The gates of Sheld passed over Lerran’s head as he ambled along on Ash’s back. Each gate consisted of old wooden doors, though the arching stone overhead held a simple portcullis that could be lowered to slow a battering ram’s progress. Of course, Sheld had never been attacked by a battering ram, at least not in distant memory. War in southern Radregar was a political dance with skirmishes and mercenaries, not sieges.
“Am I ever glad to be home,” Tannedo said to Kolt as the two followed Lerran’s mount closely. Paksis cleared a way ahead of them with her massive height and terrifying gaze to shove townsfolk out of the way.
Everything seem ordinary until Lerran’s escort reached their estate. The parting clouds cast a ray of sunlight against the wooden gates, which opened as he approached. “Welcome back, sir,” called one of the guards from the guardhouse. “I’ll go see if the stable-hands are here.” The man strode off before Lerran could ask why they wouldn’t be.
Another guard marched out of the gatehouse, hastily straightening his tunic and the chainmail he wore over top. “Oh, yes, this came for you yesterday,” the man said, waving a parchment at the criminal master as he approached.
“Thank you,” Lerran said, taking the letter from him without dismounting. “Why wouldn’t the stable-hands be here? Where are the other guards?”
“Oh, sorry. There’s been another murder, sir.” The guard coughed and said, “Or perhaps ‘attack’ is a better word. Antha told us she trusts our guards better, and requisitioned all of Captain Marras’s men to go with her.”
“Another?” Lerran questioned. He still clutched the new letter in his hand, but demanded, “Which way, man? Where is my sister?”
The guard pointed south. “The City Watch guardhouse in the harbour. Last time it was just a pair of mercenaries in the employ of a merchant. This time, worse.”
“Paksis, with me. The rest of you, get things under control here,” Lerran ordered, dismounting. He handed the reins to the second guard and marched out into the street on foot. There were too many stairs to justify bringing a horse; they’d be just as quick on foot. He scanned the letter as soon as he could—though it was addressed to Erril, it was confirmation of an interest in Lo Mallago from the Empire of Noress-That-Was. It bid Lerran to choose a time and place for the bartering meeting. He tucked the letter away. He wouldn’t be moving ahead until Lo Mallago’s gold mine was no longer threatening to Borik’s leadership.
They could see Captain Marras and his men before they even descended the final flight of big steps into the harbour district of Sheld. A line of men with spears had formed a perimeter around the guardhouse in question, and Lerran strode toward it. What had they let happen in his absence?
Blood adorned the inside of the door, which hung open and visible to the public. Lerran paused, and glanced at Captain Marras, one of Isar’s colleagues. “Antha?” he asked.
“Inside,” the bearded soldier said. He bobbed his head back, frowning. “Hold onto your lunch.”
Lerran led Paksis inside the small guardhouse. He was instantly reminded of the Massacre of Sheld. Two guards lay face down on either side of the door; one’s head looked up at the ceiling, twisted the whole way around. The other had two visibly broken bones. Across the room, past Antha and two of her subordinates, another man was pinned to the wall with a spear shaft through his side. Blood had poured down onto the floor from the wound, where a fourth victim had been discarded, presumably slashed apart by a sword blade.
The first thing Lerran noticed, after the shock subsided, was that none of these city guards were armed. Their blades were all missing, as well as some pieces of their armour. “Was this a robbery? Was the attacker after their armour?”
Antha looked up. “Lerran! When did you get back?”
“Just now,” he said. “I see you’ve made a mess of things?”
Antha shook her head, her bowl of hair shaking as she stepped away from her fellow investigators. “Not I. We’re trying to determine who. And why. The last two victims, a few weeks ago, had their arms and armour stolen too, so you’re first comment might be correct.”
“There’s better ways to acquire weapons,” Lerran muttered. “Easier ways.”
“Maybe not.” It was not Antha, Lerran realized, who said this. He glanced sideways, to see Paksis examining the man with the twisted neck. She looked up at him with a frown. “This looks more like my own handiwork than anyone else’s.”
“You did this?” Antha asked, tensing.
Paksis shook her head. “There are… others,” she said. “Why weapons, I do not know. Why now? I’m as confused as you. But this is very, very dangerous.”
“For us, or for you?” Antha questioned.
Lerran shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Paksis is us, as far as I care. So, someone is in the city, using their enhanced strength—from where? the gods only know—to steal weapons and arms…”
Paksis stood up. “I should leave. They tracked down Virn when he ran away, just like I have. Whoever did this is looking for me, and will cut through anyone who gets in the way.”
Lerran rubbed his temples. He looked at the man pinned to the wall and grimaced. Paksis had appeared in his life suddenly, and he didn’t want to see her leave as abruptly too. “If this threat is arming up to fight you, then we’ll just arm you up too. I’m sure one of the master smiths we have on record can tweak some armour to get you a good fit.”
“That’s kind, but too much,” Paksis said. “These men are dead because of me—”
“And leaving isn’t going to bring them back either,” Lerran said. “Let’s get back up to the estate and talk about this.”
Antha shook her head as Paksis bowed slightly to Lerran’s words and went outside. She looked at Lerran and said, “No matter how helpful Paksis has been, do not allow her to be the downfall of our Family. The guards did die for a reason—to warn you.”
“Go get a drink or something, Antha. You’ve been in here way too long,” Lerran said. He followed Paksis out into the street. For once, rum wasn’t his first priority back home. Tassina’s embrace was.