encountered a rabid coyote attacking his animals. His sword free, Ben charged, not waiting for Gert. Matthew took a step back, braced his legs, and shoved the pitchfork in the way. The teeth hit his chainmail, and amid the screams of his family he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. They didn’t punch through the armor, but they still bruised his flesh and pushed inward strong enough to break more bones.
Matthew twisted the handle to the side, bringing Ben to his knees, still stuck on the pitchfork’s teeth. Dimly he heard his wife cry out, the words not registering any meaning, only her tone. Gert rushed through the curtain, his sword swinging. Abandoning the clumsy weapon, Matthew lunged for the door. He landed on his knees, grabbed his shortsword, and spun. Gert bore down on him, swinging with both hands. Their blades connected, and panic flooded him when saw a tiny chip break off at the contact. His sword was weaker, the metal cheaper. It wouldn’t be long before it broke.
“Leave him alone!” he heard Evelyn shout, finally piercing through the haze. Gritting his teeth, he groaned as Gert pressed down with all his weight. He spared only a moment’s glance to see Ben fling the pitchfork to the dirt and turn toward his wife. He had to help her, but he was pinned and badly positioned.
“Trevor!” he screamed. Where was his boy? Why wasn’t he helping? Now wasn’t the time for fear, damn it! He angled his sword to block another chop, realized it was a feint, and smacked aside the thrust aimed for his belly. “Don’t you be a coward, boy, treat ‘em like damn hogs!”
Evelyn hurried across the room, grabbing the poker from the fire. She held it clumsily, a pathetic weapon compared to the gleaming sword Ben wielded in his blood soaked hand. Then he couldn’t spare the glimpse, for Gert had dropped to one knee, hoping to lessen the distance between them so he might lock Matthew’s sword out of position. Matthew struggled against it, but slowly his sword wavered, then hit the floor beside him. Gert’s elbows pressed against his chest, his knee atop one of his legs.
“Don’t worry ’bout your wife,” Gert said, his beady eyes inches away. “I’ll take good care of her. Your daughters, too.”
It was the absolute worst thing Gert could have said.
Matthew let go of his sword, one hand grabbing Gert’s wrist, the other ramming his eyes and mouth with his fingers. The soldier howled and tried to pull away, but Matthew dug his fingers in deeper and held on, feeling softness give way, cartilage crunch in his grip. Gert tore his wrist free, aimed the blade, and stabbed. Matthew rolled, knocking his attack off balance. The sword struck the floor. With every bit of strength in his right arm, Matthew slammed Gert’s head against the wall. He heard a wet crack, like the sound of a breaking pumpkin.
The abrupt end was startling. He heard his children crying, but saw no motion. He stood, shaking the gore from his hand. Evelyn huddled beside the fire, the poker at her feet, Trevor in her arms. He still held his blood- soaked knife. Nearby lay Ben, bled out from the cuts on his face and the deep stab wound at the small of his back.
“Everyone all right?” he asked. Evelyn met his eyes, then nodded. “Thank Ashhur.”
He gave his wife a hug, making sure he didn’t stain her dress with his right hand. The rest of his children stayed sitting, and he could tell they were traumatized by the violence. He went to each of them, hugging them and whispering that all would be well. At last he grabbed the dead bodies and dragged them outside by their feet.
Once they were out of sight, he came back inside and plopped into a chair beside the fire. His upper body started shaking, and he closed his eyes to try and hold back a sudden bout of nausea.
“We’ll bury the armor until we can sell it in the spring,” he told Evelyn, talking in hopes of stopping the violence replaying over and over in his head. “Same with their swords. We’ll unbridle the horses and send them on their way, hopefully far, far away. As for…you know…we’ll give ‘em to the hogs.”
His wife made a soft cry. He shuddered but forced himself not to dwell on it. They’d do what they must, no different than ever before. Opening his eyes, he looked to the curtain, wondering if that blasted boy still slept, or if he were in there cowering in terror.
“Not worth the coin,” he said, just before leaning to one side and vomiting.
12
A squad of twelve mercenaries escorted Alyssa’s litter through the city. Anyone foolish enough to linger in their way received a quick slap with the flat edge of a blade. They stuck to the main streets, where thief guild presence was weakest, the town guards too numerous to act rashly. The distance from her estate and Leon Connington’s new mansion was far enough to be a bother, but she felt it necessary to carry her message in person. She pulled her fur coat tighter about her and waited.
When they arrived, she stepped out and surveyed the place. She’d been there once, just before completion. After Leon’s old mansion had burned down during the Kensgold, he’d rebuilt with security in mind. An enormous fence of stone surrounded his estate, perfectly smooth so there’d be no handholds. There were no trees in the yard, either, nothing to hide behind. Four men stood at the gate, wearing ornate platemail and wielding halberds.
“Greetings, lady Gemcroft,” said one. “Please wait while we summon an escort. Make sure you stay on the path, for an errant step might prove deadly.”
Bertram wasn’t there, but if he had been, Alyssa could imagine the scowl he’d have given them. For her part, she was willing to understand Leon’s need for safety. Perhaps he took it too far, but it had been his belongings destroyed in the fire, not hers. Ten armed men came from the front door, approaching in neat formation along the cobblestone path leading across the yard. When they reached the front, they unlocked the gate from the inside and ushered Alyssa through.
“Your men must stay outside,” said their leader when her mercenaries started to follow. Alyssa paused, gave him a glare to show she didn’t appreciate being told just before entering, but then accepted. If she felt safe anywhere other than her mansion, it was there. An assassin would have to be a lunatic to risk the guards, the wall, and the various traps hidden underneath the grass. The heavy boots clacked across the stone as they entered.
Leon waited just inside the door, a large smile on his face. Everything about Leon was big: his face, his eyes, his home, and most of all, his belly. Hugging him was like hugging a giant sweetroll wrapped in silk. Only his mustache was thin.
“I’m so sorry about your loss,” he said as he let go. “I’m sure he’d have been a fine man, very fine. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”
“Thank you,” she said, doing her best to smile and forget how he’d always glared at Nathaniel, as if he were a cockroach, whenever he was in his presence. “Bertram is busy finishing the arrangements for the funeral, so I thought it best I got out of his way.”
“Of course, of course. It’d do you well to get out of that stuffy old mansion, anyway. Always told your father he should fire whoever was in charge of his maidservants. Every breath in there was like licking the bottom of a dustbin.”
Another smile. Her last head maid had died coughing and gagging on blindweed. She had a feeling Leon would have approved such a fate for letting his sensitive allergies be affected.
“Have you any news from Laurie?” she asked as they walked toward-of course-the dining area.
“Ever since the Kensgold he’s refused to come to Veldaren,” Leon said as he took her hand. “I think your father’s death spooked him more than a little. Such cowardice is inappropriate for a member of the Trifect, but what can you do?”
“Surely someone who lives with an army of mercenaries behind great stone walls has no reason to question another’s bravery,” she said, unable to hold back.
Far from upset, Leon only gave her a wink.
“It’s one thing to be brave, and another to be stupid. I won’t die to a garrote in my sleep. Neither would Laurie, if he took proper precautions.”
“Maybe staying in Angelport is his precaution.”
Leon laughed. “True, maybe it is. Still, he is going a little overboard, eh?”
They sat down at one end of a luxurious table, easily able to seat more than eighty people. Alyssa watched the servants parade a variety of treats and pastries before her. She didn’t feel like eating, but it seemed Leon would keep them coming forever until she picked. Deciding on a small flour cake topped with strawberries, she scooped a tiny bit with her spoon and ate. The flavor awakened a dormant part of her, a tiny voice reminding her of her own
