Guardian of the Night

2

The Senate Secretary had placed an impossible task upon Bilain's shoulders. The Ward Watch didn't have an abundance of thinkers and had more than its fair share of bruisers, more likely to start fights than to investigate anything. The only one that came close to having the skills required to investigate the Senator's murder, other than herself, was the Kannai woman, Ilivno. She doubted any of the others could read more than a few words of the common tongue between them.

Ghusz had brought Little Mim to her and the girl had told Bilain everything she knew, but sorting through the truth and the embellishments of her young mind had started a headache to bloom in Bilain's head. The nonsense about the shadows coming to life Bilain mostly discounted. For certain, there were those that could control shadows, like the Mad Mage, Rürazar, but Shadow Mages were rare. Very rare. Rürazar was the only one to have that power within living memory.

Now, here at the Pyre Building, where the dead came for cremation, Bilain had to sort through the wheat and the chaff of Mim's words while she examined the bodies of the dead before the flames took them. The body of the Senator, of course, would become collected later to return to his family in the High Ward, where all Senators lived, the privilege of station.

"Runners, Chief. Coming in from all over the Ward." Trenna, the stocky, short man of Eass heritage waited at the door to the room, hesitant to set a further step inside. "Tales of folk being beaten to death all over. Last count, fifteen dead. All in one night."

"Let me guess, if anyone witnessed anything they said the shadows came to life?" She hadn't touched any of the dead, yet, and felt a little glad of the interruption. She turned to the Eass man. "Have Ilivno write all the reports, locations especially. I'll have it in my office by mid-day. And it's 'Captain', Trenna, not 'Chief'."

"Yes, Chief ... er ... Captain." The man took one more look at the bodies laid in a line on the floor, shaking his shaggy, black hair. "It's not another Barathan Day of Contrition, is it, Ch ... Captain?"

She shook her head and waved a hand, giving Trenna leave. The Barathan Day of Contrition usually ended with large numbers of brawls, due to the nature of the festival day. A day when those of Barathan heritage sought forgiveness from those they have wronged throughout the year. Few died on that day. For certain, not as many as fifteen and not from all across the Ward. Usually, those brawls kept themselves in the surrounding areas of Cutters Lane, where most Barathan's lived.

Trenna's unease was another product of differing heritages, too. In Eass, the dead were near treated as though they had become gods. Revered. Only the priests of the Patrons, and their acolytes would dare to touch the dead. A consequence of the nature of Adrasusk was the sheer number of different cultures that ended up making their home here, each bringing their own customs and traditions, their folk tales, their superstitions and their inbred cultural hatreds.

The Sprawl was that, but multiplied and condensed into an area not much larger than a small town, but with a population six, seven, ten times greater. No-one had managed to take a census of the number of people that lived among the streets so thin that even carts struggled to make their way through. Alleys even smaller, that hid filth and those people that couldn't afford to even share a room. And, above, the houses rose ever higher, building atop each other in a desperate effort to find space, and casting dark shadows upon the streets far below. Some of those streets hadn't seen sunlight in decades.

It meant that this investigation, however far it went, would have to deal with those differing cultures, mouths remaining tight closed if they thought it would help their kinsfolk. Here, among the bodies, she could see three different cultures without much of an examination. The thick furs and dark skin of a Hagragng man. The pale skin and brown hair of a fellow Hathbadi. The olive coloured skin and lace-fringed clothing of a Larissan.