Geran took a deep breath, turned, and made his way to the carriage where Kara and Hamil waited. They watched him pull himself up into the seat, adjusting his cloak to keep his sword arm free. “I’m ready to go,” he said to Kara.
Kara nodded and said, “We can come back any time you want.” She took the reins in hand.
“Geran, wait!” Mirya hurried up to the carriage, holding her skirts. She stopped and studied him, evidently considering what she wanted to say. Finally she spoke. “Listen, likely there’s nothing at all to what I aim to tell you, but I thought you ought to know.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“Several days past, I thought I saw something… Jarad had an elf-made dagger that he often wore. It was a handsome thing with a hilt of silver wire and a pommel in the shape of a sprig of holly. I think he got it from you.”
Geran leaned forward in the seat. “Yes, he did. I sent him that blade shortly after I arrived in Myth Drannor. It was nothing, really, just an ordinary dagger of a coronal’s guardsman, but I wanted to send him something elf- made, something to show that I’d visited the city of the elves. When we were boys we always talked about going there someday.”
“It was nought to you, perhaps, but Jarad treasured it. He wore it at his belt always.” Mirya’s voice grew flat. “I think I saw that dagger on the hip of a hired sword by the name of Anfel Urdinger. He’s in the pay of House Veruna. He and a few other Verunas were keeping watch on Erstenwold’s from across the street. Like as not they were keeping count of my business to work out the Merchant Council’s cut.”
Hamil looked at Geran. “If it’s a common design as you say, it may not be the same dagger. Or even if it is, it’s possible that this man Urdinger simply got it from someone else-won it throwing dice, traded for it, stole it, who knows?”
“Aye, your friend may have the right of it,” Mirya acknowledged. “But this I do know: Jarad wasn’t afraid to interfere with Merchant Council business when he had a mind to, and interfering with Merchant Council business means interfering with Veruna business. If you mean to start asking questions, then you might start with asking whether House Veruna is interested in tomb-breaking out in the Highfells.”
“Mirya, you should’ve told me about this,” Kara said with a frown. “If there’s any reason to suspect Urdinger, I need to know. Do you realize what you’re suggesting? If you’re right, House Veruna’s armsmen ambushed and killed the captain of the Shieldsworn. That’s a direct attack on the harmach.”
“You were away up at the northern posts, Kara,” Mirya replied. “Besides, what I saw’s no proof of anything. Even if I’ve got the right of it, well, as Hamil said, Urdinger could claim that he came by that dagger in any number of ways. All I’ve got are my suspicions.”
Geran met Mirya’s eyes. “I take your suspicions seriously, Mirya. I’ll remember what you’ve told me. And I’ll keep my eyes open for this fellow Urdinger. He’s got some questions to answer.”
Kara shifted in her seat to look at both Geran and Mirya. Her armor rasped and jingled. “Geran, you’ve got to move with care,” she said. “You can’t just challenge this man in the street, regardless of Mirya’s suspicions. The harmach’s law applies to you as well as everyone in Hulburg-especially to you, since we can’t afford to have anyone say the Hulmasters are above the law in this city. Besides, you might be playing into House Veruna’s hands. Someone arranged for Isolmar to meet a professional duelist four years ago. Whoever arranged that for Harmach Grigor’s own son wouldn’t hesitate to arrange something similar for you.”
“I hear you, Kara. I’ll choose my steps carefully, never you fear.” Geran leaned back in his seat and motioned at the road leading back down to the town below. “Now, before I go looking for this Veruna man, I want to take a look at the place where Jarad was found. Could you take me to the barrow?”
Kara nodded once and flicked the reins. The horses whickered and leaned into the traces, trotting on the mossy old cobblestones. As they turned out of the cemetery gate and began to descend, Geran glanced back up the hill at the lonely stone markers amid the long grass. Mirya stood there with the dead, faded wildflowers in her hands, watching him drive away until a bend in the road hid her from his view.
