She got up, muttering, and walked on, watching the ground now. A few steps later, she saw something that made her pause.
It was a strange dark stain. What made her pause when she saw it was its shape; it was long-reaching all the way to the edge of the canal. It looked like it had been left by something that had been dragged there.
Her throat tightened.
She knelt and examined the stain more closely. It had soaked into the dirt, and when she ground some of it between her fingers, she saw the brownish-red colour of it.
By chance, she glanced at the edge of her skirt, hanging over her leg near her hand. It had been light blue, but it was dirty now-she had used it to clean her face after her nose bled, and now the cloth had an ugly brown-red stain on it.
It was a clue, maybe, and she decided to investigate.
She stood up, looking back toward the buildings in the direction the thing must have come. There was an alley behind her, and she walked slowly toward it, examining the ground.
There were more bloodstains here. They led her to a spot just inside the alley, where more blood had been left on a wall. She found nothing else there.
Very frightened now, she almost ran back to the canal and looked down into it. The waters were murky brown and sluggish, with nothing to suggest that there was anything beneath them. But she knew there had to be.
She sat down and pulled her boots off. Making sure there was no-one watching, she stuffed her money-bag inside one of them and hid the sword under a heap of garbage.
Then she dived into the water.
It was cold, and much deeper than the stream near Sturrick where she had swum as a child. The current tugged at her clothes, trying to pull her away downstream, but she fought against it and struck out for the bottom.
Relying on instinct more than anything else, she thrust downward with all her strength. She risked opening her eyes, but couldn’t see much beyond the vague impression of light filtering through the water. She closed them again and swam on.
Her dress hampered her badly, and it didn’t take long for her to start running out of air. She kept on doggedly, despite her fear, determined not to give in until she absolutely had to.
Finally, just as she was on the point of turning back, her outstretched hand brushed against something. She jerked in fright and almost breathed in a lungful of water, but quickly thrust out her hand again, searching for whatever she’d touched. She found it, and after a few tries managed to catch hold of it.
Cloth. It was cloth. She tugged at it, but it was attached to something else and refused to move. But she grabbed at it again, and fear stabbed at her when she felt something soft underneath. At that, lungs bursting, she gave in and swam for the surface.
Once she had reached the open air, she checked to make sure no-one had stolen her belongings and dived again.
It took her a few more tries to find the cloth again, and several more to feel her way around it, but her heart thudded painfully when she realised that there was something underneath it. She tried several more times to pull it to the surface with her, but it was stuck fast, and she eventually realised that there was a rope tied around it that had to be anchoring it to the bottom.
She returned to the surface yet again, and climbed out of the canal. There she rested and considered her next move.
She nodded to herself, got up, and checked yet again to make sure no-one else was around. All was quiet. Satisfied, she moved close to the nearest wall and stripped off her wet dress. Naked, she spread it out in the sun to dry and fished her sword out from its hiding place. She took it out of its scabbard and tucked it under her arm before slipping back into the water. Its weight dragged her down, but not too badly, and she stuck it between her teeth and dived.
The sword’s added weight was an advantage now, and she reached the cloth bundle, swam underneath it and, anchoring herself by holding onto the rope, took the sword and started to cut through it. The blade wasn’t that sharp, but it was not as blunt as a long sword or something else meant for warfare, and as she sawed at the rope with it, she could feel it working.
She had to return to the surface again, but when she returned for another go at it, she felt the rope fray, then snap. Above her, the bundle, set free, started to drift away. She hastily transferred the sword to her teeth again and grabbed the thing before it could escape. Then she set out for the surface once more.
It was easier said than done. The bundle was far heavier than she had expected; it felt as if it were actively trying to pull her back to the bottom. Desperate for air, panicking a little now, she struggled with all her might, trying to pull it toward the canal’s brickwork bank so she could use it to drag herself upward. The bundle barely moved, but she didn’t dare let go of it-she knew that if she did, she’d never find it again. Not in this water.
Red lights were flashing in her brain by the time she found the side and dug her fingers into a gap between the bricks.
They helped her, and she groped her way upward as well as she could, the rough surface bruising her fingers. But her thin fingers were just thin enough to fit in the gaps between the bricks, and her confused mind was full of sudden gratitude.
By the time she reached the surface, her head was pounding with pain. She opened her mouth to gasp in air, and the sword instantly fell into the water. She made a grab for it, but started sinking again the instant she let go of the wall.
The sword vanished into the murky depths. Gone.
She stared dully after it, chest heaving.
Once she’d caught her breath, she began to climb out of the canal. She needed both hands for that, but she solved the problem by taking hold of the loose bit of rope still attached to the bundle while she climbed. It was just long enough to keep hold of once she was on land, and she used it to drag the bundle out after her and dump it on the ground.
Once it was high and dry, she fetched her dress and put it back on before returning to examine her find.
It was smaller than it had seemed underwater, but still big-nearly as long as she was tall. Whatever it was was entirely wrapped in cloth. . no, a sack, she realised.
Feeling sick with apprehension, she turned it over until she found the opening, and fumbled with the trailing rope that held it shut. It came away after a few tries, and she opened the sack and began to pull it away.
A boot-clad human foot appeared, and she screamed and backed away.
The bundle didn’t move. She inched back toward it, able now to see the shape of a body inside it.
She almost ran away to find a guard but stopped herself. She’d found it, and now she would have to finish it, for better or worse.
Grim-faced, she knelt and pulled the rest of the sack away, and the body flopped onto the ground.
It was Arenadd.
Laela stared at him for a long, long time, not quite able to take in what she was seeing.
The King had been bound hand and foot. The hilt of a dagger protruded from his chest, and his head was thrown back, the once-neat hair and beard soaking wet. His eyes were closed, and his skin was a sickening blue.
Very slowly, she leant over and placed two fingers against the side of his neck.
There was no pulse. As she’d expected.
A sudden, terrible rage and horror came over her. Furiously, she turned him on his side and undid his bonds. They had been tied so tightly they had cut into his skin. She threw the cords aside and laid him out as gently as she could with his arms by his sides.
Then she grasped the dagger, and pulled it out. It was long. . horribly long. . it came out coated in gore, and she could feel it scraping against bone as it came. She retched, but kept pulling until the blade was in her hand, and then threw it aside.
