The Consuls of the Vicariate (15 page)

“Shouldn’t we take this inside?” Laedron asked. “It would appear a crowd is gathering.”

“Sergeant Wilkans just informed me of what happened, as I only just arrived myself,” Greathis replied. “Yes, bring the bodies inside and bar the doors. The rest of you, get on with your duties. Half of the city remains unwatched with you all here.”

Once inside, Laedron recounted everything that had happened, being careful to leave out the parts about the stones and the magical occurrences.

“No wounds. Not even bruising from strangulation,” Greathis said, searching the dead guard’s body. “He was too young to die of anything natural. How did he die?”

“I wish I knew.” Laedron shrugged. “We found him like this in the alley, and we searched for weapons or a cause of death. None could be found.”

Greathis turned to the other body. “Looks as if you are skilled with a dagger after all, young man. These symbols on his cloak, do they mean anything to you?”

Laedron swallowed deeply. “No, Master Greathis. I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

“I fear we may have mages afoot,” Greathis said, tracing the embroidery with a fingertip. “I haven’t seen runes like these in a long time.”

“You’ve seen them before?”

“Not exactly like these, no, but the style reminds me of mage writing.” Greathis rubbed his scruffy chin. “The Sorbian army is in Balfan, and we now have what seems to be a dead mage before us. Infiltration?”

Laedron had some difficulty keeping the details sorted in his mind. The war, in the minds of the Heraldans, had been started by Sorbia, but he knew Gustav and his hired hands had made a sneak attack to cause it—the academy burned and toppled by their torches and incantations. If nothing else, Greathis seemed either not to know what had actually passed or refused to reveal his knowledge of those events. The former would be good news for Laedron, proof that Greathis was not part of the scheme, but the possibility of the latter gave him pause and reason not to trust the militia commander.
For now
,
I’ll need to keep some things secret
.

“How long since the first militia guard went missing?” Marac asked. “Didn’t Sergeant Wilkans say two months or so?”

Greathis sighed. “Yes. It began just prior to the opening of the war, and that is why I feel the Sorbian mages had something to do with this.”

If only he knew he was speaking in the presence of a Sorbian mage
.
He’s ready to lay the blame on us, though, regardless of the fact that he’s probably never met or even seen a Sorbian sorcerer. Well, knowingly seen one
.

“Sorbian or not, we should be on the lookout for others such as this,” Greathis said. “I thank you for bringing this to my attention. Should you find anything else, let me know. Of course, I can only hope that it was an isolated incident and that we’ll see no more murders of my men.”

“Yes, Master Greathis. We’ll return to our patrol.” Laedron gave Marac a nudge, then walked out the door and down the street.

Marac glanced around when they were by themselves. “Quick to blame the Sorbians, isn’t he?”

“He has nothing else to go on,” Laedron said. “It looks awfully suspicious, and for a Heraldan, it’s not a far stretch to believe the Circle could have done this.”

“Do you believe it, Lae?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly. I can’t even tell you if anyone from the Circle is still alive, aside from those taken into the Shimmering Dawn.”

“What if it
is
Circle mages, though? Ones that you don’t know? Maybe they’ve come here for revenge.”

Laedron stopped and gave Marac a long stare. “I can’t discount the possibility. It’s out of character for a Circle mage, though; we don’t go around killing random people.”

“He wasn’t a random person, though,” Marac said, turning a corner into an alley. “He was a militia guard, a symbol of Heraldan authority, and the closest thing they have to a military.”

“Yes, but why? Why kill militia guards just before a major attack on your own academy?”

“I don’t know. What are you getting at?”

“I mean to say that we’re clearly not privy to every piece of the puzzle. What if some act by the Circle mages did cause the war? What if it wasn’t a preemptive sneak attack? Instead, what if the attack was merely a response to some other grievance?”

“We can speculate about the reasons, but it will do us no good. For now, we’re walking a thin line between reality and what we can prove, and falling on either side puts us in grave danger.”

Marac turned. “Do you hear that?”

Stopping, Laedron closed his eyes. “A whistle. From the Ancient Quarter… Jurgen!”