SIX
13 Ches, the Year of the Ageless One
Noon was approaching when Sergen Hulmaster’s chamberlain informed him that Lady Darsi’s carriage was hurrying up the long drive leading to the broad porch of his villa. Sergen arose from his bath, allowed the bath attendants he’d chosen for the morning to dry him and drape a robe over his shoulders, and dismissed them with an absent wave. As the girls hurried away, he belted his robe, stepped into slippers warmed by the fire, and donned a plush lounging coat against the cold. Then he went to see to his guest.
Darsi Veruna waited in the house’s great room, sipping from a goblet of mulled wine already provided by Sergen’s servants. She wore a long green winter dress with a subtle trim of ermine fur at collar and cuff, with a matching fur-trimmed hat over her long, golden hair. “Ah, there you are, Sergen,” she said in a rich, melodious voice. “Have I taken you from your morning’s sport?”
Sergen made a small gesture of dismissal. “It’s nothing, my dear. To tell the truth, I am rather bored with my attendants.” He drifted over to the smorgasbord, which his servants set each day whether he intended to eat or not, and helped himself to a goblet of the warmed wine as well. A large, well-fed fire and bearhide rugs helped to keep the early spring cold at bay, but a warm goblet of wine was just the thing to chase away the last hint of a chill. He shook out his still-damp hair and said, “Tell me, what brings you to my humble home? How may I be of service to you, my lady?”
Darsi smiled at that and seated herself in a fine Turmishan couch by the fire. She removed her hat; her maidservant silently took it from her hand and withdrew again. Her hair was her best feature, a splendid cascade of molten gold that fell in soft waves to a handspan below the nape of her slender neck. Twenty years ago she had been a stunning beauty, a green-eyed enchantress with a heart-shaped face and perfect features. Men had killed to win the chance to woo her. She was still an exceptionally attractive woman, but the girlish softness had worn away from her features, and the barest hint of frown lines had crept into her face. “Well, my lord Hulmaster, it seems that your long-lost cousin Geran saw fit to stop my armsmen from collecting council dues from a small provisioner on Plank Street-Erstenwold’s, in fact. And I’ve just received a note from your sister requesting an explanation for my armsmen’s behavior.”
Sergen grimaced. “I heard the same story. What will you tell my dear sister?”
“I’ll tell her that armsmen in my employ are under strict instructions to follow all local laws, and that if in fact these three men conducted themselves as reported, then it was purely on their own initiative and for their own personal gain. Should their misconduct be proven, I will of course discharge them from my service immediately.”
“Indeed.” Sergen allowed himself a long, low chuckle. The situation was not amusing at all, really, but the audacity of Darsi Veruna’s lies deserved some measure of approbation. Of course she’d known exactly what the three armsmen were up to, but Kara could never prove that she did. And without ironclad proof, well, the harmach and his agents simply lacked the political strength to accuse a powerful merchant company like House Veruna of unsavory conduct. Oh, Kara could lay out charges on behalf of their uncle, and in all likelihood she would be widely believed. But Darsi Veruna would simply hand over a scapegoat or three and House Veruna would carry on with its business. “I wonder what my stepsister will say to that?” he asked aloud.
“I doubt she’ll be pleased,” Darsi replied. Though her manner was cool and calm, Sergen knew her well enough to recognize the subtle sharpness of her tone as a sign of intense annoyance. “Perhaps I should curtail my efforts to enforce council edicts. If my men are discovered in the very act of extortion-or discovered in some of our less savory activities-even your feeble old uncle will have to do something.”
Sergen’s amusement vanished. “The council business is not that important, Darsi, but the search for the book must not be delayed. Need I remind you whom we are dealing with?”
“A reckless gamble, in my estimation. House Veruna is deeply invested in opening this rude little backwater of a town, Sergen. We’ve done well here, but we’ve spent a fortune to get to this point. If your uncle decides to slap my wrist, it could be extremely costly for my family.”
“When I am harmach, any such costs you suffer will be repaid, dear Darsi.” Now Sergen understood her true
