Infernal Investigations

The weather had eased off some now, the snow now a gentle drift. Unseasonable, but not something that would keep people inside. Especially now that they should expect it.

Despite this, the streets were even emptier than before, and the few who were there were…unfriendly. Distinctly, as eyes tracked my every move and people moved far away, had their hands strayed to weapons inside their coats, or found a reason to pause and start looking around the ground for rocks.

I was moving through alleys now. The streets of Avernon had never been kind, but there had been the general expectation that I wouldn’t be attacked in the open. If only because the Watch still frowned on Infernal corpses in the street, even if slightly less than they would on corpses in general.

The events of last night had spread. Not the entirety of it, but I’m certain rumours and newspapers would be flying about something involving devils and diabolism and an entire street of the city being destroyed. Best to lie somewhat low for now. Luckily, I knew the way to the temple.

***

Finding the main temple of the deity of thievery was as easy as finding the Imperial Palace.

I’d never been as well acquainted with the regular hangouts and hideaways of criminals outside the Quarter. Infernal criminals sometimes brushed shoulders with our counterparts outside the rigid borders of the Quarter, now more than ever with restrictions on us travelling outside of their dropped. More often than not, we just saw each other as competition.

I didn’t need that to find the temple to Lareran. If you’d dabbled even a little on the wrong side of the law, you’d find out just through osmosis along about it. Not that it was ever discussed with great fondness. Even when regular negotiations felt like near-violence most the time, you picked things up interacting with other criminals in the city.

Some of them did worship Lareran. Most kept that to themselves. Nearly all of them seemed to dislike her clergy.

Despite that, from what I’d heard they usually visited her main temple once a year. Perhaps just being careful and appeasing the deity of thieves. Or perhaps just because it was the only large-scale casino allowed to openly operate in the city.

This place stinks of greed and pride so much it makes me sick, the Imp growled inside my head. It’s a temple to both of those sins.

It wasn’t wrong, I was forced to admit internally as I stared at the extravagant exterior of the Prince’s Favor. Four stories tall, white marble that managed to stand out even in all the snow, banners and streamers and kill manner of adornment adding splashes of color across its face.

My internal comparison to it being as easy to find as the Imperial Palace wasn’t entirely accurate. Nothing matched that towering edifice of white limestone, the central tower the highest point allowed in the city by law, buoyed by magic as it stretched into the sky. Some of the factories in the Ironworks were growing to rival that. I imagined their owners would end up paying for that bit of hubris sooner or later. No one antagonized her majesty even by accident and got away with it.

I was situated down the street from it, lurking in an alley. One might call that stereotypical, but I was having second thoughts of strolling to the front entrance of the Prince’s Favor.

It was only afternoon, well before the nightlife that would dominate, but being the largest casino would have ensured a crowd already. Being one of the few that wouldn’t risk any Watch raids or increased scrutiny meant it was even larger, even in the foul weather.

Unfortunately, that crowd was a steady stream of the highest of the upper classes passing in and out. Fine suits and dresses were common; more arcane clothing being only slightly more rare. Like the dress of what appeared to be sea foam worn by the woman with the teal hair, whom I hoped was merely a powerful mage and not a dragoness.

People too powerful to have what occurred last night disturb their routines, I imagined. Or too foolish

Even with my altered appearance, I wouldn’t stand out too much outside of looking poor as sin relative to them. Except that I was an Infernal. That would immediately be noticed.

I desperately did not want anyone here to notice me.

Not that I expected my presence here to go unnoticed. If the interested parties of the case weren’t keeping themselves very aware of my movements, I’d be shocked. I’d lost the two obvious Black Flame tails, but I’d caught glimpses of what was probably the actual one.

He’d been the easier one to spot too, since Infernals were less common outside the Quarter. The ones for Imperial Intelligence, the churches, any other members of the conspiracy besides Versalicci’s people? I was much less certain on. I didn’t mind. What I was doing here wasn’t supposed to be a surprise anyway.

No, I just needed less eyes on me in general. The last thing I needed in my life was more of them.

Unfortunately, as I’d scouted out the exterior of the building, I was coming to the dreaded conclusion I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. The servant and service entrances and exits were well guarded, the ceiling had far more concealed traps behind that extravagant exterior than I could deal with, and I would bet what was left in my purse the underground would be the same.

