Torit felt the odd quiver to the air, and heard the tearing noise that always accompanied a visitor arriving at the Order’s waystation. Although the Order liked to consider themselves to be a society of masters, few bothered to master the use of the transit network, mostly because they were gently encouraged not to use it often. Therefore, people arriving was a messy affair, with energy leaking out, people stumbling into walls or each other, dropping things, and so forth.

Torit thought of it as being a very human thing.

Torit was not human. That didn’t make him better, but as an avian Halfbreed, he considered himself above humans, and not just when he was flying. Granted his wings didn’t actually work; he had chosen to focus an enormous amount of energy on learning to fly with magic as a result, and had gotten quite good at it, enough to be the envy of many of his species. Compared to that, the fact that he had no hands, and had to use magic for everyday tasks was but a trifle.

So when he slid open the door and found two members of the Order in a disorderly pile on the floor, he sniffed indignantly. If someone had run into him from behind, he would have placed them both back on their feet in an instant. But no, they struggled to their feet and argued about whose fault it was over the course of the next several minutes.

Finally, though, they stepped out of the transit room--little more than a long closet, with a stone seal on the floor at one end--and addressed Torit.

“Sorry about that. You, I assume, are the station master here.” The older man held out his hand, not quite having processed that the halfbreed could not return the gesture. “I am Wilke.”

Torit looked at the hand for a long moment without comment, then addressed the other, a younger woman. “Yes, I am Torit, and I manage the station. You are?”

The woman smothered a smile and, after a moment where she seemed conflicted about how to greet him properly, decided a shallow bow would do. “I am Marin. We’re here to find Melthius and Ninama.”

“Of course.” Torit stepped back to allow them full access to the waystation. “I haven’t moved their things out of their quarters yet. I doubt there’s much among their possessions that would offer a clue, but it didn’t seem like it was my prerogative.”

The two stepped into Nina’s quarters and then the guest quarters that Melth had used, and after briefly going through what the two had left behind, agreed that there was nothing there except spare clothes and one or two personal effects. They gathered it all into a bundle, and Torit placed the bundle into storage while they looked at what little paperwork there was about the mission.

When he returned, Wilke looked up at him. “It seems pretty clear they must have found something at this Lord Egrethore’s facility.”

“Yes, and no.” Rather than pulling an extra chair out of his office, Torit made himself comfortable on a floating magical cushion, which he wove out of air in a handful of moments, all without breaking his place in the conversation. “The fact that they were attacked on the road on the way back suggests that he didn’t discover something urgent, exactly.”

“You mean if he’d found something, they would have killed him there.” Marin nodded without looking up from Torit’s report. “But they were definitely assassinated. Ninama worked here, but had no real enemies that you know of, correct? And there is no way Melth was targeted for any reason other than his work.”

“Nina had no enemies,” Torit confirmed, trying to keep his voice light. “If anything, I worried that she was too close to the nobility around here. I don’t have any reason to believe she was being corrupted, but as an Order liaison, she certainly was in a position to be, how shall I say, courted by some…”

“She was sleeping with nobles?” Wilke looked up at him, seeming genuinely surprised.

Torit, a bit embarrassed, dissembled. “It… she smelled that way, sir,” he said. “But I didn’t follow her. I have no idea who, exactly, she was sleeping with. She isn’t, as far as I know, the sort to sleep around. But neither was it only once or twice that she came back with a… strong scent.”

“I think that’s enough,” said Marin quietly, looking up at Torit without quite straightening from being slumped over the paperwork. “But thank you. Did she ever do anything to make you think…?”

“I have the highest respect for her integrity,” said Torit firmly, tilting his head and raising one eye to give an expression that he hoped showed mild offense, then relaxed. “It has been tested, in small ways. I firmly believe she was, to the end, trustworthy.”

“There are no bodies, right?” Wilke borred a paper from Marin’s stack, seeming to know which one he was after. “So you’re guessing that they were killed and not just taken.”

“Nina lost a lot more blood than Melth did. Melth also struggled away from the place he was wounded, but Nina did not. Given that Melth was a Void user, I suspect he blocked part of the attack, but Nina did not. There is some chance that they took them both alive, but the chances are higher for Melth than for Nina.” Torit thought back to the scents and stains in the dirt, trying to find any other details buried in the scene. The avalanche of pain, fear, and doubt that he felt at the time came back to him, but he pushed it down, focusing instead on the facts.

“Traces of magic?”

“I’m not good with that. Melth didn’t get far. Given how much blood Nina lost, they probably lay there for a while, so I would guess there was a paralyzing agent or sleeping enchantment. Most likely delivered by bow, or crossbow.”

“Which is more likely out here?” Marin asked, curiously.

“Different groups have different preferences. The Egrethore group prefers light crossbows, but many of the mercenary groups are bowmen. The other major power west of Nase, the Mantrul group, also prefer crossbows, but usually a heavier variety.”

“How much of a weight difference?” Marin had a bit of paper out and was taking notes.

“The Egrethore group prefers crossbows with a small amount of magimetal in the stock. They are distinctive in how small they look, but they have the normal amount of power and penetration. The Mantrul group prefer enchanted heads, especially seeking types, and so they buy heavy crossbows, ones they can shoot from a much greater distance.”

When Marin seemed satisfied, Wilke cleared his throat. “Tell me more about the tracks leading away from the scene.”

Torit continued explaining what he knew or had found out for the next couple hours. When, finally, the two investigators left, he saw them off, watching their horses track off to the south towards the main road before he gently closed the main gates.

They were competent, clever, and clear in their purpose. Torit had some hope they would figure things out, but if the nobles here were willing to kill members of the Order, it might be too much for any two people to handle.

Nevertheless, they gave him hope, and that was what he needed right now.