Alex Bledsoe - The Sword-Edged blonde

The door opened, and Epona emerged. She was staggeringly beautiful, her dark hair loose and shiny and her skin radiant. She was barefoot and wore a flowing, low-cut gown. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. She crossed her arms and leaned against the lintel. “So you figured it out.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Neither of us lied.”

“I know.”

“And you believe it?”

An emotion I couldn’t identify swelled in me. My vision blurred with tears. “I believe it. I believe you. I believe in you.”

She laughed, but gently. “Please, Eddie, don’t get maudlin on me now. You still have a lot of work to do. But you fought down the darkest things within you, and you deserve a rest. So take this as a gift.”

Three of the shimmering birds flew down and hovered, like hummingbirds, before me. I held out my hand, and one of them tentatively came forward, nudged me with his tiny beak and then settled into my palm. At the instant of contact, I felt lighter, younger and happier than I could ever remember. All the weight of guilt, self-doubt and regret left me. I think I cried out.

But whatever happened, it woke me up. The position of the sun through the window told me it was well past noon. My muscles ached, and my joints popped as I uncurled from my fetal position. The fire had done its job and consumed all my incriminating belongings, and was now reduced to smoldering coals. I spread the ashes so they would extinguish on their own, and poured water in the basin so I could clean up.

I looked at myself in the mirror, pale and still shaky, and accepted that the person I saw there had indeed done the things I had done. The weight of a lifetime of deceit was gone, and I recalled Epona’s magical bird from the dream. Had it been a genuine vision, or just my own mind rationalizing me out of my despair? At this point, I could accept anything as real.

I washed up, put on some clean clothes and my extra pair of boots, packed the rest of my stuff and prepared to leave. I took special care with my souvenir from the Dwarf’s house; an awful lot depended on it reaching its destination. Just as I tossed the bag over my shoulder, someone knocked at my door. I knew it was Bernie before I opened it.

He wore a neat, pressed official uniform and was freshly shaved. His eyes were cold and professional. “Leaving town?” he said without even glancing at my bag.

“Good morning to you, too,” I said as I stepped aside to let him enter.

“It’s afternoon,” he snapped, and closed the door behind him. “You know where I’ve been for the last five hours? Up on Brillion Hill investigating the murders of Clarence Canino and Gretchen Paltrow. Some delivery man found ’em dead on a back porch, and the folks in that part of town like to feel safe. So they expect an arrest to happen quickly.” His eyes swept the room, taking in the fresh ashes. “Know anything about it?”

“Nah. Tanko gave me a bogus address. The number didn’t even exist.”

He held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

I looked him in the eye. “I threw it away.”

He walked to the window and opened it. “It’s hot as my fat wife’s armpit in here,” he muttered. The salty wind lifted the curtains and stirred the ash in the fire as it made a breeze up the chimney. Bernie knelt by the hearth. “Buttons in with the coals,” he said. “Somebody burning clothes?”

“Not much firewood this time of year.”

He looked up at me. “Did you kill ’em, Eddie?”

I shook my head. “I shot Canino, but the girl killed him. He gutted her before he died.”

“What about the Dwarf?’

I shrugged. “Apparently he doesn’t exist.”

“You mean anymore.”

I smiled. “Bernie, if I’d killed the guy, I’d tell you. You know that.”

“We found a whole house laid out for special access. We found clothes cut to fit a dwarf. We found an awful lot of blood in the wine cellar, and what looked for all the world like a fresh grave. But when we dug it up, no one was in it.”

“And you think I did all that?”

“Somebody did.”

I went to the window and looked out at the clean, twinkling ocean far below. “Bernie, I swear to you, I didn’t kill anybody. Not Canino, not the girl, not the Dwarf. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have, just that I didn’t. And that’ll have to do you. I’m still working for my client, so I can’t tell you any more than that.” I turned to face him. “I’m going to leave now, unless you plan to arrest me.”

He nodded at the window. “Lean out a little and look to the north.”

I did, and saw a dark plume of smoke rising into the sky. It came from one of the warehouses along the docks. “The Dragonfly?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Already burning down. The fire crew is down there trying to save the other warehouses, the legitimate ones. No telling how many bodies we’ll find in there.”

I felt a brief pang for spike-necked Allison, but her fate was out of my hands. “Hm. Quite a coincidence.”

“And you had nothing to do with that, either?”

“Not a thing.”

Bernie ran his hand along the mantel above the fireplace. “I got no reason to doubt you, I suppose. And nothing to really hold you on. In a few months, I may decide you’ve done me, the city and the common good a big favor.” His eyes snapped up to meet mine. “But for right now, I’d just as soon you left town. Quietly. And don’t come back for a visit before winter. By then, I should be your pal again.”

I nodded. I didn’t offer my hand, and neither did he. I left without another word.

I returned quietly and quickly to Arentia. I took a room above a pub in one of the far-flung suburbs of Arentia City. I wasn’t yet ready to approach Phil; at least one major task remained to be accomplished. But I needed reliable, discrete assistance.

I didn’t know how to reach Sir Michael Anders directly without giving myself away to the rest of Arentia’s officialdom. But he’d been quite free with the details about his young lady friend Rachel, and I recalled her highborn family from my own youth. I sent a messenger boy to her requesting she forward my confidential request to Anders. It took several days, but eventually he showed up at the pub, dressed like any other tradesman on a day off.

He sat down next to me at the bar without a glance, and when the bartender moved out of earshot said softly, “You look awful.”

“That’s because I work for a living,” I murmured back. “We need to talk; meet me out in the barn in ten minutes.” His nod of assent was so slight I barely caught it.

I paid for my drink and went behind the building to the stable, where Lola stood patiently in her stall. I picked up a brush and stroked her neck and mane while I waited for Anders. He arrived casually, although I knew he’d verified that no one followed him. If I hadn’t been alone, he would have feigned confusion and asked for directions back to the main road.

He leaned against the door of the stall. “Hey, that’s the same horse you stole in Pema.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you would’ve made horse stew of her by now.”

“She’s not so bad. Better than some people I know. Excluding present company.”

“Thanks. So what’s so urgent you had to worry my girlfriend to reach me?”

I stopped brushing Lola and looked at him seriously. “I need a huge, possibly career-ending favor from you.”

He didn’t blink. “Like what?”

“I need to get in and see Rhiannon alone.”

He chewed his lip for a moment before saying, “I guess you know about her sentence.”

“Just what I’ve heard second-hand.”

“The king imprisoned her for life at the main city gate. Her cell is built into the actual wall itself. During the day she has to come out into a cage, sit on a stool and basically take any shit anyone wants to throw at her, symbolic or literal. At night, she’s locked into her chamber. The guards are forbidden to let anyone else near her; even they can’t speak to her except to give instructions. I know them; they won’t bribe, and I’d hate to take them on in a fight.”