She wasn’t about to discuss the particulars of her research with him.
The full article described an event which place in 974 YK. Twenty-six sons and daughters of Karrnath were put to the sword by the Aundairians who’d captured them. Before they could burn the bodies-an Aundairian policy when battling Karrns-the enemies were routed by a platoon of undead infantry led by a bone knight. The recovered bodies were, of course, claimed by the royal corpse collectors and became property of the state.
Why was this article of such interest to Tallis? Or was it some arbitrary clipping, meant to mislead anyone who found his residence?
Soneste spent the next hour cross-referencing the skirmish against a roster of the dead maintained by the Ministry. Hyran had granted her limited access to Karrnath’s archived casualty reports. The battle was a minor one and hadn’t even been named, but the date allowed her to find the names of the fallen.
Then she found something, the fifth name on the list from that unnamed battle in 974 YK.
Recruit number 966-5-1372. Captain Tallis.