which promised to be one of the preeminent structures in all Ansalon, and they were determined to celebrate the occasion.
At the Town Square, Blair veered onto a well-to-do residential street running westward, toward Crystalmir Lake. He drew up to one imposing edifice. Behind him, Gerard and Vercleese reined in.
'Are you sure this is such a good idea?' Vercleese muttered.
'Oh, I think it's an ideal solution,' Gerard said with a grin. 'Wait here.' He tossed his reins to his deputy and dismounted. He stepped briskly up the gravel walk to the front door, where he pounded hard enough, with the pommel of his sword, to rouse the heaviest sleeper. After a few minutes, a bleary-eyed butler opened the door. 'Yes, who is it?' the servant demanded imperiously. 'Who dares to wake the household at such an hour?'
Gerard moved so that the light from the man's candle shone on his face. 'It's Gerard uth Mondar, the sheriff of Solace. And I have urgent need of Nyland's services for the night.'
'The young master is asleep,' the butler droned. 'As is anyone,' he added with a scornful look, 'not engaged in scurrilous endeavors of one sort or another.'
'You'd best hope I overlook your disrespectful comments,' Gerard warned. 'Now go wake up Nyland and bring him here, before I come in and roust him out of bed myself.'
'You wouldn't dare,' the butler said, although a slight tremor in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.
'Try me.'
The butler tried to stare Gerard down but failed abjectly. 'Hmph! I'll go see what I can do,' he muttered at last. 'Please wait here.' He started to shut the door.
Gerard stuck his booted foot in the doorway. 'I think I'll wait inside, if it's all the same to you.'
The butler's glare told Gerard that it wasn't all the same, but he acquiesced to the inevitable with poor grace and stepped aside. 'If this is suitable,' the butler said with a mocking tone, indicating the entry way, 'I'll leave you here while I go rouse the young master.
Gerard nodded and the man marched off with a stiff, unhurried gait.
When someone appeared a few minutes later, it wasn't Nyland at all, but Lady Drebble. 'What's the meaning of this?' she demanded. 'What are you doing, banging on doors in the middle of the night and demanding that solid, upstanding citizens be rousted from their beds?'
'My dear lady, I have sore need of Nyland for the night,' Gerard said diplomatically. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to impress him into duty serving as one of my deputies.'
Lady Drebble began to wring her hands. 'My little Nyland, occupied in such a…
'Guard a couple of prisoners.'
'Guard prisoners!' cried Lady Drebble fanning herself desperately. 'My little Nyland, associating with such rabble? Why, I won't hear of it! He might fall asleep, and then they'd cut his throat.'
'If he's on guard duty, he won't be sleeping,' Gerard served dryly. 'And of course the prisoners will be safely locked up.'
'I insist upon speaking to the mayor,' Lady Drebble said. She stamped a pudgy foot. 'Right now!'
'Mother, what is it?' asked a young man's voice behind her. Moments later, the pale face of Nyland Drebble materialized in the little sphere of candlelight.
Gerard knew from Vercleese that Nyland was at least eighteen, although he was kept under so tight a rein by his mother's apron strings that he was treated as though he were twelve. 'What are these men doing here?'
'Nothing, Nyland. It has nothing to do with you,' Lady Drebble said. 'Go back to bed.'
'Nyland, get dressed,' Gerard interjected. 'You're coming with us.'
The lad's eyes grew wide. 'Am I under arrest?' He looked more delighted than dismayed.
'No, not at all.' Gerard smiled, touched in spite of himself by the young man's innocence. 'We badly need you to guard some prisoners for tonight.'
Nyland's mouth fell open. 'Are they dangerous ones?' he asked when he remembered to close it again.
'Not at all,' his mother said hurriedly. 'They're quite ordinary criminals, I'm sure. And I'm sure the sheriff can find someone else more suited for such a menial job.'
'Oh, yes,' Gerard said to Nyland, as though his mother hadn't spoken. 'A couple of very dangerous sorts, indeed.'
'But I'm unarmed.' The young man looked embarrassed. 'And I don't possess a weapon. Mother won't permi- that is, I have yet to select and purchase a suitable weapon.'
'Well, that's easily remedied. I'll loan you my sword,' Gerard said.
'Oooh!' Nyland breathed. He turned to his mother. 'I–I really think I should go. After all, it's my, uh, civic duty.'
'It's your patriotic duty,' Gerard offered.
'It's my patriotic duty,' Nyland echoed eagerly.
'Nyland, I won't hear of it! Now obey me and return to bed.' When the lad didn't respond quickly enough to suit her, she stamped her foot again. 'Right now, Nyland!'
'I'm sorry, Nyland, but this is man's work, or I wouldn't have asked you. You really must come with us,' Gerard said. He looked the lad in the eyes. 'That's an order.'
'You hear that, Mother? My duty to my community calls me. I really must go.' Nyland disappeared into the house before his mother could object, presumably to dress.
Lady Drebble turned on Gerard, her face purple with rage. 'I'm going to protest to the mayor!' she cried. 'I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense at once!'
'You might want to put on some proper clothes, first,' Gerard said when it appeared she might launch self into the street, still in her nightdress and robe.
'Hmph!' she snorted and spun away, slamming the door.
Gerard waited.
'Do you really think he'll come?' Vercleese asked, having slipped up behind Gerard sometime during the discussion.
'Oh, he'll come all right. He wouldn't miss this for all the world.'
Sure enough, moments later Nyland bounded out of the house, still lacing up his breeches and tucking in his shirt. He glanced fearfully over his shoulder. 'We should hurry,' he said. As if to set an example, he raced down the walk and hopped onto the back of the wagon. 'Come on. Let's go!'
Gerard and Vercleese grinned at each other, promptly complying. The lad's misgivings seemed well grounded, for no sooner were they under way, drawing away from the house, than Lady Drebble appeared again at the doorway, gesticulating hysterically. 'Be brave, my boy!' she cried to the departing entourage. 'I'll get you out of there! I promise!'
'Not before the night's out, I hope,' Nyland muttered, just loud enough for Gerard to overhear.
At the jail, the two prisoners were tossed into an empty cell. They struggled against their bonds and attempted to speak, but all that emerged from their gagged mouths were sounds suggestive of the worst possible threats and curses. Nyland stood outside the cell, watching them with fascination.
'Here,' Gerard said loudly, handing over his sword to the youthful jailer. 'Keep a firm grip. Don't stab them unless you have to. But, uh, if you are forced to run them through, go for the vital organs. Try to keep the bloodshed down to a minimum. Cleaning up the jail can be such a mess.'
Nyland held the sword, staring at it with wide eyes. Copper Mustache and his accomplice moaned into their gags and struggled harder against the ropes that held them.
'What if they try to escape?' Nyland asked eagerly.
'Then skewer them like the rats they are,' Gerard said, speaking mainly for the benefit of the prisoners. He leaned close to Nyland and whispered, 'But see that it doesn't come to that, will you? I'm counting on you; keep them frightened, but alive. I really do need them alive.'
'All right,' Nyland said, sounding disappointed.
'What are you going to charge them with?' Blair asked, ready to write something down in the official logbook.
'Hmm, they're under suspicion,' Gerard said.
'Of what?' asked Blair, hesitating and looking doubtful.
'I'm thinking on it,' Gerard said with a grin, watching the prisoners squirm.
