1618686836 (F) (17 page)

Quinn was a different matter altogether. Every single person asked, from the lowest page to the highest dignitary that had actually heard of her—which appeared to be Ross, the Chamberlain—had the same general opinion of Quinn. Whilst Ross attested to the fact that she was a hard worker, the girl was solitary to the point of isolation, with Maertn and Sammah being her only real sources of contact within the entire city. That made sense then, that the lad would be so upset if she were choosing to leave. Eden was already painting pictures in his mind of what had happened between the two. Perhaps they had made a pact to try and find traces of their families, but Maertn’s rise in his profession meant that Quinn had decided to go out alone. Perhaps she harboured a love for him, and felt shunned in favour of his healing work. Both seemed feasible, if she had been a hot-headed dolt like the majority of women that flopped to the floor at the sign of so much as a dormouse. The stories continued, though. Quinn had always been quiet and isolated. Her friendship with Maertn had been a slow and gradual thing, and the consensus was that Quinn could probably drop the lad like a stone if she so chose, being solely dependent on the relationship she had with her father. She was fearful of crowds, and wholly unreliable to keep composed in any kind of din. As a child she had been barred from market days for going hysterical, running away and staying missing altogether for days on end. Her odd ways had seen her end up as one of Ross's night maids. If she hadn’t been under the care of Sammah, she would have been expelled from castle service altogether for being such a nuisance. And it was a shame, everyone said, because she was such a beauty. Any normal girl would have found herself as a playmate of the princess by now, or perhaps even bordering on one of the queen’s own maids. But Quinn’s paranoias were aging her beyond her years, most said, and she looked both old and severe whilst still managing to look naïve and chaotic. Eden needed to get her on her own, to speak to her. This Quinn, she was everything so far that people had said she was. Her actions in the courtyard, on both occasions, proved this. But there was something in that stare, something in the strength and the conviction of her words in the confrontation with Maertn that night, which put those assumptions to the sword. Eden was finding the rumours about the orphan Quinn quite wanting. And when Eden found himself lacking in knowledge, he always set about finding the answers to his questions.

He and Quinn both snapped back to attention to the room. The room wasn’t silent, but the chattering had reduced to a few hushed tentative whispers. After much bawling, King Vance had gained control of the courtroom. In the tense silence, his composure returned. Instead of howling from the back of his throat his words came deep, from the controlling part of his chest and the sorrowful part of his heart.

“I do not think the phrase,
a heavy heart
, even begins to cover the way I feel about the news I had to break to Lord Broc this morning. No father expects to bury a son when the land is in peace. But this is going to happen. Tomorrow, dignitaries from Broadwater will leave the Meet early. Whilst this is unheard of, the circumstances are wholly justifiable. If I lost any of my children—especially my son and heir—I would raze the kingdom in fire and blood until I found the man responsible. Broc cannot do this. We are meant to be in an era of peace. I, however, am the king. What is the law, if it is not for the king to bend at times of extreme need? We would not usually hunt out petty criminals, but this is no minor crime. The province of Broadwater has lost its heir, at a time when the mantle of leadership was ready to be passed. Broc was going to step down at the end of this meet. Now, he must endure to ensure his next son is educated in the art of leadership. We will all do what we can to help him. And that includes finding his son’s murderers and bringing them to justice. Do not doubt, I don’t believe this person acted alone.”

“How did this happen? Aren’t the Royal Guard meant to keep us safe?” A defiant voice cried from the back of the room, joined quickly by a chorus of accord.

“If you think people are safe just because there is no war, think again. There are still thieves, but they are controlled in their own guild. There is no guild for assassins. There is no guild for kidnappers. There are men out there that still want to bend the law for their own will. Someone wanted to see the succession at Broadwater disrupted.”

“But how? You’re not answering the question!”

