“What you think? Fifteen? Eighteen?”
“Lord Victor was a fool to think they’d let him go unpunished,” Antonil said. “Which of these bodies do you think is him?”
Sergan squinted at a few nearby, frowned.
“Not seeing any wearing fancy enough clothes. Might still be alive and cowering under a rock somewhere, though I doubt it’ll mean shit. His fool’s quest is over. Once he’s done wiping his ass, he’ll take the first wagon out of Veldaren, I guarantee it. Question is, what do we do? Pretty obvious the Spider Guild is the one responsible for all this. Think we could have the King declare them all under arrest?”
“Perhaps, if we wanted to send them all into hiding and make all our lives miserable for the next ten years. Who killed the Spider Guild, though? Don’t see any of Victor’s guards having made it this far.”
“I don’t know, but whoever it was was doing us a service.”
Antonil let out a grim laugh.
“Don’t let Thren hear you say that. I’d hate to have to find myself a new trainer for the guard.”
More city guards arrived from the castle, wheeling a cart behind them. At Sergan’s orders, they began loading up the dead and shifting aside the larger stones to reopen the road for travel. They’d been at it for hours, all to clean up the mess the attack had caused and clear away the rubble and the dead. The sun was rising above the city wall, reminding Antonil how tired he was, and how long a day he had ahead of him.
Antonil watched his soldiers work with a pall cast over his mood. He’d known this was coming. It seemed everyone but Victor had known it. But expecting it and actually seeing the anger and power of the underworld rise up to strike were two different things. And lest they risk all-out warfare on the streets, Antonil could do nothing about it. It used to be that the easy money made the guilds soft, but no longer. The Watcher had been the one to keep the more troublesome in line, but this was beyond him. Perhaps it was beyond them all.
“Something bothering you, beyond the obvious?” Sergan asked, coming back over from the crater.
“If necessary, we could raise an army to battle off kingdoms, perhaps even the wrath of the elves,” Antonil said. “Yet we are so powerless against these thieves. How? Why?”
“Once the worm gets in the apple, it’s near impossible to get out,” Sergan said, smacking Antonil on the shoulder. “Our walls don’t work against this enemy. They’ve got boundaries, no diplomats, no castles to take or crops to burn. Just men, sticky fingers, and a frightening amount of daggers. Much as I’d like to have every one of them thieves stretched out before me in an open battlefield, they ain’t that stupid. So we’ll do what we can, with what we’ve got to work with.”
“They’re killing everyone who talks to Victor’s men,” Antonil said, revealing what had weighed most heavy on his heart.
“Thought you were posting guards?”
“It isn’t enough. It never seems to be enough. My numbers are stretched thin as it is.”
Sergan shrugged.
“You’ll think of something. You always do. And besides, weren’t you listening? Victor’s going to be halfway to Ker by this afternoon, and all the way to Mordeina by nightfall. There won’t be any more witnesses to protect. In a few days, it’ll all die down to the quiet little insanity we’ve learned to live with lately.”
“Forgive me, Sergan, but I have my doubts.”
The weathered man raised an eyebrow, spat again.
“Why’s that?”
In answer, Antonil pointed to where Lord Victor approached with a large retinue of his men, their armor gleaming in the morning light. Antonil bowed at his arrival, and Victor responded in kind.
“Good to see you safe and well,” Antonil said.
“I’m surprised myself,” Victor said before gesturing to his men. “Whatever help you need, my men are here to offer it. Much of this is my fault, and I won’t leave you to clean it up alone. Once it’s done, we can resume the investigations.”
Antonil managed to hide the surprise from his face and voice, but only because of a lifetime of discipline.
“You’re still to remain in Veldaren?”
Victor clapped Antonil on the shoulder.
“I don’t scare that easily. We’ll use more caution, of course, take things a bit slower now that we know what lengths they will go to.”
Antonil had Sergan dole out orders, then asked Victor if he’d join him for a moment so they could talk privately.
“Something wrong?” Victor asked as they put their backs to their men and walked.
“It’s the men and women you’ve been bringing in to testify,” Antonil began. “I’ve tried posting guards, but many go into hiding, and even the ones I do protect have been killed. Often my guards die, as well.”
Victor nodded while listening, and Antonil saw the hidden anger and frustration.
“Casualties of war, captain,” the lord said, but he couldn’t quite keep the dismissive tone from wavering.
“Your war, not theirs.”
Victor sighed.
“What do you want me to do, Antonil? I won’t leave, not after all this. Would you have me render their deaths pointless?”
“I’d have there be no deaths at all. Conduct these talks in secret. Give shelter among your soldiers for those who request it. Once we’ve weakened the guilds, these measures won’t be necessary, but until then…”
“Enough,” Victor said, his sharp tone startling Antonil. The guard captain watched as Victor turned away for a moment and stared at the crater in the street and the bodies being loaded onto the cart.
“I thought I was prepared,” Victor said, his voice softening. “I thought I could bear the burden. And I still will, Antonil. I will bear it. But it is far heavier than I ever imagined.”
“It will get worse before it gets better,” Antonil said.
“I know,” Victor said, turning back to him. “I will do what I can to hide the identity of those we bring in, whatever good it will do. Your king has already agreed to let me use his castle, so I will question everyone there. As for those in fear for their lives…”
He gestured down the street, where work had already begun in repairing the wall of Victor’s repurposed tavern.
“There are many rooms within, as well as space on the floor. Bring them there, until there is no room left.”
“Will it be safe?” Antonil asked, thinking of the attack only hours prior.
“From the outside, yes,” Victor said. “I can promise you that. But inside…I don’t know. I invite assassins in with every man I give shelter. I pray you understand the risk I take, and hope I never have reason to regret it.”
“I’ll have my men keep an eye on your place, as well,” Antonil said. “My liege would have me work with you, help you in any way I can. Just ask, Victor, and I will, so long as it protects this city and the people in it.”
Victor offered his hand, and Antonil clasped it.
“I would have us friends rather than enemies,” Victor said. “But tonight has done me well. I know how strong we must be to succeed. Trust me. Last night will not happen again.”
Antonil nodded, wished the man well. Still, when he left to join Sergan, he did so with a heavy heart. Something about the way Victor had said that made the hair on the back of his neck itch. Victor’s response to near death and failure was not to doubt, but to harden his resolve. What could he do to the thief guilds that would be any worse than what he did now?
“What do we do with the dead Spiders?” Sergan asked at his arrival. “Hold them for a day at the castle, let family members come and see if they recognize them?”
Antonil chewed on his lower lip.
“Bury them all in a common grave, not a name given for any,” he said. “They’re enemies of the peace, enemies of our king. They deserve no better.”
“Might piss ‘em off.”
Antonil laughed, and he waved his arms at the wreckage about them.
“Any worse than they are now? Bury them, and forget them. We have a lot of work to do, and not anywhere