Also trying to break inside would hardly endear me to the owners of the casino. It could potentially leave me dead as well.

No matter what Tagashin thought and hinted at, I did not have a death wish.

Not helping was the very obvious fact I was being watched, and had been since taking up my post in this alley. I’d done my best to hide, but there was no point in trying to deny that the Guild both had numbers and people more experienced than me.

And people less experienced than me, from the slight creaking of a roofing tile above me. Three times in the last fifteen minutes. Probably not a small bird or other animal.

“So,” I mused loud enough anyone nearby should hear-and probably anyone over by the casino with better than normal hearing, but fine. “Are any of you going to do anything, or just continue watching me watch things?”

Mind you, some of them could be people tailing me on general principles. I really needed to gather my biosculpting resources on work on some good alternate appearances like Falara had been.

Silence passed for a few seconds, then half a minute before someone spoke up from above me.

“Well, we could shoot you, but it seems a bit of a waste. Any reason you haven’t gone in yet?”

“Not wanting to walk right in, and I figured any other entrance would get a reception even less welcoming,” I said. “I want to see Harper Metrill, if that could be arranged? I’m Malvia Harrow. We’ve talked a few times.”

“She left word about you, but the Infernal she described looked quite a bit different than you,” a new voice opined, somewhere in the alley behind me. “She didn’t mention looking like a fish. Nor did the newspapers.”

“Shark,” I replied instinctively. “I won’t deny there have been some changes since her and I last spoke. I don’t really have any other ways to prove my identity.”

One of the voices grunted. “Well, we’d want to bring you in for some light questioning anyway. People lurking in alleys nearby have a way of making our clientele nervous.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw a dragon walk in ten minutes ago,” I said. “Also, you’re the thieves guild. Isn’t it expected as part of the ambience?”

“Sure, and maybe if we had Infernal members or someone hadn’t gone trying to summon your parents last night,” One of them said.

Closer to me now, and I made sure to keep my movements calm and slow.

“One of my parents was human, and the other, from what I can tell, is a real piece of shit,” I said. “Not that we’ve ever traded words.”

The silence that followed that had all the hallmarks of being one that would stretch, so I decided to just end with the banter.

”So, I don’t suppose there’s a way you could suggest a way in?”

***

They really needed to make bags with holes pre-cut for horns.

Once again in my life, I found myself tied to a chair, a burlap sack shoved over my head. Once again, my horns had made a mess of it. At this point I might as well include one in my coat with a label to put it over my head in case of kidnapping.

I’d say this for the thieves’ guild, their frisking was thorough but not too invasive, and the person given it hadn’t given off the impression they’d be having their hands washed and blessed after doing it.

It did mean getting some strange looks when they’d found the weapons I’d taken from Holmsteader’s stash. I’d briefly protested they weren’t mine, but had eventually decided it wasn’t worth it. Rumours about my horrible choice in colors could circulate, it’s not like they’d be any worse than the other rumours.

I breathed out, testing my bonds again. Loose enough to allow good circulation, and another sign that I shouldn’t worry too much. The sentries had brought me through the underground, almost right after they’d insisted on the sacks, the frisking, the bonds, then I’d been in here for ten minutes since the last of them had left. It was theater, and one I’d play along with. For now, as long as it didn’t stretch on too long.

I was still underground, having not counted any change in elevation or felt any slanting of the floor under my hooves as they’d walked me around. A wooden door from the sound it made when closed, with well-oiled hinges. The floor under my hooves was stone, and smooth, but not the smoothness of polish, just not that of rough stone.

The air was warm. Very warm, even for a place that had people living in it. Maybe kitchens nearby? But my ears could not pick up the crackle of any fire.

They couldn’t pick up anything beyond the door, actually, which was mildly disconcerting. It would be arrogant to assume they had deployed a countermeasure just for me. Likely something they did just in case for anyone they brought down here.

I tried the bonds again. Loose, very loose. Deliberate. Trying to assure me not to worry about what was going on. This was more about their own security and pageantry than me actually being in danger.

Of course, if this went poorly, I could actually end up in danger very fast.