Quinn looked over her shoulder, but couldn’t identify where in the crowd the dissenter stood. They were defended though, not suppressed, as a raucous cry of agreement came out in response. Everyone wanted answers. If one of the most guarded men in the kingdom could be killed in the dead of night in the castle of the king, then surely no one was safe. Vance fought again for control of the room and only found it when the guardsmen standing around the perimeter started rhythmically banging their wooden staffs on the hard concrete floor. The anger turned to a nervous energy, as the gathered commoners began to wonder if the king would turn his men on them first. The guardsmen, to their credit, kept themselves controlled; their faces neutral, and their eyes straight forward. The wrong move from the wrong person, and that room could have easily become a bloodbath of innocents.

“We do not know how Broc was taken. The last time he was seen, he was within the royal suites. Therefore, we have to assume that the person who killed him, or arranged for him to be killed, is one of our own.”

This brought a further flurry from the crowd, which again needed intervention from the waiting guardsmen. Quinn sank down in her seat, trying to make herself smaller. She didn’t want to be here. She was getting nervous, just as the crowd was getting restless. This could in no way end well. The last time she had seen Broc, he had been unconscious on the floor of Sammah’s quarters, and the blow that Elias had dealt him could well have been fatal.

Men began slinging accusations at each other. Even the nobles seated at the high table couldn’t restrain themselves, men each accusing the other of breaking the pact of peace that had rested over their lives for so many years. Shiver was particularly vocal. Sammah had stood back, and even now was still slowly retreating across the hall. Quinn had noticed it, even if the others around them hadn’t. It was only a matter of time until the fury that was currently pointed inwards and at each other was directed towards the only notable foreign presence in their midst; the ambassador from Sha’sek. Broc himself was the one to throw the first metaphorical stone. He turned and pointed to Sammah, his gesture throwing a similar wall of silence as the baron stopped his retreat.

“What do you have to say about this, Baron Sammah?” Broc’s voice was quiet and shaky, though somehow the din settled as this very pertinent question was levied across the hall.

“If you think I’m stupid enough to kill a noble with none of my own people here to protect me, then you picked the wrong man to be the peace ambassador here.”

“Where were you though, Sammah? Have you got excuses for your own actions last night? Can you account for all of your retinue? They have enough of a reputation.”

“That is why we’re here, my lord. If you’ll just let the king get on with proceedings, I’m sure we will start getting to the bottom of this most heinous matter. I am as concerned to find the murderer of your son as you are; we cannot have such a dangerous person running lose around our court.”

The mumbling from the crowd came back with this comment, but it was now restrained whispers, as the gossip-mongers started concocting their tales to throw around the inns in the town later that night. Vance heaved a great sigh, probably at relief that the pensive atmosphere pervading around the hall had been finally brought to a close.

“Right. Are we done? Can we start this circus now, or does anyone else have something to add in to this already poisonous mixture?”

No one was brave enough to answer him this time. Vance nodded, apparently reassured of his authority in the situation, though it was clear to everyone present that he had none.

“As the audience has so cleverly suggested, we are here to go through the evidence provided already to find the murderer of Lord Alec of Broadwater. One suspect named was Elias, of Sha’sek origins, a member of the retinue of Baron Sammah. Sammah, please be seated whilst your guard is questioned.

“You’ll have a job questioning him.”

This brought some snorts from those in the crowd that already knew of Elias's mute status. These people were shushed and elbowed by their compatriots as the massive man was brought forward. Elias was still shackled, and rightly so, given his recent conviction for the attempted murders of Quinn and Maertn.

Vance beckoned Ross forward and, as with all formal appointments, the chamberlain spoke on behalf of the king. This was essential in this instance, as Ross was perhaps the only other man in the city that wouldn’t be belittled by the sheer size and presence of the mercenary.

“Now, I’m not stupid. You’re going to nod your head once for yes, and shake your head from side to side once for no, so that everyone knows what you’re about. If you don’t have an answer, put up both hands to me, palm first. Do you understand?”

