Chapter 8: A One-Way Ticket

I opened my eyes. Bright yellow light roasted them to well-done, and I winced away from the barred window. Something was wrong. It was important, but distant, kind of like if Imoen had woken me up and told me that the stars had gone missing. Imoen. Oh, yeah. Things came back in a hurry.

She’d landed me in one hell of a jam this time. I ought to have been mad, but instead I was worried. She talked the talk with the best of them, but I had my doubts about her ability to back up her tough façade. Trade may have given us permission to go on this excursion, but I couldn’t expect backup, and Sis? Well, she had her own problems to worry about. No, I would have to bust Imoen out on my own.

My eyes flicked from side to side. As cells went, this wasn’t too bad. The room was cramped, not more than six paces square, but the walls were free of mold and there were actually two barred windows, one in the far wall and one in the sturdy steel door. And best of all, there were no rats in sight.

Something clinked as I rolled onto my side. I looked down and saw five or six blurred snakes. After I blinked a few times, they resolved into two iron chains that stretched from the slick granite walls to the two hefty cuffs biting into my wrists. This was not good. I yanked on the chains, but only managed to wrench my shoulders. After a few more tries, I gave up. This was not good at all.

I stretched my limbs as much as I could and tried to focus. The stone floor was cold, but not uncomfortable. At least my face wasn’t in a puddle of vomit this time. And it was quiet in here, quiet enough to think.

So Farrahd had offed Kelsey. That had only come as a bit of a surprise. Sir Delryn, the wanna-be boyfriend, had been first on my list of suspects, but Farrahd would work too. He had a nice motive, though I still didn’t understand how he could have done it so easily. None of his family had ever shown enough magical talent to light a candle, at least according to the family records Imoen had dug up. Imoen. I let loose with a sigh. My thoughts turned back to finding her and getting out of this hole. Whatever Farrahd had in mind for us wouldn’t involve a laugh and a smoke. As I recalled, he had a thing for knives. I wasn’t keen on finding out any more.

A shadow fell across the floor. I didn’t move, thinking that it was probably a guard looking in on me. That changed when someone whispered, “Get up, you lazy bum! Get up!”

I raised my head and saw a familiar purple mop. “Imoen?”

There was a scraping sound as she fumbled with the lock. “Quiet. They’ll hear you.”

“How did you slip your cell?” I sat up and immediately regretted it. The pain in my head was worse than any hangover I’d ever had, and I’d been marinating myself in cheap whiskey for years.

“Are you kidding? I’m an archmage, remember?”

That explained everything. One of the guards must have been close enough to hit with a charm spell. Imoen was good at those, almost as good as Sis. “Yeah, you mentioned that once or twice.”

The lock sprang open with a muffled clang. Imoen bounded inside and worked on my bonds with her deft touch. Thirty seconds later, the cuffs fell to the floor.

“They really locked you up tight, Sarry. You must have scared them on the way in.”

“It wasn’t my fault. If the doorman wanted to keep his teeth, he should’ve been polite.” I rubbed my wrists where the cuffs had chafed them. “Nice work, kid. Too bad I never learned to pick a lock. I could’ve saved you some trouble.”

“I’ll teach you sometime.”

This time, I let her help me to my feet. “Do you have an escape route in mind, or should I just find some of Farrahd’s guards and kill them?” I hoped it would be the latter. I had plans for that nose-ring guy, starting with a length of chain and a poker--

“Simmer down, Sarry. You can kill them later. Right now, we need to find Inspector Trade and let him know what happened with Farrahd.”

Imoen gave me no time to disagree. She waved her fingers and did her magic mumbo-jumbo. A sickening green cloud appeared just shy of her spread hands and oozed onto the window bars. The air hissed and crackled as the bars melted, leaving behind jagged metal stumps.

“Now, come on!” said Imoen, motioning for me to give her a boost up to the window. “Let’s make like a bread cart and roll buns.”

I shoved her through the window before squirming through myself. It was tight, and my shirt was now a total loss thanks to the remnants of the bars, but I made it. We found ourselves in an empty courtyard, not too far from the back door. Weeds lined the ground, and every so often a cobble had managed to show itself above the overgrown grass. A faint breeze stirred the air, just the ticket to clear my head.

I hustled through the courtyard, my ears pricked for shouts and other signs of discovery. There were none, to my disappointment. I looked back at Farrahd’s house. The windows stared back at me, as empty as a dead man’s eyes.

