Meet and Greet Part 4 (Nathayen POV)

The residential building we reached spoke of a financially well-off owner. Its modern design with flat roofs and white exterior walls interested me less than the size and security of the property. Someone lived here who expected unwanted intruders. I couldn't see everything in detail because the blinds over the windows were closed, but I was confident that they too had suitably sturdy glass. Probably bulletproof glass, after he had emphasized being suspicious in his business.

I let him unlock the door, but entered the building before him. The front door gave us access to a stairwell, from which several doors led off at once. Most of them did not interest me; however, my nose immediately detected the smell of paint and solvents to our left. If there was a painting to be found, it had to be in this room.

"This is definitely not a still life," commented Damahir, whose eyes had fallen on a charcoal drawing in the hallway. It showed a warrior with his back to the viewer in a kung fu pose. Everything was very detailed and elaborated to a high standard. The moment of the jump was authentically captured, as if the artist had experienced it himself. I didn't know if there was a connection between the tiny creature and martial arts. Nor did it interest me at all. The position of legs and fists in the jump was nevertheless well taken and spoke of the fact that the creator of this work had understood something about fighters.  

"He can definitely draw half-naked men," Dam noted.

Well, at least if this picture came from the owner of the house. The fact that it was hanging in the hallway was not enough to conclude that. But I didn’t bother to discuss this with Damahir. Instead, I preferred to enter the suspiciously smelling room, followed by Lyras, the occupant, and finally the brothers.

I had to admit, the architect had gone to great lengths to conjure up a suitable studio. No less than three of the four walls were completely glazed. Even the ceiling above us had been fitted with enough windows to let daylight into the room. Currently, the blinds were closed, so that no light from outside penetrated. But when we entered the room, several lamps had been activated by motion detectors, which I expected to be daylight lamps. The dwarf therefore drew, even when the sunlight was no longer available. Besides a table with various painting utensils, which I only partly recognized, all the finished paintings, which one had lined up neatly, caught the eye. 

My gaze was immediately drawn to a particular image in the room. It showed a dwelling place that did not come from the human world. A city that seemed to be sinking along with the landscape on which it stood. After witnessing this, I had no doubt that we were on the right track. Otherwise, how likely was it that he had made two works of art at the same time, which reported on such important events of Sotarineo?

"I think we found our artist," I remarked as I fixed the dwarf. "Who is your informant?" We had been prancing around each other long enough. Time for the runt to come clean. I pointed my finger at the painting, wanting him to realize that he could no longer talk his way out of it.

But instead of resigning himself to his fate, the pipsqueak followed my finger pointing and seemed irritated. Was he just faking surprise? With the acting talent, he had revealed so far, that was within the realm of possibility.

"Excuse me?" The wretch retorted. He took a step toward the painting. "I don't realize what you're reading into it, but this painting is from my imagination. I don't paint to order, as a matter of principle."

"Sure. It's a mere coincidence that two striking paintings by the same artist should appear at once." I snorted. Having already seen how well his poker face turned out, I was convinced by now that he was trying to lie his way out of the situation. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Who is your informant?"

"As I mentioned before, the picture is mine. It shows a fantasy city declining. You are welcome to see this symbolically as a criticism of capitalism. Also, as the transience of great civilizations. But that's all it's about," the dwarf insisted. What was the point of being stubborn after we had come so far? Very well, then we would have to use harsh methods.

"So you really want it uncomfortable." I exchanged a glance with the others. "You had your chance."

Dam cracked his knuckles enthusiastically while Juliel positioned himself behind the dwarf.

"May I?" He had been fired up the entire time to teach the dwarf fear. Of course he wanted his chance at questioning him. 

However, the human wasn't about to let himself get beat up, plain and simple. He lunged for Dam with a punch of his own, which the group fledgling caught in the palm of his own hand, grinning. "Nice try, kid. I'll show you how a real punch works right away."

Juliel took the opportunity to grab his wrists from behind and drag his hands behind his back. At the same time, he kicked the back of the tiny man's knees to bring him to the ground.

I smirked at the quick turnaround of the situation and watched as Dam gave him two powerful punches. The wretch didn't seem ready to give up, however, even though Dam had given him a bloody nose. Instead, he spat the blood on the ground in front of Damahir and smiled back at me. The defiance from his eyes literally jumped into my face. "That won't get you anywhere with me!"

"Well, if that doesn't help, we'll just have to break some bones for you. Let's start with the fingers!"

Before Dam could even get to that, Lyras told him to pause. "Remember his heartbeat." Lyras' gaze met mine. I could guess what he was getting at. "Unless we have a way to stop the release, we can't take any chances."

I nodded in agreement and turned to Juliel.

"We must resort to magic, there is no other way," I decided. Juliel nodded and closed his eyes, mentally focusing on the human. Certainly, the process was unpleasant for the human, but he had brought it on himself that it had come to this. If he had told us the truth, we would not have had to waste any magic on it.

We waited patiently until Juliel raised his voice. Four words, softly murmured, could not have echoed louder in the studio. "He has no informant."

At that moment, the surrounding windows shattered.