Page 73 of Storms & Sacrifice
“I might have, maybe, kinda, sorta...stole Councilman Murbank’s keys?” I hold up the keyring witha grimace.
Ragnar’s eyes go wide, looking between me and the keys. Then he breaks out into a huge grin. “You didwhat?!”
He doesn’t look angry, so I press forward. “It was just...I knew he wasn’t going to tell us anything, and I kept thinking about what you were saying about not wanting to give him the chance to hide anything, and after the way the conversation went, I thought there was nowayhe didn’t know we were onto him now, so I just sorta...panicked and decided to pick his pocket.”
“David, that isamazing.” Okay, I didn’t think he would be pissed off, but I still figured I’d have to convince him to get on boardalittle.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure Sir is gonna kill me for this.” Likeactuallykill, maybe.
“Oh, definitely,” he confirms as he takes the keys from me.Great. “Which is why you and I are only going to tell him if we find something good after we go over there and search the place.”
“Wait, rightnow?” Honestly, if you’re still surprised at this point to learn that I didn’t thinkanyof this through, that’s on you. “Does he live alone? Isn’t he married or something?”
“Yes, but any time Murbank throws a big event like this, his wife is the one who does the actual planning,” he responds confidently, already moving down the alley. “We’ll knock on the door when we get there, but I’d bet money she’s back in the hall’s main ballroom right now, ordering around the crews setting up.”
We walk quickly to the southern part of the city. We have some time, but if we want to beat Khazak back to the station, we still need to hurry. We pass by the shipyard on the way, and it’s only another few blocks before we reach the councilman’s home, obviously in one of the wealthier parts of the city. Just like you’d expect for a man of his station, it’s big, though not quite a mansion. A metal gate surrounds his yard, which is filled with fountains and statues depicting orcs in various poses. Behind the house, I can see the wall of the city, acting as a fence for hisbackyard.
“Wow.” It’s not that it’s unimpressive. There’s just something about it that’s so...
“Pretentious, right?” Ragnar finishes my thought.
“Very,” I agree, the two of us stepping towardthe gate.
It’s not locked, so we swing it open enough to walk inside and close it behind us. The streets look empty right now, but you never know who might be watching. I make sure to search the windows of the neighboring houses for any faces, and Ragnar is doing the same. He’s the one to approach the large wooden doors, giving two quick knocks. We wait a minute before trying again, but there’s stillno answer.
“See? No one’s home.” Ragnar grins as he pulls out the keyring. “You and I will be in and out before Murbank even notices his keys aremissing.”
He sorts through the ring, deciding on which he thinks are house keys. He tries three before we find the right one, the lock clicking open with ease. After one final look around, Ragnar opens the door, and we slip inside, locking the door behind us. We’re standing in a large foyer, but it’s the next room that really catches my eye.
Murbank’s living room—if that’s what they’re called when they’re this big—ismassive. I think it might be bigger than Khazak’s entire house. There’s a similar sunken area, this one withthreecouches in front of a very ornate fireplace. Statues dot the sides of the room and artwork lines the walls, and in the back of the room, I can even see a large piano in front of a set of glass doors that lead to thebackyard.
“Fuck,” I say to no one in particular.
“Yeah, I don’t think you get this rich without doing some questionable things.” Ragnar steps forward, looking around the room. “Alright, we don’t have a ton of time, so we should split up. You take left. I’llgo right.”
There’s a hallway on either side of the room, and another in the back that looks like it leads toa kitchen.
“What are we looking for, anyway?” I ask as I move toward the left hall. “I can’t exactly readanything.”
“Something that could tie him to the robberies or the bombings,” Ragnar tells me from the opposite doorway. “Maybe some of the stuff that’s been stolen or a set of black robes. If you seeanythingthat might be suspicious, come find me, and I’ll check it out.”
“Alright, first person to finish comes and finds the other?” I don’t wanna be here any longer than we need to.
“Sounds like a plan.” Ragnar hits his chest in a half-salute and turns down the hall behind him.
And so begins my search for...whatever it is we’re hoping to find here. The hall I start down is a long one, and I pass door after door after door. Some closets, a few bedrooms, and alotof bathrooms.Is he showing off because his dad invented toilets or something?I search each room as I pass it, though there isn’t a whole lot to look through in the bathrooms and closets, and all the bedrooms look completely unlived in. I don’t get the point of having a house with rooms younever use.
Eventually I come to a room thatdoeslook like it’s been used. Some sort of half-bedroom, half-office. There’s a decent sized bed against one wall and a desk against the other. A large glass window takes up most of the back wall, and there’s a half-open closet next to the desk with a mirror hanging above it. The same pretentious art lines the walls, but a lack of feminine touches makes me think this room is justMurbank’s.
The closet is the first thing to get my attention because what do I see out in the open but a set of black robes. A few of them. It’s hard to tell if these are theexactrobes our attackers wore, but it’s a good sign, right? Time to search the rest of the room. The bed doesn’t tell me anything, except that Murbank likes nice sheets. The desk, however, is coveredin papers.
Papers I can’t read, of course, but that doesn’t stop me from rifling through them. They don’t look official, all hand-written without any seals or emblems. From the formatting, I think they might be letters, but it’s hard to tell. Just when I’m about to go get Ragnar, something catches my eye.
This paper isn’t like the others. There’s no writing, just sketches. Sketches of what looks like a bird’s claw. The sheet of paper is covered in them, all in different levels of detail, some shaded in, some not, but right dead in the center in solid black, is one that is identical to the one on the burned book and Thog’s shoulder.He designed the symbol himself.
It’s hard to describe the way I’m feeling because as bad as it is to confirm this guy is behind everything terrible that’s been happening, I’m a little giddy at the thought that we finally have enough to nail him. Even if this paper of sketches is nothing, I bet there’s plenty of incriminating details in these letters.
Gathering the papers together, I make to exit the room when a blur of green in the window stops me.Wait, Ragnar? Why is he outside, looking in the window?I hold up the stack of papers and point, but as soon as he sees me, he starts waving frantically. I don’t get it. What’s wrong?
