Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Just after sunrise, I was back in Carcalla’s office, sitting in the same chair, waiting for the same dangerous crime boss, looking at the same magic window, only this time, it showed some idyllic farming village in a realm that looked warm and soft and covered in fruit trees.
Since I was about to be confronted by an elf who’d likely be furious that I’d lost the treasure he’d sent me to collect and gotten someone who was likely his daughter kidnapped in the process, I really would’ve preferred to be in that lovely bit of countryside than here.
Joran was in the other chair, drinking a cup of tea. A few hours ago, I’d watched him mercilessly terrorize a mercenary company, and here he was now with a little porcelain cup and saucer, all polite manners and whatnot. For whatever reason, that made me dislike him even more.
“It’s not my fault Dathka got grabbed. You’re the one who sent her with us.”
“Word of advice to you, Carnavon.” Joran took a sip. “When the boss gets here, don’t go tossing about blame. He hates it when men don’t accept responsibility for their mistakes.”
I was exhausted, but at least they kept it decently warm in here.
My sopping wet cloak was hanging from a peg downstairs next to my dirty boots.
I was in my bare feet upon the wooly carpet, which again, struck me as a marvelous invention.
The comfort was making me sleepy, but I needed to be alert and quick-witted here, as my life was just as likely to end here as in the chamber with all of Korthican’s traps.
Carcalla entered, still in his bed robe, and went to his desk. I remembered the proper protocol and stood, treating him like he was a noble.
“Sit down. I’ll deal with you in a moment.”
I did as I was told.
Joran put his now empty cup down on the little table between us. “There’s been no sign of Gerzog yet. The Tempus intermediaries are claiming they know nothing about this. I told Staverton to secretly grab one off the street and torture him just in case.”
“And?”
“He knew nothing.”
“He knew nothing, or claimed to know nothing?”
“Staverton knows six spells and five of them are useful for torture. The cultist was truly in the dark.”
“Damnable apocalypse worshippers are good at keeping their network contained. I’d say roll up more of them, but now’s not the time to risk a war with the undercity.
We’re already up to our necks in nightbolgs they’ve chased upwards as it is, and who knows what other horrors they’ll force up here and set loose to attack our people.
” It was actually heartening to hear that Carcalla gave a damn about the fate of the Under Slumpers, but then he had to go and add, “Massacres are terrible for business.”
“What do you want me to do next?” Joran asked.
“Call up everyone. Every snitch, every source, every set of eyes. Promise them a good reward. Bribe our friends on the watch. Send someone to the Collegium and hire a scryer. Anyone who wants to keep secrets, make an example of them.” Carcalla frustrated was even more menacing than Carcalla cold. “I want that orc found.”
“It’ll be done.” Joran stood and began walking away.
“And Joran…”
He paused. “Yeah, boss?”
“You shouldn’t have sent her on this.”
The arena champion I’d watched strike fear into an entire mercenary band pretty much by himself got real nervous.
It was in that moment I realized, even as deadly as Cutter Joran was, Carcalla could crush him.
And I didn’t mean by the power of his organization, but Carcalla, by himself, right that instant.
“I got no excuse, sir. At the time, I thought this run would be a simple test to ease her in. The likelihood of a real treasure still being there after all these years was so unlikely, I underestimated the threat presented by other interested parties. I recognize now I was mistaken.”
“Indeed, you were… You may go.”
Duly chastised, Joran bowed his head, then left.
Carcalla sat stiffly in his big leather chair. This time, he didn’t offer me a drink of fancy dragon rum. His expression was really difficult to read, though I got the distinct impression I was lucky to still be alive. “Tell me exactly what transpired.”
I did so, careful to leave nothing out, and to be as forthright as possible.
My story took long enough the window changed twice.
First, a mist-shrouded bog populated by that strange race of frog creatures I’d seen a bunch of times around the Core, and then to a searing sea of churning lava, which wasn’t Fogo, but was clearly upon the Elemental Plane of Fire.
I hoped the timing of that somewhat familiar image was a sign of good fortune.
It was not.
“I am so very disappointed right now, Mr. Carnavon. If I’d thought it was likely the lamp was still there, I would have sent professionals to retrieve it, not you bungling imitators.
When the burglary of a mansion in the Aventine found an old letter from Councilman Korthican which mentioned a secret door, I considered sending a proper expedition, but I thought to myself, with the island being picked over so many times over the centuries, what were the odds any treasure remained?
In the end, I never bothered… Until the Outcasts came along, and I saw an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity with little effort or expense. ”
“After doing a bit of research on the place, I kind of figured that’s what was happening.”
“You’re not as stupid as I thought, yet you still failed me.”
“We did as asked. We got betrayed and ambushed. And your da—” I was so tired, I nearly screwed up and said daughter, which was likely the case, but the Latros were keeping up the fiction that she was not, so I would too.
“Dathka wasn’t put in danger by us. We lost a few students in the fight against those who took her. ”
“I am aware of these mitigating circumstances, but I’m still angry it happened at all.
” It must have been a cold sort of angry, because he didn’t really look angry.
More… ambivalent. Which probably made it worse.
“Joran offered to dispose of you for me, but I told him to wait, because a deal is a deal, and someone is only as good as the promises he keeps.”
That was a relief. “Thank you, Mr. Carcalla, sir.”
He chuckled, and the cruel nature of that sound did actually turn out to be worse than the somehow hateful ambivalence.
“Oh no, you misunderstand me. Today is Fireday. I originally gave you until the 23rd, Waterday, tomorrow, to bring me the treasure of Korthican’s Warning or face a violent eviction. That deal remains in effect.”
“What? Gerzog’s got the treasure!” Carcalla had just dispatched all the resources of the Latrocinium to find him. What was I supposed to do that they couldn’t? “How am I supposed to do that?”
“You likely can’t. That doesn’t concern me.
I gave you until the end of Waterday, so that is what you shall have.
Then the eviction will proceed. As for the previous months’ past due rent, I can’t have people thinking I’ve become soft by forgiving it, so I suppose we’ll just have to collect those months from your hide.
” Behind Carcalla, a plume of fire rose into the smoke-blackened sky. “Good day to you, Mr. Carnavon.”