Death After Death

Chapter 173: Found Out

Simon’s first instinct was to cast a spell and murder all three of them, but he held back. That wasn’t because he thought he could learn something or even because it would screw up the future. It was because everything in their body language told him they didn’t consider him to be the least threat to them.

That made sense. While Simon was still a little softer than he would have liked because he’d spent more time reading than fighting in this life, he’d still lost a ton of weight. As a result, he must have looked like a scrawny scribe or courtier to these men. He didn’t even carry more than a knife these days, further reinforcing the image.

“Is there a problem?” he asked with more indignation than might have been appropriate for the situation.

He quickly caught himself and continued. This time, he tried to add a touch of fear to his surprise, “I mean... what are you doing in my room. This is—”

“This is a long time coming,” the seated man said. “You’ve been flitting around the court for a while with a little storm cloud over your head. That’s not so much for the circles you run in, but it’s long past time we do something about it.”

“Circles? Stormcloud?” Simon asked, only partially pretending to be lost by the strange turns in conversation. “Will someone tell me what this is about?”

One of the standing men had moved behind him and, very gently but firmly, guided Simon to the nearest chair at his small table before pushing him down into it. He didn’t resist, even though it was a terrible tactical position to be in, but only because he didn’t want to arouse their suspicions.

“Oh, with the works you’ve been reading in the library, I don’t think I need to spell that out. Not for you. You may not know exactly who we are, but after reading...” the man pulled out a list, “The Histories of Sanit Modraine, the Chronicles of Ionia’s first Kings, At the Crossroads, Travelers Tales of Darkness, The Wars Against Witchcraft... you get the idea. This is not a normal list of scrolls and tomes. It goes on at length.”

“I-I was searching for all the monsters of the region so that I might present my Lord with—”

“Aye, you did that too, but to what end?” the man asked, leaking forward far enough that Simon could see most of his face along with a cruel, thin-lipped smile. “The Baron you claim to work for might be a country lord, but he’s no monster slayer. He hasn’t even heard of a Nimos before.”

That took Simon by surprise by a little, but only a little. A good man with a strong horse could cross the deserts and reach Corwin lands in two or perhaps three weeks. They weren’t so far from the main trade roads, but the idea that they would look into him so thoroughly spoke volumes.

“For a while, we thought you were simply a social climber who’d padded your resume with the names of strangers for pure clout,” the hooded man said with a shrug, “But given your reading list and the gray haze that clings to you at your age... well, we were more concerned that your master might be the true source of evil. He might still be, too.”

“I thought you just said that the Baron didn’t know me?” Simon answered, actually confused now. “How can he be my master if I don’t—”

His words were cut off as one of the men beside him unsheathed a dagger and slammed it deep into the wood of the table between his spread hands. It was obviously meant to be an intimidation gesture, but it worked.

“Your true master,” the man growled, “We know you have alternative purposes. Tell us the who and why of it willingly, though, and this will hurt less.”

Simon paused, considering his options, before saying, “I may not know your names or what you’re after, but I know you’re the ones purging the books I’ve been searching through.”

“Are we now?” the man across from him leaned forward, steepling his fingers and revealing enough of his face that Simon was sure he’d seen him at one or two of the parties in the last year. “And why would we do that?”

“To eliminate witches and keep more people from becoming them, of course,” Simon said confidently. “I think it's a wise and noble idea, but can’t you see that it's harming people’s ability to solve other problems, like the one right here in—”

“Reward, huh?” Simon asked with a nervous smile, willing himself to believe the lie. “Count me in.”

He tried to stay sounding nonchalant, but inside, his heart was hammering. He could practically feel the garrote that the man behind him undoubtedly had, ready to murder him if he screwed this up.

For a moment, Simon thought about murdering all three of them. It would have been easy. A simple word of force radiating out would kill all of them before they had the chance to speak. Then, he could flee the inn, journey north, and try this whole scam in reverse in Leipzen.

This is an opportunity, though, his mind insisted, warring with itself for a moment. If they kill me, I just reset, but if they don’t, I might finally get a line in on these guys.

In the end, if the choice was knowledge or death, it wasn’t really a choice at all. So, he looked at the card again, pretended to concentrate, and then at the last minute, he realized his mistake, and said “I’m sorry, I can’t read it. What’s it supposed to say exactly?”

One of the men sighed, and then very slowly, a syllable at a time, he sounded it out for Simon. Simon listened, then repeated the word, mispronouncing slightly on purpose by giving the second ‘e’ a hard sound rather than a soft one, but there was no way they were going to let that slide.

“Try it again,” the boss insisted after a short conversation on pronunciation. The other man didn’t say the whole word at once. Instead, he pronounced only a single syllable at a time.

“Meiren,” Simon said, pronouncing it correctly this time. He tasted sulfur and knew he’d said it correctly, but nothing happened. At least, nothing appeared to.

If he’d done as they asked, the whole area would have lit up in flames, but that was the worst outcome. So, since he couldn’t fool them one way, he fooled them another. Instead of manifesting the energy in the room with them, he manifested it in the common room chimney that ran up one wall. He imagined a thousand tiny cinders rather than a single explosive flame because he didn’t want to make a sound, but just the same, he dumped all the heat into the appropriate vessel.

If there were men watching them outside, then he supposed they might have seen a burst of flu gas catch fire, but Simon wasn’t super concerned about that. He was fairly sure that these three people were all there were.

When none of them moved, he did it a second time in his bid to look sincere. He was only slightly annoyed that he was throwing away months of his life for no reason at all, but after the second time, the man reached across the table and took the slip of paper back.

“Was that it?” he asked. “I didn’t pass, did I?”

The leader of the three white cloaks shook his head as he stood. “No, I’m afraid you failed.”

“Can’t I try again?” Simon asked, trying to be as convincing as possible.

“No, failure is good in this case; it means you get to keep your life,” The other men were moving toward the door now.

“My life?” Simon asked, pretending to take that in slowly. “But I thought you were here to... I don’t know, recruit me, not kill me.”

“Our little... organization typically only accepts those who can see what is unseen,” the man said after studying Simon for a moment. “Still, there are some uses for the blind like you when you are willing to get your hands dirty. We’ve hidden a few needles in your chosen haystack,” the mystery man said with a smile. “If you find one of them, well... You’ll know what to do then, won’t you, and if you’re not that clever... Well, I don’t think we’ll need to bother you again.”

Simon waited until all three of them were gone before he moved a muscle. It was only when he could hear their footsteps down the stairs that he finally removed the carefully crafted mask that he’d spent the evening building, and he slumped in his chair, completely exhausted by the hours of questioning he’d just endured.