To Catch a Rat
Twenty Fifth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
Over the next few days, reports poured in from all across the Yellow City as shadows turned from spies to messengers, for the sky could not be trusted with ravens while devils still held sway. From the commissar down to the newest handler, all the resources of the inquisition were bent to salvaging as much of the cult of Meraxes as possible. Agents died bleeding in the gutters and inquisitorial squads operating far from the support of the empire were often gutted in confrontation with the new Unsulled and their infernal masters, though the latter always kept to the shadows, keeping their masks of humanity firmly affixed.
As she followed the two assassins into another compromised safehouse, the acrid coppery smell of old blood already in her nostrils, Anya could not help but wonder if this was all worth it.
What were they hoping to find or to do? Did Lord Justice Vanor know something more about Meraxes and her agents than he had shared, or was it just that she was one of the Fourteen?
The inquisitor tried to set the suspicion aside. The head of the Lawmen had never shown himself overly concerned with gods, Valyrian or otherwise. Callous perhaps though not careless, but it just wouldn't go away...
Following the trail of blood they found the bodies in the kitchen, one fallen into the hearth surrounded by the smell of cooked meat, the second, an older man with a skewer lodged in his throat. Rats had already started to gather, drawn to a source of meat far more plentiful than the pantry. "Another write off," she sighed. "Be wary, they might still be..." A slow grating creak just on the edge of hearing cut through her thoughts. "What was that?"
"We hear a great deal better than you humans. There was no sound anywhere besides the inside of your own skull," the mage among her two 'companions' scoffed.
Anya had been about to answer angrily, about how many lives their carelessness could cost when it struck her. "Curse check me,
now." She hoped it was only a curse, the alternative, if something had gotten inside her head.
"I don't... Oh, something must have cast silently from under a veil. Well spotted, mortal." He still sounded like he was congratulating a dog for having learned a new trick, but Anya kept her anger in check. Now that she knew it wasn't hers, it was surprisingly easy, like building a wall in her mind or perhaps a damn in the face of a tide of black sludge.
A wave rose in her mind higher than any wall and it tumbled over her.
"I have to get away... get to safety.... get away...."
She grasped the wall for balance, the porous stone rough under her fingers. "No," she rasped aloud. "No, get out of my head."
A
sword of moonlight spun free from one of the brother's hands, striking a rat... leaving the creature far less wounded than it should have been, which was to say still alive. Anya cursed under her breath as she struggled with the presence in her mind.
I can't put a manacle on a rat! But magic was not all that Anya could muster. Before the inquisition, before Sorcerer's Deep, she had lived by her wits on the streets of Gulltown and her wits served her well, grabbing a pot off the wall she slammed it atop the rat with all her strength, trapping it. The weight on her mind grew less.
"We have your familiar," the drow mage who had held his spell spoke in smooth silky tones, less like a threat and more as though whispering into a lover's ear. "You can come out and surrender or you can wait and see what manner of havoc we can work upon you with it in our possession." He paused, a slow cruel smile coming to his lips. "Or you can come out and fight us, but I'm betting you wouldn't be playing this game if you thought you could take us."
For a long moment there was silence, save for the rat scratching at the inside of the pot, then a tall
figure with corpse-pale skin and milky white eyes emerged from where it had been crouching inside the pantry. It could not have hidden in there long, but then of course it did not need to. Being a devil it could simply vanish and reappear in some place inside the house it had already searched, while its familiar followed, wherever it could hide itself away among its kind. Rats were far from uncommon in Astapor, for all there was less and less grain for men to eat.
"And what guarantee do I have that you would honor parley?" he asked, too long tongue coiling in his mouth like a knotted worm.
What do the inquisitors reply?
[] Point out that there are many devils in their lord's service and they are fairly treated
[] Ask it to answer a few questions about its current master and circumstances, and then it may be on its way, using its powers to hide its own treachery even in its own mind
[] Don't waste time with diplomacy, try to capture it. It's the first greater devil they have spotted in five days
OOC: For anyone wondering why the devil has a rat as a familiar and not a imp who can turn into a rat, but also a boar or wolf and has a host of other powers, it's because rats are more trustworthy. Not yet edited.