The morning light filtered in through the shop window, cutting a swath of gold through the steam rising from the coffee pot. Tallis rubbed his chin in thought, taking an extra moment to savor the rich mix of fresh coffee and old old paper that filled this section of the shop. He looked down at the checker board in front of him and shook his head.

"I think you have me beat."

His opponent shot him a gap toothed smile and ran a hand through his beard. Tallis never had many friends in school but Henry had been with him through thick and thin, and even though life had taken them down different roads, they still met almost every day for a game of cards or checkers. "You're too short sighted, Tallis. You need to learn the long con."

"It's checkers. I'm not sure how much grand strategy is really involved."

Henry stood and walked over to the counter, placing his hand on one of the two stacks of books sitting there. "That's why you lose, and it's why tomorrow you'll lose again and be buying me these."

"I'm not so sure about that. My luck will turn tomorrow, you just wait and see."

He scowled down at the second stack of books. "I should hope not. I'd hate to spend my money on a pile of pure trash like this."

Tallis shrugged. "It may be trash but at least it's fun. If I ever have a hard time sleeping I'll borrow your pile."

"At least you'd learn something from my pile."

"We'll see how the chips fall tomorrow. I'm off to work, see you later." He stood and opened the door. The familiar tinkle of the tiny bell above the door filled the shop.

"Tallis," Henry called after him. "Say hello to your fathers for me."

Tallis waved and headed out into the street. The city was always at its most vibrant in the early morning. The air was damp and chill this morning, heavy with the promise of frost, but the threat of cold did nothing to blunt the energy in the streets. No matter what was happening outside its walls, the city marched to its own music. Teams of horses pulled carriages providing a rolling bass note and a staccato beat, vendors and salespeople sang the melody, and the churn of machinery from the factories in the distance sang the harmonies. Tallis let the music of the city carry him and stepped out into the flow of foot traffic. It was a relief to be back in the old routine. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his morning game of checkers, or being able to get a fresh cup of coffee, or the chance to say hello to a stranger and make a new friend. Smiling like an idiot, he made his way down the street, drawing irritated looks from anyone who either wasn't a morning person or hadn't had their morning coffee yet.

The mood died as soon as Tallis stepped into the office. Allistair was sitting at Tallis’ desk smoking and leaving little piles of ash all over it. The drawers had been torn open and papers sat strewn over the floor.

“Tallis!” The sergeant stood and lifted the arm he had as if to draw tallis into a hug. “Thank all the gods you’re here. I am in shit up to my ears.”

“Explains the smell,” said Tallis under his breath.

“You say something, boy?”

He shook his head and scooped an armload of files off the floor. “No, sir. Happy to be back.” The sergeant had absolutely mangled his case files. Not one damn thing was left in order. Hopefully someone would come by and give the sergeant a punch in the nose.

“Well good. I got that sheep farmer scooped into a cell and I need reason to keep him there or this whole business will be up the spout. And without a fuckin paddle to boot.”

Tallis dropped the stack of files onto his desk with a huff. “What do you mean you need a reason to keep him?”

“I mean he has been stewing in there for the best part of a day and wailing for a lawyer. So light a shuck, boy. I need those files yesterday. Move!”

With gritted teeth, Tallis stalked off into the archives. He shouldered the door open and growled as it flew wide and slammed into the wall. Five minutes. He’d been back in the office for all of five minutes and the sergeant had already thrown a spoke through the wheel. He found the cabinet marked 1870 and tore through it.

“Son of a bitch,” he said, thumbing through the files. To say the names on the files were nonsense was an understatement. Half of them weren’t even names, they were just numbers and the other half was in ink so faded he could barely read it. He threw a kick into the side of the cabinet, hurt his foot, and by some miracle came up with the file he needed. It didn’t look like much: a few grainy, out of focus pictures, a paragraph of notes, and a gods damned pencil sketch of a dead sheep. “Wonderful,” he said. He tucked the folder under his arm and ran back to his desk.

“Hot damn,” said Allistair. “Fastest filer this side of the ocean, I swear. This is real work of the first water here. Great stuff.”

Tallis heaved a sigh and moved to sit down.

Allistair stopped him. “No, no. You’re gonna help put the screws to ‘em. Get a wiggle on. We’ll make this son of a whore sing.”

They ran to the cells together and stopped just outside the interrogation room. Allistair grabbed tallis by the vest and smoothed the wrinkles out of it. “All right. Good. You like right sharp. Let's use that, eh? You just stand there, look like you're a real big wig. Be important."

"I'd love to but I'm not important."

"Pretend, boy. He don't know that."

"Sir please, I'm a clerk. I don't have any business being in an interrogation."

