Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

“A glimmer of light?” Laedron asked, his interest piqued. “What did it look like?”

“Swirling, vibrant, and red. It wrapped around the guard, and only a few moments later, the militia man collapsed.”

“The man who did this, he had symbols along the back of his garb? Red embroideries?”

“Yes, and a scarf across his face.” Clarence paused. “Am I safe here?”

“Worry not. That one will trouble you no more.” Laedron stood. “Anything else?”

“That’s the best I can remember. What do you think this means, if you don’t mind me poking my nose around in it?”

“We know not,” Marac said, “but we shall find out. Keep your doors secure and report anything else you remember to Master Greathis.”

With a nod, the old man stood and let Laedron and Marac out. Laedron heard the slide of metal locking the door behind them once they reached the alley.

Seeing more militia approaching, Laedron pointed at the dead guard. “Take this one back to the headquarters, and you’ll find his murderer on the next street. Bring that one’s body to Greathis, too. We’ll keep up the patrol in case there are more.”

Once they had gotten farther up the alley and clear of the militia, Marac asked, “Do you mean to tell them about the stones?”

“No, not yet.” Laedron patted the pocket containing the black pouch. “I mean to do a little investigating before I reveal that piece of information.”

“What if Greathis could tell us more?”

“At worst, he might know exactly what they mean and not tell us anything because he works for the same people. He is Falacoran, after all. At best, he would know and tell us, but the risk far outweighs the good that might come of it.”

“You’re right. So, you think it’s not an isolated incident? A lone murderer on the prowl?”

“No, not from what we saw. A name tattooed on his neck written in Zyvdredi, these stones, and magic-no, he’s working for someone else, but I don’t know the purpose. We’ve come upon the identity of the killer and the reason guards have come up missing, but it creates even more questions.”

“Let’s keep searching. Perhaps there are more clues around here that we’re not seeing.”

Laedron shrugged. “Maybe. It’s worth a shot. If we don’t find anything, we should go see Greathis to feel him out and see what he can tell us.”

They continued patrolling for over an hour. Nothing seemed unusual or out of the ordinary, as best he could tell. He decided they should go visit Master Greathis, and Marac agreed.

* * *

When they arrived at the militia headquarters, Laedron took in the spectacle in front of the building. A squad of guards, with Greathis among them, were gathered around the dead body Laedron had found and the one he had caused. Several dozen regular citizens crowded the streets, craning their necks to see.

“Shouldn’t we take this inside?” Laedron asked. “It would appear a crowd is gathering.”

“Sergeant Wilkans just informed me of what happened, as I only just arrived myself,” Greathis replied. “Yes, bring the bodies inside and bar the doors. The rest of you, get on with your duties. Half of the city remains unwatched with you all here.”

Once inside, Laedron recounted everything that had happened, being careful to leave out the parts about the stones and the magical occurrences.

“No wounds. Not even bruising from strangulation,” Greathis said, searching the dead guard’s body. “He was too young to die of anything natural. How did he die?”

“I wish I knew.” Laedron shrugged. “We found him like this in the alley, and we searched for weapons or a cause of death. None could be found.”

Greathis turned to the other body. “Looks as if you are skilled with a dagger after all, young man. These symbols on his cloak, do they mean anything to you?”

Laedron swallowed deeply. “No, Master Greathis. I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

“I fear we may have mages afoot,” Greathis said, tracing the embroidery with a fingertip. “I haven’t seen runes like these in a long time.”

“You’ve seen them before?”

“Not exactly like these, no, but the style reminds me of mage writing.” Greathis rubbed his scruffy chin. “The Sorbian army is in Balfan, and we now have what seems to be a dead mage before us. Infiltration?”

Laedron had some difficulty keeping the details sorted in his mind. The war, in the minds of the Heraldans, had been started by Sorbia, but he knew Gustav and his hired hands had made a sneak attack to cause it-the academy burned and toppled by their torches and incantations. If nothing else, Greathis seemed either not to know what had actually passed or refused to reveal his knowledge of those events. The former would be good news for Laedron, proof that Greathis was not part of the scheme, but the possibility of the latter gave him pause and reason not to trust the militia commander. For now, I’ll need to keep some things secret .

“How long since the first militia guard went missing?” Marac asked. “Didn’t Sergeant Wilkans say two months or so?”

Greathis sighed. “Yes. It began just prior to the opening of the war, and that is why I feel the Sorbian mages had something to do with this.”

If only he knew he was speaking in the presence of a Sorbian mage. He’s ready to lay the blame on us, though, regardless of the fact that he’s probably never met or even seen a Sorbian sorcerer. Well, knowingly seen one .

“Sorbian or not, we should be on the lookout for others such as this,” Greathis said. “I thank you for bringing this to my attention. Should you find anything else, let me know. Of course, I can only hope that it was an isolated incident and that we’ll see no more murders of my men.”

“Yes, Master Greathis. We’ll return to our patrol.” Laedron gave Marac a nudge, then walked out the door and down the street.

Marac glanced around when they were by themselves. “Quick to blame the Sorbians, isn’t he?”

“He has nothing else to go on,” Laedron said. “It looks awfully suspicious, and for a Heraldan, it’s not a far stretch to believe the Circle could have done this.”

“Do you believe it, Lae?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly. I can’t even tell you if anyone from the Circle is still alive, aside from those taken into the Shimmering Dawn.”

“What if it is Circle mages, though? Ones that you don’t know? Maybe they’ve come here for revenge.”

Laedron stopped and gave Marac a long stare. “I can’t discount the possibility. It’s out of character for a Circle mage, though; we don’t go around killing random people.”

“He wasn’t a random person, though,” Marac said, turning a corner into an alley. “He was a militia guard, a symbol of Heraldan authority, and the closest thing they have to a military.”

“Yes, but why? Why kill militia guards just before a major attack on your own academy?”

“I don’t know. What are you getting at?”

“I mean to say that we’re clearly not privy to every piece of the puzzle. What if some act by the Circle mages did cause the war? What if it wasn’t a preemptive sneak attack? Instead, what if the attack was merely a response to some other grievance?”

“We can speculate about the reasons, but it will do us no good. For now, we’re walking a thin line between reality and what we can prove, and falling on either side puts us in grave danger.”

Marac turned. “Do you hear that?”

Stopping, Laedron closed his eyes. “A whistle. From the Ancient Quarter… Jurgen!”

Valyrie brushed a concoction of butter and seasonings onto the goose, turning it on the spit to ensure each side had a liberal application. Night had fallen over the city, and with Jurgen’s missives delivered to each recipient, she had been given the task of making a meal for them. Her first night in the house had left her with an unsettled feeling, much like the one she’d had the night her father died, a feeling of homesickness and a longing to return to something familiar.