The door opened, and I could hear things besides my own breathing again. The tread of boots, multiple pairs on the floor as people came in, then the door was shut once again.

“That looks ridiculous,” someone rasped. “Was there nothing better than a sack to do this with?”

“Tradition, Riv’aug,” said Harper Metrill, although I was inclined to agree with the former. A simple blindfold wouldn’t feel like it was trying to squish my horns inwards.

They tugged on the hood, and I bit my tongue as the damn thing pulled on my horns.

A quiet sound of annoyance, then another tug of it. A third, and it finally came free.

There were seven of them, and the only familiar one was Metrill, who had just pulled the hood off my head. The rest of them were seated around me at a circular table, with me tied to a chair in the middle. Metrill went to join them through a gap in the table, while I looked between all of them.

Two humans, one of whom was dressed in a clash of colors barely better than Holmsteader and was also finery so clearly out of style it must be a statement of some kind, the other like your average street tough. A mountain of a woman who either had some ogre-blood or something similar in her, or had been so finely Sculpted you couldn’t tell. One who was keeping very well hidden in their hood, although their eyes glowed a pale yellow from beyond it. An orc who seemed more merchant than thief, and finally, another elf who was more engrossed with a small flame they had summoned in their palm.

Truth be told, I’d expected Tagashin or Taiva. Or both, since I still suspected Taiva had been Tagashin in disguise.

One of them had also brought the weapons I’d stolen from Holmsteader, and even in the dim light, the damn things practically gleamed with their horrid colors. I was rethinking my plan for them every second I had to lay eyes on them.

“Malvia Harrow,” Metrill said with a wide grin, stretching her arms out. “Welcome to the temple of Lareran!”

“You know,” I noted drily. “I expected Daltaren to have the casino over their temple, not the followers of Lareran.”

That got some chuckles from some of the assorted others here, most of them keeping in the darkness for now. The palm flame conjurer snuffed her fire out.

Metrill’s expression turned to exaggerated curiosity as she looked me over.

“You know, they say strangers have the easiest of times ending up being different than what you initially thought of them,” the cleric of Lareran said. “You, however, might be the first one I’ve met to change so dramatically in such a short period of time. Biosculpted yourself into the wrong shape?”

I smiled politely. “In a way. Same result, wrong method. The price of some rather nasty diabolism.”

“Ah,” Metrill said. “Well, I hope something happened worth that price. I’d hate to think you did this to yourself for the halibut.”

I stared a baleful gaze at the seemingly innocent Lareran priestess, who simply looked back with the perfect expression of polite ignorance, while snickering broke out around us.

“Better get used to it,” One of the others, the horribly dressed human, said. “People get enough time to become adjusted, fish puns will become the new vogue around you.”

I sighed, but the worst thing was that he was right. I could see Tagashin, Alice, Gregory, actually, everyone in my social circle, except maybe Dr. Dawes starting to use them as time went on.

“You do seem more put together than that ghoulish apparition that tried to serve me tea a couple of nights ago,” Metrill continued.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to NovelFire for the genuine story.

The other elf chuckled. “The way you were described to us, how did you put it, Harper? ‘It looked like a wraith from some cheap five-shilling novel? It just ruined the effect by seeming very tired and obsessed with the idea of having a tea party.’ She made you sound like some ghast risen from the grave.”

Oh good, I didn’t need to ask that question.

“I offered to serve tea, not host a party,” I said mildly. “And I am never at my best that late in the evening. But yes, rest does wonders for the soul. Might as well care for it before it gets sent down to the Hells.”

“Might not need to go down to the hells,” the one with the glowing eyes rasped. The one Metrill had called Riv’aug. “Enough people trying to drag them up here already. You here because of that.”

“Yes,” I said, looking at Metrill. “It seemed presumptuous to come here, but you did invite me to discuss theology.”

The horribly dressed human chuckled. “Harper, you’re going to have half the city here sooner or later.”

“Debate is how you hone ideology, Talmond,” Metrill said. “But let’s cut the banter short. Our guest has been waiting for her for a while.”

Guest sounded good, and I’d take the implication of that over captive.

“So, Malvia,” Metrill said, leaning back in her chair. “Sell me on you joining the Thieves’ Guild.”

