“Six against one, and all died,” a guard said in a low voice. “And not one of these men was far above middle age. Only one was on the frail side. Still…” The guard shook his head. “To throw men around like this, like chaff before the wind…”
“It isn’t human,” one of the guards said.
“No,” said Matullus thoughtfully. “Something much stronger. A half-giant or a mul, perhaps.”
“But there are no half-giants or muls in Altaruk,” one of the others said.
Matullus nodded. “There is now.”
“Someone like that would stand out in this town like an oasis on a desert.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Matullus said. “Unless someone is hiding him. And that means a confederate. Perhaps more than one.” He nodded. “At least we will have something to tell Kieran when he arrives.”
“What do you think he will do?” someone asked.
Matullus turned to face him. “Well, we’ll soon I find out, won’t we? He’s supposed to be the best. I expect he’ll waste no time in taking charge of the situation. And that means we’ll have to be up to the challenge. When he arrives tonight, I want every man in the house guard turned out clean and sharp. And woe to the man our new captain finds fault with. I will personally see to it that he regrets not being one of these corpses. Now clean this mess up. We have a great deal to do before the caravan arrives.”
* * *
It was late afternoon when Lord Ankhor entered his private study on the top floor of the mansion. A few hours earlier, Matullus had nervously made his report about the recent killings. He was cautious in remarks, but astute in observations. He’d conjectured that the killer was a half-giant or a mul, judging by the murders, which indicated not only strength but also fighting skill. Matullus was a clever young man. Undoubtedly, Kieran would be more clever, still.
Ankhor went to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. It would not do for Kieran to resolve the situation too swiftly. That would displease the templar and undermine his plans. Jhamri needed to be suitably embarrassed by his ineffectiveness in countering the threat. And then, of course, at the proper time, the mul would be apprehended by the Ankhor House Guard. A pity to waste a property like that. She was rather an expensive purchase to discard, but it would be well worth it to see Jhamri properly humbled. Merely the first step, of course, but a significant one—the cost of doing business.
Ankhor frowned as he saw the small statue on the mantlepiece turned to one side. He had specifically told the templar to hold her meetings late at night, except in an emergency. Could something have gone wrong? He paused to lock the heavy, ornate door of his study before opening the secret panel. He stepped back in surprise as Edric came into the room.
“What in thunder are you doing here?” he asked, frowning. “You were supposed to be with the caravan!”
“I was,” said Edric, moving to the sideboard to pour himself a drink as casually as if he were in his own home. For the first time, Ankhor noticed he was wounded. His left arm hung limp at his side, and he favored his shoulder as he moved. “I rode like the wind itself to get here ahead of them. We had some problems.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Ankhor.
“The attack failed,” Edric said simply.
“What do you mean it failed? How could it fail?”
“It failed because we lost the element of surprise,” said Edric, tipping back his goblet. “And I almost lost my life as well, but we won’t dwell on little things like that.”
“What happened? What went wrong?”
“Everything,” said Edric. “Those three fools you-hired to join the caravan at Grak’s Pool drew suspicion instantly. I told you additional men on the inside were not necessary. I would have been quite capable of handling things myself. And then, just to make things worse, I was unmasked.”
“How? By whom? Kieran?”
“No, though I have a score to settle with that one. He shall have to wait his turn. There was another. A half-breed. The Nomad.”
Ankhor frowned. “Sorak? Here?”
“You know of him?”
“We’ve met before,” said Ankhor.
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Edric. “He stole that princess from your caravan.”
“Torian’s loss, not mine,” said Ankhor dismissively. “And the rash fool was stupid enough to give pursuit into the Barrens, which cost him his life. An inconvenience, as he was a valued trading partner, but a minor loss, all things considered. But Sorak’s presence is a greater inconvenience, still.”
“An inconvenience,” said Edric wryly. “How quaint. We lost over a score of our tribe, and you call it ‘an inconvenience.’”
“I thought the Shadows were supposed to be masters of their craft,” said Ankhor scornfully. “And over a score of them were brought down by mere caravan guards? Had I known your people were so inept, I would have spent my money elsewhere.”
“They were ambushed,” Edric said. “You might have done better to rob your own caravan at a time when Kieran of Draj was not there to take command. He knows his trade, that one. He laid a brilliant trap. Your money was well spent in hiring him. But your timing in having him on that particular caravan left something to be desired.”
“I could not control his movements,” Ankhor said. “When I discovered he was coming on that caravan, it was already too late to change the plan.”
“And so we paid the price for it,” said Edric bitterly. With his right hand, he refilled his goblet and drained it in one gulp. “Still, but for that elfling, the plan might have succeeded. What makes it truly galling is that I was the one who told them when the attack would come. I had no choice. To resist would
