The Last Sin

The crowd fell quiet, tension smothering the room as the partygoers cleared the space between me and Finnick. The guards around the wine casks were frozen, stuck between protecting Van Lagos and Finnick’s shouting.

"What are you doing?! Get him! Get him now!"

Three of the guards were shocked to action. They ran at me, fumbling at the scimitars and long knives on their hips.

So much for hiding.

"Dugan..."

"Yeah."

I loosened my belt sash as Dugan cracked his knuckles.

Spinning the weighted end of my sash, I launched it as the first guard ripped his scimitar free.

CLINK!

The coins slammed against his chin, turning his legs to jelly as he fell face first and slid across the floor. The second guard jumped over his fallen friend with his sword high. I met steel with cloth, wrapping my sash around his wrist before he could swing. I pulled him off balance, tripping him onto his back with a sweep of my leg. I tore the sword from his hands and swatted aside the thrust of the third guard's long knife. Dugan ran up to his left side, rearranging the attacking guard’s face with a right hook.

Nice.

I turned back and drove my stolen scimitar’s pommel into the second guard's head as he sat up.

Great, now we just need to escape.

"Watch out!"

“Hey, you didn’t stutter that-”

A block of stone crashed into my chest as I turned to face Dugan’s warning. The next moment, I could smell the wine on the floor as I rolled over on my side.

I blinked away the fog behind my eyes.

I must have hit my head during the fall.

Next to me, another stone block pulled itself from the floor. It hovered over my head, controlled by the raised hand of Finnick Lagos.

"Enough."

Reed's voice was tinged with boredom as she leaned against the cask of wine in the middle of the room. Van Lagos' golden goblet dangled between her fingers. Finnick paused and let the stone block fall next to my head.

The Inquisitor’s eyes scanned the room, expecting obedience and getting it. The guards sheathed their weapons, and the guests looked away from her firm gaze. Her eyes settled on me, and she flashed a knowing smile. I understood her meaning.

Power. This is power.

As I touched my tender chest, I had to admit her idea of power was tempting.

Reed filled Van Lagos’ goblet with poisoned wine and put it under her nose. She inhaled, inclining her head to consider the smell. A moment later, she drank from the cup!

The room erupted in collective gasps. The Inquisitor was killing herself!

Reed swished the wine around her mouth before swallowing it, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Tasteless and odorless. My guess is arsenic; it’s available at any foundry in the Industrial Quarter."

She looked from Van Lagos to the second victim cradled by a man—a friend or lover.

"The dose of poison must have been high. Finnick, I’m sorry. Your brother won’t survive."

Finnick ran to his brother’s side and buried his face into the folds of his robes. I almost felt sorry for him as Dugan hauled me to my feet. I would have been more sympathetic if he hadn't tried to kill me a moment ago.

“Dugan, let’s move away from the centre,” I whispered.

He did not respond. The scene in front of us held the short man in a trance.

I waved a hand over his face.

“Dugan?”

He stepped forward.

I caught him by his wrist.

“What are you doing?!"

"Helping..."

"Dugan, if they find out what you can do..."

I trailed off as he turned to look at me. In his eyes, I saw Kirk, the ruins of my home and Cynthia’s corpse—every sadness life visited on me was reflected in his face.

I let go of his wrist.

"I don't care."

I believed him. At that moment, he didn't care about himself or the quest. The only thing that mattered was two brothers in need.

Dugan Samaran. Who are you? What have you lost?

"I can help!" Dugan said as he walked up to the centre of the hall.

"You! Why would I-"

Finnick stopped speaking as Reed raised her hand. She narrowed her eyes at Dugan.

"You risk much."

"I know."

She scoffed.

"It’s your cremation.”

She gestured to Finnick.

“Step away from Van. Give him a chance."

Finnick stepped away from his brother and moved to stand next to the other guards near the wine casks.

Dugan sat down, putting the cartel leader’s head in his lap and cupping his large hands around Van’s temples.

I moved forward to get a better view, cutting an angle away from Kateen. I could have stood right beside her if I wanted to—all eyes were on Dugan.

His eyes were closed in a familiar meditative state as the hall hushed to a silence.

Healing was the ability that was most like Dugan—quiet with no flashy displays of power. There was only the healer, the patient, and the worried faces of the onlookers.

I was one of them, worried less about Van Lagos and more about us. Frantic whispers echoed off around the hall, and one word was clear over the buzzing: mage.

We were in the belly of the beast. If they wanted to take Dugan after this stunt, I couldn’t stop them—wouldn’t stop them. I had myself to worry about.

Slowly, the colour returned to Van Lagos' face. His eyes darted left and right beneath closed eyelids until those eyelids snapped open.

