Chapter 11 Truth
Truth
The noble’s disgust was hard to miss, but Kraghtol could hardly care less.
Neither did he care about his bedsheets that were getting dirty from red blood and black soot as he sat down because he didn’t trust his legs to carry him one minute longer.
He was still shaking and only realized when Valir repeated his question.
“Well? What happened? The explanation of why you barged into the room all bloody and vomited right in front of my feet should better be good.”
The half-orc took another moment to collect himself as best as he could.
It was like there were two entirely different Valirs.
One, the Valir who accompanied him to the Hawkes, was almost unreasonably friendly and open, especially for a noble.
And the other was an arrogant asshole. Still, even the asshole deserved an explanation.
His voice faltered at first, but once he had started, the words were pouring out of him like a deluge.
He had not planned to tell Valir everything, but he was powerless to prevent it from happening all on its own.
The gruesome images, all the disturbing details, were so fresh, so vivid he had to spit them out like the remains of the stew on the floor if he didn’t want to choke on them.
He didn’t stop when he had reached the end of his story. When he got to the part where he fought the near-invisible assassin, he waved around with the now considerably warmer piece of cloth from his pocket like it was a flag, while he recited the events of the solstice evening as well.
The noble-born just stood there, arms crossed in front of his chest, listening to Kraghtol but not speaking a word until he was finished.
“You really are an idiot, Kragh. A good-hearted idiot, but an idiot no less.”
Kraghtol stared at the human, his mind having difficulties to process the comment.
“What?”
Valir’s half-smile was somewhere between sad and condescending.
“So, there’s been a murder.”
Kraghtol couldn’t help but wonder how in the world the noble could state that fact so coldly.
“Someone killed one of the highest-ranking officials of one of the most prolific guilds in the city, probably in all of northern Wardenreach. And you walk — no, run — away from the scene, in all of your green glory, covered in the victim’s blood and with a stolen lockbox under your arm.
What do you suppose the fine early-morning folks you encountered will think? ”
“I… I didn’t think…”
“Exactly.”
“But I can explain it. I tried to save his life, and…”
He stopped. A Roderic Hawke wouldn’t even hear him out for a single word. Valir was right. He really was an idiot.
“Do you think I should have told the guild master? About that woman and Dean Quenning?”
The noble considered for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think so. They saw you on the night of the solstice, and would have — correctly — assumed you were involved. You would just have made yourself a target.”
“Perhaps the guild master wouldn’t have had to die then,” Kraghtol protested.
Valir sighed, almost theatrically. “You can’t know that.
And it’s no use sitting here and torturing yourself with all the ifs and assumptions.
Here is what you’re going to do. If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life fighting savages the same color as you on the border, you need to get out of the city now! ”
“But won’t that look like I did it?” Kraghtol protested weakly.
“Probably. But that will not make much of a difference. As far as the Guild of Peace is concerned, there will be little doubt about your guilt, anyway. Now, the problem is how… If you just walk out of the city, they will catch you before you even pass the gate. You need a discreet way out.”
Something inside of Kraghtol’s brain reacted to the words, and a faint memory surfaced.
“Perhaps I know someone.”
Valir looked up in surprise.
“You know a hidden way out of the city?”
“No,” Kraghtol shook his head. “But I know someone who almost certainly does. He just doesn’t… like me very much. But perhaps if I give him all my money, he will help me.”
“Ah. Bribe money. The universal solution that works in nearly all social classes. Sounds like a solid plan. But you really need to clean up first. And stars above, don’t let anyone else see you!”
Without even hesitating a heartbeat, the noble reached into his purse and handed Kraghtol a handful of gold coins. Unable to believe what he saw, Kraghtol just stared at the shiny disks.
“Why?”
“You said so yourself; you need a bribe.” Valir sounded confused.
“No, I mean… Why are you helping me? You have nothing to gain, and you’re just endangering yourself.”
“Oh, that.”
The noble shrugged, and suddenly, the other Valir was back again.
“Someone recently told me how tired they were with the powers keeping them from being themselves. I guess that left an impression on me.”