I froze, then cocked my head to the side. “It seems this has been anticipated?”

“Ever since this morning,” Metrill said. “See, as much as he dislikes keeping us informed, Bishop Gallaspie likes you even less, which is why he sent a missive telling us you were permanently off the case after your little stunt last night.”

Well, I was a little surprised that Imperial Intelligence had bothered to even keep the bishops in the loop. They hadn’t seemed particularly happy about how little information was traveling the other way.

“See,” Metrill continued while continuing to flip the coin. “We’re supposed to be sending them a missive right now about you even coming here to him. But wouldn’t you know how treacherous the ice is in this weather we’re having, our courier will have tripped and will be nursing a bruised ankle. So close to his destination as well, but alas, on these treacherous icy roads he won’t want to risk another fall, so he will be resting down the street from where Bishop Gallaspie and Slayer Derrick are set up.”

“Seems a bit deliberate,” I said. “I doubt the former of those is going to appreciate being pricked that way.”

That got chuckles from the assorted Thieves Guild members.

“Gallaspie can complain all he wants,” the orc said. “He ain’t going to lean too hard when he’s busy cleaning up his own damn mess. He’s going to be busy for a long time trying to make people forget that this ever happened right underneath his nose.”

Metrill nodded. “The concern’s appreciated, but not needed. We’ve been tweaking the nose of people like Gallaspie longer than your parents have been alive, Malvia.”

Well, longer than one of them had been alive, probably.

“Anyway,” Metrill continued. “It figured you’d want back on this case, if they were warning us about it, and one of the ways is to have a backing of one of the involved churches. And while there’s an obvious pick for who you could have gone to first. Malvia, do you even know the first step to joining the Thieves Guild?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I’m aware anything we come too would be a temporary arrangement, so I brought the weapons to sweeten the pot.”

Everyone’s eyes turned towards the stolen weapons from Holmsteader.

“These are some expensive toys,” One of the others noted, the second human. “Garish, but actually decently made, very expensive enchanted runes. Functional ones too, not the fancy shite some nobles have started using to make it look like they’re firing spells, these ones do their job efficiently. Not that you’d guess from how they look. Except for the plain saber and the revolver, which I’m assuming are yours?”

I nodded.

“They’re stolen, so needless to say, they definitely have trackers on them,” I said. “But I doubt the original owners will give you too much trouble.”

Holmsteader’s gang would eventually realize their vendetta against the Black Flame was misplaced. I was sure they’d strike a few times; the tensions between the two groups were too high. The least disciplined of the former boss of Glee Street’s street soldiers would be taking their swings before anyone could realize that the Black Flame had nothing following up ‘their’ decapitation strike.

By then, I could perhaps hope Versalicci wouldn’t be able to maintain discipline over some of his people wanting to swing back. But not for long.

That, I think, would be what stopped any fighting between the two groups, instead of them activating the trackers on Holmsteader’s missing weapons. If they even knew how to.

“You know, even with the trackers and the possibility of some very nasty things happening if their owner is more interested and powerful than you say, this isn’t the worst tribute to Lareran someone’s given,” Metrill noted. “Hey, Jenkyll, you still hold the record for that.”

The man with the hooked nose in the more thuggish grimaced. “I was twelve, Harper.”

“Yeah, and?” Metrill said lightly. “Stealing someone’s pet rat is a terrible fucking tribute regardless of age, and we had to give it back anyway. Along with an apology.”

“Owner’s dead,” I said. “As of this morning. Holmsteader off of Glee Street.”

There was a quiet pause as Merrill’s eyes narrowed.

“Interesting,” she said. “I’m guessing you were involved with her death?”

“I was close by when it happened, but I didn’t do it myself,” I clarified. “I was in the process of sneaking into her office when it occurred. I heard but did not see the killing. And once the killer left, I decided to see what evidence I could collect involving Holmsteader’s involvement in all of this.”

“And what did you find out?” A new one said, third to the right of Holmsteader said, beady eyes glowing from underneath their hood, coming into the light. They had a hobgoblin? I didn’t know any had survived the Leuten Marsh campaigns.

Well, I was trying to butter these people up. And trying to withhold the information seemed unwise at this time.

