“I don’t think these were just bandits, Captain,” Birlerion said. “This was too well-planned. To take down the colours of the Greenswatch?” He shook his head. “Looks like one group took off with the carriage, whilst the rest slaughtered the guard.” He led the way to a mound of bodies. “I believe this was the Lord Captain of Greenswatch, Lord Hugh; there is a concentration of bodies around him. His guard fought to the last – well, those that stayed,” he said, his lips pinched.
“I think that,” Jerrol jerked his head at the unconscious girl, “is his daughter. We need to leave before she’s next.” He knelt and detached the Greenswatch banner from its staff, folding it over and tucking it in his pocket. He stripped a jacket off one of the guards and covered Lord Hugh’s face. Thinking about the behaviour of bandits, he pulled the Watch ring off Hugh’s finger and stared at it blindly.
Birlerion took it out of his fingers and inspected it. “I remember the day Leyandrii placed that ring on Warren’s hand,” he said, his face impassive. He gave the ring back and turned away, yanking an arrow out of a body with unnecessary violence. “Captain, we need to leave,” he said.
Jerrol dropped the ring into his pocket with the banner. Lin meeped mournfully and climbed down into his pocket, carefully arranging the folds of the material.
Birlerion tensed and then swung around, thrusting the arrow in his hand into the chest of the man rising behind him. Bright red blood gushed over his hand. The man gasped, and Birlerion grabbed him by the neck. “Who ordered this?”
The man gritted his teeth, and Birlerion twisted the arrow. “I can draw this out or make it quick. Who?”
“Per’itise.”
“A Terolian? What is a Terolian doing in Deepwater?”
The man’s breath hissed out, and his eyes rolled, and Birlerion wrenched his arrow out in disgust, letting the body fall.
Jerrol cleared his throat. “How did you know he was behind you?”
Birlerion flexed his shoulders. “Just a feeling.” He looked down at the bandit. “Now why would a Terolian embroil themselves in Vespirian politics? They are usually quite insular.”
“I have no idea. You’re quite handy to have around. What was that you were using earlier, a sling?”
Birlerion’s grin flashed across his face, easing his grim expression. “Yeah, surprisingly effective.”
“So I saw. Was it your weapon of choice before?”
“A precursor to the bow; you use what works.” He looked around at the carnage. The sun was low in the sky, dipping behind the tree line; dark shadows stole across the field, concealing the crumpled bodies, and he exhaled. “In theory, so others don’t have to.”
Jerrol gazed across the field. “We can’t save everyone, as much as we’d like to.” He looked back at Birlerion. “We need to go and get Taelia, she is supposed to be in the Chapterhouse. We can’t leave her here.”
“She won’t be there. She is following the Lady’s bidding.”
“How do you know?”
Birlerion smiled. “I met her at the Grove. She was the one who gave me the message for you.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“I didn’t know you knew her.”
Jerrol huffed in exasperation, and then extended a tendril of thought to Zin’talia. “Find a horse. I need you to go and fetch Torsion. He has rooms in the hostelry in Stoneford. Meet me at Hannah’s house; it’s the last cottage on the road to Stoneford Keep. Discreetly! I don’t think we want to advertise any of this.” With a tired grunt he mounted Zin’talia and, looping the rein in one hand, he gestured at the girl. “Pass her up.”
Birlerion handed Jerrol the unconscious girl, before stomping off to retrieve his bow and find his horse. Jerrol let Zin’talia wend her way through the corpses and into the dense tree line and then set off for the village of Stoneford, hunching his shoulders against the sound of the carrion crows descending to pick over the dead.
Stoneford Watch
Hannah glanced out of the window. The sun had long since set. A fine rain sifted down from the thick grey clouds that rolled in over the horizon, drawing in the night. She ought to close the curtains and bank the fire for the night, she thought, as she watched her cat lifting his head and staring towards the door.
The cat gave a gentle sneeze and began grooming his tummy, legs contorted in all directions. And then, grooming finished, he stood and arched his back in a stretch, sniffed her water glass and jumped down to the floor with a gentle thud. He sat like a sentinal, tall and proud, tail wrapped neatly around his feet, staring at the door. The dim light from the wood fire flickered over his ginger coat.
Hannah scowled at her fur-covered pinafore as she prepared to stand: white hair everywhere. She sighed. The cat flicked her a glance and then stared back at the door. Visitors then, and at this time of the night, nothing good.
With the curtains still wide open she couldn’t exactly pretend not to be in, now could she? She got to her feet stretching her stiffening back; she wasn’t getting any younger. She shuffled out into the kitchen and wrung out a cloth to wipe off some of the hairs.
The faint jingle of a harness and a muffled curse penetrated the kitchen, and she moved to open the door. The cat led the way; he seemed unconcerned, pausing to block her path on the threshold. A slender man struggled with an awkward burden, and as he reached the light, she saw he was carrying – a child?
“Hannah,” he called, “I need your help.”
“Jerrol?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“Let me in, and I’ll explain,” he said as he heaved his burden onto the kitchen table and shook out his arms. “The Greenswatch was ambushed on the road by bandits, all slain or abducted. We managed to save her, but she’s unconscious. I don’t think there are any
