Demon's Quest (High Demon Series #4) Page 4

  * * *

  "I have the information from Drake," Erland brought the news to Wylend.

  "She was on Falchan? All this time?"

  "She healed Thiskil's core early on, but you already knew about that. She was working in one of those noodle shops that are all over Falchan's capital city."

  "Then let's go. We'll see if she's still there." Wylend's face held determination, so Erland didn't try to deflect the King of Karathia.

  * * *

  Flyer wasn't surprised when eight men showed up at his shop, all looking angry and out of sorts.

  "Reah said you might come," Flyer nodded at Wylend, Erland, Gavril, Dee, Tory, Aurelius, Lendill and Norian. "She said to serve you noodles and charge you double."

  "She's not here, is she?" Tory said. He was the tallest of all those assembled, standing nearly seven feet in height.

  "No. She disappear. Poof." Flyer flicked his fingers.

  "Figures." Lendill muttered angrily.

  "Did she say where she was going?" Gavril asked.

  "No." Flyer shook his head. "Best cook. Crowd get angry now. I lose same as child."

  "Farzi and Nenzi will go crazy," Gavril sighed.

  "Are we going to have noodles?" Dee asked. All eight of them took a seat at the counter while Flyer served bowls of noodles.

  * * *

  "Hello, Nefrigar." He'd appeared like magic shortly after I skipped to Beliphar.

  "Greetings, Reah. It was a good time to visit Falchan, was it not?" The skin around his bright-blue eyes crinkled as he smiled at me.

  "Yeah. I just can't go back or the horde will find me for sure."

  "If that is your choice," he lifted a vase from the bedside table and examined it carefully—it was crystal of some sort and likely worth a lot. Just about everything was that remained inside the deserted palace.

  "Are you hungry? You must be after eliminating the pirates."

  "A little." I'd gotten used to regular meals, living with Flyer.

  "Then come." Nefrigar folded us away.

  When I complained that I wasn't dressed properly to go inside the restaurant—I had no idea where we were, after all—Nefrigar used power to dress me. "This is nice," the tunic was purple silk with embroidery at hem and cuff, the loose pants matching. Silver shoes, matching the embroidery, peeked from beneath my pants.

  "Would you like jewelry?" Nefrigar smiled.

  "That's all right, but thank you for the thought," I said. My nose was pulling me inside the restaurant—good smells of baking bread lured me along. I hadn't had good bread while on Falchan.

  Nefrigar didn't order—Larentii fed on sunlight. Instead, he watched, somewhat amused, as I ate veal in wine sauce and several pieces of bread. "I'm too full to move," I sighed, refusing dessert. Strangely enough, Nefrigar paid for my meal. He handed over a credit chip. Where do Larentii get credit chips? Do they manufacture them with their power? I thought about asking, but since I didn't really know Nefrigar, I held the question back.

  "Bardelus is a good place to visit right now," he said after taking me back to Beliphar.

  "Bardelus? Why Bardelus?" They weren't part of the Alliance, either. Neither Reth nor Campiaan.

  "Little one, perhaps you should broaden your horizons," Nefrigar smiled and disappeared.

  I dithered for two days, then, worried that I might be missing something, I gathered the gold I hadn't spent on Falchan and skipped to Bardelus.

  Chapter 3

  Alliance common was spoken for the most part, but in certain portions of Grithis, a city surrounded by forests and farmland on Bardelus, there were ethnic communities where other languages abounded. Purchasing a comp-vid first thing, I set about navigating my way through the city. Gold was accepted everywhere. They'd tried to put their own version of the credit chip in place, but since they were non-Alliance, it fell through.

  My first thought was to find a place to stay. Going through advertisements for hotels and inns, I discovered that businesses weren't held to any sort of standard. A photograph on the comp-vid might be very different from the reality. I discovered that from the first three inns I visited, none of which resembled the images on the comp-vid. I'd chosen them because they seemed reasonable in price. I was learning my lesson quickly—Bardelans were notorious liars and they expected to haggle over everything.