“She was deeply involved,” I said. “Mostly in being the central point for money in the operations. Involving clerics would go to her casino, drop off embezzled money, and she would ensure it went to the right people, probably in terms of winnings to drum up some extra business. And so much money flows on Glee Street, a little extra went unnoticed. She also might have been the distributor of equipment like holy sigils used for warding the ritual circles. Do I need to explain that part?”

“No,” the orc said. “Metrill has been keeping us informed. So the conspirators are clearing house?”

“Perhaps,” I said. “At least a few pieces they might not need as they get closer to completion. The ones they are afraid might get spooked.”

“Let’s not get off track, Dorsey,” Metrill said, and while the grin was still there, the look in her eyes was much more focused than I was used to. “Malvia here wants to discuss joining the guild. First issue, she, by her own admission to me, knows very little about Lareran. Second, we have nowhere near enough time for an apprenticeship. Third, will divine magic even work with you Malvia?”

“I can fake it,” I said. “Albeit it hurts. Did it as a party trick when I was pretending to be an Infernal who somehow became a cleric of Tarver.”

“Really?” the other elf asks, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Can you tell me how you did it-”

“Later Bree,” Metrill interrupted. “Malvia, when I invited you for theology, it was always with the intention to tell you about Larerarn. The basics. Deity of Thieves, of Stealth, or Trickery. Often considered the deity of crime, whereas we see it as the law getting in the way of Lareran’s goal of taking down those who abuse their power, but whatever means might be necessary. What most deem crime, we deem keeping accountable those who others cannot.”

I nodded stiffly, uncertain where exactly this was going. And definitely keeping the thought that just sounded like a way to steal while assuaging a guilty conscience to myself.

“Lareran is a controversial addition to the pantheon,” Metrill said. “Despite being older than most of the current members. She was there before Her Most Profane Majesty started trying to kill deities. Before the original wars with the devils. Before the invasion of the lich William from the south. You might say the only reason they are considered an addition is that our existence so deliberately tweaks the nose hairs of certain people. And they wish for the days back when the Queen wanted our heads.”

I cleared my throat, and she paused. “The tales of the Queen’s defeat of Her Most Infernal Majesty involve the Thieves Guild on her side? Quite prominently in some parts.”

“Oh, the Queen remembers the help provided by those members of the Thieves’ Guild who helped fight the devils, and among those she had her favorites,” Metrill continued. “Which is why she waited for all her favorites to be dead before she started with the crackdowns. And the threatened banning of worship of Lareran if we didn’t make sure our activities only targeted what her government approved of.”

I grimaced. You could only learn so much from the street, even from Understreet, and as many pilfered books as you could find, but even with my own limited knowledge, that sounded exactly like Her Majesty’s style.

There was a reason the campaign against the dwarves started when it did. Ten years after the death of the very elderly king who had once fought by her side.

“So, what decision was made?” I asked Metrill.

“We fought against it,” Metrill said mildly. “And got pretty thoroughly chased underground. People who didn’t like our rules flourished because we were too busy trying to survive in order to help keep them from arising. And folks who never liked us because we pilfered their pockets as punishment for what they did, they got bolder and added their own efforts to keeping us underground. There are places we still thrived, places where we were extinguished.”

The others were all quiet, pulled more to the shadows so I couldn’t see their reactions clearly, but there was a tenseness to most of them as Metrill continued.

“Eventually, Her Majesty ‘saw’ the error of her ways and agreed to a revision to her idea of suborning us to Imperial Intelligence and the Army and whichever other of her institutions she wanted us chained to. We do things mostly our way, but with a few more restrictions than we would like. And of course, that’s caused even more…schisms. Schisms we do our best to prevent, and part of that is holding to standards who we let in.”

I nodded, despite knowing this essentially meant my plan here was dead. Their organization, their rules, and it seemed like they had a greater need to filter out people wanting to join than I expected.

“Let me be clear,” Harper Metrill said, tone dead serious. “You are not joining just because you need an in on rejoining the investigation. I take my faith very seriously, and that means not letting people flit in and out who don’t plan on staying so they can abuse the perks.”

She leaned back, grin back on her face. “Mind you, those perks are rarely ‘join an investigation into a conspiracy to open a Hellgate that will probably get me killed’, but I have to maintain standards, you know? And it’s not like you lack for options.”

