then who did?”
Kara narrowed her azure eyes and folded her arms over her breastplate. “For that matter, Sergen, why didn’t you report this dire tale as soon as you heard it?”
“Frankly, I thought Geran had already fled Hulburg again,” Sergen answered. “He hasn’t been seen here in days, after all, and I hoped to spare the family any story of his misdeeds. You all seem to think well of him, after all.” He glanced down at Hamil and shrugged. “As far as who opened barrows before you arrived, well, we have only your word that you returned to Hulburg when you claim you did. How do we know you haven’t been here for months, searching out barrows to loot? For that matter, how do we know that you weren’t the very tomb robbers Jarad Erstenwold died trying to arrest?”
“Now that’s ridiculous!” Kara snapped. “Perhaps you’d like to suggest that Geran is responsible for the Spellplague and the Time of Troubles too, while you’re at it?”
The harmach sighed. “Sergen, I don’t find your accusations against Geran very credible. Your anger is speaking for you.”
“They are not my accusations, Uncle. I’m only reporting what’s been told to me. Regardless of what you find credible, there are a dozen Veruna blades who can swear to their account of what happened on the Highfells two nights ago.” Sergen drew himself up and measured Geran sternly. “Geran may have inveigled you with his self- aggrandizing tales, but I think the Merchant Council will be less easily swayed by old affection.”
“I will lay Geran’s charges against House Veruna before the Merchant Council, Sergen,” the harmach warned. “And I expect them to be investigated thoroughly and impartially. If you are not capable of doing that, I’ll appoint a new keeper of duties to oversee the Council Watch and see to it.”
“So you take Geran at his word?” Sergen pointed at Geran and snarled, “While he’s been off playing at adventure in foreign lands, I’ve stayed here and built Hulburg from a forgettable little backwater into a prosperous town! What’s he ever done for this city or this family? This drafty old castle would be crumbling around your ears if not for the coin I brought in. I refuse to let his wild stories antagonize a trading partner as valuable as Mulmaster!” He glared defiantly around the room and then abruptly shouldered his way past Geran and stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Geran drew a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair; the harmach sat down slowly and leaned his cane against his chair. No one else said anything for a long moment, and then Hamil cleared his throat and said, “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of place, but why charge Urdinger and the Veruna men through the Merchant Council? Why not send the Shieldsworn to arrest them?”
“My hands are bound by the laws of concession, Master Hamil,” the harmach answered. “Matters of justice pertaining to the merchant costers are dealt with by the Merchant Council. My Shieldsworn aren’t permitted to set foot in the conceded territory, nor are they allowed to arrest foreigners employed by a merchant company holding a concession. We must lay our charges before the Merchant Council and allow the council to arrest, try, and sentence their own.”
“And do you trust Sergen to charge and try House Veruna’s armsmen?” Geran asked.
Grigor glanced out the leaded window at the warm rain pattering down over the town. “Sergen has shown that his loyalty lies with our family on many occasions, Geran,” he said quietly. “I’ve always believed that trusting someone can make that person worthy of trust, and Sergen long ago made up for the harm his father intended against us. But it might be true that he’s become too entangled with the merchants he deals with.”
“He’s protecting Jarad’s murderer, Uncle Grigor.”
“Which he may not have known he was doing until you reported what you’d found in the Highfells,” the harmach pointed out. He shifted his gaze back to Geran and met his eyes. “I’ll give him a few days to show me that he can set aside his dislike for you and act on the information you’ve brought to light, and if he doesn’t, then yes, I will replace him. Now-tell me everything about Aesperus and this book. I want to know what the King in Copper has to do with this whole affair.”
SEVENTEEN
27 Ches, the Year of the Ageless One
Later in the afternoon, Geran decided it was time to visit Mirya Erstenwold again. She’d insisted that there was nothing that he had to do about Jarad’s murder on her account, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve some answers. After all, when they’d met at Jarad’s graveside, she’d seemed to understand that he needed to settle Jarad’s business for the peace of his own heart, if not hers. By sharing her suspicions about House Veruna, she’d given him her blessing to follow his own path through grief. Geran was slowly resigning himself to the idea that he might not ever find out which of the Veruna armsmen had actually waylaid his friend in that wild and lonely place, but he could certainly tell Mirya what the Veruna men had been seeking and how Jarad had come to get in their way. Besides, Mirya needed to know what he’d learned about Veruna’s involvement. The men who’d murdered her brother might be the same men who now threatened her family’s livelihood with their extortion and intimidation.
Wrapped deeply in his thoughts, Geran slipped out of the castle an hour before sunset, leaving Hamil to entertain Natali and Kirr. He set out from Griffonwatch on foot, dressed in a nondescript gray cloak, only one more man among the hundreds in the streets who hurried about on their own business. The rain had diminished to a cool, steady mist that beaded his cloak without really soaking the dense wool, and faint tatters of cloudwrack drifted over the town only a few hundred feet overhead. He took Cinder Street through the Tailings-by daylight the neighborhood was simply run down and poor, not dangerous-crossed the Winterspear at the Middle Bridge, and climbed the steps up to the square by the Assaying House and High Street.
As he threaded his way through the sodden streets, Geran brooded over the question of how to hold House Veruna to account even if the harmach couldn’t. When he considered events coldly and carefully, he decided that it didn’t matter all that much which of the armsmen had been involved. The Veruna men were mercenaries, paid to do what they did without asking questions, and the ultimate responsibility for Jarad Erstenwold’s murder rested with the man or woman who had ordered the mercenaries to kill him. It seemed likely that Anfel Urdinger might be that man-after all, Mirya had seen him wearing Jarad’s elf-made dagger. And the encounter at the barrow of Terlannis suggested that Urdinger was the sort of captain who was inclined to personally see to important missions. The only real question in Geran’s mind was whether Urdinger had conceived the plans to loot the barrows, deal with Aesperus, and assassinate Jarad Erstenwold himself, or simply followed the orders of Lady Darsi or some other high-ranking member of House Veruna.
Geran reached the intersection with Plank Street and turned the corner to Erstenwold’s. The first sign of trouble was the two mercenaries in tabards of green and white standing outside the door of Mirya’s store with insolent smirks. Passersby gave them a wide berth, staying well clear of the doorway. The next sign was the sound of breaking glass and coarse laughter from inside.
Geran’s step faltered. “Ah, damn it all,” he muttered. “Geran, you fool!” The Veruna men were back, vandalizing the place to teach Mirya a lesson for letting him stand up for her. But whether it was a message for him or a message for her, he wasn’t going to stand by and let Darsi Veruna’s mercenaries hurt Mirya or drive her out of business. I think I’ve had about enough of Darsi Veruna’s hired blades, he decided. He paused in the shadow of a doorway and quickly spoke a couple of his swordmage spells. Then he crossed the street, heading for the steps where the mercenaries waited.
“Find another store, friend,” one of the men said coldly. “This one’s closed.”
“That’s not for you to say,” Geran replied, and he whipped his cloak free of his shoulders, dropping it into the muddy street without breaking stride. His right hand rode on his sword hilt. “Now get out of my sight, because Torm knows I’ve had all I can stand of your stink in my town.”
“Damn it, Terth! That’s him!” the second man said to the first. “That’s Geran Hulmaster!”
“I don’t care if he’s the king of Cormyr,” the first armsman said. He set his hand on the hilt of his own sword and grinned in challenge at Geran. “I don’t mean to step aside for him.”
“Sanhaer astelie!” Geran snarled.
He lunged forward and caught the first Veruna man with his bare hands by the belt buckle and the collar. With the burst of magical strength the spell gave him, he simply plucked the man right off the top step, holding him
