and serene. She couldn't imagine how he could remain so calm, but then, she reminded herself, he had seen such horror before, on the battlefield.
Hetta gasped and tried to sit up.
'So cold!' she blurted out, tossing her head from side to side and casting her gaze, which was quite clear and focused again, around.
She cried out, reaching for her leg as though suddenly realizing she had been injured.
'Easy, Grandmother,' Vambran said, grasping Hetta by the hand and moving closer to her head. He gently forced the elderly woman to lie back down. 'You're going to be fine.'
Ladara let out a sob, but it was one of relief. His mother grabbed at Vambran and hugged him, then put a trembling hand to her mouth as she patted Hetta on the cheek.
Only upon hearing her brother's words did Emriana allow herself to relax. She realized she had been holding her breath the entire time and exhaled sharply. She felt tears of relief running down her cheeks. She reached up and put a thankful hand on Vambran's shoulder to reassure him, and nearly jerked her hand back again, startled.
The muscles in the mercenary officer's shoulder were tight, corded, and felt like steel. Emriana watched as he slowly stood, looking around.
'Who saw what happened?' he demanded.
Several people began to speak at once, all clamoring to be the first to inform the large man, who had a look of death in his eye, what had transpired. From the jumble of words, Emriana somehow deciphered that Hetta had simply been standing there, visiting with several other folk, when she cried out and crumpled to the ground. Then Ladara screamed, and everyone came running.
Vambran must have been able to piece together the story from the cacophony, too, for he finally held up his hands for silence.
'Where did the shot come from?' he said, his voice like ice.
Party guests turned to one another for some sort of support, but no one seemed to know. The lieutenant was answered with a lot of shrugging.
There was another shout, this time from the undergrowth off to the side of the open lawn. Vambran had his sword out, advancing toward the sound, almost before Emriana had turned to see what the commotion was. A house guard came stumbling out of the underbrush, a crossbow in his hand. When he saw the hulking Vambran coming at him, weapon out, he grimaced and held up a placating hand.
'I found it. I just found it,' he insisted quickly, frantically trying to calm the mercenary before he was attacked.
Vambran relaxed but then, just as quickly, he lunged forward and snatched the weapon away from the guard. He peered down at it for a moment, then, tossing the thing aside, he sprinted down the path, leaving behind him a wake of startled guests, gasping and looking at one another to try to understand what was happening.
Em rushed over to the crossbow and took a closer look at it. There was a note attached. She unfurled it and read;
Next time, it will be her heart I pierce.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vambran reached the wall of the Matrell estate and heaved himself atop it, then he stopped and listened for the sounds of someone nearby, even as he carefully peered into every shadow, stared at everything that might be a figure hiding in the darkness. He heard and saw nothing. Clenching his teeth in determination, he walked along the wall for a while, tuning all of his senses to his surroundings.
Inside, the man burned for vengeance. They had dared to threaten his family. They had come after his whole House, and he would not stop until he hunted them down and made them accountable. He would not stop.
Vambran kept seeing the image of his grandmother, lying on the grass, her blood staining her clothes red. He clenched his fists, trying to control his breathing. He'd never entered into battle in such an emotional state, and he knew that if he didn't calm himself, he would make a fatal mistake. He had to regain control of his feelings, save the savagery, the fury, for later. Then the bloodletting could begin, he promised himself.
In the meantime, Vambran was also upset that he had been unable to complete his interrogation of Denrick Pharaboldi. He had intended to get the boy so beside himself that he would let down his guard, and the lieutenant would read his thoughts. He'd hoped to get some inkling as to whether or not young Pharaboldi was telling the truth, or if he was, as Vambran suspected, hiding his complicity in the murders. Of course, Denrick was properly warned that the Matrell offspring were on to him, and they would not so easily corner Denrick by himself again. Even if they were to manage to confront him on favorable ground, he would be ready for them next time, possibly even have the presence of mind to mask his thoughts, or worse yet, to procure some form of protection against just what Vambran had intended.
The lieutenant paused in the midst of his walk along the parapet, drawn to some faint sound. He strained to see if he could hear it again, but there was nothing. He stood motionless, moving just his eyes, seeking out that form, that indistinct protrusion of darkness that was just a little off, was not quite right. He was looking for that hint of someone hiding close by. He saw nothing.
He exhaled slowly and was on the verge of turning around and going back in the other direction when he heard the sound again. It was nothing more than a faint scrape, but he was certain he heard it coming from the wall itself, just ahead and around a bend, perhaps. He carefully began to pad forward, trying to keep as quiet as possible, but with no delusions that he was a master thief, trained to silence. As he moved, he continued to watch, and he spotted the motion at almost the same moment the intruder realized he'd been discovered.
The shadowy figure was hanging by his hands from the top of the wall, his feet dangling down toward the ground some five feet below. He was in dark shadow where he clung, and he held himself motionless there, as though waiting. As Vambran approached, the figure tilted his head slightly, so slightly, in fact, that if the lieutenant hadn't happened to have been looking directly at him, he might never have seen him.
'Hold it!' Vambran called, moving forward, freeing his crossbow from his belt.
At almost the same instant, the figure let go of the wall and dropped to the cobblestones with an almost inaudible grunt. Swearing, fumbling to load his crossbow, Vambran ran toward where the figure had been.
But the fugitive was too fast, darting across the street in the blink of an eye, and Vambran couldn't get a clean shot off. Swearing again, Vambran swung down off the wall, dropping easily to the street. He took off after his quarry, not about to let that one escape.
The figure dashed down the street and into an alley, a good thirty paces ahead of Vambran, who sprinted after, his long strides making up only a little ground. The mercenary turned the corner to the alley and flinched as a crossbow bolt thwacked hard off the stone of the building only inches from his face. Vambran felt flecks of stone spray his cheek from the impact. He dropped low, making himself a smaller target, and he pressed himself closer to the wall, hoping he wasn't so easy to see.
Already, though, footsteps receded down the other end of the alley. Vambran was up and after the fugitive the moment he realized he was no longer a target. He recalled that the alley turned sharply around to the left a little farther ahead, then split into two directions at a Y-shaped intersection. He would have to hurry if he wanted to get there in time to avoid losing his quarry. His blood pounding in his ears, the mercenary urged himself to go faster, lengthening his strides again, heedless of the danger of another crossbow bolt.
The lieutenant reached the turn and darted around it, his feet skidding only slightly on the cobblestones. He spotted his prey in the distance, still running. The would-be assassin took the left-hand path at the intersection and, as Vambran lumbered ahead, closing with the man little by little, the shadowy silhouette vanished.
What the-? the mercenary thought, increasing his strides and peering around, letting his fury bubble over again at the thought of having lost track of his prey.
Vambran nearly didn't see the hole in the street for all of his careful observation everywhere else. He nearly stepped right into it, but at the last moment, he leaped over and clear.
