Next came galleries of art, sculpture, gems, and meticulously catalogued cabinets of minerals and rocks. Most impressive were two huge halls with high, vaulted ceilings, from which hung the gigantic, complete skeletons of a whole pod of whales. Daud couldn’t even begin to guess the value of Norcross’s collection, but he doubted whether all the institutions in all of Gristol—no, in all of the Empire itself—could compete with the grandeur and sheer scale of the castle’s contents.
Norcross chatted away as they walked, apparently happy to continue his commentary even though Daud gave no indication he was listening. What Daud was actually doing was trying to map their progress in his head, while counting the guards. After an hour he was surprised that his tally had only reached eighteen. Of course, the castle itself was its own protection—Norcross had spent ten years and who knew how much money relocating and rebuilding it to his own particular specifications, and located as it was in the moorland valley miles away from the nearest settlement, it presented a formidable challenge to any would-be thief.
Another half hour, another five rooms of treasure, and Daud’s tally reached twenty-one. It was a lot, but he didn’t think they would give him any particular trouble, especially considering how spread out they were. One thing bothered him, however. The collection was impressive—spectacular, even. But so far, everything he saw was… not ordinary, certainly, but… normal. Nothing arcane. Nothing heretical.
Daud told himself to be patient. He was close. Norcross was a strange man, clearly proud of his life’swork. He was showing off his collection to a prospective buyer—someone he didn’t know, and didn’t trust. It made sense to be cautious before introducing the darker side of his collection.
At least, that’s what Daud told himself.
Then they came to another double-wide corridor, this one ending in a broad staircase that swept up and then began to spiral. There was, bizarrely, a red velvet rope strung from bannister to wall. Daud glanced around, judging them to be at the base of the castle’s main tower.
Norcross looked over his shoulder at his guest. “Given the manner of our introduction, I am to understand that you are a collector of the unusual,” he said.
Daud nodded. “I’m looking for an artifact. A knife, bronze with twinned blades. I believe it was in Dunwall, and that it came into your possession recently. If this is the case, I hope we can come to some arrangement.”
The collector gave a small, if non-committal, nod. “My, my, you are well informed.” He gestured to the stairwell, then tapped his nose with a finger. “This is my, ah, private collection, shall we say.”
Daud had been right. The heretical artifacts that Norcross was apparently famous for collecting were indeed held separately—in the tower.
Norcross reached down and unhooked one end of the rope from the silver loop in the wall when another blue-coated guard—twenty-two—appeared from a connecting door. Norcross paused as the guard whispered something into his ear, before retreating to a polite distance. The collector replaced the silver hook of the rope back in its loop.
“Something wrong?” asked Daud.
Norcross spun on his heel, his index finger wagging in the air. “Why would anything be wrong?”
Daud gestured to the stairs. “Shall we get to business? I’ve come a long way for this, and I would hate to leave disappointed.”
Norcross pursed his lips. “Indeed,” he said, “but if you will excuse me, there is a certain matter that requires my attention.” He turned and looked at an ornate grandfather clock which stood against the far wall. He jumped and clutched his chest, as though the object had given him a fright.
“Oh, my! The time, it flies!” He turned back to Daud. “We can continue in the morning. You will want to rest. I will have chambers prepared for you.”
He turned and snapped his fingers at the guard. The guard nodded, and headed back down the corridor the two men had just traveled. He stopped at the midway point, and turned around.
“If you would be so good as to follow me, sir.”
The collector waved his fingers at Daud, almost as though he was shooing him away.
Daud took another look at the stairs, then nodded at his host. “I will be waiting,” he said.
“Oh, indeed, indeed.”
Daud followed the guard away from the stairs—the stairs that led to Norcross’s private collection of heretical artifacts.
Heretical artifacts that had to include the Twin-bladed Knife.
15
THE EMPIRE’S END PUBLIC HOUSE, PORTERFELL, GRISTOL
26th Day, Month of Earth, 1852
“Porterfell, Gristol: A pleasant town founded on fishing, for which the traveler will require two items. First, a map to navigate the labyrinthine streets by; and second, a bandanna of sufficient size to cover the entire nose and mouth, as the reliance on the bounty of the sea is, unfortunately, associated with a rather distinctive and somewhat robust odor. The more adventurous may wish to visit the Empire’s End public house in the heart of the industrial center, where the emphasis is, unusually yet rather appropriately, on a fine selection of local and important tobacco products as well as the regular libations, both enjoyed freely by local workers to help alleviate the constant aroma of their employment. The main bar also houses a collection of royal portraiture; local legend tells that