“That is true,” I admitted. What went unsaid are the reasons why. Tarver’s church, I wasn’t sure, wouldn’t fold under pressure. And, selfishly, I didn’t want Gregory getting into any trouble on my behalf.

“It’s a little flattering you thought of us over those other options,” Metrill continued. “But again, this is a commitment, Malvia. Not just something agreed to on a whim. So even if you offered, I’m leaning towards no to full membership, yes to being an associate, and we can discuss this later.”

“Agreed,” the one who’d commented on the fish puns said, Talmond. “Open to giving her a chance in the future, but accepting her to the guild is out of the question. No offense.”

“None taken,” I said, now certain I’d wasted my time. I’d have to hurry to Tarver’s main temple at the end of this.

“Now,” Metrill said. “What I am willing to do is make you a proxy for the church of Lareran for right now. Our representative in the investigation, much like your friend Montague. Since at least some of our own clergy are involved in this, we can take an interest in it. The only limitation I was told is we can’t tell anyone about the diabolism program, and in your case, wed don’t need to. Riv’aug, can you cut her bonds off by the way?”

“You could have led with that,” I said, tensing a little as the hobgoblin neared with the knife. He kept his cuts to just the ropes and quickly backed away.

“Nah, I really couldn’t have,” Metrill said. “So, there’s a lot to discuss now that you’re going to be our representative in this, but let’s start with the immediate-anything you want to ask that only we can answer?”

Well. Might as well take the plunge and start with the one most likely to make them regret this.

“Yes, I want to know who was meeting Singer Albert Reginald from your group,” I told Harper Metrill. “Because I’m really hoping it’s not the one whose been delivering money on the conspiracy’s behalf.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and I decided to just bull ahead even as the seven followers of Lareran stared at me.

“It’s perhaps presumptuous of me to assume the rash of thefts preceding Father Reginald’s death is your organization’s work,” I said. “Especially after the lecture on how you don’t represent all thieves. However, Balton is such a sleepy district that any crime at all occurring stood out, and I don’t believe in coincidences such as crimes starting before Singer Reginald’s murder.”

“Hrrm,” Metrill said, grin returning to her face. “A good policy. You’re certain?”

“You’ve either got someone with an addiction to Glee Street or a traitor,” I replied.

“Jenkyll, I think we figured out who’s been behind that creative bit of accounting for the tithes,” Metrill said, smile gone cold and viscous. “Harrow, cough up the name, would you? And I hope you brought evidence along with you.”

“The books your people seized along with the weapons,” I said. “Holmsteader’s books. Matilda Rose is shown as visiting the casino multiple times in the past several months, and unless she is a known gambler.”

“She isn’t,” Talmond said, all good cheer drained out of him. “And even if she was, she had plenty of options before resorting to the Glee Street.”

“Tilly, Tilly, Tilly” Metrill said with a sigh, grin not fading in the slightest. “Some grudges do last forever. Thank you for bringing us that name, Miss Harrow, it…helps put some pieces into the puzzle. But Tilly isn’t the one who was meeting with Albert, Malvia. I was. He wanted to talk about the diabolism program.”

I cocked my head to the side, then realized this was becoming a tic and straightened it. “He already had concerns about what was going on and decided to bring them to you?”

“Albert and I go back before you were even born,” Metrill said with a wink and a few rolled eyes from the others. “Needless to say, he knew I could be trusted not to fuck around with devils more than what was already being done. He also knew I wouldn’t flay him too badly once he told me he’d been dealing with a black market dealer in diabolism materials. Really, could have just come to me first, but he had to do everything himself. Oh, and the thefts were my apprentices, just something to keep themselves busy. Couple of those shopfronts in Balton are, well, that’s not really germane to all of this.”

“What did he have to say?” I asked.

“Mostly just worries,” Metrill said. “He thought the program was a good idea, figured the Hells had gone unmonitored for too long-“

“And was right,” the hobgoblin rasped. “The Halpsusians claiming we don’t need to worry because their deity shields us from all but the most powerful of attempts to breach from Hells’ side is idiotic. Their cock-measuring contest with the Maldeurans leading to things like that is going to kill this empire sooner or later.”

