Tallah

“I’m not going to get any work done tonight,” Quistis whined from her desk, a mountain of paper scrolls threatening to collapse on top of her.

Barlo set a mug of coffee on the sole free space of the overladen desk.

“Drink this. Slowly. Elend stuff,” the large vanadal said and picked up some of the papers to take to his own desk. “When’s this become our job?”

“If you somehow find out, let me know. I’d really like to know too. I’ve got reports coming in from all over and Falor’s pushed it all onto me. How’s that fair?” She whined while sipping her coffee. Despite all complaints, she was making a sizeable dent in the workload. A few more hours in the night and she’d probably not think of burning the office down anymore.

“The commander’s visiting the Empress,” Barlo said. “We hold down the fort in his absence. It’s only normal.”

Quistis glared at him over the edge of her glasses, and he pretended not to notice.

“Kiss-ass,” she muttered.

“I heard that. ‘Sides, imagine the mood he’s gonna be in.”

The door to their office nearly snapped off its hinges and slammed against the wall with a sharp, deafening crack. Falor walked in, still dressed in his white Imperial regalia, with Rumi following him. She was dressed in an ill-fitting blue Imperial uniform that looked to have been sized for someone at least twice her build.

“Lord Commander,” Quistis greeted him, holding down the stacks of scrolls against the inrush of air. “It’s nice of you to join us, a week after the fact.” Her glare snapped to Rumi in a way that promised an extensive debriefing.

“My mother is a very demanding woman, Quis,” he said without preamble. He had dark rings around his eyes and looked haggard. When he passed by her desk, he picked up the mug of still steaming coffee and downed it all. “I’ve finished two months’ worth of meetings and negotiations with the Militant Lords in a single week. The paperwork will be forthcoming.” He gave her a smirk. “I’ll have it all on your desk by this time tomorrow. It’s coming here in a chest.”

He sat heavily in his high-backed office chair and sunk in it with a sigh.

“It’s damned good to be back, all things considered. Has news of Cinder reached the High Lord?”

“No,” Quistis replied, still working on the papers. The Lord Commander never minced words if he could help it. She had expected him to want an update on the situation the moment he got back. “Vial and Aidan are pursuing current leads but otherwise we’ve kept a tight lid on the information. I don’t want another imbecilic panic and subsequent witch hunt.”

“Which is why we’re in here, doing clerk work, instead of out there, ripping the city in two trying to find her,” Barlo put in, flourishing his quill. “Nothing’s wrong, all’s lovely, there’s no insane sorceress running loose in beautiful Valen.”

Falor turned to the scout, who was sitting at attention by Barlo’s desk.

“For my mother’s love, change out of that ridiculous outfit, Rumi. I have work I need you to do.”

“Am I allowed to burn it?” she asked with a hopeful grin.

“You’re not allowed to destroy Empire property but do it in your spare time. Now get going. We’re about to get very busy.”

She saluted and hurried out of the room.

“Who’s on guard duty at the Illum Hearth?” Falor asked, ticking off concerns. Quistis plucked a paper out of the pile and read off it.

“I have our squads down there, rotating out every six bells. One mage killer is always present. We’re not going to have a repeat of that disaster.”

“Have there been disturbances?”

“None that we could link. If she’s here, she’s hiding and she’s doing it well. We assume she’s got some new allies that she’s likely using as a front.” She finished off a stack of scrolls, set it aside, and turned her attention fully to the conversation. “Commander, we don’t have a solid lead just yet, aside from Rumi’s reading. We only have the two rookies that produced the maps, but they’ve proved harmless thus far.”

“Define harmless.”

She extracted another scroll from a different pile on her desk and adjusted her glasses as she read off it, “Tianna of Aieni Holding, of Calabran. Daughter to one Fyodor of Aieni Holding and Saveetha of Merchal Holding. Budding pyromancer. Studied for one year at Hoarfrost Academy, then moved her studies across the Divide.

Silestra Adana, of unknown parentage, as per School of Healing edict. Aelir. Unknown age, of course. Appears to be a house medic of the former and accompanies her as a healer. Duration of association unknown.”

Falor wrote down the names and tapped the paper with a finger, thoughtful.

“The Aieni Holding leads a significant trade company. I had a meeting with some of their representatives just yesterday. I expected to see Fyodor, but he’s apparently become reclusive in his old age. Why’s the daughter in Valen?”

Quistis shrugged and ruffled some of her documents.

“According to our sources in the Guild…” She made a face at that. The sources were all Lucian’s and dealing with him for information was like handling a pig dipped in lard. While you were naked and dipped in lard. “She’s in the midst of some sort of rebellious moment and seeking to build a name for herself as an adventurer. She rarely undergoes any sorties and mostly spends obscene sums on luxurious living. Either gets outlandish results when she goes out, or she wanders off from the task and never turns it in. Makes for an unreliable asset to the Guild.”