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Chapter Ten →

Trouble in the Ancient Quarter

V
alyrie brushed a concoction of butter and seasonings onto the goose, turning it on the spit to ensure each side had a liberal application. Night had fallen over the city, and with Jurgen’s missives delivered to each recipient, she had been given the task of making a meal for them. Her first night in the house had left her with an unsettled feeling, much like the one she’d had the night her father died, a feeling of homesickness and a longing to return to something familiar.

“Smells delightful,” Jurgen said, looking up from his papers at the writing desk. “I wasn’t aware the house came stocked with all manner of spices.”

“It didn’t.” Valyrie wiped her hands on a scrap of cloth. “To cover my steps, I visited the market and purchased some spices before going to the headquarters. If anyone had been following me, I don’t see how they could have kept up after that.”

“A wise move.”

“A few more minutes on the goose, and we’ll be ready to dine.” She sliced a carrot and dropped it into the bowl with the rest of the greens. “I’ve made a salad, too. I saw how eagerly you ate the one at that restaurant.”

“The Refined Palate?” Jurgen stood and joined her at the counter. “Since Griffenwold paid, I thought it would be disrespectful not to indulge.”

“Then, I made it for nothing?”

“No, no. I only mean to say that I didn’t favor the one from earlier. Yours, however, looks splendid. Yes, I think I shall enjoy every bit of what you’ve made. Thank you, Valyrie.”

She couldn’t tell if he was lying to make her feel better. “I hope so.” She sighed, leaning against the counter.

“Is everything all right?” Jurgen asked.

She nodded. “Just tired. I haven’t had much sleep lately—the moving around from place to place, the nightmares, the fear.”

“Nightmares? Your father?”

“Sometimes, sometimes not. In one of them, I find myself locked in my cell in the basement of the Shimmering Dawn. That’s the one I have the most.” She paused. “I hear your anguish as they beat you, and I’m waiting for my turn, for whatever they have in store for me. Every time I see Piers’s face, it reminds me of the terror I felt.”

“Our dreams have a strange way of reminding us of our deepest fears.” Jurgen took the salad bowl and sat at the small dining table. “They also have a way of showing us our greatest hopes, despite the darkness.”

“It’s silly to indulge in dreams,” she said, sitting next to him. “The bright or the dark, they’re all the same—not real and fleeting.”

“The same way it’s nonsensical to deal in fables and tales untrue?” Jurgen gave her a grin. “I know someone who fancies doing just that. Don’t allow yourself to grow bitter from this.”

“Perhaps Da was right about the whole thing. Had I become a seneschal, I’d be far removed from any of this plight.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Jurgen said. “But what sort of life would you have as a bookkeeper for some noble? Living is something not done from writing desks and with your nose deep in ledgers. Not at all.”

“What do you suppose, then? After all of this is said and done, what is to become of me? I have no trade and no money, and I won’t go to my uncle. I can’t.”

“I know not, but if I survive this, I wouldn’t see you cast out in the streets. Your choice will become clear to you in time.”

“Thank you.” She went over to the goose, carved a few pieces, and gathered them on a dish. “Just right. The outside is crispy while the inside is tender and juicy.”

“Wonderful, thank you,” Jurgen said when she returned to the table. “Shall we pray?”

Pray?
She remembered the practice, but prayers had rarely been said in her home. “Yes, that would be fine.” She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

“Azura, protect us in this dire time and show us the way. Give peace to Valyrie, for she suffers greatly outside of your grace. Pass your blessings unto her that she might have satisfaction in your name. Bless our meal that it might provide sustenance and resolve against those who would not do your will in all things. Be it so.”

Valyrie repeated, “Be it so,” and opened her eyes. She took a portion of meat and a bit of salad.

After a while, Jurgen broke the silence. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“The goose. Perfectly cooked. I applaud your efforts.”

She smiled. “It was rare that we’d have a goose, but I managed. Cooked it about the same as I used to prepare roast duck.”

“Quite fine.” Jurgen turned his head. “Did you hear that?”