“Yes, Riv’aug,” Metrill said diplomatically. “And I don’t disagree, but the general point is that even with that in mind, Albert had doubted from the start. Mostly from the people involved. Derrick has never had anything to do with the Hells, Gallaspie is the kind of person you put in charge if you want it to fail, and he never knew who the third person in charge was. He was mostly concerned it was some attempt to purge the churches of those willing to use diabolism, even in service to the pantheon.”

“And the black market dealer?” I asked. Donald Tyler.

“That came later,” Metrill said. “Only a few weeks before his death. He mentioned the man suddenly not wanting to deal with him. I figured the dealer just wanted to go underground, probably figured he was being set up. Get the money out of the undercover officer setting you up, then run. Albert didn’t mention the dealer being Infernal nor a fixture of someone’s gang.”

The former would mean being unable to leave the city legally, and liable to be arrested, or more likely lynched, if caught outside it.

The next half hour passed swiftly enough, mostly me recapping details that they had been kept in the dark on by either Imperial Intelligence or Gallaspie and Derrick.

More of the others had left as the conversation had continued, trusting Metrill with this and leaving us. Riv’aug was the last out as I finished.

“Well,” Metrill said as I finished recounting the conversation I’d overheard between Holmsteader and her killer. “Seems you’re on the right track with that list. I’ll send word to Imperial Intelligence, Bishop Gallaspie, and Slayer Derrick that you are joining the investigation on our behalf. I’ll do my best to allow you to be accompanied by at least a few others of your choice, but no guarantees.”

“It’s appreciated,” I said. I hadn’t even thought of asking.

“You know,” I said, getting up from the table. “If I made the connection between the local robberies and your church, someone else must have made that same connection.”

Metrill’s lips quirked. “Oh, we’re aware. If that’s the case, he hasn’t said anything yet. But with him, he might just be holding things back until he’s got every puzzle piece in his hand.”

“Or someone is telling him not to solve the puzzle,” I countered. “If you’re hoping to get the why of that out of me, I’m at a loss myself. But everyone involved is treating this whole thing far too casually. This should have been squashed very early on.”

“You take away the bait, you never trap the rat,” Metrill said. “Bishops want to purge out everyone who’d be tempted into a devil’s deal. Imperial authorities want them because what better leverage could they get over whichever deity’s cult the conspirators belonged to?”

I paused. That…I’d considered it, but even so.

“It’s a hells of a risk,” I told her.

“Oh, for sure, it’s a high-stakes game all around,” Metrill said. “Could be groups are angling for something else, but an open Hellgate is a potential cost that would be the end of whatever idiot let it be opened. So the question is, what’s your stake in helping make sure it never happens?”

“Being someone who lives inside the city,” I said drily. “I don’t particularly fancy Avernon being overrun by hordes of devils. I doubt having some Infernal blood would get me much special treatment in what follows.”

We both were silent, me as I thought on how that would turn out. From my glimpses of the Hells?

Might be easier to just leap into the Gate and make it go fast.

“Oh, also, I’m keeping your tribute,” Metrill added casually. “Consider it the first token offered by one seeking enlightenment before she treads on the path. Lareran appreciated your donation to their cause.”

I stared at the grinning priestess. “You must be joking. Do you know how much effort I had to go through to steal those?”

Not much at all, really, just being in the right place at the right time. Stealing them had been incidental to everything else.

Metrill’s expression turned serious. “Do you know how much effort I’m going to have to put into removing the trackers from these?”

The answer should be not much at all. The problem with trackers was noticing them not having them removed. Any mage worth the name could do it, and I was sure the Thieves’ Guild would have someone around capable of doing it.

“Also, they are decorated in the most horrendous set of colors I’ve ever seen,” Metrill continued, and I had to concede that point.

Lime green, pink, and shite brown. Holmsteader’s most lasting legacy might be permanently scarring the eyes of whoever had to see her taste in aesthetics.

“Maybe if everyone gets lucky, all of this will have been pointless,” Metrill said as she led me towards the door. “Don’t have to test what little of an in we can give you, if there’s no murders left to investigate.”

I shook my head slightly. “Oh, I don’t think any of us are that lucky.”

Best to turn that back around now that I was officially on the case again.