She sighed and took off her glasses to clean on her dress, more a tic than a need.

“I’ve had Vial following them around Valen at a distance but so far it seems they’re just… boring.”

Falor furrowed his brow and, for a moment, Quistis worried about him. She doubted he had slept at all in the last week. His dark eyes seemed even blacker than usual, and he looked pale. He hadn’t found time to shave, and the stubble was threatening a full-on beard attempt. It didn’t look good on him.

She wished she had more information, but it had been a fruitless search ever since the caves. All that fire they’d felt in the caves dulled by the lack of anything concrete to go on, and the only real connection was stonewalled against their attention. Approaching someone with such ties in Imperial Court needed a subtle hand.

“Does being quiet and neat sound like Cinder to you?” he asked. “When has she ever kept a low, quiet profile?”

“It’s a miracle she’s still alive at all considering how badly you’ve trashed her during the Illum Hearth ruckus. Maybe she’s just passing Winter here on familiar haunts. Or maybe she’s moved on already and we’re chasing echoes and ghosts.”

Falor stippled his hands over the desk and cracked each finger joint in turn, deep in thought.

“I do wish you’d stop doing that. It’s disgusting,” Quistis complained.

Falor ignored her.

“For the moment we will work under the assumption that she is here, or somewhere hereabout. We’ve got reasonable confirmation that she’s still alive and she’s doing something we are not aware of. Either she had a meeting that went poorly with that Vitalis in the caves, or she went there with the express intention of killing whoever owned the Sanctum. If she’s scheming something, I want to get ahead of it before she ends up down my throat again.”

“About that,” Quistis said, interrupting the Lord Commander’s line of thought. “We recovered one of the mage’s creations. It’s completely feral and degrading quick, but we have it with that bastil whose name I can’t pronounce. They should be able to have a memory map for us in a few more days. If luck holds, we should get the name of its creator, so I’m personally following up on it.”

She’d had to promise the bastil a look into Valen’s Deep Vault as recompense for their help. Falor would likely approve but that was a matter to discuss later.

Falor nodded. He had started drawing a schematic of known information and unknown factors. Quistis would have to look over the draft and fill in the details later to make it readable to others as a plan to follow.

“We need to get Cinder’s allies.” Falor circled something on the paper. “She’s never been one for idle friendship, so whatever friends she has will be of great value to us if we manage to identify them. Big unknowns there.”

He turned to Barlo and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his largest warrior crammed into a desk much too small for him. The vanadal’s secondary hands were busy scribbling reports while the mage killer himself looked bored.

“Barlo, see if we can learn anything more about these two rookies. If I’m guessing correctly,” he said with a meaningful glance at Quistis, “our source in the Guild is Lucian. Have a chat with him and explain, calmly if you may, just how interested we are in all he knows about them.”

“’Aight, Commander. Do I break his fingers if he’s being pigheaded as usual?”

“Please don’t break his fingers, Barlo. It’ll come back as a headache for Quis. Take Rumi with you. She should be convincing enough.”

Barlo saluted, extracted himself carefully from the desk and sauntered off after Rumi. He looked relieved to be away from the papers and his quill.

As they remained alone in the room, Falor finally let out a heavy breath and slunk back in his chair.

“Do I look as tired as I feel, Quis?”

“You look ready to kick the bucket, so I guess about halfway there,” she replied. “Before you ask, I refuse to give you anything for the fatigue. You’re going to go rest and then we’ll tackle this with fresh eyes.”

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back and sighed heavily. Nothing followed for a while except the sound of her quill on paper as she tackled some of the other reports.

“I think I’ll do just that,” Falor finally said. He rose and walked slowly to the door, stopping by her chair. A warm hand rested on her shoulder.

“Are you joining me?” His voice was soft and his touch even softer.

She pressed her cheek to his fingers and closed her eyes for just a moment as if she meant to give the offer consideration. In truth, she really wanted to go, but the work needed doing or it’d only pile higher.

“I’d love to but my Lord Commander, at about fourth bell of the night, has added a big headache to my workload. So, he’s going to go rest while I put things into motion. You know, like I always do?” She grinned up at him.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Quis,” Falor said, laughing softly. She pushed him away.

“I imagine you’d overwork yourself to death. Go away. I don’t want morning to find me here.”

The moment the door closed with a creak and a tortured click, Quistis allowed herself a jaw popping, eye watering yawn. She looked forlorn into her empty mug, barely having had a chance to taste the coffee. And the closest place for more of it was all the way down into the city proper, with nobody around to go and fetch for her.

“Bastard,” she whispered, and smiled to herself.