“How long did I work for you?”
“Three years, if I remember. It was so long ago…”
“Aye, three years. How many times, in those three years, did you ever feel sorry for anyone but yourself? You were more likely to cry over your spilled ale than a dead child lying at your feet.”
Ulrich clenched his teeth, but he kept his face calm.
“I’ll forgive such rudeness if you let me in. It would be impolite of me to deny respect to such a man as Laurie.”
Despite the rolling of his eyes, Torgar grumbled an order to the guards. They unlatched the gate and swung it open, slamming it shut behind Ulrich after he entered.
“Keep it short and sweet,” said Torgar. “As you can see, we’re not in the mood for guests.”
“I’ve noticed,” Ulrich said, glancing at the guards as Torgar escorted him toward the front door. Every section of the wall was guarded by mercenaries, many who had, until recently, been in his employ. The front door had a man on each side, standing with their swords drawn. Even when he looked to the windows, he swore he saw men with crossbows.
“Fearing an invasion?” he asked. He’d told Darrel that the Keenans were rounding up every mercenary they could find, but actually seeing it in person was another thing entirely. The place was crawling with them.
“Something like that. Between Lord Ingram and the Wraith, we’re needing much as we can get.”
They came inside, and Ulrich found himself on the receiving end of several glares from petty nobles gathered in the front parlor. In return, he bowed low.
“Gentlemen,” he said, giving them a mocking grin.
“You have no right to be here,” said one, a middle-aged man with a graying beard. “Wretches like you are why the Wraith torments us so.”
“Is that so?” Ulrich asked. “I was not aware you had spoken with the elusive butcher. Please, tell me, what did he have to say about me?”
“Shut up,” Torgar said, and it seemed he spoke to both. “Madelyn’s in Taras’s old room. Follow me.”
The sellsword led the way, his broad shoulders bumping into the finely dressed nobles who didn’t move in time. Ulrich followed in his wake, and he winked at the bearded man, who looked ready to draw a sword if he had one. It only amused him further.
They walked down the hall, took a few turns, then stopped before an open door. Inside, he saw Madelyn sitting on a bed, dressed in a simple black outfit, laced tight. Leave it to her to find a way to make mourning look sexy, thought Ulrich. She held a baby in her arms; Taras’s kid, if he remembered correctly. All around her doting servants waited for the slightest request. Ulrich saw lines in her rouge from tears, as well as her pale complexion, and was surprised. He’d expected an icy woman like her to be taking things better.
“Milady,” Ulrich said, offering a sweeping bow. “It pains me to see you in mourning yet again. Surely the gods are cruel to let such a fate befall you.”
“Some say there is love in cruelty,” Madelyn said, beckoning for him to enter. “Do you think so?”
“Cruel men can make love,” Ulrich said. “Not so sure about the other way around.”
Torgar gave a half-wave to Madelyn before stepping out.
“Let me know when you’re ready for him to leave,” he said.
Ulrich stood before her, letting a silence stretch over them as he thought of what to say.
“How is your health?” he asked, though he could plainly see she looked ill.
“I will be better,” she said. “Though you’re not one known for his compassion. Is there some business with my husband you’d like to discuss?”
Ulrich feigned insult.
“Of course not. Laurie was a rival, not an enemy. I can still mourn his loss, can I not?”
She nodded, and Ulrich took no offense from the noncommittal response. She was right, of course. He was hardly known for his compassion, and his ego wasn’t large enough to take offense from the truth. As for his business, well…he did have one issue to discuss, other than scouting out the mansion to see its defenses, as well as confirm the mass hiring of mercenaries.
“We’re to meet with Ingram and the elves in a few hours,” he said, sitting beside her and gently patting her hand. “I’ll make sure they know the reason for your absence.”
“Absence?”
She yanked her hand away and rubbed it as if she’d been burned.
“Why, I merely thought…”
“No,” Madelyn said, shaking her head. “Delay the meeting. How could anyone expect me to be there today?”
“Delay isn’t an option,” Ulrich said, making sure the slightest hint of condescension slipped into his voice. “The city is already full of unrest because of the elves’ visit. If you must, have Alyssa speak for the Trifect.”
“No!”
Ulrich was taken aback by the ferocity of her outburst. He chuckled, unsure of how else to react.
“Very well. Laurie made the Trifect’s position clear, so I’m sure we’ll do fine without anyone…”
“I will be there,” Madelyn said. “I will not have my house absent. Nothing so important happens in Angelport without our approval.”
“You are a brave woman,” he said instead. He let the silence linger for a moment, then out of pure spite asked why the Wraith had chosen to attack again.
“What did Laurie ever do to earn his wrath?”
“He was weak,” Madelyn said, rocking the sleeping babe in her arms. “But I won’t be. Good day, Ulrich. I will see you at Ingram’s mansion.”
Ulrich stood, and he bowed again. Before leaving, he had one last thing to ask.
“Forgive the intrusion, but by chance is the lovely Zusa here? We were in the midst of a fine conversation before we were interrupted.”
Madelyn’s face hardened into stone, and Ulrich marked the bizarre reaction.
“Zusa left with her husband for Veldaren,” she said.
“A shame,” Ulrich said, about his only honest reaction in their entire conversation. “Might she return to Angelport soon, perhaps when things have settled?”
“I doubt it. Goodbye, Ulrich.”
“May you endure,” Ulrich said in return. He stepped out, and found Torgar waiting not far down the hall, a wineskin in hand.
“You listening in?” he asked.
“Not particularly,” said Torgar. “Don’t expect much interesting conversation between her crying and your ass-kissing.”
Ulrich pulled the door shut behind him.
“I was told you’d lead me to Zusa’s room. She’s leaving for Veldaren soon, and I wish to say my farewells.”
The sellsword lifted an eyebrow.
“That so?”
“It is.”
Torgar shrugged.
“Whatever.”
He turned toward the back of the mansion, and Ulrich’s heart began to race as he followed. Such a simple piece of intrigue, for sure. Did the newlyweds have a falling out with Madelyn? Were they injured? And what might happen if Torgar realized he’d been duped? Glancing about, he had a sudden, more dire thought. What would happen if Torgar decided to draw that giant sword of his and ram it through Ulrich’s chest? Given their guards and wealth, the Keenan mansion might as well be a foreign nation. His brother might try for revenge, at least, but that’d be little comfort if he was deep in a grave…
Near the servants’ quarters, they stopped before a door, and Torgar gestured for him to enter.
“It ain’t locked,” he said. “I broke it.”
