the length of the opening. The bloody water spilled to the floor.
“Bring another pitcher,” Ventor demanded. He took a candle and slowly scanned the length of the wound, holding the flame close to her body.
The examination went on for a long time, before he straightened up and put down the candle. “Nothing in the wound.”
Taking a needle and thread from his pouch, he threaded the needle carefully, then quickly bound the end of the thread with a large knot.
Ventor rinsed the wound one more time, then, assisted by the women who held the flesh together, he began sewing the wound closed.
It was nothing Esk kar hadn’t seen before. He’d suffered the same treatment, even watched while it was done, but this time he had to turn away.
His hands shook and he forced himself to stop, clenching both hands into fists. Bantor’s wife joined Esk kar and her husband.
“I think she’ll live, Esk kar,” Annok — sur whispered. “The wound is long but not deep, and the blade glanced along her ribs. Though I’ve no doubt she would’ve bled to death if the healer wasn’t close by to staunch the bleeding.”
“My thanks to you, Annok — sur. Please stay with her.” Esk kar stared at Ventor, bent low across the table as he finished closing the wound. At last the healer began to bandage his patient, using clean linen brought by the servants. “When the healer is finished, keep him here to watch over her.”
Esk kar faced Bantor. “Now let’s find out who dies tonight.”
He stepped out into the courtyard. He found it full of armed men. A few torches provided light against the deepening darkness. When they saw the grimness on Esk kar’s face, a groan went up.
Bantor called out quickly, “No, no, she lives. The healer is with her.”
A ragged cheer went up, echoed from beyond the wall, and Esk kar realized the street outside must be crowded with people, all concerned about Trella. Two members of the watch pushed their way through the soldiers, dragging a ragged man already covered with bruises, his hands tied tightly behind him and a gag in his mouth. The prisoner shook so hard he would have fallen if the men hadn’t held him upright.
“This is the one who attacked her, Captain.” The guard gave the prisoner a jab in the ribs. “Klexor caught him before he could escape.”
Cries of “kill him… kill him now” went up from the soldiers, but Eskkar raised his hand for silence. He turned to Bantor. “Watch him, and keep him alive.”
Esk kar fought the urge to strike the man, but that could wait. Think first, then act, Trella always told him. He started thinking coherently for the first time since they’d brought her in. He looked around the garden and spotted Klexor, sitting alone on the ground, disconsolate, his head in his hands.
“Klexor, come here,” Esk kar called out, then said to Bantor, “Clear out the courtyard, but keep twenty men here. Close the gates and send the rest of the men to the walls. I don’t want anyone to escape by slipping over in the darkness. Kill anyone that tries. Then come back here. Gatus, Sisuthros, come with me.”
Klexor stood up, shaking, and nearly fell. Esk kar took the man’s arm and guided him into the house. Ignoring the crowd around Trella, he led the man upstairs and sat the bodyguard on a chair in front of the table.
Esk kar poured two cups of wine, a small one for himself and a large one for Klexor.
“Here, take this.” Esk kar waited until the soldier had drained half the cup, then pulled it away from his lips. “Easy, now. Tell me what happened.
Take your time and tell me everything.”
Esk kar went to the other side of the table and sat. He looked carefully at the guard. A seasoned veteran and a bull of a man, Klexor stood a few inches shorter than Esk kar, but broader and wider, with hands like hammers. He wasn’t one of the original soldiers, but Esk kar knew him well enough, and the man had guarded Trella before.
Klexor wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Captain, it wasn’t my fault, I…”
“I just want to hear what happened, Klexor. It wasn’t you that struck her. Tell me exactly what happened. Leave out nothing.”
Klexor took another sip of wine, then glanced at Sisuthros and Gatus, who leaned against the wall.
“I was assigned to guard Lady Trella today, and we walked all over the village, back and forth, visiting people, training with the women. Finally we started back here, but some women wanted to talk to her, so she stopped and spent time with them.”
His voice cracked and he took another mouthful of wine. “By then dusk was approaching. We were in the Street of the Butchers. The lane’s narrow there, and I walked in front, making a way through the crowd.” He stopped and ran his fingers shakily through his hair.
Get on with it, man, Esk kar wanted to shout.
“We were only a few steps from the carpenter’s shop, you know, the big one where they make wheels and…”
Esk kar nodded his head.
“That’s where we were, when there was a shout… some street boy screamed out ‘… knife, he’s got a knife.’ I turned and there was this man, his blade striking down. Trella screamed, and fell.”
Klexor emptied the cup and set it clumsily on the table. “I stood there, Captain, for a moment, I couldn’t move. But the boy, the one who shouted, he grabbed the assassin by the leg as he tried to run off and tripped him. Good thing he did, or he would’ve been killed himself. I saw the knife fl ash by the boy’s head. By then I’d recovered my wits and ran at the man just as he got up. I hit him, he went down… I hit him a few more times.”
The man stopped, thinking. “I heard Lady Trella say, ‘Alive… keep him alive’ before she fainted. That man, Ventor, I think his name is, came up and pushed me away. He bound up the wound and told me to send the boy ahead to you, then ordered me to carry Trella here.”
“And the one who stabbed her, do you know him?” Esk kar asked.
“No, I never saw him before,” Klexor answered, “though… wait, I did see him earlier in the afternoon. He could’ve been with the crowd at the wall when the women went there to practice. I’m sure I saw him there. The women may remember him.”
Klexor started to shake again, aware he could be put to death for failing in his duty.
“You said he tried to stab the boy? Did he still have the knife when you struck him?”
The guard concentrated on what had taken place, then answered. “Yes, Captain, he still had the knife. But he was trying to get away, not use the knife.”
“So you hit him. Why didn’t you use your sword?”
“Lady Trella said to keep him alive… no, that was later. I don’t know, I just wanted to get to him. I don’t remember what I was thinking. I forgot to draw my sword.”
Esk kar tried to visualize what the man had seen and done. “My thanks to you, Klexor. I’m sure no man could have done better. You did well to keep the assassin alive. Now go to the kitchen and get some more wine, but only one cup. You need to stay sober. Others will want to hear your words later.”
The man got up, his relief evident. “Captain… I’m sorry about what… she’s… she’s a good woman…” His voice choked, and he couldn’t get the words out.
“I know. Go now, and send up the boy who brought us the news.” He turned to Gatus and Sisuthros, then paused as Bantor returned, squeezing past Klexor on the landing. “It sounds as if the man was following Trella, and that Klexor did his duty.”
“The men have complained that it’s impossible for one man to guard either of you,” Gatus said. “You know that, with all these crowds. But Lady Trella didn’t want another guard assigned. Klexor performed as well as any man.”
“Nobody takes good advice, Gatus. She said the same thing to me. I should have…”
The door opened again and Annok — sur escorted the boy into the room, a crust of buttered bread in his hand, with crumbs and grease on his chin.
He looked frightened.
Esk kar stood and guided the boy to the seat just vacated by Klexor, but this time Esk kar pulled a stool around and sat down next to him. He judged the lad had about nine or ten seasons. “Don’t be afraid, boy. What’s your name?”