Allistair pulled a small notebook out of Tallis' pocket and a stub of a pencil out of his own. "Officially you're here to keep notes." He waved the stump of his right arm. "I wasn't left handed before I lost this. NeNeed someone to jot things down for me.” He straightened Tallis’ vest again. “Just whatever I say in there, you agree with. Don’t even say nothing. Just nod and look mean.”

Tallis nodded weakly, completely dumbfounded that this was even happening.

Allistair barged into the room and sat heavily in one of the two empty chairs. Tallis sat next to him, doing his best to look mean. He was sure he looked like a snarling puppy, doing its best to be angry but intimidating no one.

The interrogation room was bare save for three chairs and a narrow table. A single barred window was set high in the wall, letting in a faint shaft of light. The room was sweltering and the poor farmer on the other side of the table looked exhausted. He was a thin, old man with silver hair and deep wrinkles. He might have had a kind smile once but that had been beaten out of him.

“This my lawyer?” he asked. His voice came out in a dry croak.

Allistair laughed in his face. “You are a dull, old boy. I mean I knew you were a little weak between the ears but this is something else. He look like a lawyer to you?”

The farmer shrugged and looked Tallis up and down. “Maybe.”

“Let me tell you, boy. This is my boss. And he is madder than a wet hen.”

The farmer’s face fell. He looked like a dog who'd just been kicked.

A twinge of pain jabbed through Tallis’ heart.

“Now, what he needs to see is a confession,” Allistair continued. “Or he’s fixing to hang you by lunch.”

The old man looked back and forth between them, eyes wide as buckets. “What? But I don’t know what else to tell you.” He looked at Tallis. “Please, don’t do this. If you’re the boss here just let me go. Please.”

Allistair slid a leg over and ground Tallis’ toes under his heel, reminding him to stay quiet.

"Let's have that file there, boss."

Tallis slapped the folder onto the table.

"Thank you kindly, boss." He spread the photos out. "We've got you dead to rights, old boy. Dead. To. Rights. Evidence don't lie."

The farmer picked up one of the pictures. A tear rolled down his cheek. "I don't understand. I didn't do anything."

"I had enough lies out of you. We know what you did wrong. We've proved it. The only thing that can help you now is to confess. That's it."

"But I don't know what I did wrong."

"You do." Allistair slapped the table. "Sure as shit you know it. We can go one more time for the boss' sake. And if you lie to him you're done."

"I don't know what else I can say. I already told you I made a bad deal over some shine and when them boys came back, that damned whatever it was just swooped down out of nowhere scared them off."

"That's not really what happened though, is it?. Tell the truth."

"I don't know. I don't know what really happened."

"You do. That thing just didn't come from nowhere."

The old leaned forward and hung his head in his hands. "Guess not."

"Right. Where'd it come from?"

"I don't know."

"Don't. Lie. Where'd it come from? You think someone could have called it? Or summoned it?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"That's the first honest thing you've said. We appreciate it."

Tallis felt his face twist into a grimace. He was sick.

"That's a fine start there old man," Allistair continued. "But that's not the whole truth is it?"

"I don't know."

"You know. You know that it wasn't just anyone who called that thing. You know it was you."

The old man's head snapped up. "It wasn't."

Allistair leaned across the table. "Don't lie! Who called it?"

"I don't know! Someone!"

"You did! Even if you didn't mean to."

"I don't know. I guess, maybe it could have been an accident."

Allistair leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm done with guesses and maybes. If you want to go home you'll tell us the truth. Who called down the monster?"

“I guess I might have.”

Allistair wiped the sweat from his brow and stood. “Hell’s bells. That was painful. Can I borrow you outside a moment there, boss?”

Tallis stood, and grit his teeth, doing his best to keep his stomach from churning. Balling his trembling hands into fists, he followed the sergeant out of the interrogation room.

“How’s that feel, boy?” Allistair slapped him on the shoulder with a smile.

“Honestly? It feels like shit.” He turned and walked back to his desk. If he spent one more minute with the sergeant he would kill him for sure. He sat with a huff and stuffed a handful of files into one of the desks drawers.

Allistair stood in front of the desk and put his hand on his hip. “I don’t remember giving you permission to come back to your desk. There’s more work to do. I need you to come back to that interrogation and I need you to do it without kicking up a fuss.”

Tallis leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. “You’re going to be waiting a long time for that. I am not going to sit in there while you bully an innocent man like that.” His heart was fixing to leap out of his chest and run out the door, but he stood his ground. Every second he kept the sergeant out here was a one second reprieve for the man in the hot seat.

“Who in the name of sweet, flying, blue fuck, died and made you, captain? When I tell you to do something you do it!” Allistair leaned over the desk. If looks could kill, Tallis' whole family would have been dead.

