David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

“He hasn’t said a word,” said the guard captain as they opened the gate. “Not that we’ve questioned him much.”

“Good,” Ingram said. “I want him all to myself. How’d we capture him?”

The captain shifted on his feet, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“He was protecting two of our guards from the Wraith. He saved their lives.”

Ingram frowned.

“Interesting,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Such actions should at least warrant him an honorable death.”

“If you say so, milord.”

Lamps lit the dim hallway. The cells themselves had a small hole dug into the hill to give them a speck of light. Most had eight or ten people within, despite how large the dungeon was. In the far back was the Watcher’s cell, small and solitary. He was manacled to the wall with an absurd amount of chains. The jailor had clearly been terrified of the man’s potential escape. One was wrapped around his neck, then connected with a thick chain about his waist, before bolting to the wall. Another chain kept his arms above his head, his wrists together, and then looped through a second ring attached to the ceiling. He was on his knees, unable to lie down or stand. His hood had been removed, and Ingram saw a handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes. A large welt swelled purple in the middle of his forehead.

“So we meet again,” Ingram said, grinning. “I must admit, I didn’t think it’d be so soon. Did you kill any more of my guards, Watcher? Or would you care to give me your real name, since I now see your face?”

The Watcher looked up at him, and Ingram took an involuntary step back. There was something sinister in his gaze, such certainty of retribution that not all the chains in the world could make him feel safe. No wonder the jailor had gone overboard tying him up. Trying to regain his composure, Ingram smoothed out his shirt, then softly slapped the Watcher across the face.

“Nothing to say? Well, if not a name, how about a reason? My guard captain says you were protecting two of my own from the Wraith. Why’s that?”

“You know why,” said the Watcher, his voice dry and tired. He nodded to the other cells, where men and women sat dirty in their own filth. “Which of them would have hung from your ropes otherwise?”

Ingram scratched at his chin.

“Twenty still will,” he said. “I’d like to be a man of my word.”

“And I’ll be a man of mine,” the Watcher said. “Another body, and I will make you suffer.”

Ingram laughed.

“A fine feat that’ll be. You’re here, Watcher, stuck and chained. You couldn’t defeat the Wraith, from what I was told. That means you’re useless to me.”

The comment seemed to sting more than Ingram expected, so he prodded further.

“It is such a shame. To think all your reputation in Veldaren would mean so little in my fair city.”

The Watcher flung himself against the chains, moving hardly an inch but causing a loud ruckus. This time, Ingram did not back away, nor show fear. Finally, he was in control.

“It only seems appropriate. You stab my shoulder, another stabs yours. You won’t be given a chance to heal, though. You’ll swing from the gallows, in full view of the city. I want that Wraith to know what’s waiting for him when we capture him, just as we captured you.”

“You won’t capture him,” the Watcher said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s beyond you and your men.”

Ingram put his heel on the bound man’s shoulder and pressed. Despite the pain, the Watcher showed not the slightest reaction.

“I’m sure many people in Veldaren said the same about you,” Ingram said, turning to leave. “But don’t worry. I’ll proudly bear the scar you left me. In time, memories will fade, and it’ll be me who took you down, not some nameless guard. Thank you, Watcher. Whatever legacy you had just added to my own.”

Ingram left, stopping only to have a word with the jailor.

“Block his window,” he said. “I want him in darkness. And have the city guard prepare the gallows. He hangs at sundown.”

That matter concluded, he exited the dungeon, only to be surprised by a large contingent of people waiting for him. There didn’t seem to be any trouble with them and his guards, but tensions were clearly high. Amid the mercenaries, a lady stepped forth, and she curtseyed. Ingram had never met her before, but there was no one else she could be.

“Greetings, Lady Gemcroft,” Ingram said. “For what reason have you come to such a dreary place as my dungeon?”

“Rumors, Lord Murband,” Alyssa said, her good cheer sounding forced. “Fortunate rumors, if they are true. I hear you have caught the man we know in Veldaren as the Watcher.”

Ingram frowned.

“I see one of my guards has a loose tongue.”

“You hanged thirty people as a challenge to him, then caught him in open streets,” Alyssa said. “Surely you cannot be surprised that people talked.”

“Perhaps. Would you like to come up to my study and…”

“No. We can discuss it here. The Watcher is a criminal of Veldaren, where he has slain hundreds of men. I want him in my custody so we may send him back for punishment.”

“I assure you, a man hanging in Angelport is just as dead as if hanged in Veldaren, miss.”

Alyssa’s eyes flared at that.

“Who said we wanted him hanged? He’s spilled a lot of blood, Ingram. We’d like a lot spilled in return. I demand him turned over to me at once. I am no ‘miss’ ashamed to dirty her skirt, nor afraid of the example his death must set.”

“Demand?” Ingram could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You come into my city, my lands, and give me demands? And why should I listen?”

Alyssa stepped closer, and her voice lowered.

“Because the Trifect is the only thing keeping the Merchant Lords from executing you in your sleep and taking over everything you own.”

Ingram shook his head, the grin spreading across his face not matching the rage he felt in his chest.

“That was true, once,” he said, gesturing to the many guards about him. “But things have changed. You don’t control me, not now, not ever, and unless you want to find yourself banished you’d better start showing me the respect an appointed Lord of the Realm deserves. That son of a bitch hangs at sundown, do you understand?”

Alyssa took a step back. All about, her mercenaries bristled at the outburst. But instead of anger, she only curtseyed again.

“Forgive me,” she said. “If you will not hand him over, I ask that you let me question him first. He may know something of the Wraith who killed Laurie’s son, and I would prefer to hear everything I can before he goes to his grave.”

After a deep breath to calm himself, Ingram nodded.

“You may question him as you like, but you go in alone, no mercenaries. If you need to question him harshly, well…” He leered at her. “I’m sure you won’t mind dirtying your skirt.”

She flushed at the comment but refused to take the bait. Instead she curtseyed again, then asked for one of the dungeon guards to lead her within.

“Don’t be gone too long,” Ingram said as she vanished into the dark. “I’d hate for you to miss our little meeting with the elves.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, glancing back. “I’ll be there. After all, it’d be a shame for a war to destroy Angelport.”

Ingram frowned as she left, then shrugged it off. He wouldn’t let her ruin his good mood. The Watcher had been caught, and surely the Wraith would follow. Her comment about war unsettled him, though. Did she really think that was a possibility? Sure, his woodsmen pressed elven borders, but the elves were cowards. Should things turn rough, Ingram felt confident he’d have the upper hand in creating peace.