13. Griff #3
The High Commander’s expression darkened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“I suppose that depends on your definition. You know better than anyone the importance of constant vigilance to keep Derimay and the rest of Sanjarka safe. But that…that…selfish, money-grubbing Void-eater can’t see past the weight of his own coin purses!
He’s been stonewalling me at every turn, hobbling the Watch at the knees and refusing to compromise on even the smallest issue.
Thanks to him, we’ve been stuck in deadlock for weeks now over how to respond to the latest Nalaxian demands.
And all the while, our enemy grows stronger while our defenses stagnate. ”
High Commander Pern shook his head, the edges of his aura curling with disgust. “By the Goddess, what I wouldn’t give to be rid of him…
Derimay would certainly be better off. If Teodoro had his way, he and his cronies in the Merchant’s Guild would let the Void-cursed Nalaxians buy the city outright! ”
A shiver coursed down Griff’s spine at the High Commander’s threat. He didn’t really mean it…did he?
“I can understand your frustration, sir,” Griff said carefully. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
High Commander Pern’s aura seemed to deflate a hair. He puffed out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Apologies, Inspector. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. It’s been a long day…and I’m afraid it’ll be another late night at my office. If you’ll excuse me.”
With a brief nod, the High Commander stalked off.
Sasha flashed Griff an apologetic grimace.
“Told you.” He glanced after the High Commander and sighed.
“Looks like I’m in for another late night.
At this rate, I’m worried Lucile will forget what I look like.
I’ll be glad once all this business with Nalax is behind us.
Unlike most of the sheltered elite here, I’ve witnessed the horror of real battle.
Trust me, the last thing anyone wants is outright war.
” He shook his head and gusted another sigh.
“Guess I’d better go enjoy the rest of the gala while I can. Later, Griff.”
His aura appeared resigned as he limped off, favoring his bad leg. Griff watched him vanish into the crowd, frowning to himself as he considered what he’d learned.
He didn’t really see how the current trade tensions with Nalax related to the void orb, but he couldn’t dismiss the coincidental timing out of hand. It certainly seemed to be on the minds of at least two members of the Pentarchy. Might the void orb conspiracy somehow be involved?
His gaze swept over to where he’d left Cal with High Judge Septima, and his eyes widened, a jolt of concern spearing him. Both of them were gone.
Merciful Light, he never should have left Cal alone for so long! What if something had happened to him?
Or what if he finally seized this opportunity to split, just like Amelie did?
Squashing that tiny voice in the back of his head, he hurried back over to the spot, glancing around for any clues to where they might have gone. But there was nothing. No sign of them nearby, and with so many people crammed together, he’d never be able to identify an aura trail to follow.
He set off around the chamber, scanning everyone in sight for Cal’s familiar bright aura.
Each passing moment tightened the knot in his gut and intensified the dull ache in his head from overtaxing his aura-sight.
When he’d finished searching the main chamber without any luck, he moved through the archway the High Merchant had vanished through.
It was quieter in here, more secluded, with couches and plush seats set in small groups to allow for easy conversation.
His breath caught when he spotted a flash of bright hues off to the side.
Hurrying toward it, relief gripped him when he found Cal disguised as Lord Heneford deep in conversation with High Scholar Vesalain.
Griff hesitated a few paces away, not wanting to interrupt if Cal was gathering useful information. He was saved from his uncertainty when Cal noticed him hovering. A grin split his face—one that, judging by the thrumming in his aura, was genuine.
“Ah, Inspector Denton! Please, won’t you join us?” Cal glanced at the High Scholar. “Assuming that’s all right with you, of course.”
“By all means,” the High Scholar said. She gestured to an empty chair, a jeweled band gleaming on one of her slender fingers.
Bowing his head, Griff took the offered seat. “Thank you.”
“We were just discussing you, actually,” the High Scholar said with a smile. “And what a fantastic job you did with your most recent case. Stronger ties with Khordan couldn’t have come at a better time.”
Griff gave a polite bob of his head. “I appreciate the praise, High Scholar. But I was just doing my duty.”
He hesitated a beat. He’d come here searching for Cal, but he supposed he might as well make the most of this opportunity to speak with the final member of the Pentarchy.
Focusing his aura-sight on the High Scholar, he said, “If only there were so easy a solution to resolve our current tensions with Nalax. I couldn’t help but overhear the High Commander and High Merchant arguing.”
High Scholar Vesalain heaved a heavy sigh and took a sip of amber-colored liquid from her glass. Her aura appeared worn around the edges, deeper hues of blue hinting at weary regret.
“Both of them mean well, I’m sure. They are simply trying to preserve Sanjarka’s future.
Nevertheless, I fear they are misguided.
Neither war nor free trade will magically solve all our problems. Which is why I, for one, continue to hold out hope for a diplomatic solution.
If you ask me, Sanjarka faces far greater threats than distant Nalax.
Why just the other day, I heard some troubling rumors about increased activity among the cultists of the Empty Eye… ”
Settling into his chair, Griff shared a quick glance with Cal while he continued to listen. He had a sneaking suspicion this was going to be a long night…