The Doktor's Spyglass

Chapter 21.1

Abney was late. Krizner stood on the grassy mall outside of sheriff headquarters, smoking his third cigarette in five minutes. Checking the cheap pocketwatch he carried without a chain, he stubbed out the butt and lit another. Fucking idiot's probably gone and choked to death on his lunch. Even for Abney, this was pushing it. He tried to give the boy the benefit of the doubt, but of late he was starting to share Thijis' opinion of his merits—or lack thereof. It was almost teatime, and he'd told Abney to meet him on the Mall no later than three o'clock. The hour hand, its black paint flaking off at the axis, was almost to the four.

Sucking smoke into his lungs, Krizner tried to ignore the crawling anxiety in his stomach and enjoy the view. He rarely had a reason to come downtown these days, and the Horn near sunset was a sight not to be missed. The Mall's green sward ran down the center of the government district, starting at the massive edifice of the Protector's Palace and sweeping straight down to the ruins of the Derukammer. Beyond the council hall's foundations, out on the very point itself, he could see the crumbled ruin of the Prosekhal, and the open air beyond it. The suns were low in the east, shining amber light onto the righthand side of the tumbled walls and towers.

Across from him the ancient bloodgood trees stood tall and aloof, black bark shimmering slightly in the way it did when the light hit it just right. The southern end of the Mall, near the ruins, was all but deserted, but for a few strollers and a young man who seemed to be trying to coax a stubborn terrier into a miniature version of one of the hot air balloons the University had unveiled two seasons past. A block distant, the empty channel of the old Grand Canal cut through the Mall. A small flock of tiny sparrows flitted in and out of the flowering bushes that adorned the edges of the canal gardens.

All around him calmness reigned, and Krizner felt more and more like a quivering shell. It's your pension. They're out to take your pension. Or worse. The thought came unbidden, and not for the first time. After Tolvaj's dire, prickish announcement at Helg's that Gebbing wanted to see him, Krizner had prepared for the worst. A chewing out, certainly. A suspension, maybe. Reassignment or demotion? A worst-case scenario. Nevermind the fact that I've not done a damned fucking thing wrong, he thought.

But when a runner had come from headquarters to tell him that his meeting with Gebbing had been moved downtown, and Orban himself would be in attendance, the real nerves had started boiling in his gut, and they hadn't dropped past a simmer since. Add to that the fact that his usual teatime ritual involved a meat pasty from the cart outside the precinct washed down with a finger of whiskey, and his stomach was in a rare state.

The meeting with Orban was at four on the dot. He could only afford to wait for Abney another few minutes, and then—he inhaled in sharp relief when he saw the boy's lanky form loping down the boulevard toward him, resulting in an unintended gust of hot smoke entering his lungs. He coughed and choked, face red by the time Abney came to a stop before him. The boy was sweating, mopping his face with his shirtsleeve.

Krizner spit, ground out his cigarette in the dry grass, and collected himself.

"You alright, Inspector?" asked Abney. Krizner swallowed, nodding.

"Get on with it then," he snapped. "You're the best part of an hour late." It came out harsher than he'd intended, but he didn't have time for anything else.

"Yessir," said Abney, standing up straighter in a ludicrous attempt at military attention. "No sign of him, sir. Checked all the usuals."

"You checked The Fourth Tribe?" Abney nodded. "And the pothek on Eb Way?" Another nod. "What did Lord Pangram have to say?" The old man was Thijis' landlord, and Krizner knew him to play chess over brandies with the fellow from time to time. "Seemed a bit drunk, sir, but he didn't know where he was either." Krizner frowned.

He hadn't really expected to find Irik at any of his usual haunts. The man was too smart for that. Smart enough to get in and out of his own flat while you had a dozen men on it. He'd kept that tidbit to himself, along with the fact that when he got there he'd ordered a more thorough search of the place and found the chest with the false bottom. It was obvious enough what Thijis must have kept in it, and the fact that it was empty made Krizner pretty sure he knew why he'd come back to his apartment despite the risk. He was gearing up for war.

It hadn't taken much convincing to keep Abney quiet. "How's the head?" he asked. Abney rubbed at it, grimacing.

"'S'alright, I suppose." Krizner hid his smile. Thijis must have enjoyed that.

"Good then," he announced. "Back to the precinct with you."

"You don't want me to keep looking?" Abney asked.

"No," said Krizner. "I didn't really expect you to find him anyway. But we've got to make the effort, don't we?" In truth, he'd hoped that wherever Thijis was, he'd get word that a constable from Krizner's precinct was asking after him. Thijis would know that the fact that Abney was looking for him by himself was a sign Krizner wanted to talk. It was too much to hope, of course, that Thijis would pop out and grab Abney and force a meeting with Krizner before he had to report to Orban, but the thought had crossed his mind. He didn't know exactly what Irik was up to, nor whether they were even on the same side, strictly speaking, but exchanging information could only help them both.

Presuming he still trusts you. There was a distinct possibility Irik did not. Krizner hadn't exactly helped him out. He sighed, looking at his watch again. Ten till.

"I've got to go," he told Abney, who was squinting in thought.

"Sir," Abney said, "why send me after Thijis? Especially if you didn't think I'd find him? Why not send a full squad? After the apartment, there wasn't any more searching."

Krizner considered him, pursing his lips. "Because I want to get to him before they do, Abney. It'll be best all around. Better that he ends up in a cell than in the grave."

It was a half-truth, at best. The real truth was he was worried about hisfriend. There were sides in whateverthis thing was, and Krizner was starting to feel like he was on the wrong one. 

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