  "I refuse to pay your price," a customer pounded his fist on the clerk's desk in the fourth inn I visited. The desk shook precariously while a small cloud of dust rose from the filthy counter.

  "Seventy-five, then," the clerk countered, giving a price five silvers less than previously mentioned.

  "Seventy," the thick-fisted customer pounded again. I wondered if dust and rat droppings would sift down from the ceiling. They did. "And you agree to clean my room."

  "No. Room cleaning is a separate charge," the clerk sniffed. At that moment, I was hoping he might inhale some of the dust. He did, sneezing four or five times in rapid succession.

  "Seventy, and you clean my room," the customer snapped, raising his fist.

  "All right, seventy with room cleaning," the clerk jerked his hand out, catching the customer's fist.

  "I'll stay for free, if you allow me to clean the rooms and this pig-sty you call a reception area," I offered. Both the clerk and the customer turned to look at me, complete shock on their faces.

  "This is not a pig-sty," the clerk huffed, offended.

  "No? See this?" I pointed, I wasn't about to put my finger in it. "Rat droppings. You have rats. Do your customers know this?"

  "You have rats?" The customer was now swearing and about to pound the desk again.

  "Sixty, and your room cleaned," the clerk whined.

  "Sixty and she cleans the rooms," the customer jerked his head toward me.

  "And I stay for free in exchange for the cleaning," I added.

  "All right." The clerk went to find keys, muttering under his breath the entire time.

  "Very nice, I wouldn't have thought to throw in rat droppings," the heavy-handed customer smiled as we walked toward the stairs. No elevator here, unfortunately. I not only had my key but a master and information that I shouldn't go into any room before nine bells and the cleaning supplies and equipment were in a janitor's closet on the first floor.

  "When would you like your room cleaned?" I asked the man. He was well dressed, with reddish-brown hair that was a bit long and curling around his ears. He was also dressed better than most I'd seen in this section of the city, in a matching jacket and pants in dark brown over a tan shirt. No ties or other neckwear were worn on Bardelus. I got the idea it was just too formal for their way of thinking.

  "I'll be going out every morning by seven bells. Any time after that will be fine." He had light-brown eyes, lips that might smile now and then if he allowed it and the nose of an aristocrat. Wondering what brought him to this inn, I nodded as he opened the door to his room. Mine was farther down on the opposite side. I was surprised that my room was as clean as it was when I walked into it.

  Getting rid of the rats and vermin was my first objective—I'd learned a trick during my tenure with the ASD. When I went Thifilatha, small or large, I frightened small animals and insects. Any insect thinking to get close to my gold scales was burned. They stayed away. Same thing with rats, mice and other vermin. I'd once chased a criminal through rat-infested sewers while in my smaller Thifilatha. The rats were running before me. They helped bring the culprit down—they were knocking him over after a while and racing across his back in their efforts to escape what they saw as a larger predator—me.

  Skipping into the dark, cluttered and stinking attic later, I turned to my smaller Thifilatha. You should have heard the squeaking and shrieking as tiny feet scrabbled across boards and stored items, making a hasty retreat from the worst danger they'd ever smelled in their short lives. I have no idea where they went and I had no care to know—I just knew they wouldn't be back until I moved out. This boded well for the restaurant downstairs—I saw it
was closed on my way in.

  Skipping back to my room, I went to check out the bathroom. I wasn't satisfied with the cleanliness of it, so I went in search of cleaning supplies. Except for the cracked and peeling floor tiles, it was as clean as I could make it when I finished.

  Then I skipped into the closed restaurant. I found the reason for the closure—the clerk knew very well they had rats—the writ of closure was lying on the bar, citing vermin and unsanitary facilities as the reasons. It gave three moon-turns for the problems to be addressed before the license reapplication process would be forced. A moon-turn remained before it was completely condemned and additional fees would have to be paid to apply for a license from scratch. Squaring my shoulders, I began to clean. Now that the rats were gone, things should be simple.

  * * *

  "Edan, I am giving a small salary increase," Addah said, pushing a comp-vid across his desk toward his second-born. "Your pastry is quite good and your salads please the guests."