There were more shocked gasps as Van Lagos sat up.

He rolled over to his side to vomit watery red chunks onto the floor.

Dugan, you did it! Now, how do we get out of this?

The short man slumped his shoulders, wiping the sweat from his brow as the man cradling the second victim ran to his side.

"Please, sir! Please help my wife!"

His hands and blue overcoat were covered with her blood.

As Dugan got to his feet, I thought of dragging him out of the hall by his beard.

He sat again, putting the woman's head into his lap and his hands on her temples. After a moment, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry. She's gone."

The husband crumpled to the floor, weeping over the body of his dead wife.

Damn.

It was unlikely that Dugan could have saved her even at his full strength. She had suffered a head wound on top of getting poisoned. Her smaller size also made the dose of poison she ingested more deadly.

If I knew Dugan, he would still feel guilty. He saved a cartel leader over an innocent bystander. It was a hard choice, but it was the right one. If he had chosen the woman over Van Lagos, we would both be dead now. Killed by a grieving brother and his guards for his selflessness.

I narrowed my eyes.

Something was happening to the woman’s body.

Wisps of golden vapour wafted from the corpse, drawn to the strange floating orb beside the wine casks. The rings around its’ core rotated just a little faster as the golden vapour was consumed.

The quintessence—her quintessence… the orb absorbed it!

I wasn't the only one who noticed: Dugan, Reed, and Finnick all reacted to the soul's journey—only us. The guards and guests were focused on Van Lagos and his miraculous return from the dead.

I remembered what Shay said for the second time that night. The Landbound were enchanted people who let a piece of their souls die. Was that what let us see this?

My eyes narrowed on the Inquisitor as she poured a second cup of poisoned wine. It wasn’t a surprise that she was Landbound. What could she do? Something that protected her from the poison but didn't allow her to heal like Dugan.

As I considered the possibilities, scattered clapping filled the hall.

Van Lagos had gotten to his feet. His face was bright red and sweat evaporated off his body in wisps of steam. It took me a moment to realize what was happening.

He’s burning the poison out of his blood!

How was that possible?! How is any of this possible?!

I looked around for the exit.

Van Lagos turned to the crowd surrounding him, doing a double take at Reed drinking out of his goblet. She smiled back at him.

"This… party is over. Guards, escort them out!"

He gave a dismissive wave before walking through the hall’s entrance, surrounded by a ring of guards with his brother on his heels.

As the crowd dispersed, I walked to Dugan's side. He hadn't moved from his position, cradling the dead woman's head in his lap as her husband held her cooling hand.

"Dugan, we need to go," I whispered.

His large hands balled into fists in his lap.

"Dugan, it’s not safe here."

"You're right about that," Reed whispered.

She held the goblet close to her mouth, hiding her lips from me and everyone else. I got the hint, turning back to face Dugan.

"Even my protection has limits. Never pull a stunt like that again."

"You don't have to tell me."

"Good, because I have another mission for you."

"How many times do I have to say I don't work for you?"

"How long will you deny reality? Someone just made an assassination attempt on a member of the Steeltown Compact. An attack on the Compact is an attack on the Guild. I want you to find out who did it."

"Isn't that your job?"

"An investigator is only as good as their informants, and if you haven't noticed, I attract a lot of attention."

"So, misdirection. While the assassin is focused on you, they don't see me coming."

"Yes. Although, I don’t know how discreet a half-elf dressed like a noble will be. Anyways, try not to die."

She walked away, pushing Van Lagos' goblet into the hands of a flustered guard.

"Hey, I didn't agree to do it!"

She looked back at me, smiled and sauntered out of the hall.

That woman…

My outburst attracted a few eyes, including Kateen, who glared at me from the front of the hall.

Oh great, I forgot about her.

I knelt next to Dugan.

"Dugan. Come on, let's go!" I said in a harsher whisper.

"Her soul..."

He turned, looking past me to stare at the large, floating orb.

"I fffelt her soul being ripped from her body. It didn't go to the land. It went into that... thing."

A chill ran up my spine. The orb was hungry—hungrier now after it absorbed the woman’s soul.

"We need to move."

Dugan let me pull him to his feet. I took him by the arm and dragged him across the hall.

"Will you sign the contract or-"

I walked past Lady Kateen before she could finish. I had enough things to worry about, an Inquisitor that didn’t take no for an answer, an enchanted orb stealing souls and keeping Dugan safe from being kidnapped and worse.

As we exited the hall, the guards lining the corridor took one step forward.

One of them, an older man with an ugly scar that puckered his face, blocked our path. The scar set his face into a permanent sneer.

"The Lagos brothers want to speak to you."

Great, one more thing to worry about.