Chapter 57. Important People

  “Another meeting? Is this going to happen every time?” asked Jeremiah.

  Delilah had just returned home from filing their report with Spymaster Ka. “Of course,” she said. “After serious events, there will always be meetings to discuss them. They’re very important, and I don’t understand why you guys don’t like them. Is it a human thing? Like, meetings take up a significant portion of your total life expectancy?”

  “Shit, that might be it,” said Bruno. He was seated at the table, truncated arm extended as Allison fitted a new prosthetic over it.

  “I don’t like it because I don’t trust it,” said Allison. She pulled a buckle tight around Bruno’s bicep and tucked the leather end. “We’re either getting a pat on the head or tied off.”

  “Tied off?” asked Jeremiah.

  “Sometimes a black op needs to be fully darked,” said Allison. “That means no one with any knowledge of what really happened, no loose threads. How’s that feel, Bruno?”

  “Weird,” said Bruno, flexing his arm. The prosthetic was an L-shaped hook sporting a hinge and spring.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Al,” said Delilah. “They have no reason to kill us off.”

  “No reason you know of,” Allison retorted. “Who knows how far the influence of this cult reached? Some very important people might be very angry. If the Empress enters the room, we can relax. But until she does we’re going with full combat readiness, or we’re not going at all. Hence the hardware. Give it a try?”

  She handed Bruno his magic bow, and he used the hook to draw the string back towards his chin. Before it had cleared half the distance, the hinge clicked, releasing the bowstring with a dull twang .

  “Sit down, let me calibrate that spring,” said Allison, “get it to a tension you’re comfortable with.”

  “All those years of dagger throwing, lock picking, pick pocketing, trap disarming—down the drain, just like that.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll adapt,” said Allison. “I’ve known some great warriors with a limb difference. And there’s more specialized equipment than just an archer’s hook too. Maybe someday you’ll have a whole arsenal, just like me! But for now, let’s just focus on getting you ready for this meeting. Try that?”

  Bruno drew the bowstring again. This time he managed a full draw and held it. It released with its typical musical hum. “It’s gonna take some getting used to, that little extra pull when I want to shoot. But at least I’ll be able to help if shit goes sideways. You sure I can't have it regrown or something? Like, with magic?"

  "That magic does exist," said Jeremiah, "or at least it has in the past. But magic that powerful is...well, the stuff of legends."

  "Archers are invaluable," said Allison, "that's why they always get the best prosthetics. Delilah can help you with caring for any heat rash or blisters."

  Bruno frowned at the hook, Jeremiah could see him trying to flex his fingers, but the hook remained still.

  Jeremiah had never felt comfortable in the trappings of luxury at the best of times, but after the last few weeks, it just seemed disgusting. The meeting room was large and ornate, with tapestries on each wall depicting great moments of history that Jeremiah lacked the context to understand. His friends were seated at a large round table, scattered among the cabinet members and prominent business people.

  Most of the two dozen seats were filled, with the attendees chatting among themselves as they waited for the meeting to begin. Delilah spoke with anyone who could hear her, while Bruno and Allison remained silent and tense.

  Seated across and conspiring with a dwarven woman was Pete, vibrant in a stylish new suit. What had he said? “‘Ol’ Pete has a chance to step up in the world, and he is obliged to take it.’”

  “How many people died just for you to have a seat at this table?” thought Jeremiah darkly. He continued to glare as teas and wines were distributed amongst the guests from discreet servants, accepting a coffee for himself. One way or another, he suspected he’d need the energy boost.

  A footwoman stepped into the room, interrupting Jeremiah’s rumination. “Presenting her eminence, Empress Aubrianna of Elminia.”

  Everyone in the room stood and straightened to attention as, like the sun cresting the horizon, Empress Aubrianna swept into the room. In her wake were two columns of the golden armored royal guard that took up positions around the perimeter of the room.

  Jeremiah swallowed. He had been through a lot, but the empress remained an oppressively attractive person. She took one of the remaining chairs. Ka followed her like a shadow, eyes darting about as they entered.

  “Good evening.” In this room, Empress Aubrianna’s voice was appropriately booming. “I thank you all for making the time to attend this meeting on such short notice. We have learned information that has bearing on every sector of Elminia. Spymaster Ka?”

  Ka launched into a sanitized report of Jeremiah’s findings, never citing Jeremiah as the source, referring to the cult as a fortunate discovery by a group of intrepid adventurers. There were gasps, and grumbles of concern, and as soon as she finished came the questions of causality, fault, logistics, and spin.

  Jeremiah receded into his thoughts as the discussion of countless horrors turned to political jockeying. "All of these important people, and they still bicker like children .”

  Important people.

  The most important people.

  Jeremiah glanced around the room with new attention. This meeting was attended by the most high-ranking citizens of Elminia, a congregation of influence, power, and wealth.

  “We have members here from the highest ranks of government to the lowest serial killers,” Lyle had said, “nothing happens without our knowledge, and without our consent.”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” thought Jeremiah. “Where else, if not at the beating heart of it all?”

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  He had to be sure.

  Jeremiah’s gaze slid across the faces in attendance, crawling over their features, searching for something, anything, that might indicate which of these smarmy aristocrats was actually a sadistic cult leader.

  Lyle was younger, remembered Jeremiah, mentally eliminating some of the truly venerable members.

  He was male—Jeremiah eliminated the women.

  Human, elven, or half elven, eliminated the smaller races.

  Shaven, with a strong chin, no scars . That eliminated only a couple.

  Half a dozen men fitting the description remained. How could he identify if Lyle was among them?

  Jeremiah began to stir his coffee, letting his spoon scratch the edge of the cup. Screeeeeech went the teacup, that distinct ceramic on ceramic grind. The harsh sound was light, but audible even through the argument ramping up at the table.

