SEVEN.

Colin curbed the impulse to pace, but although he had walked into the room of his own free will-and there was no evidence that he couldn't leave it-he felt caged somehow. But his mind had been spinning for two days now, and the thread it turned out was beginning to look more like a garrote.

The vanishment of Prince Attrebus wasn't his first case-it was his third. The first had been simple enough; he'd planted spurious intelligence in the minister of war's office and waited for it to come out somewhere. When one of their agents in a local Thalmor nest reported it, he easily backtracked the leak to a mid-level official who was apparently hemorrhaging information to a mistress who was-as it turned out-a Thalmor sympathizer. It was simple, clean. No arrests and no bodies. Once the leak was known, it was more useful to leave it in place.

His second assignment had been to discover the whereabouts of a certain sorcerer named Laeva Cuontus. He'd found her without ever knowing why he was looking for her. He didn't know what happened to her after he reported her location, and he didn't want to know.

When he'd been sent out with the patrol to locate Prince Attrebus, it hadn't seemed that odd. Apparently the prince often had to be shadowed, and it didn't require a particularly senior member of the organization to do the job of what amounted to a bit of tracking, questioning, and bribing.

But now he was in the middle of something pretty bad, and a sensation between his sternum and his pelvis told him that it hadn't been an accident that such a junior inspector had been sent to discover such nasty business.

He didn't have any proof of that, of course. Just that feeling, and the certainty that he was missing some piece of the puzzle. And now he was in a well-furnished room on the second floor of the ministry, which was apparently the office of no one.

He turned as Intendant Marall entered the room, followed by two other men. One was Remar Vel, administrator of the Penitus Oculatus. The other ...

"Your majesty," he blurted, taking a knee. He felt suddenly in awe, an emotion he hadn't experience in a while. As a child he'd worshipped this man. Apparently some part of him still did.

"Rise up," the Emperor said.

"Yes, highness."

The Emperor just stood there for a moment, hands clasped behind his back.

"You were there," he finally said. "Is my son dead?"

Colin considered his answer for a moment. If anyone else had asked him ... But this wasn't anyone else.

"Sire," he said, "I do not believe so."

Titus Mede's eyes widened slightly and his brow relaxed, but that was his only reaction.

"And yet his body was recovered," Administrator Vel said drily.

"A body, sir," Colin said. "A headless body."

"It's said that the rebels in that area take heads," the Emperor said. "Other heads were taken."

"I don't believe the Natives were responsible, majesty."

"Why not? They're vicious enough, and we have information, do we not, that they are supplied and funded by our 'quiet enemies'?"

"You mean the Thalmor, majesty."

"They are in everything, these days."

"And yet I don't see how killing your son advances their aims."

"Who are you to say what their aims are?" Vel snapped. "You've only been an inspector for a month."

"Yes, sir, that's true. But my training focus was the Thalmor."

"Which does not include-by any means-everything we know about them. Their aims are obscure."

"I respectfully disagree, sir. I may well not be privy to many details, but their goal is clear-the pacification and purification of all of Tamriel-to bring about a new Merithic era."

"We have an inkling of their long-term goals, Inspector, but their intermediate plans are less scrutable."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but not always. When they took Valenwood, that was pretty straightforward, and quite logical-they put the old Aldmeri Dominion back together, which makes perfect sense in terms of their ideology. Their harassment of refugees from the Summerset Isles and Valenwood also fits their broader pattern, as does what little we know of their activities in Elsweyr. But the murder of a prince-I've tried many ways of looking at that, and it doesn't make sense."

Vel started to retort to that, but the Emperor shook his head and held up his hand. Then he spoke again to Colin.

"What is your opinion? If my son is not dead, do you believe him kidnapped? And if so, by whom, and for what purpose? And why leave this trail that seems to lead to the Thalmor?"

Colin took a another deep breath, and began to lie.

"If we assume that much of the 'evidence' left for us was false," he began, "then I might suggest it's someone interested in drawing our attention to the Thalmor. A distraction to keep our eyes turned, perhaps even coax us into a fight."

"Leyawiin?" the Emperor muttered. "They are still restless under our rule."

"Maybe it's not someone restless under your rule, majesty. Maybe it's someone who would prefer someone else inherit the throne."

"My brother?" He massaged his head. "It's not impossible. I do not like to think it."

"Sire," Vel said, "your brother did not hatch this plot. He is more than adequately surveiled."

"He is perhaps more clever than you think," Mede replied. "But lay that aside. If we find my son, we find our enemy. So I want him found." He frowned and stroked his upper lip. "Captain Gulan was among the dead?"

"He was," Vel replied.

"Is there any question regarding his identity?"

"No, sire," Vel said. "He was killed by arrowshot, and his head was not taken. Sire, I know it isn't easy to accept, but we must consider the possibility that the body we have is that of the prince, the inspector's opinion notwithstanding. It is the right size and shape-"

"My son had a birthmark on his right side, just where the ribs end. I have seen the corpse; that portion of it is charred while other parts are not. Like the inspector, I find that too convenient. And it does not feel like Attrebus. So-I believe him alive. Someone has him. I want him found. Inspector, is there any indication of where the attackers went?"

"They broke into smaller parties and left in different directions. But I would look south for Attrebus, your highness."

"And why is that, Inspector?"

"Because it is the only direction in which there were no tracks whatsoever, sire."