He froze.

Allistair lashed out and swiped Tallis’ feet off the desk. An arc of papers flew into the air and a notebook clattered to the floor. “Answer me!”

This was a huge mistake. Tallis’ mouth might as well have been packed with sawdust and his knees felt watery. If could have stood and run out the door he would have, but he was committed now. Facing the Devil had been easier. He fumbled for his words. “I am not comfortable putting a man in jail when he clearly does not have a single clue what in all seven hells you’re talking about.”

They were starting to draw sideways glances from the other clerks on the floor.

“I don’t care a continental what you’re comfortable with, boy. We have this guy nailed to the counter and I couldn’t give a pinch of coon shit over whether he knows what I’m saying or not.”

Tallis stood and found his voice. "That man in there is innocent, and I will not sit there and be quiet while you talk him into confessing to something he didn't do."

"You don't get it, do you? This link between the runners and that thing in the woods is new. The captain isn't going to go for it unless we can put some numbers up on the board. We need an arrest. Once we get some traction we can look into this more. We’ll get the hours and manpower we need to go after this in a big way. If this ol' guy needs to bite the bullet and do some time to get us that then so be it. If he needs to die for it then that's fine so long as we get what we want.”

“I can’t let that happen.” Tallis shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.

The sergeant leaned over the desk and shoved him down into his chair. “To hell with you then. Pack your plunder and get out of here. I don’t want to see you again.” Allistair stalked back into the interrogation cell and slammed the door behind him.

Tallis sat and pulled a pen and a fresh pad of paper out of his desk. If he was going to be fired then he’d make damned sure the sergeant got it in the neck on his way out the door. Hours later, he walked to the captains office and slid a stack of papers under the door.

He stalked out of the city and up the well worn paths that led homhome. He came through the door of the farmstead like a thundercloud and reached up on top of the hall closet, pulling down the bottle of whiskey that was stashed up there. Not bothering with a glass, he stalked into the kitchen, sat heavily and took a long pull from the bottle.

“That you, son?” Norman called from the sitting room. “Or did a herd of bison just charge the front door.” He stepped into the kitchen, book in one hand and a small pair of spectacles in the other. “Everything okay?”

“Not really.” Tallis’ voice broke. “I think I got fired today.”

Norman blinked in shock, and then rushed over to wrap his son in a hug.

The world's problems seemed to melt away just for a moment.

“It’s okay, buddy,” said Norman. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Tallis nodded.

“Well, here.” Norman pulled a pair of glasses down from the cupboard. “At least drink out of a glass.”

Tallis poured himself a healthy portion of liquor and told the story. By the end of it Norman stood without a word and left the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a dust covered book. The cover was torn and the spine was cracked. Loose pages spilled over the edge of the book.

“I knew something sounded off about that job.” He opened the book and leafed through the yellowed pages. “Something is off about that sergeant. I swear Ed told me a story about him once.”

Tallis finished his drink and leaned over the book. He recognized the neat spidery scrawl of his other father’s handwriting.

Norman tapped one of the pages. “Right here. That guy isn’t part of Cold Iron. He’s a Faerunner.”

Tallis snatched the book from his father and read the paragraph. He stopped and read it again, and again. None of it made sense, but there it was on the page clear as day. In 1870 Allistair had been arrested with a full satchel of gems on him. Way more than any one person had a right to own, and not just simple ones, dangerous ones. Reds, greens, even a black. Hells, one slip and load of crystal like that would blow up a building, turn the sidewalk to glass, and transform the guy carrying them into a frog.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What the hell is he doing at Cold Iron, then?”

“I don’t know,” said Norman. “Could be playing one hand against the other you think? Working both sides?”

“I don’t know if he’s smart enough for that.”

The back door squeaked open and Ed walked in, brushing the dust off his hands. He looked back and forth at the two men at the table before his eyes settled on the bottle sitting between them. The family whiskey bottle always meant someone was having a terrible day. “Everything okay in here? What are you doing with my old case notes?”

Norman showed him the passage in the book. “You arrest a Faerunner named Allistair?”

Ed sat down and took a drink from the bottle. He picked up the book, loose pages spilling onto the floor, and squinted at the entry. “I arrested a lot of people, dear. You’ll forgive me if I don’t remember all of them.”

“He’s Tallis’ boss now.”

Ed shrugged. “Could it be a different guy?”

Tallis poured himself the last of  the whiskey and blew out a long sigh. “It’s not the most common name, is it? I doubt there's more than one Allistair Cromley around.”

Norman stood and clapped his son on the shoulder. “Well that’s something, eh? Let the captain know. Everything will be fine. Tomorrow’s a new day.”