False Covenant

she said, “that I know not to take you seriously.” And then, once more before Igraine could make the retort for which she was clearly drawing breath, “I'm going to see the Shrouded Lord now. You're welcome to join me. After I've told him what I need to tell him, if you want to lodge a complaint, be my guest.”

This time, though the priestess huffed something that might or might not have been a word, she made no attempt to stop Widdershins as the thief made for the door. Instead, she followed close behind-though not, Widdershins couldn't help but note, ever quite stepping within reach.

“Yeah,” Widdershins admitted in a voice that was even less than a whisper, agreeing with Olgun's unspoken remonstration. “Maybe it was dumb to show off in front of her. But she already sensed you, you know, or something about you. This way, at least she also knows I can take care of myself and I won't put up with her nonsense!”

Olgun somehow didn't seem convinced.

A few quick turns through hallways lit by the ubiquitous cheap lanterns (and thick with the equally ubiquitous oily smoke), and the two women-carefully keeping at least an arm's length between them-faced the door to the Shrouded Lord's audience chamber.

Today, Widdershins couldn't help but worry, is going to turn out really embarrassing if he's not here after all this. Then, with a shrug that drew a puzzled expression from Igraine, she took a few more steps and nodded to the sentry standing beside the door.

“He in?”

She kept her sigh of relief subtle when the fellow nodded, and reached past him to knock on the door. A voice called out for her to enter, and she did just that.

No matter how many times she saw it, Widdershins couldn't help but be impressed at the effect. The Shrouded Lord's peculiar gray garb really did blend perfectly with the heavy smoke that always wafted through the room, as well as the similar cloths laid across his chair and table. It truly made the man appear to be a vaguely phantasmal, disembodied presence.

Of course, part of the effect might have come from the fact that the fumes always made visitors' eyes water something nasty, but hey, who was going to complain about it?

“Well.” A vague sense of movement, and the sudden appearance of a pair of white orbs in the haze, was enough to indicate that they had the man's attention. “There's a pair of women I didn't expect to see keeping company.”

“It wasn't by choice,” Widdershins announced cheerfully.

“Ah. And do you care to add anything to that, Igraine?”

“No, my lord, I think Widdershins summed it up fairly well.”

The Shrouded Lord chuckled, but only briefly. “Widdershins,” he said, his voice serious once more, “Lambert told me of your wish for a meeting, but I haven't sent for you. You really need to learn to be more-”

“I'm sorry about that-uh, my lord,” she added swiftly as, even through the haze, she could see him tense at her interruption. “But something's happened that can't wait.” Then, taking his silence for permission to continue, Widdershins began recounting the events of the evening. By the time she neared the end, she found herself rushing, tripping over her own words, in her haste to get it all out so that she could stop remembering. She hoped the other two would attribute the redness in her eyes to nothing more than the cloying smoke.

When she was done, both the Shrouded Lord and Igraine remained silent for several moments more.

“I'm sorry,” the Shrouded Lord said finally, “that you had to witness that.” Was that genuine sympathy in his voice? Widdershins thought it very well might be. “And you're absolutely correct, that this makes the issue rather more immediate. But I'm curious as to why you seem to feel that this is our responsibility.”

Somehow, Widdershins didn't think that saying Because Iruoch's singled me out personally, and since I can't do this without your help, I intend to drag you into it whether you like it or not would go over all that well. It would, if nothing else, require explaining a lot of details-such as, oh, say, the matter of her own personal deity-that, Igraine's suspicions notwithstanding, she'd just as soon not divulge.

What she said, instead, was, “Weren't you the one asking me to look into this just a few days ago?”

“Indeed, I was-because I wanted to be certain that we couldn't be blamed for what was happening. But now that it's become clear the perpetrator is truly something supernatural, and kills indiscriminately, I don't believe there's any further risk of misplaced accusations.”

“Except,” Widdershins countered, “that the Guild might still appear to be involved. Did Renard tell you everything I told him about my encounter with Iruoch?”

Igraine snorted at the name, and threw a look at the Shrouded Lord that Widdershins couldn't begin to interpret, but the master of the Finders' Guild nodded. “Some of us aren't entirely sold on your notion as to who and what this creature is, but yes, I know everything you told Lambert.”

“Well, there was some stuff I didn't think I should tell him in front of Jul-uh, Major Bouniard.”

“Yes, he indicated that as well.”

“All right, so…” Widdershins took a deep breath, and then regretted it instantly as she spent the next twenty or thirty seconds choking on the smoke. With the exception of a faint tapping of fingers against armrests, the Shrouded Lord waited patiently for her to recover.

“So,” she said again, her voice rough, “you know that Iruoch-or whatever we want to call him,” she added with a sneer at the priestess, “killed two Finders?”

“I know.” All humor was gone from the Shrouded Lord's voice. “Aubin and Raviel.”

“Raviel? Was that his name? I could have sworn it was two syllables…. Uh, that probably doesn't so much matter right now, does it?”

“Not to any great extent, no.”

“Uh, yeah. Well, the thing is, my lord, they weren't just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, they were-I don't think you could argue that being caught by Iruoch is ever in any way the right place…” She grinned faintly, and then, as both the Shrouded Lord's and the priestess's glowers threatened to actually light her on fire, she rushed ahead. “But my point is, they weren't just out and about. They were pretending to be Iruoch!”

“What?!”

And, simultaneously, “That's nonsense!” from Igraine.

Widdershins raised a hand. “Hold on. I don't mean they were pretending to be Iruoch personally. I just…You know how, for the first few weeks, nobody was ever actually killed, or even badly hurt? And it was only in the last few days that our brand-new monster began leaving shriveled bodies behind it?

“Well, I think that's because, until a few days ago, Iruoch-or whoever-wasn't even in Davillon! The earlier attacks were Aubin and Raviel!”

“This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard,” Igraine snapped. “I don't know what you're trying to-”

“Igraine, a moment.” The Shrouded Lord leaned forward in his seat, a motion made visible only by the swirling and darkening of the smoke before him. “Widdershins, this is a serious-to say nothing of utterly bizarre- accusation. What's your reasoning?”

“Just that I saw what the two of them were doing before Iruoch arrived, my lord. I don't know how they were doing it, but they were definitely masquerading as something unnatural. They were terrorizing their victims, without actually robbing them. And the descriptions that we've been hearing of our ‘phantom’? They don't match Iruoch, but they do match what Aubin and Raviel were wearing!”

“I find this entire supposition to be awfully shaky,” Igraine protested. “You're drawing a lot of conclusions from one encounter, and that's assuming it happened the way you claim it did!”

“All right, then,” Widdershins challenged. “If you have a better way to explain why the attacks suddenly turned lethal and blatantly magical, and why our guys were dressed as ghosts and tormenting pedestrians, I'm dying to hear it. My lord, can we possibly have some chairs, and maybe refreshments, brought in? I just love story time!”

“You impudent little-!”