  One of them, a middle aged man, some sort of merchant or industrialist, gave the slightest flinch at the sound.

  Screeeech.

  “Jay, what are you doing? Stop that,” hissed Delilah.

  Jeremiah kept his eyes on the merchant and pressed the spoon into the side of the cup hard. Scr-Scr-Scr the spoon moved just slightly, grinding into the cup. The merchant twitched with each noise, even as he tried to focus on the discussion among his fellows.

  Jeremiah tightened his grip on the cup. He turned the spoon, just slightly, to catch the edge.

  SCREECH.

  The merchant shuddered and nearly gagged, his nails biting into the table surface before balling into fists as he recomposed himself.

  “Got you,” thought Jeremiah.

  Jeremiah looked up and found Ka staring directly at him, eyes hard as steel, trying to pierce deep into his mind.

  Jeremiah stared back, and gave the slightest nod.

  Ka calmly took hold of a tiny metal stud on her armor. She pulled the stud away easily and pressed it against the unsuspecting empress’s neck. There was a blue flash, a rush of air, and the empress was gone.

  Every guard in the room slammed the butts of their spears to the ground and leveled the blades at the table attendees. Allison leapt to her feet and drew her sword and shield in a single fluid motion.

  The room was silent as the grave, the guests stunned into terrified silence.

  Ka stood, and all eyes fell upon her. “Mr. Thorn. You have the order.”

  Jeremiah stood and pointed at the merchant. The moment he did, guards swarmed the other attendees, grabbing them from their chairs and forcing them out of the room. In a moment, the merchant was alone and terrified, raising his hands to ward off the spears leveled at him.

  “What is going on here?” the merchant shouted. “I demand an explanation!”

  “Hi Lyle,” said Jeremiah, standing.

  The merchant stared at him in confusion. “Listen here, you cursed welp, I am Phillipe DeMarquoix, honorable citizen of Elminia and owner of the PDM Shipping corporation. You will address me with the respect I am due, as a special consultant to the Empress!”

  “Jay, you sure about this?” Allison asked.

  “Not yet,” said Jeremiah, making his way around the table. There were plenty of people in the world who didn’t like that sound. But it felt too perfect, too clear, for one of them to be right here right now.

  Bruno stood as Jeremiah passed. “What’s the game?” he whispered.

  “Desperation,” Jeremiah whispered back.

  Jeremiah marched up to Phillipe and spun the man’s chair around, to stand over him. “This is the leader of the demonic cult.”

  “Preposterous!” laughed Phillipe. “Surely you’re joking?”

  “No, it’s you,” said Jeremiah. “I recognize your voice.” That would be easy enough to disguise, of course, but he didn’t need to be accurate. This wasn’t a court of law, all he needed was fear.

  “Yeah, that’s definitely him,” said Bruno from behind Jeremiah.

  “Bag,” Jeremiah said to Delilah, and she tossed the Giant’s Bag to him. Jeremiah pulled out Lyle’s journal and its encrypted writings. “We have evidence that this journal from the leader’s quarters matches your handwriting.” Another lie, but he saw panic flicker in the merchant’s eyes.

  “I demand to see my counselor!” Phillipe shouted. He tried to stand, but Jeremiah grabbed his shoulder and forcibly sat him back down.

  “I think traitors to the city don’t get to see their counselors,” said Jeremiah. “Counselor Fortune, cover your ears, please.”

  Delilah put her hands over her ears and turned around. Phillipe paled, a sweat breaking on his brow. The act of a counselor averting their senses evoked real terror. “This is completely illegal,” he whimpered. “I am entitled to legal representation.”

  “Normally, yes,” said Jeremiah, “But capturing the head of the cult would be a real boon, and would make the empress very happy. Live would be best, of course, but unfortunately, you tried to kill me and escape justice once your secret was discovered.”

  Jeremiah grabbed Phillipe by the wrist and forced a special dagger into his hand—the long needle-shaped dagger that Nascent had given to him. “And this weapon will undoubtedly match the wounds found on previous victims of the cult’s violence.” He wrapped own hand over Phillipe’s, forcing him to grip the dagger.

  “That’s insane! This is a conspiracy!” Phillipe was openly panicking now. He looked to the remaining two guards who stared back stoically, spears leveled towards him.

  “Look, he had another one of those books on him!” said Bruno, pulling a book from Phillipe’s robes. Jeremiah didn’t know when Bruno had snuck one from the bag, but it was a very impressive bit of sleight of hand.

  “That’s not mine!” yelled Phillipe. He recoiled from the book in shock.

  Jeremiah pulled Phillipe’s close, pressing the top of the needle dagger into his own shoulder. He grit his teeth at the pain as the blade dug into his flesh, splattering blood onto Phillipe’s face. “Most importantly,” Jeremiah growled, “I want this.”

  Phillipe’s expression of panic shattered into one of manic rage. Instead of resisting Jeremiah’s grip on his hand, he leaned into it, driving the dagger deep into Jeremiah’s shoulder, before springing backwards onto the table in a shocking display of agility.

  “You don’t even understand what you’ve done,” sneered Lyle. He crouched low on the table, and exhaled. A deep purple smoke emanated from his lungs, soon enveloping him in a billowing opaque cloud

  “Form up!” shouted Allison, and the guards scrambled together into a defensive position. She grabbed Jeremiah and yanked him backwards, away from the growing cloud.

  Ka caught Bruno’s eye, nodded once, and then disappeared in the same blue flash as the empress. Lyle laughed from within the smoke as Jeremiah and his friends joined the assembled guards, weapons drawn, and braced themselves.