Part 4 (1/2)
”Are you aware that she is-or was-a dignitary of the Selesnya Conclave?”
”I-I was not, Your Honor.”
”Are you aware that some among the Selesnya are blaming this elf's disappearance on inadequacies of security in the Tenth District?”
Lavinia sputtered, trying to form protesting words. The sphinx sat back on her haunches and adjusted her wings. Her unblinking eyes wandered away, taking in the rest of the chamber. Lavinia felt that she had lost the guildmaster's interest in that moment.
”What of the Boros in this situation?” Isperia asked.
”Soon after we regrouped, the Boros Legion sent investigators of their own. As usual they demand control of the investigation, and as usual they have not submitted their request through the proper channels.”
”Let them handle the apprehension of Beleren.”
Lavinia froze. ”Your Honor, I don't understand.”
”My words were clear and true.”
”You're-you're giving this to the Boros? But they'll just bungle this job. They'll turn this into a street war, and they'll never find the truth.”
”They may, however, find Beleren.”
Lavinia's composure was lost. She looked around the chamber, trying to find some bell to ring, some door to slam. The scribe glanced up at her, without any more dialogue to transcribe, but when he saw her face he quickly turned his eyes back to his paper.
”I formally request to extend this investigation,” said Lavinia. ”I will file the necessary writs.”
”Remind me,” said the sphinx. ”Your jurisdiction covers?”
”The whole of the Tenth, Your Honor, and some portion of the outlying districts.”
”Your jurisdiction is now the care and guardians.h.i.+p of these spires. You are to provide all doc.u.ments and materials pertaining to Beleren to the presiding investigator of the Boros Legion.”
Lavinia's chin dropped to her breastplate. ”I'll be a glorified house guard.”
The sphinx didn't blink. ”I see no glory in it.”
THE ROUGH CROWD.
As Jace stood before the door, he felt a hot blast of air from below him. He stood on an iron grating in the street. Before him was the notorious nightclub he sought, where all manner of strange desires could be satisfied by the Cult of Rakdos. Sulfurous fumes and flickering firelight rose from the grating below, as did echoes of cackling, screaming laughter and inhuman snarls. The sign above the entrance displayed the name of the club: THE ROUGH CROWD.
He knocked.
A creature opened the upper half of the door. He was the size of a child, but with stumpy tusks and a sloping cranium. He wore a collar decorated with something that looked like teeth. He leaned his pasty forearms on the sill of the door and looked him up and down, tonguing his tusks. ”Pain or pleasure?”
”I have business here.”
”Come on now, suns.h.i.+ne,” the creature said. ”You know that ain't an option. You wanna get hurt? Or you wanna stay outside?”
”It's an urgent matter that involves your cultists.”
”Run along.”
The doorman sneered and slammed the door shut. Jace readied a spell, and knocked again.
The creature opened the door again and sighed. ”I believe I told you-”
”Your s.h.i.+ft's over.”
Jace let loose his spell, and the doorman fell into a sudden and total sleep before dropping to the floor. Jace leaned over and opened the door from the inside. Instead of legs, as it turned out, the creature had a rusty unicycle as his lower half.
Jace walked into the Rakdos club, pus.h.i.+ng into a wall of scents and sounds. The ceilings were surprisingly high inside, draped with banners and spiked chains. An impish creature hooted as it dangled from a high wire while a man in leather chaps swallowed orbs of fire and breathed them back out through his snaggly teeth. Scarred, black-scaled drakes fought viciously in cages that swung from the ceiling, and the stink of sweat and singed flesh wafted from adjoining alcoves.
Against the wall stood an enormous sentry, somewhere along the spectrum between rotund man and compact giant, dressed in what looked like the motley of a harlequin jester crossed with barbed wire. He was a Rakdos spiker. Jace knew spikers were fierce in battle, largely because they didn't care whether more harm came to them or their foes. The spiker eyed Jace as he came in, squeezing the handle of a spike-topped mace the size of a cart axle.
Jace wanted to stand on a table and challenge the entire club. He wanted to threaten everyone he saw, demanding to know where Emmara was. But if he got himself killed, he would never find her. He had to find a way to locate those who took her. He couldn't very well ask the patrons of a Rakdos club whether they knew any kidnappers. But he had to act before anyone noticed that he had knocked the doorman unconscious.
All around him, people of all shapes and sizes drank and danced and indulged. He didn't see any who looked like Rakdos leaders here-these were clients and patrons, here to satisfy wanton desires. Nearby, a snake-tongued woman whispered into the ear of an Orzhov cleric. A vias.h.i.+no competed in a drinking contest with a goblin-from the bleeding arm of a well-dressed man. Jace stepped through a doorway hung with a beaded curtain, but he didn't look too closely at what may or may not have been beads.
The back room was full of harder-looking characters lit by flickering torches. Horned warriors stared at him and s.a.d.i.s.tic imps snickered. Laughter and screams emanated in equal measure from private alcoves at the edges of the room. And through thin slits in the alcove doors, Jace could glimpse hints of glistening flesh. There was a small platform in the middle of the room, currently empty, but stained with dark, dried blood. Jace felt even more out of place in this room, like an actor stepping onto the stage without knowing his lines-or worse, knowing that it was a career-ending performance.
Jace slanted his way through the murky crowd and let his magical senses slip outward. He concentrated on the thought of Emmara, trying to find a mind that had any kind of connection to her.
Something caught in his mind like a hook. Someone in this room held a connection to Jace in some way. He couldn't see Emmara exactly-but it was as if he were hearing echoes of a familiar voice bouncing back at him in shreds of memory. It was all he had to go on. Jace walked toward the back of the room on instinct, seeking the farthest wall from the exit, and the impression of connection grew stronger. There a woman sat at a table alone. She wore a dark leather outfit decorated with barbed hooks. Jace could see vertical lines slicing down across eyes the color of fire-whether they were makeup or scars, he couldn't tell. She grinned wickedly as Jace approached.
”You look lost, sugar beet,” she said.
”I'm looking for someone,” said Jace. ”A friend of mine. An elf woman of the Selesnya guild. What do you know about that?”
”We're all looking for something, pet. Look around you. All tastes can be indulged here. Why don't you stop searching and enjoy yourself?”
”I'm not in the mood to play.”
”Such a shame. You're in the wrong place. Why don't you go and let the rest of us have a good time.”
Jace slammed his fist on the table. At the same moment, he flashed an image of Emmara into the woman's mind. ”You've seen her, haven't you?” he demanded.
The Rakdos woman blinked in surprise, and then the surprise became anger. ”Who let you in here?”
Jace opened himself to the woman's mind, letting her emotions wash over him, reading her reaction to seeing Emmara's face. The woman recognized her; that much was clear. For the briefest moment, he saw a flash of the woman leading a group of Rakdos warriors to the Cobblestand Inn. He saw them rush into the building, hooting and brandis.h.i.+ng weapons. If Jace had just a little more time, he could look deeper and find out more, maybe even learn where they took Emmara. But the woman sensed his magic. She stood, knocking over her chair, and grabbed a gnarled staff from behind the table. Her eyes blazed and her lips curled into something like a smile. ”You're out of your depth, boy. You think you can make demands in here? Do you know who I am?”
With that, she shrieked, and the shriek became shrill, insane laughter. All heads in the club turned toward them as the beaded curtain parted, and the enormous spiker appeared, ready with his mace.
”I was hoping you'd start something,” grunted the spiker.
With that, a spotlight shone down on the platform in the center of the room. The giant Rakdos warrior picked up Jace and heaved him into the spotlight, where grim-looking guild performers encircled the stage, aiming spears and jagged blades at him.