"Nice to know I'm expendable," I grumble. I look down at my wound again, a couple digits below my armor. "I need a longer cuirass."

"I can do that," says Bolin. "A longer piece'll slow you down, though."

"Forget it, then," I mutter. In my line of work, speed and agility is better than armor. Most days.

The dwarf gets busy. He moves to the two downed suspects and makes some small healing gestures over Calmorien. Then he examines me and Lynae, and makes similar gestures over our wounds. "That'll stop the bleeding for now," he says. He turns back to Enturi.

"I can do a healing invocation," he announces. "It will completely heal Lynae, bring Arq close to whole, and bring Calmorien back to consciousness. That's the best I can do. The human is dead."

"Sounds good," says the pretty boy. "Lynae, tie up Calmorien before we wake him. Then give this place the once over. Arq, let's check out these barrels." He is starting to get stinkin' bossy.

We pull out the body that Calmorien and his henchman were lowering into the barrel. It is a child, an elven child. Limp and dirty, with staring unfocused eyes. But breathing, barely. We lower her to the wood floor. Kneeling down sends shards of pain into my hip sharper than adamantine gauntlet spikes but I'm damned if I'm going to give Enturi the pleasure of seeing me hurting.

"Bolin, come take a look at this," I say. "Twilight sleep?"

He looks at her, sniffs her breath, and nods.

I pull the lids off the other two barrels. Inside each is another elf-child, both boys, caught in the waking death of the twilight sleep. The one in the last barrel is Alvar, the street rat who gets my bread. "What have you gotten mixed up in, you stupid punk?" I whisper. This whole deal is getting darker by the moment. I think we can safely assume that Calmorien had more than a little to do with Norien's murder.

As I lay Alvar and the other boy down next to the girl, I hear a sharp click behind me. 

Shit.

In my world, clicks are bad.

"Lockbox is open," Lynae announces. She pours out a cascade of gold and silver coins onto the table. A rich haul, for Elftown. Without comment, Enturi divides it into four piles, and scoops one pile into a belt pouch. Lynae and I do the same. Then, almost tentatively, the dwarf takes the last pile. He can't fool me with his seeming reluctance, though. I see the glint in his yellow eyes as he grasps the coins.

"And then there's this," Lynae hands over a sheet of linen paper and we read it. It's an agreement for delivery of three barrels of fish sauce to an unnamed buyer. Delivery to be made today.

"The warehouse is empty. There are no full barrels here," I point out.

"There are three drugged children, though," says Lynae. "And it looks like the loading process was about to begin when we arrived. I bet these three were about to be put on the wagon."

"Could these four have pushed the wagon?" I ask, pointing to Calmorien and the other three. Lynae nods.

"There's our answer, then."

Enturi agrees. "All right, dwarf, let's get that invocation going."

The dwarf must have underestimated his abilities a little, because when the magic aura of the healing ward fades a few minutes later, I am as good as new, a faint scar and a lingering touch of weariness the only remnant of the nasty slice in my hip. Calmorien is writhing at his bonds.

"I may not be the brightest elf in this room," I announce generally. "But I know something."

"What's that, tough guy?" sneers Enturi, who obviously considers himself the brightest elf in the room by a long shot.

"With Calmorien alive and conscious, these two-" I gesture to the two guards from outside that Bolin kept alive, "-are expendable." I walk over to them. No one makes a move or utters a word to stop me. They know I'm right. Jet said to leave no evidence of his involvement. I give the dwarf an insincerely apologetic look as I cut the first one's throat. I don't bother when I kill the second one.