19. Ignatius
nineteen
Ignatius
Iggie waited in his room at the inn while Alistair did a little digging around town to figure out where Julian lived.
It galled him, sitting here accomplishing nothing while the paladin did all the work, but he hadn’t been able to dispute Alistair’s logic.
If the other villagers’ disdain wasn’t enough to dissuade him from tagging along, Liliana’s reaction certainly had been.
His presence would’ve only made the paladin’s task more difficult.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his crimson hair and snuck another peek out the window at the townsfolk going about their business. When they couldn’t see him, they seemed perfectly nice. Friendly, even.
For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to consider Erys’ impossible offer. What would it be like to live in a village like this? To be part of a community? To have friends and people who cared about you?
Alistair’s face wavered before his vision, his golden eyes crinkled with compassion while his lips parted into a welcoming grin, and Iggie’s heart raced. What would it be like to have even more—to share his heart with someone after all these years alone?
Heavy footsteps snapped him from his daydream, and he whirled to find Alistair striding into his room as if summoned by his thoughts. A faint blush colored Iggie’s cheeks as he tamped down his traitorous emotions. That future is a fantasy—nothing more.
“Any luck?” he asked.
Alistair leaned against the stone wall by the door, his armor creaking. “Indeed. It was easy enough to learn where Julian lived, along with Matrim and the other missing villagers.”
When the paladin volunteered nothing else, Iggie frowned and moved to don his cloak. “Well…good. We can start with Julian, then proceed to the others if he’s less than forthcoming. It can’t hurt to perform our own investigation now that we have some sense of what we’re looking for.”
Alistair only nodded, his face troubled.
Iggie paused by the bed with his winter cloak in his hands. “What is it?”
Hesitation furrowed the paladin’s heavy brow.
His fingers flexed as if they longed to grip his sword.
“The more we tug on this thread, the less I like the tapestry it’s unraveling.
If Julian was involved with Matrim in some larger conspiracy, I doubt he’ll be particularly eager to help us.
Perhaps…perhaps it would be best if you waited here. ”
Iggie tossed down his cloak and stepped toward the paladin, shaking his head. “Uh-uh, no way. I said I’d help you, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
“But without your undead, you’re vulnerable. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
The concern in the paladin’s voice brought Iggie up short.
Even now, confronted by his real mission here, Alistair remained concerned for Iggie’s safety.
Perhaps Iggie gave the paladin too little credit.
Or perhaps, judging by the fluttering in his gut and the warmth flooding his veins, he continued to give him too much for his own good.
Iggie managed a strained grin. “Then, I guess we’d better be careful.”
A war of emotions played out over Alistair’s face. In the end, he huffed a frustrated laugh. “All right, fine. You can come with me.” He held up a gauntleted finger. “But I take the lead.”
I’d happily follow you anywhere. Swallowing down the inappropriate thought, Iggie grabbed his cloak and marched toward the door. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
Together, they navigated the cozy village streets to the address Alistair had acquired. Iggie kept his eyes averted from the townsfolk they passed, sick of the hate he knew he’d find plastered over their faces. Still, he felt their judgment burning him like dawnflame.
“Focus on the decorations,” Alistair murmured from his left, making him jump. Like him, the paladin kept his gaze straight ahead. “It helps.”
Iggie did as suggested and found that Alistair was right.
Even with their unsettling discovery of Matrim’s song crystal and its potential connection to the monster that had attacked them, it was hard not to stare in awe at the harmonite that adorned much of the town, shimmering like refracted rainbows.
An unusual way to celebrate Dawncoming, but certainly an effective one.
The thought of the upcoming holiday—a celebration of the new year and the Celestials that watched over them from the Immortal Realm—filled Iggie with a strange sort of melancholy.
He wasn’t one to ascribe to traditional Khordanite holidays, especially when they were so closely tied to the Church.
The last time he’d even bothered celebrating Dawncoming had probably been as a child with his parents.
Still, glancing about at the town’s preparations, a piece of him yearned to participate—to join in as part of the group. Not that he had any illusions. Even if he hadn’t left by then, he didn’t hold out hope that the villagers would tolerate his presence, much less welcome it.
