the remnants of bird nests built from twigs, mud and snarls of goat hair.
She made her way forward. A dozen paces along, the walls leaned inward, tightening the passage so that she had to angle sideways to go further. Feeling the stone pressing in on her front and back triggered a momentary panic, but she fought it down and pushed ahead. The crevasse widened again and here the fallen rocks formed a slope leading upward. She made out a bloody handprint on a stone halfway up it.
Risp followed the obvious trail. The crevasse broadened out still more, and now huge broken boulders filled the space. Dust was scraped clear here and there, on obvious hand- and footholds. Dawn’s light revealed the surface only a dozen paces onward. Moments later she scrambled into the clear. The road was thirty paces to her left, the span in between a wash of sand on which Gripp’s bootprints were visible. One leg had been dragging.
Dousing the lantern, she walked to the road, scrambled up the bank and swung left. Just beyond the bend waited her troop, the soldiers dismounted and still busy building cairns over a row of bodies on the far side of the road. Her sergeant, she saw, was still at the crevasse, squatting and peering down. At a word from a nearby soldier he twisted round to see her approaching on the road.
‘Alive,’ she said upon re-joining them. ‘But bleeding and with a bad leg. Looks like he came back here after Silann left. Where he went after that is the question, isn’t it?’
‘He went after the boy,’ the sergeant replied.
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Maybe he wasn’t just guarding goat and sheep skins, sir.’
‘You think the boy was important?’
The veteran shrugged. ‘Laskan was going through what the fire didn’t burn. There was a soldier’s trunk. Korlas crest, solid blackwood, which was why it mostly shrugged off the fire. But the lock melted. Boy’s clothing inside, and what looked like lead soldiers all melted down into slag.’ He paused, eyes on her. ‘Korlas, sir. That would make the boy of that bloodline. There was a Korlas Houseblade who served as a captain in Urusander’s Legion.’
‘Can this get any worse?’
‘If Gripp collects up the boy and they get out of these hills, yes, sir, it can get much worse.’
‘A highborn child on his way to Kharkanas…’
‘Yes sir, a hostage. To the Citadel. Captain, that boy was under Lord Anomander’s protection, the moment he left the estate. That’s why Gripp Galas was with that caravan of skin-sellers.’
Risp felt sick inside, a strange quavering that rose into her throat. If she gave sound to the feeling it would emerge as a moan. Her sergeant was staring at her, expressionless, and she felt the attention of the other soldiers in her troop — even the burial detail had drawn close. She was tempted to voice regrets that she’d ever volunteered to clean up this disaster. It was Silann’s mess, after all. If that fool were at her side right now, she would kill him. She thought it unlikely that his wife would even object. She’d probably hand me the knife. ‘There were a few highborn serving in Urusander’s Legion,’ she said.
The sergeant nodded. ‘Greater Houses without enough wealth to assemble a decent cadre of Houseblades. If there were a chance, they’d end up with the Houseblades of other Houses. But Korlas was a proud man, as I recall.’
‘You knew him?’
‘Captain, I served under him. Same for Laskan, Helrot and Bishim. He was a good man. Died a hero.’
All at once a new fear took hold of Risp: the loyalty of this man standing before her. ‘You said that Gripp and this hostage cannot be allowed to get out of these hills alive, sergeant.’
‘No sir. I said things would get even worse if they did.’
‘I see. Then what do you suggest?’ So much for exercising the power of command. My first test and I fail.
‘We need to find them, sir. And make it right.’
‘How do we do that?’
‘We let Silann hang, sir.’
‘He just up and decided to become an outlaw? You can’t be serious, sergeant. He still holds a rank in the Legion, and so do half his soldiers.’
‘We don’t have to know why he did what he did, sir. It’s a mystery to all of us, maybe even his wife.’
‘So, instead of hunting down and killing Gripp and the boy, ensuring that all of this goes away, you’re advising we act in baffled horror and disgust. That we find the old man and this hostage and help them, maybe even escort them to Kharkanas.’ She looked around, scanned the faces of her soldiers. She barely knew them, but Hunn Raal was certain of their loyalty. Nevertheless, under these circumstances, even that loyalty was being stretched — she could see as much in their expressions. Hostages were sacred, and this particular hostage was under Lord Anomander’s protection, which added genuine fear to their discomfort. ‘Esthala needs to know of this change in plans.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Send Laskan and Bishim back to her. And then what, Silann’s own wife arrests him?’
The sergeant shook his head, but said nothing.
Risp closed her eyes briefly and then looked away, up the road. ‘No, she won’t do that. Silann is too weak to keep his mouth shut. She’ll have to kill him, and his soldiers.’ She met the sergeant’s eyes again. ‘She’ll understand the necessity, won’t she? There is no other way out of this. Is there?’
Still he remained silent, watching her.
‘Send them.’
‘Yes sir.’ The sergeant gestured and the two men mounted their horses and a moment later set off.
‘Send Helrot to Tulla Hold,’ she went on. ‘To report the slaughter and make known our search for survivors. And to ask for assistance.’
‘Yes sir.’
She would have to get rid of this sergeant. She didn’t want him in her troop. He gave too little away; she could not tell what he was thinking and this unnerved her. His silence had felt like a judgement, and for all she knew she had failed in the balance.
‘Collect up that trunk. We’ll take it with us. Then we ride east. We eat in the saddle.’
‘Yes sir.’
Rancept slid back down to where she huddled. ‘Three riders dispatched,’ he said. ‘Two back the way they came and one up the road — likely on her way to Tulla. The rest are heading east.’
Exhausted, chilled and miserable, Sukul sighed. ‘What does all that mean?’
‘Not party to the killing, I’d wager, milady. They’re all Legion, and that raises another question.’
‘What are they doing out here?’ Sukul said, nodding. ‘Since no Legion troop ever rode within sight of Tulla Hold.’
‘Not wanting to be seen.’
‘But one is now riding to Tulla, you said.’
The castellan grunted, squinting at Ribs, who was curled up asleep against Sukul’s feet — and the animal’s heat now warmed her aching toes, and she looked upon the creature with a fondness she had not imagined possible.
‘Should we go down to them?’ she asked.
‘Too late.’
‘I told you we should have taken horses and just ridden the road.’
‘In hindsight,’ Rancept allowed, ‘maybe so. But what doesn’t change is that none of this feels right.’
She wasn’t about to argue that point. The wheezing old castellan’s feelings couldn’t be dismissed this time. ‘So who killed those traders?’
He shook his head, and then straightened. ‘Let’s go down. Maybe Ribs will tell us.’
‘Castellan, he’s just a damned dog, not a seer.’
‘Milady, he’s my dog.’
Her eyes narrowed on him. ‘Are you some kind of priest of Burn, Rancept?’
‘No priests among the Deniers, milady.’
‘What about the Dog-Runners?’