Elias was a sensible man. He gave a slow and solemn nod.

“You have been brought here as a suspect in the murder of Lord Broc. However, you have an alibi. Is this correct?”

Elias nodded.

“And that alibi, is that you were in fact attempting to murder Quinn Sammah and Maertn Sammah, of the House of Sammah. Is this correct?”

Elias nodded once more.

“And do you admit to this charge?”

Elias nodded, and Ross grunted. The questions were too simple, and Elias, such a tower of a man, shouldn’t be implicating himself this easily. Ross was almost compelled to ask the man if he had truly understood the question, but the answer had come clearly enough. Ross ploughed on, regaining the room quickly after an uncharacteristic stumble.

“The penance from the crown for this crime of attempted murder is five years labour in the quarries. You are accused of this crime twice. Therefore your sentence is ten years. Given the statement from your owner, who is held in high regard by the crown, our sovereign the rightful King Vance has seen fit to reduce this sentence by two years. You, Elias, mercenary of Sha’sek of no house, will therefore serve eight years under the chain in the Hearthstone quarry in Daggerdale. You will be taken out in the morning. Do you have…any way to ask any questions?”

Elias gave a broad grin that sent a ripple down the spine of anyone unlucky enough to witness it. Ross immediately thought that sending Elias to a place that would allow him to improve his already significant strength for years was potentially a very bad idea. Sammah was iron-faced at the sentence. He had known it was coming, and had bargained very hard with the king for the minor reduction.

“Take him away. The Crown now calls to witness, Eden of Sevenspells.”

The hushed mutters returned as Eden took himself to the stand. Quinn sat up slightly in her seat at this point; a move that was not missed by Sirah. She smirked, keeping a more interested eye on Quinn so she could report each juicy little detail back to her baron.

Eden took his chair, as you would expect the son of a noble to; slowly and with dignity. Ross waited without fuss for the noise to abate. It would do so it its own time. The initial flurry of excitement had already run its course; they were getting down in to the more boring proceedings now.

“We’ll try to keep this brief, Eden. I’m sure no one here is going to question the credentials of a son of Sevenspells.”

Ross paused for a second, just in case someone did want to give in to a lapse of sanity and speak up at that point. Quinn looked around, and saw that Sammah had now taken a seat with the rest of the king’s senior retinue.
Safety in numbers
she thought. People would think twice about pointing a finger at a crowd, for fear of provoking the wrong person. Strutting around behind the King, Sammah had unwittingly made himself a target. How out of character for such a perfectionist.

“Now, Eden, you have already given written testimony to the fact that you witnessed the crimes of Elias, already sentenced here today?”

“I did.”

“And what led you to be in the courtyard at such an hour? It seems a high coincidence.”

“Well, as the man is already sentenced, I’m not sure why I need to answer. But I was practising my drills, if it makes any difference to you.”

“In the dark?”

“Does the fighting in your world stop when the sun goes down?”

Shiver smirked as an affirmative roar went up from the Sevenspells contingent present. He elbowed Rowan who returned the grin. That, apparently, was the right thing to say as a son of the legendary Lord Shiver.

“Very clever Eden. There’s no question of your patronage, that much is clear.”

Quinn was curious. Such ostentatious bravado didn’t match the man she had sensed that handful of times. Whilst it would fool anyone listening, especially anyone familiar with Lord Shiver’s reputation, Quinn though she already knew this Eden more than anyone else present. He was clearly different to his father. She sent out a tentative whisper of a touch, to see if she could sense how he was feeling. What she thought she felt, was embarrassment. A light sensation of pins and needles tingled across her fingers, which warmed up ever so slightly. Quinn smiled to herself. Eden might have been practising his drills in the courtyard in the dead of the night, but it wasn’t to please or emulate his father. She was relieved. She would have hated to be so intrigued by a man who was drilling himself in the same mold as a man as deplorable as Shiver.