  "Thank you," Edan ducked his head respectfully. The salary increase worried Edan, though. What might Aldah do if he learned of it? Was this just a game Addah played, attempting to pit his children against one another? Edan had checked employment listings only that morning—a new restaurant was opening and every shift and position was available. He intended to apply on his afternoon break.

  * * *

  "You want what?" The desk clerk, whom I learned was also the owner, stared at me in shock.

  "Only a few fittings and fixtures. It should be inexpensive—I can do the work. The rest of the restaurant is clean."

  "But I will have to call the inspectors and hire a cook."

  "You have a cook," I said. "You only need two assistants."

  "You—cook?" The man almost hooted. Briefly, I considered slapping him before coming to my senses.

  "It costs nothing to bring the inspector back. All we have to do is repair the sink."

  "Fine. Repair the sink. Then prepare a meal for me. I will decide if you can cook." The man was short, although taller than I, with graying dark hair, a thin moustache and narrow brown eyes. He looked much like the rats I'd chased from his inn.

  Good, inexpensive fare was my goal—the inn didn't draw the customer base to support expensive dishes. I used fowl, pork and beef to prepare three dishes. I'd spent my own money on the meat, too. Rat-face, whose name was Neidles, approached the food with trepidation, although his nose might have twitched a time or two. He tasted the pork dish first. I'd wrapped the loin around a stuffing and then surrounded that with a crust before baking. It was moist, succulent and exactly the kind of fare that would appeal to the locals.

  Neidles didn't say anything, chewing and swallowing before going to the fowl. The fowl was prepared with a simple sauce and potatoes on the side. It would go well with a good green salad, but I didn't want to push it. The beef I'd sliced thin, breaded and quick-fried before sliding the medallions over a light sauce. All dishes were inexpensive to make. Neidles paused to go back and take a second bite of the pork dish, then back to the chicken before moving on to the beef. I think his knees gave way on the beef dish. He was moaning in pleasure by that time.

  "Will you call the inspector?" I asked.

  He couldn't speak, his mouth was full. He nodded enthusiastically instead.

  "Good. Let me know when you're done; I'll clean up and we'll discuss assistants."

  Three six-days later, we were open for business. The inn's guests were the first to arrive—they could smell the food on their way in and out. Once they got a taste, word spread quickly. I had two assistants, Harne and Nari, who thought to be lazy at first. I disabused them of that notion.

  "You will not leave a mess," I snapped at Harne. "Laziness will not feed your customers or keep a kitchen clean. The inspector passed us, but he will be back, you can place money on that bet," I untied his apron. "Change your apron daily. More often if it becomes soiled. You lure your customers with your sanitary practices as well as the taste of your food. We will have both in this kitchen."

  Nari was better. She watched me closely whenever I prepared anything, then did her best to copy it. Harne, after learning we would not tolerate his reluctance to work, (and after I threatened to let him go) poured himself into the work. He cleaned. He chopped and sliced. He stirred, sifted and rolled. And once he'd gotten a taste of the pastry, he focused on that.

  Neidles had to hire additional help after another three six-days. And that's when I started seeing reports of missing children. Mostly it was young girls, ages nine to seventeen, but occasional boys would disappear, ages twelve to twenty. Grithis was a large city, boasting more than seven million in the city and surrounding boroughs. A missing child here or there was to be expected, but these were disappearing frequently in twos and threes. Children who went out to play together never returned. I became worried when the numbers neared fifty. Someone or something was preying on the children of Grithis.

  Neidles came in on off-day, which was First-Day for all of us. I intended to do a bit of sleuthing into the mystery of missing children. Neidles wanted to make sure he was wringing as much of a percentage from the wait staff as he could.

  "Neidles, you employed them, you go over the figures with them," I snapped when he hauled out his comp-vid to go over all four employees' tip records. He backed away from me; I had no patience with him right then.

  "I can fire you," he said.

