Diffraction

Chapter Twenty-Five: Rescued from Ruin

"From the start of his involvement, facts grow obscure and my investigation falters. No reliable, unbiased account exists for the rescue operation or what followed."

After an hour to recuperate, along with a meal of recovered foodstuffs outside the cavern, the companions and Tera made for Aulivar with a detailed account of all that happened.

All save Vaerandir, who took extra time in the Maul cave searching for any clue that might answer some of his many burning questions.

He whispered as he moved through the lair. "No," he said with a quiet chuckle, "they did not expect to see a Gracemark on my hands, least of all one that could heal." His uncovered right hand showed a triangle with each side extended clockwise. The symbol of Eternity glowed white like the Aeramental's mane of hair.

"I really don't think they trust me." He paused in thought. "You? I doubt it. Trust won't come easy—they're all wounded in some way. You do seem to love the broken ones."

Little caught his interest in the dining hall of the cavern lair, not even identifying the bodies of the slain. Tera could account for the names of the dead as a direct witness. He'd noted several crates—sixteen exactly—not marked with customary information by the City's merchants. But the Maul had admitted coordinating not only with Kal's bandits but with some other entity.

Leanda. I don't know that name. He strolled down the curving tunnel toward the barracks chamber. "I know I am no Sage," he whispered. "But I am a servant, and could use insight."

He took a few minutes at each makeshift bed-pile, searching for personal effects or hidden stashes. The rank-and-file might leave items of interest about in ignorance, where the leadership would no doubt be more careful.

Some of the fabric used for nests or blankets showed woven patterns common to Glacierift. Taken in trade or by force from refugees perhaps—or possibly another connection to Kal's bandits.

One of the Maul liked to whittle, judging by a stack of wood blocks and several figurines. A decent approximation of Grunnash held a big hammer, and a miniscule Kalgha hunched over a stick for support. No, it was originally her staff, but the top of the weapon broke off.

A figurine caught his eye, set beside the whittling knife for later carving that would never take place. The figure represented a hooded humanoid woman, her short cloak streaming behind her, arms out holding knives. Below her hips, the wood expanded with jagged chunks and stretched down to the base. Vaerandir studied the piece. Clearly unfinished. He set it aside.

A one-word thought not his own came to his mind. Really?

Puzzled, the Bloodhound picked it up once more. Then he noted the cuts. The whittler carved those jutting pieces around the figurine's legs with care. Vaerandir pictured what the Maul might have seen, with its limited vision. Something like a cloud?

Aeramentals could ghoststep, teleporting through channels of elemental air. To an outside viewer, it would seem like turning to mist for a few seconds and reappearing in a nearby position. Is there an Aeramental involved? Leanda? Kal? The leaders mentioned the Bandit Queen—perhaps this soldier witnessed her meeting with Kalgha?

Vaerandir froze. Kal... Kalgha. He shook his head. No, that can't be. The crone was too old and this group too powerless to organize an armed rebellion.