Imoen tugged at my ripped sleeve. “Come on!”

We slipped through the garden and out to the gate, where we met two of Farrahd’s men. Poor bastards never knew what hit them. We were out on the street in sixty seconds. It would have been thirty if Imoen hadn’t decided to go through their pockets.

I whistled as we headed over the canal bridges. It was just hitting mid-afternoon, the sky as clear as a paladin’s conscience. We went back to Trade’s office, but he had flown the coop.

“I’m so sorry, Mister Anchev.” Trade’s secretary looked up at me with melting brown eyes. “The Inspector was called away on urgent business, but if you have a message for him, I’d be happy to take it.”

And I’d be happy to give it to her. Grabbing a slip of paper off her desk, I scrawled out my hard-won report.

“Here you go, doll. Tell Trade we’ll be at my office.”

She tore her eyes from my shredded shirt and flirted a cherry-lipped smile my way. “Of course, Mister Anchev.”

We were nearly out the door before she called us back.

“I almost forgot. A girl stopped by with a message from Lady Coltrane.”

The broad had a lot of talents, I was sure, but reading wasn’t one of them. The note was actually from Sis’s maid, Jane. She had some information for us, and would be at our office an hour before sundown. A peek through the office window told me that it wouldn’t be long before she got there. So Imoen and I marched double-time back to the Crooked Crane. Snick was waiting behind the bar.

“Heard you got into some trouble, Mister A.”

Bad news traveled fast in this town. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“That’s good. Wouldn’t want to lose my best customer.”

He slid me a glass of whiskey. I gulped it down and felt all kinds of better.

“Hey, where’s mine?”

“Sorry, Imoen.” Snick shook up a frothy pink concoction and sent it her way. She took a sip and gagged.

“What’s this nasty bitter taste?”

Snick hawked loudly and spit a wad of snot on the floor. “Whiskey.”

“Ewwww.” She shoved the glass away. “You don’t put whiskey in a strawberry milkshake.”

“Sure you do. Gives it that special kick.”

Imoen sighed. “Just make me another, will ya?”

I left them to their conversation and headed into the office for some peace and quiet. After a quick change of clothes, I sat down and parked my feet on my desk. There was a thump as something fell to the floor. I peered over my knees, hoping I hadn’t knocked over a birthday present from Farrahd. It was one of Imoen’s sappy romance novels, with a frayed cloth binding and a picture of a half-naked dame on the cover. Half-naked dames, I thought. This might be worth my time. I picked it up and started reading. This one was about a forbidden affair between a lady paladin and a flesh golem. I was glad when the door opened.

Jane crept into the room, her drab brown eyes wide in her pale moon face. “I guess you got my message,” she said.

No putting that past this dame. I threw the book into a drawer and nodded her way. “Come on in.”

I watched her fumble her way to a chair. It seemed like she’d faint if you looked at her funny.

“Something’s happened,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

She stared stupidly at me, her mouth hanging open like a dead fish. I wondered if Farrahd had gotten the drop on Sis.

“Well, go on then. Start at the beginning, continue to the end, and then stop.”

“There was a… problem… this morning.” Her work-roughened hands twisted in her lap. “Normally, I wouldn’t worry. The mistress can take care of anything. But this time, even she was at a loss.”

Maybe she hadn’t heard what I said about starting at the beginning. Before I could tell her off, she continued.

“I had just served a light luncheon to Lady Mirielle and Sir Anomen. She asked for a glass of orange juice, so I went to the kitchen to fetch it.” Jane paused, her pulse beating fast in her plump throat. “When I returned, I saw Sir Anomen standing over the mistress, raving at her.”

My ears perked up at that. “Yeah? What was he saying?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “He was speaking so quickly, you see. I could only make out something about Yusef Farrahd and going too far.”

The knight had one hell of a temper--that much was clear from Imoen’s chatter. The thing I didn’t get was why he’d be screaming at Sis about Farrahd.

“The mistress tried to calm him, but I could see that even she was shaking.” Glancing to either side, Jane leaned forward and lowered her quavering voice to a whisper. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Sir Delryn did something… crazy.”

The door slammed open and Imoen burst into the room. “Sarry! We gotta go!”

“What?” I demanded. “Why?”

She grabbed my hat and threw it at me. “Yusef Farrahd died two hours ago.”