  "Go ahead. Find someone else who'll cook and clean for a pittance." I was making little from working as a master cook in his small restaurant. I controlled the recipes. I oversaw the purchases of meat and vegetables. All the receipts and records were dutifully turned over to Neidles at the end of every six-day. "I'll go get my things now. I'm sure someone else will hire me and I won't have to clean," I shot over my shoulder as I walked out.

  "No, no, you do not have to clean now," he was beside me suddenly. "I will hire someone else."

  "Good. I have plans for today," I said, trying to walk away from him.

  "With a man?" He sounded petulant.

  "No. I intend to enjoy the day," I said and left him standing in the entryway. I'd cleaned that, too, found a rug in the attic to put along with other, small bric-a-brac to dress up the place. Neidles only had to count the money. His inn was filling up more often than not, after my arrival. If he'd pay to have new tile laid in his bathrooms, it would be even better. I didn't mind the work, but it was becoming overwhelming with the demands of the kitchen. At least it helped take my mind off the troubles I'd left behind. I was too tired to let my thoughts chase each other at night, now.

  * * *

  I found two things when I did my sleuthing—one, the places where the children were disappearing weren't far from the inn, and two, the heavy-fisted guest was there ahead of me, poking around.

  "I'm surprised to see you here," he said as I stared at the small alley where three eleven-year-old girls had disappeared.

  "Same here," I nodded.

  "You're not from here, are you?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Where from, then?"

  "I was born on Tulgalan," I replied. I didn't see that it hurt anything.

  "Before you accuse me of having anything to do with those disappearances, they started before I arrived; the local officials were afraid to report it. Now, rumors are flying so they have to give out the numbers," heavy fist said.

  "Why would they do that?" I asked quizzically, staring into his light-brown eyes.

  "Grithis is a commonwealth and not under the Prime Minister's thumb. There are six commonwealths left on Bardelus, running their own private government. Like a separate country, you might say. Grithis has been corrupt for a very long time. You saw the state of the inn when we moved in. I thank you for the cleaning and the food in the restaurant. I haven't eaten that well in a very long time. Plovel," he held out his hand as he introduced himself.

  "Reah," I couldn't help smiling as I took his hand.

  "Well, Reah, I would very mu
ch like to get to the root of these disappearances, but I keep running into tall and sturdy walls."

  "It worries me," I said. "Do you think it is slavery or sex rings taking them? Have any traces been found at all?"

  "Not much," he replied. "Come over here. The locals botched the scene when they investigated. If you can call what they did an investigation," Plovel muttered. He was right—they'd walked right through the area numerous times, destroying any evidence that might be had. The crime scene was next to a brick building that showed signs of aging. Mortar was missing between bricks. I knelt to examine a brick that appeared loose. It came out in my hand.

  "What have we here?" Plovel knelt next to me and peered inside the hole. A tiny doll, a child's cheap metal ring and string jewelry were all inside.

  "This was their hiding place," I sighed. The neighborhood was poor and indicative of the toys the girls left behind. "Did anybody see anything?"

  "A woman across the street says she saw four girls playing here before the disappearances were reported, but we've determined she was mistaken—only three were taken."

  "Did she give descriptions?" I asked.

  "I have those in my room," Plovel said. "It sounds as if you've done this sort of thing before."

  "I may have, once," I hedged. Plovel would probably know it anyway. He seemed quite shrewd. "Who sent you?" I asked.

  "I work in a special unit for the Prime Minister. The same thing happened in two other commonwealths before hitting this one. The PM wants this investigated and the perpetrators stopped before they attack United Bardelus."

  "I see," I nodded. "I'd like to get this finished as well—I don't like children disappearing."

  "Perhaps we can combine our forces?" He smiled as he offered to work with me.

  "Perhaps. I'll certainly share information if I get any. In the meantime, I think Neidles is becoming jealous. Probably not a good idea to allow him to see us talking."

  "I wouldn't suggest it anyway. We can have general conversations in the restaurant. I can send anything else by comp-vid."

  "Good." I passed my ID number off to him, and he gave his. It was a relief to have someone else working on this, as it seemed a bit overwhelming. I did plan to skip into the local constabulary, however, just to see if I could access the records they had.