suggesting a similar pattern of wounds suffered.
Jinn shook his head, troubled. There was no detailed observation of the scene, no interest in concealing the bodies or questioning anyone who might have witnessed the killings. He expected no better from
Dregg. He did, however, think there might have been a show of some kind, an act to keep at least an air of professionalism. The scene was surreal, unfolding within the wealthiest ward of the city without care or procedure.
'And parading it all in front of the servants,' he whispered, 'from whom word will spread house to house like wildfire.'
'I thought I might find you here.'
Jinn turned slowly at the sound of Mara's voice as he bound a tight strip of cloth over the cut on his arm.
'Did you?' he replied. 'Because I was wondering where you were about six dead men ago.'
Mara slinked through the shadows, looking over his injured shoulder and shrugging. He eyed her suspiciously, curious as to what had pulled her away from following Rorden Dregg; the night hag was not prone to whimsy.
'Dregg is the little man in all this. When do we visit the archmage?' she said, smirking, a barely imperceptible note of hunger in her voice that only increased Jinn's suspicion.
'You sound eager enough,' he said flatly, catching her eye.
'I found a familiar scent earlier. I'm looking forward to tracking it down,' she answered. 'That's strange.'
She nodded toward the mansion gate, and Jinn tore his gaze away from the hag, searching through the crowd until he caught sight of Dregg again. A woman stood at his side, her arm around his waist, her face buried in his shoulder as if in sorrow. When she lifted her eyes, turning to rest her head on the rorden's chest, Jinn's breath caught in his throat.
'Rilyana Saerfynn?' he muttered, absently placing a hand over the letters in his coat, written in her hand and full of her alleged dislike of Lucian Dregg. He leaned back against the wall, staring at the ground, puzzled once again.
'Are we going?' Mara asked, apparently having gotten her fill of the crime scene. Jinn stared at her a moment in a daze then blinked, seeing in the night hag the focus he was on the edge of losing. Too many mysteries, little details threatened to overcome his sense of duty to the bigger picture. He shook free of his bewilderment, glancing back only once as Dregg shouted orders to his men, who began ushering the crowd away from the mansion.
'Let's be quick and unseen,' he said, heading east again. 'Dregg is enforcing a curfew, and I expect there will be chaos tomorrow morning.'
Pushing away from a desk overladen with reports, inventories, and old broadsheets, Commander Tavian yawned, stretching his lean frame in a plain, wooden chair made less for comfort than function. Less than a year ago, he'd not needed a chair of any kind save those offered to him occasionally by his superiors. Offices in the East Wall of Waterdeep's North Ward were places he had dreaded visiting, and he'd had his boots repaired or replaced more often than many of his own officers. Tavian glared at the little room, at the nearly bare shelves, the cobwebs swaying gently in a corner, and rued the days when he'd worked so hard for promotion.
He stood away from the parchment-crowded desk and took his heavy cloak, needing no window to time the end of shift, feeling in his gut the late evening slip toward very early morning. A long sword jangled at his hip, its blade clean and unblemished by wear or rust as he rounded the desk, satisfied with a good day's work, but less so than if he'd walked a patrol.
Reaching for the door, he paused at the sound of booted feet approaching down the hallway-four men, he reckoned, two of them restrained judging by the whispered curses echoing off the smooth, stone walls. A knock at his door swiftly followed, and he shook his head, whispering his own curse as he took the handle and faced what appeared to be four officers, two of them familiar and two of them in restraints.
'Commander,' the officer on the left, known as Aeril, spoke first and gestured to the men in restraints. 'A pair of unusual officers here to see you, sir.'
'So you say?' Tavian replied, eyeing their dirty, ill-fitting tabards, worn dock boots, and matching black eyes, courtesy, no doubt, of the officers flanking them. 'I don't believe I've had the dishonor of meeting these recruits on any of the regular patrols.'
'Sir, we caught these two putting some quick heels to the cobbles just outside of Sea Ward on Shield Street,' the officer on the right, called Naaris, explained. 'We tried to question them, but they seemed more interested in resisting.'
'No surprises there,' Tavian replied, smiling and crossing his arms. 'I imagine Rorden Allek didn't take kindly to impersonators of the Watch on his shift, eh?'
'They say they were hired on by Rorden Dregg last night,' Aeril said, a strange seriousness in his gaze that caused Tavian's smile to falter, sensing something far graver than mere stolen uniforms.
'Rorden Dregg? Lucian Dregg?' he asked, incredulous.
'Aye, sir,' Naaris answered.
'Dregg couldn't find his arse with both hands, and I doubt he'd have the work ethic to carry out the task in the first place,' Tavian said and stepped back toward his desk, motioning for the officers and their charges to enter. 'I'll never understand how he became swordcaptain, much less rorden. Who in their right mind would promote him?'
'Someone discreet, I'd wager, and quick,' Aeril said, lowering his gaze and adding. 'It seems Rorden Allek was killed in the line of duty last evening, during a fire at the Storm's Front.'
'What?' Tavian said. It had to be a mistake. Allek Marson had sponsored his training, had put him in charge of his first patrol. 'How do we know this?'
'A friend of mine patrols in Sea Ward, sir,' Aeril answered. 'He said things have been strange for some time now, but he was loyal to Rorden Allek, keeping things quiet to avoid a panic. When Dregg stepped into Marson's position…'
'He spoke up,' Tavian finished, nodding absently as he stared at the floor and leaned against the desk, trying to absorb what he'd been told and formulate a suitable course of action. 'A good man knows a bad officer.'
'Aye, sir.'
Tavian drummed his fingers thoughtfully, his eyes glancing over the scattered, mundane reports cluttering his office. He glared at the two men in stolen tabards.
'So Dregg steps up, a swift promotion under unusual circumstances, no doubt somehow funded by favors or coin. It'll ride for a day or so,' he said at length. 'If Allek wanted secrecy, we'll respect that until we know why. Keep in touch with your friend, Aeril. Put together a small patrol, and meet me here at midmorn tomorrow. Throw these two in a cell until further notice. Understood?'
'Yes, sir,' both men replied and saluted before turning to go.
'And practice not doing that,' Tavian said, stopping the men in midstride. 'No salutes and no tabards tomorrow, this will be a quiet patrol. Eyes and ears only.'
The men nodded and dragged the impersonators out, closing the door behind them and leaving Tavian alone. He sat still for a long time, trying to convince himself that Allek would turn up alive and well. As several broadsheets slipped to the floor, bearing stories of murder, conspiracy, and danger across the city, he had a fair idea of what he could truly expect to find.
'More of the same,' he muttered, though he was eager to get his boots on real streets and deal with the situation on terms that felt more natural than sitting behind a desk.
ELEVEN
NIGHTAL 22, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)
Jinn crouched in the shadows of a small park just outside the squat, modest tower of Archmage Tallus. Situated in the center of a large block of businesses and servant homes, the tower sat in darkness, an iron fence around its perimeter, a rusted gate left open and creaking in the winter breeze. Black windows at its base revealed naught but the reflections of weak streetlamps and the bare branches of thin trees. Decorative crenellations at its
