The Inquisitives [1] Bound by Iron by Edward Bolme Page A

start by finding a necromancer that might be able to get Torval to talk?”
    “No,” said Cimozjen flatly.
    “Why not? I know it’s pricey, but a veteran like you should be able to—”
    “I’ll not entrust Torval to the mercies of the Cult of Vol,” spat Cimozjen with startling vehemence, “nor to anyone else who practices their vile rites. I’ve had … poor experiences with their ilk in times past, and I’d trust their assistance even less than I’d trust Thauram and his kind.”
    In response to his outburst, Minrah just gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. They walked in silence together for a dozen blocks or so before she spoke again.
    “They still amaze me, after all these years,” she said.
    “The White Lions?”
    “These lights.” Minrah pointed to one of the lanterns as theypassed. “They never stop shining. Ever. I think it’s amazing that magewrights can do that, spend a relatively short amount of time on a project and leave an indelible mark on the world like that. That’s what I want to do. Write a story that will be read over and over again for a thousand years. It’s a kind of immortality to have your name remembered forever.”
    They walked in silence for another block. At the next intersection, she spoke again. “Did you know that the name ‘everbright lanterns’ originated in Thrane?” she asked.
    “No, I did not. I thought that’s just what most people call them.”
    “A lot of them do, I think, especially in the cities, but the nickname is most prevalent in Thrane over every other nation in Khorvaire. It spread everywhere with their missionaries, I suppose, so now it’s more of a Khorvairian word than anything. Kind of lost its roots. I think the phrase originally had to do with their obsession with the Silver Flame, their holy eternal fire, burning all the time in its cathedral. A true believer is always supposed to have the light of the Silver Flame burning bright in their souls, or so they say. So I’ve always thought that they used that name as kind of a reminder to themselves of what they ought to be doing. Bringing their light to the world.”
    Cimozjen mulled the idea over for a moment. “Sounds reasonable.”
    “And the Brelish often as not call them cold fire lanterns,” she said. “I think that’s because they appreciate the irony of the phrase ‘cold fire,’ the inherent magical implications of the name. I mean, their capital, Sharn, is replete with magic, built as it is right there on a manifest zone with all those huge towers. If the magic faded from the area, the whole city would collapse. But in the meantime, they revel in it.”
    “I see,” said Cimozjen. “And in a like manner Karrns call them wisplights because they’re so faint compared to the sun. Wispy sunlight—wisplight. It seems the most realistic label.”
    “No, silly man,” said Minrah. “I’d wager it’s because of theKarrnathi obsession with mystery, death, and undeath. You’re a superstitious and moody people, probably because you grew up with all these large, dark pine forests encroaching on your towns. I think they’re named because they’re faint and round and can only be seen at night, like will-o’-wisps. That’s why in the small towns, folks only call them ‘wisplights.’ They’re closer to their superstitions than city folk.”
    Cimozjen pursed his lips. “I’d not thought of it that way,” he said, “but I do suppose you could be right.”
    “There’s no ‘could be’ about it,” said Minrah with a confident laugh.
    “Up there,” said Cimozjen, “that’s where I’m staying. The Walking Wounded.”
    “I see it. Charming picture of a one-armed zombie on the sign. Do you have a private room?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “I find them a needless indulgence,” said Cimozjen.
    “I should have expected a veteran to say as much. You’ve probably spent most of your life bunking with other solders, haven’t you?”
    “Yes, and trust me, one learns to