Blood of the Fold

Tobias Brogan knuckled his mustache as he glanced out of the corner of his eye at Lunetta. When she returned the slightest of nods, his mouth twisted with a sour expression. His rare good mood had evaporated. The man was telling the truth, Lunetta didn't make mistakes about this kind of thing, yet Brogan knew it wasn't the truth. He knew better.

He redirected his gaze to the man standing before him on the other side of a table long enough to banquet seventy people, and willed a polite smile to his lips.

"Thank you. You have been a great help."

The man peered suspiciously at the soldiers in polished armor to each side of him. "That's all you want to know? You have me dragged all the way over here, just to ask me what everyone knows? I could have told your men if they would have asked."

Brogan forced himself to hold the smile. "I apologize for the inconvenience. You have been of service to the Creator, and to me." The smile escaped his control. "You may go."

The man didn't miss the look in Brogan's eyes. He bobbed a bow and scurried for the door.

Brogan tapped the side of his thumb on the case at his belt and glanced impatiently to Lunetta. "Are you sure?"

Lunetta, in her element, returned a serene gaze. "He be telling the truth, Lord General, as were the others." She knew her craft, filthy as it was, and when practicing it was enveloped with a confident air. It annoyed him.

He slammed a fist to the table. "It not be the truth!"

He could almost see the Keeper in her placid eyes as she watched him. "I not say it be the truth, Lord General, only that he be telling what he believes to be the truth."

Tobias harrumphed. He knew the truth of that. He hadn't spent his life hunting evil without learning some of its tricks. He knew magic. The quarry was so close he could almost smell it.

The late-afternoon sun spilled through a slit in the heavy gold drapes, splashing a glowing line of light across a gilded chair leg, the ornate royal blue flowered carpet, and up over the corner of the long, lustrous tabletop. The midday meal had long ago been put in abeyance while he pressed on, and yet he was no further along the path than when he had started. Frustration gnawed in his gut.

Galtero usually displayed a talent for bringing in witnesses who could provide proper information, but so far this lot had proved useless. He wondered what Galtero had found out; the city was in turmoil over something, and Tobias Brogan didn't like it when people were in an uproar, unless he and his men were the cause. Turmoil could be a powerful weapon, but he didn't like unknowns. Surely, Galtero must have returned long ago.

Tobias leaned back in his diamond tufted leather chair and addressed one of the crimson-caped soldiers guarding the door. "Ettore, is Galtero back yet?"

"No, Lord General."

Ettore was young, and anxious to make his mark against evil, but he was a good man: shrewd, loyal, and not afraid to be ruthless when dealing with the Keeper's own. One day he would be among the best of the baneling hunters. Tobias knuckled his aching back. "How many more witnesses do we have?"

"Two, Lord General."

He wound his hand impatiently. "Bring in the next, then."

While Ettore slipped through the door, Tobias squinted past the slash of sunlight, to his sister standing against the wall. "You were sure, Lunetta, weren't you?"

She stared as she clutched her tattered rags to herself. "Yes, Lord General."

He sighed as the door opened and the guard led in a thin woman who didn't look to be any too happy. Tobias put on his most polite smile; a wise hunter didn't let his quarry catch a glimpse of fangs.

The woman jerked her elbow from Ettore's grip. "What's this about? I was taken against my will and have been locked in a room all day. What right have you to take a person against their will!"

Tobias smiled apologetically. "There must be some misunderstanding. I am sorry. You see, we only wanted to ask a few questions of people who we judged to be reliable. Why, most of the people on the street wouldn't know up from down. You seemed an intelligent woman, that's all, and — "

She leaned over the table toward him. "And so you locked me in a room? Is that what the Blood of the Fold does to people they judge reliable? From what I hear, the Blood doesn't bother with questions, they simply act on rumor, as long as it results in a fresh grave.

Brogan could feel his cheek twitch, but he held the smile. "You hear wrong, madam. The Blood of the Fold only be interested in the truth. We serve the Creator and his will, no less than a woman of your character. Now, would you mind answering a few questions? And then we will see you safely home."

"See me home now. This is a free city. No palace has the right to drag people in to question them, not in Aydindril. I've no obligation to answer any of your questions!"