The governor grimaced. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you will turn aside from this? So many have already been lost.”
Brandt shook his head. His direction was clear. “Do you have any leads?”
This time it was the governor’s turn to shake his head. “The bandit has left no trace. He’s a master swordsman with a powerful stone affinity. Nothing else is known.”
“And what about Zane?”
“He, too, is dead. Why?”
“He knew something, or else he wouldn’t have been there. Perhaps he left papers.”
The governor leaned back. “I suspect whatever knowledge he had died with him. More so, I do not even know where he resided. He was a man of mysterious ways.”
Brandt frowned at that. “Did he have a family?”
“I believe so, a son. I know the line has not been ended, at least.”
It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. The governor gave him a place to start. “Thank you for your time, governor.”
“Of course. Please, let me know if you find anything. You are not the only one who wants justice for the fallen.”
Brandt nodded and stepped out of the room, leaving the governor to his problems.
Brandt sat on a stone bench near the edge of the town center. Here the government buildings and large commercial properties began to give way to homes and small businesses. This bench was well-positioned in a corner formed by two adjoining buildings. At this time of the day the sun beat down, but the spot was protected from the chilly breeze. Brandt closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the sun warming his body, a seeping warmth penetrating all the way to his bones.
If Zane had a son, where would he be?
Brandt thought it odd that the governor hadn’t known where in town a named family lived. For a man who seemed otherwise so well-informed, it seemed like an egregious oversight. Kye didn’t seem like a governor who let such things slip by him.
Brandt could still find the son, though. When hunting anyone, Brandt found it easy to put himself in another’s position, especially if he knew something about them.
He imagined himself as Zane. The man was named, which implied that he had some small amount of pride, at least. Most named families found the most ostentatious houses they could when they moved. If Zane kept his location a secret, it probably had more to do with his assigned task from the emperor than anything else. But secrecy wouldn’t diminish his pride.
So if the boy was still in Landow, where would he be?
One idea came to mind.
The academy.
There were several schools in the area. Landow was certainly big enough to have more than one. But there would only be one academy, where the best and the brightest would gather. He couldn’t imagine Zane not sending his child to the very best that was available.
Brandt figured there was no better place to start. It took him most of the afternoon to find the academy. Within its walls there was a hushed feeling, the same oppressive atmosphere that followed so many disasters. Brandt was taken to the headmaster, who eyed his uniform skeptically. “How can I help you, Sergeant?”
“I am looking for the son of Zane Arrowood. Is he here?”
The headmaster hesitated for a moment, which only confirmed Brandt’s suspicion.
“I mean the boy no harm. But my questions must be answered.”
“Whether or not you mean harm is irrelevant. The boy has just suffered the loss of his father and everything he knows. As gentle as you intend to be, you will still reopen wounds that are just barely closed.”
“I understand, but that does not change the necessity.”
The headmaster gave him a long, hard look, but there was nothing he could do to stop Brandt. The wolfblade’s authority superseded all in this region except the governor’s. More than anything, the headmaster just wanted to ensure that his feelings on the matter were known. Brandt understood. He even respected the headmaster. But it didn’t alter his course of action.
The headmaster summoned an assistant, who then ran to find the boy.
“What is his name?” asked Brandt.
“Niles.”
A few minutes later the assistant reappeared with a student in tow.
Brandt studied the young man, curious. There was a hint of haughtiness to his demeanor, a slight upturn of the nose that couldn’t be hidden. This was a boy who had grown up named, a status he had lived with for his entire life. No matter how well-intentioned the parent, status changed a person’s outlook.
But Brandt didn’t think he should underestimate the young man. The boy had spirit, a backbone of steel that had probably only appeared in the past few days. For the first time he understood hardship, and he looked as though he would respond with strength. There was something of the father in the son, it seemed.
Brandt offered the young man a short bow, which was not returned. He saw the way Niles looked at his uniform, though, caught the flicker of recognition in the widening of his eyes. The reaction was only of a moment, but it gave Brandt hope. He turned to the headmaster. “Is there someplace that Master Arrowood and I can speak in private?”
The headmaster nodded. “Feel free to use this space. I shall wait outside.”
The headmaster looked chagrined that he had to leave his own office and forfeit his protection of his prize student, but there was one very tangible benefit to being a wolfblade in the empire.
When Brandt gave an order, people obeyed.
Niles sat before Brandt could even offer him a seat.
Brandt watched him with interest. This was a young man who was still used to getting everything he wanted. The power of his name no doubt caused him to think he was superior to most adults. Brandt had already appealed to the young man’s vanity by titling him master. Now it was time for something harsher. “Who killed your father?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed at that. He’d been expecting sympathy or gentleness. But if he
