David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“I take it you haven’t found the assassins yet,” Kreazur said at last.

“No. I have men searching the countryside, but I fear they may have come to Curlinte by sea. They may be impossible to find.”

“Perhaps not impossible. More difficult certainly. But our house has good relations with most of the merchant captains between here and the Crown, even those sailing under the Wethy flag. They may be able to help us.”

“Yes, that’s a good thought. I’ll send messages to the ports later today, provided there’s no word from the moor. Thank you, First Minister.” It was sound advice. Perhaps Kreazur could still serve House Curlinte after all.

“Of course, my lord.”

They slipped into another uncomfortable silence, until Sertio finally decided that he had best leave. He stepped to the door and called for the guard.

“I’ll leave you to sleep, First Minister. Please forgive the disturbance.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lord. Were I in my chambers neither of us would think twice about such an interruption. Despite this unpleasantness I still serve you and your house.”

Sertio nodded as the soldier appeared in the corridor and unlocked the steel door.

“I will speak with the duchess about gaining your release. You have my word.”

“I’d be most grateful, my lord.”

Sertio nodded and walked out of the chamber as soon as the soldier pulled open the door. He was eager to leave the prison tower and the company of this man. No doubt Kreazur had been wronged, by Diani as well as by the duke himself. But though he would keep his word and attempt to prevail upon his daughter to free Kreazur and his fellow ministers, he had no desire to prolong their conversation.

It was still dark when he stepped into the ward once more and began to make his way back to his chamber. Dawn couldn’t have been far off, but the stars still shone brilliantly against the black sky, even in the east. Panya glowed directly overhead and red Ilias hung just above the eastern wall of the castle like some curved, bloodied blade.

“My lord!”

He turned at the sound of the voice and saw two soldiers approaching from the lower ward.

“You’ve found something?”

“Possibly, my lord,” answered the older of the two men. “An innkeeper to the south remembers seeing two men with shaved heads and bows just before dusk. They were on foot and claimed to have been hunting. They inquired about staying at his inn, but didn’t like his price and so continued south.”

“Where?” the duke asked eagerly, striding to the stable. “Show me. I’ll ride with you.”

“It’s almost all the way to Kretsaal barony, my lord. It’s an hour’s ride from the castle, at least.”

“I don’t care. If they were heading south and looking for a place to stay, they probably chose Kretsaal. If we ride now, we may find them before they leave whatever inn they settled on for the night.”

The soldier and his companion exchanged a look and the second man shrugged.

“If you insist, my lord,” the first man said. “But we can just as easily bring them to you.”

Riding to Kretsaal himself made little sense. They couldn’t even be certain that these were the same men, though Sertio had little doubt that they were-no one hunted the moors this time of year. But after sitting by helplessly while Dalvia died, and watching in idle frustration as Diani struggled to learn the rudiments of leadership, Sertio needed to do something. Anything. The ride would do him good, and he wanted to interrogate these men himself, before Diani had a chance to vent her rage at them through torture or summary execution.

The stableboy saddled his mount quickly and within moments the duke was leading the two soldiers through the west gate and onto Curlinte Moor. They road south toward Kretsaal by the dim glow of the moons, drumming past the jumbled boulders and the still, tall grasses of the headlands and then past small farmhouses that already smelled of cooking fires lit in the cold hours before first light.

Before they were halfway to the barony, the sky over the Sea of Stars began to brighten, silver at first, then blending to soft shades of rose and purple, and finally, as they came within sight of the walls of Kretsaal, to pale gold.

They reached the village gate just as the sun emerged from the shining waters and began its long, slow climb from sea to sky. One of Sertio’s soldiers and several of Kretsaal’s guards met them inside the walls. Sertio’s man looked weary but pleased.

“Good morrow, my lord.”

Sertio swung himself off his mount, tossing the reins to one of the baroness’s men. “Have you found them?”

“We believe so, my lord. The two men we’ve been following took a room at an inn on the south edge of the village. We’ve men posted in front of the house and behind it. We were waiting for word from Curlinte before taking them. We had no idea that you’d be coming yourself.”

They hurried through the village, Sertio laying a hand on the hilt of his sword. Already there were men and women in the narrow, muddy lanes, leading small herds of goats to the gate or casting a critical eye at the wares of one of the few peddlers in the small marketplace. All of them stopped to stare at Sertio, looking wary, even frightened. House Curlinte ruled its lesser courts with a gentle hand, but the appearance of the duke or duchess in the barony usually meant trouble of some sort.

Upon reaching the southern end of the village, Sertio found several of his men standing a short distance from the inn, speaking to a grayhaired woman with clear brown eyes and a toothless grin.

“This is the innkeeper, my lord,” the guard said, as he and the duke stepped into the circle.

“The men are still in their room?” Sertio asked her.

“Must be. Haven’t seen them since they paid me. They didn’t even come down for their supper, though they paid for it.” She grinned again, but when Sertio remained grave, her smile faded.

“What did they look like?”

“Like I told these others, they was bald, both of them fairly tall. They wore riding cloaks and carried bows. They said they’d been hunting.”

“They paid you in silver or gold?”

“Gold, my lord.”

“Did you see anyone with them? A white-hair perhaps?”

“No one, my lord. And it was a slow night. Just the one other fellow who took a room was all. And he ate his supper like a gentleman and went upstairs.”

“Where is he now?”

“He left before dawn. I didn’t even see him go. That’s why I have them pay when they get here. If I didn’t, I’d be chasing all over the realm trying to collect.”

Sertio looked toward the inn, feeling vaguely uneasy. Whether they intended to flee or make another attempt on Diani’s life, they should have been up and moving by now. “Which room?”

“Last one on the left.”

He was walking before she finished, several of his men falling in step around him.

“Get them!” he called to the captain standing by the entrance to the inn. “We’ve waited long enough.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said. He shouted a command to the men standing with him and immediately they filed into the inn.

Sertio drew his sword, but he remained in the lane, awaiting word from the men inside. For several moments there was silence. Then the captain appeared in the doorway once more, a sour expression on his face. Even before he spoke, Sertio felt certain that the assassins had managed somehow to escape.

“What is it?” he demanded, ice in his voice.

“You’d better come look, my lord.”

The duke eyed him a moment before following him into the house. Inside, the inn smelled of roasting meat and stale wine. The captain and Sertio climbed the steps swiftly, taking them two at a time. A knot of soldiers stood in the upstairs corridor just outside the last room, but they parted to let Sertio pass, most of them lowering their gazes.