Someday you’ll find a place you belong, he told himself, ignoring the ripple of doubt in his gut.
Though none of the buildings in Singer’s Rest were particularly elaborate, Julian’s appeared smaller and more rundown than most. Cracks laced its crumbling stone walls and crooked shutters dangled askew over the windows.
A palpable aura of neglect hung over the abode as heavily as the thick layer of uncleared snow covering the roof.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Iggie said.
Alistair knocked but received no answer. He tried the door. “Locked.”
Iggie arched a brow. “And since when did a locked door stop a paladin of the holy Light?”
“Since breaking into someone’s house is against the law.” He knocked again, louder this time. “I am Sir Alistair, Knight of the Order. I have a few questions for Julian Lerange.”
Still no answer.
“Maybe he has a thing against the Order, too,” Iggie suggested dryly.
Alistair sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I suppose I could speak to the village elders again and request permission to search the premises. Surely, there’s enough cause if—”
He cut off, eyes widening as Iggie stepped forward, pulling out a small piece of metal from his cloak and jiggling it into the lock.
“What the merciful Light are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Iggie said, fiddling with the lock. “I’m getting us our answers.”
A satisfying click came from the door, and Iggie gave Alistair a smug grin.
The paladin rolled his eyes, poorly disguised amusement tugging at his lips. “You dare break the law in front of a paladin?”
A welcome flutter resonated in Iggie’ chest as his own grin widened. “My very existence breaks the law. What’s one more minor offense?”
He’d meant it as a joke, but Alistair’s smile dimmed. Shadow and shade, can’t we have one easy conversation without our pasts getting in the way? Internally cursing his lack of tact, Iggie searched for a way to change the subject and ended up sweeping his hands toward the door.
“After you.”
Alistair nodded, still looking grim, and pushed open the unlocked door. “We’re coming in,” he announced, raising his voice to be heard inside. “If you need…” He trailed off as he took in the next room.
Iggie stepped up, curious what the paladin had noticed. That’s when the smell hit him. He’d spent enough time around corpses to recognize the putrid odor. It was fresher than he was used to, however, and he couldn’t stop himself from retching.
Beyond the door lay a small entryway, with a hall leading deeper into the house. Iggie swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Should we, uh…”
After a brief hesitation, Alistair nodded and stepped inside, his face paler than usual.
Dawnflame erupted around his sword as he drew it, and Iggie flinched back from the golden haze.
Annoyance laced him at his impulsive reaction.
He didn’t expect Alistair to attack him—not anymore. Still, old fears died hard.
With Alistair’s dawnflame lighting the way, they crept down the hall until it opened into a small living space and kitchen. Several more doors branched off from it, but Iggie froze in the entryway, studying the corpse splayed across a wooden chair.
His lunch rose in his gullet at the sight of congealed blood, and he forced his eyes away, trying to steady his breathing. “Is that Julian?”
Alistair reached the body in several quick strides. Iggie determinedly looked anywhere else. “I think so,” the paladin said after a moment. “It’s a bit hard to tell, but the descriptions I gathered around town seem to match. There’s a dagger lying here by his feet.”
“Well, I guess that explains why he hasn’t shown up for work.” Iggie hated the faint tremble in his voice. “Do you think Matrim did this to him?”
Alistair eased back from the body, moving over to stand beside Iggie. Iggie focused on the paladin’s honeyed gaze, grateful for a distraction.
“I don’t know. Based on the timing, Julian must have died after Matrim’s disappearance.
But if they’re collaborating on some plot, it’s possible Matrim returned here at some point.
Perhaps Julian got cold feet…or Matrim was tying up loose ends.
” Frustration creased his forehead. “Either way, we’ve lost our best lead. ”
“Not necessarily.” Iggie started toward the nearest door, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “We still have the rest of the house to search.”
The stench of death hung in the air, nearly overpowering, but that wasn’t what made him shudder as he passed Julian’s corpse.
He’d smelled similar exhuming bodies to raise as undead.
No, what sent bile churning in the back of his throat was the thought of all that pooled blood staining Julian’s clothes and the floor a dark crimson.
An amused snort came from behind him. “I still find the thought of a squeamish necromancer hard to fathom. I’d think you’d be used to corpses by now.”