The Emperor grunted and nodded. "Inspector, Intendant, Administrator," he said, addressing the three, and left.

Vel waited a moment and followed him, shooting Colin an unpleasant look.

"That wasn't the brightest thing you could have done," Marall said.

"The Emperor asked my opinion," Colin said. "Isn't it my duty to give it?"

Marall sighed. "The Emperor doesn't care if you get assigned to sewer cases for the rest of your life-or worse, sent to spy on Nords. It's better if these things go up the chain of command. Now, Vel appears to be less well-informed than his most junior inspector."

"I fully intended to follow that chain," Colin said. "I came here believing Administrator Vel was going to hear my report. It isn't my fault that the Emperor was present."

Marall nodded. "You're right, of course. It's just your inexperience showing. You shouldn't have so bluntly disagreed with a superior. There are more subtle ways to go about things."

How subtle is a knife? Colin angrily thought, but then pushed that away.

"I'm still learning, sir."

"If Attrebus is alive, and they find him on your counsel, you will gain the Emperor's favor, and that will be a good thing for you. But if they do not find him, or if that body is him, then the Emperor will not think of you again. I advise you to keep as quiet as possible now, and find some way to come to Vel's attention in a more positive way."

"In that case," Colin said, "I wonder if I could be reassigned?"

"Oh, I can guarantee that," the intendant said. "Vel will put you under a rock. The only question is for how long."

When he emerged from the palace, night had fallen and the sky blazed down upon the Imperial City. He was tired, but he wanted a walk and a pint. He needed to think.

He was missing something. He had an idea what it might be, and that went well with the stroll and the ale.

In Anvil, where he was born, darkness brought quiet to the city; people went home or to the pubs and taverns, but the streets were pretty empty.

Not so here, at least not in the Market District, which was his destination. The streets were crowded with trinket vendors and soothsayers, self-styled prophets of any daedra or Divine imaginable. Women, mostly comely ones, stood outside of alehouses, flirting to attract business, and there were others of both genders and all races flirting to sell somewhat different wares. Beggars choked the edges of walkways, and little stalls were turning out the enticing smell of roasted oysters, fried cheese, bread, skewered meats, and burnt sugarcane.

People wandered in crowds, as if afraid the city would swallow them up if they found themselves alone for long.

The Crown's Hammer was off the main thoroughfare, around a corner and almost hidden in an alley. It was a half-timbered building, very old. He pushed his way in the front door.

The barkeep was a withered old fellow who favored Colin with a nod.

"You're having?" he asked as he cleaned a mug with a rag that looked slightly dirtier than the container it was wiping out.

"Ale," Colin said.

The man nodded, held the glass under the tap of a wooden keg and filled it with a rich, dark red liquid.

Colin paid for the drink and then found a table in a corner. He took a seat where he could see the door, and sipped at the ale. It was strong, sweet, and had just a taste of juniper, a Colovian Highland style now popular throughout western Cyrodiil, but hard to find here in the East.

The place was nearly empty when he came in, but it was starting to fill up now, because the patrol and the soldiers were changing shifts. The Hammer catered to Colovians, and Colovians in this part of the world were mostly military.

So he wasn't surprised when Nial Sextius walked in, noticed him, and grinned.

"Colin, lad," he said. "It's been an age."

"It's good to see you, Nial," he replied. "I was hoping you would be in tonight. Have a seat-let me buy you a drink."

"Well, fine, if I can have the next round."

When they were both looking over foam, Nial cracked his knuckles and settled his elbows on the table. He was a big man, thick in every dimension, with a ruddy, wind-worn complexion that made him look older, although he and Colin were of an age.

"Where've you been?" he asked. "It's almost two years. I thought you'd left town."

"No, just very busy," Colin said.

Nial wagged a finger at him. "Come to think of it, you were a little thin on why you're all the way over here last time we talked. Distracted me with that story about my sister."

"Yah," Colin said, taking a drink. "I-ah, work in the palace."

Nial's eyes widened. "And don't I, too?" he asked. "So why haven't I seen trace of you?"

"I'm in a different part of the palace, I guess. In the tower."

"Doing what? Making ladies' dresses?"

"Studying," he said. "In school, as it were."

"In school? But that-" He stopped, rolled his eyes and took a drink. Then he lowered his voice. "Ah, Colin, you're one of them-you're a specter, aren't you?"

"I serve the Empire, same as you," Colin said.

"Not the same as me," Nial disagreed. "Col, why?"

"They offered me a way up, Nial. A way so my mam doesn't have to work herself to death. I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense to you."

"Now, don't get your back up, scruff," Nial said. "I'm just surprised, is all. I don't fancy most of your fellows, but I'll make an exception for you."

"I don't fancy some of my fellows," Colin said. "But I don't fancy being judged either. If the Emperor didn't think we mattered, we wouldn't exist."

"Fine, like I said," Nial said. His voice dropped even lower. "So, see here," he said. "Maybe you'd know, then. Is all this true about Prince Attrebus?"

"I don't know what you've heard."

"Heard he finally got himself-and all of his guard-murdered."

"It looks like that," Colin said. "Did you know any of them?"

"Yeah, a few. I thought about applying a few years back, but I didn't think I could handle it, you know?"

"The danger, you mean?"

Nial grunted out a laugh. "That's funny," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"You mean you're a specter, and you don't know about the prince?"