Not wanting to use the well or the busy riverbank, Kraghtol opted for a small creek running through the Park District to clean himself up.
It was icy cold, and the sun was just rising, but the chilly water helped Kraghtol clear his mind.
He didn’t kill the guild master. He tried to help him.
Had he not been there, nothing would have been different.
Perhaps his knock on the door had bought Virex a few more minutes because it distracted the attacker.
The thought helped, and his mind in turmoil could finally think about all the other things he had seen and heard, starting with the partial confession that cost Virex’s life.
Lecturer Merress had talked about the border ward a lot in his lessons, and even started a discussion about its ethical aspects once.
Now, Kraghtol understood that this might have been driven by the elf’s guilt over his involvement in the matter.
He had never explained exactly how they worked, but Kraghtol knew the alchemical border stones gave Wardenreach its name and were the reason for the unification: they kept the savages from the Wild Lands out.
They just couldn’t cross the border. Now he even remembered asking why soldiers were even needed if the stones just kept out the enemies.
Merress had not answered then, but his eyes had reflected sadness.
Kraghtol shook his head. It was crazy that he had never heard of the border ward before joining the school, especially since it was what the country was named after!
But he just didn’t have time to entertain the thought any longer now.
The peaceful surroundings were an illusion.
Perhaps at this very moment, the orderkeepers were already searching for him.
Having removed all the blood he could, he turned to leave, only to freeze. Several dozen meters away, a figure had appeared, watching the sunrise but occasionally looking over to him. Someone else had seen him, pix-rot!
His best bet would be to walk away calmly now. However, when he narrowed his eyes against the low sunlight, he thought he’d recognize… Aniriel?
Yes, he was positive it was indeed the Elven woman standing there.
It was more than doubtful she had recognized him, as he had changed a lot since they last saw each other, and the prudent choice would have been to go with his original plan of walking away.
However, as the situation was, there was a good chance he’d never see her again, and by now he regretted lashing out at her like that. He approached her.
“Aniriel.”
Even his low rumbling voice had to sound unfamiliar, and the elf didn’t show signs of recognition. He took a breath.
“It’s me, Krasen.”
“Krasen?”
She blinked.
“How did you —”
“Kragh, actually. That’s my real name,” he said, realizing how he looked now.
“I know my body looks different, but I assure you, it’s me.
I don’t have time to explain. It’s a long story, and I need to leave, right now and possibly forever.
But I didn’t want to go without apologizing to you.
It was I who made all the mistakes with that practice, not you. ”
To his surprise, Aniriel shook her head, sending her long hair flying. It was an unusual firm reaction for her.
“No, Kragh. When you told me about your practice, I promised you not to tell anyone, and then I did. I just didn’t think about it, even though I should have. I’m not very good at telling whether something is important.”
“That’s okay. It’s who you are, and I should have known that and told you.”
Kraghtol had to chuckle. Why was it so easy for him to forgive Aniriel for being the way she was and so hard to do so for himself?
“I really need to go now. For your own sake, tell nobody we met. And that’s important,” he added with a smile and hugged her carefully.
“Wherever you go, may the stars and the moon protect you. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”
Her voice was utmost sincere, and Kraghtol detected not a single bit of malice in it. It really seemed that the ones who counted — and Valir — did not mind his unusual appearance as much as he thought.
Hiding in his clothes as well as he could, Kraghtol hurried through the city and past the clock tower, until he reached the Oldport.
Meeting Aniriel and clearing the air between them had lifted a weight off Kraghtol that he now felt returning with full force.
He did not like the fact that his freedom might depend on no other than Calder Rann one bit.
And he was already running late if he wanted to meet up with Valir in fifteen minutes like they agreed on.
The gruff tavern keeper was still where Kraghtol had expected him to be, thankfully. So, at least his previous mistake with the orderkeepers had not been enough to get him incarcerated or worse. When the man looked up, however, his expression darkened.
“Piss off.”
Kraghtol swallowed and felt the weight of the borrowed gold coins in his pocket, his only weapon in the confrontation ahead. Ignoring the command, he stepped forward.
“Mr. Rann, I —”