Carol Berg - Son of Avonar

“I’ve every right to investigate suspicious behavior, and I find your presence here extremely suspicious.” Rowan spoke quietly also, in tones that brooked no dispute.

“You have no jurisdiction here, Sheriff. If I should scream that I’m being, brutalized, you would have no more rights than any other bully.”

His sober expression did not change, though the sun lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit. “I disagree. Barnard, the local sheriff, knows me quite well. He would most likely be interested in the activities of known lawbreakers in his town.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Test me. Or would you rather tell me what you’re doing here? I know there are few things that pain you more than having a word with me, but I really must know what’s brought you here.”

And this, of course, was where I was out of words. I couldn’t think fast enough. The long day’s journey, the terrible doings in the forest, the odd little man running away… “Can we step outside, Sheriff?”

“As you wish.”

Beggars, carters, and drunkards crowded the torch-lit lane, but the stranger was nowhere in sight. Curse the man! “Have you nothing better to do than bother honest citizens, Sheriff? You should leave me alone and clean up your own district. Take care of the murderous highwaymen that prey on travelers.” To my dismay, my voice faltered a bit as I recalled the brutal scene in During Forest.

If there was any lack of will on Rowan’s part to pursue our confrontation, he dismissed it instantly. The pious mark on his brow glared at me like a third eye. “Madam, what do you know of highwaymen?”

Cursing my loose tongue, I folded my arms and looked away.

“Blessed Annadis, give me patience!” he said. “How do you propose I take care of my district if every person in it is so high and mighty as you?”

“Perhaps your district would be better off without a sheriff’s care.”

His face flamed, but he gritted his teeth and kept his voice down. Once could not mistake his sincerity. “Five men were slain in During Forest today. They were no ordinary highwaymen, but the most ruthless that ever plagued this road. They’ve survived for twenty years and were cut down in an afternoon. It’s something I must understand. If you refuse to speak what you know, then you’ve no right to demand anything of me. I ask you again, madam, what do you know of highwaymen?” I had never heard so many words from him all at once.

My distaste for the upright sheriff and my revulsion at his past did not entirely cloud my perceptions. As Jacopo often reminded me, Rowan was neither excessively brutal nor grasping in his day-to-day duties, as were so many of his ilk. And if his unquestioning adherence to a flawed notion of law set him at odds with the ruthless travelers I had seen in the forest, I would not argue. However uncomfortable it might feel for me, reason was on his side. After all, the priests might have nothing to do with Aeren. Perhaps the almond-eyed man’s fear of the three had its origin, as mine did, in their handiwork of the day.

“You’re right,” I said. What was pride but another garment to be discarded when you had grown past its use? “Not about everything… but about this. Yes. I witnessed what happened in During Forest. Quite by chance.”

“And will you tell me of it?”

I glanced about the dark lane. “Can we walk away from here just a little?” Rowan started to protest, but I interrupted. “I promise, I’ll tell you why.”

Just down the lane two empty crates sat outside a poulterer’s shop. My feet felt as if someone had taken a hammer to them. Making sure I could still see the door of the inn, I sat on one of the crates and propped my heavy boots on the other, leaving Rowan to decide whether to sit on the filthy ground or remain standing, unable to see my face. He squatted, looking uncomfortable.

“I was on my way to Grenatte on private business,” I began, and without mentioning Paulo, I recounted what I had witnessed that afternoon.

“And these priests are in the Green Lion?”

“That’s why I was leaving in a hurry,” I said. “They unnerved me, though I don’t believe they saw me in the forest, and though one could say they were entirely in the right in the matter. How can I explain it?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “The kill was not cleanly done. Yet, as you say, it’s not against the law to be good at defending oneself. But any who can take such men down easily are worth my attention, for rarely are they less dangerous in their turn.”

“So what will you do?”

“I’ll speak to these priests and see what they’re about.”

“You’ll not tell them who you are?”

“Surely this is no concern for my welfare?” he said.

Graeme Rowan’s welfare was his own concern. “It just occurred to me that a casual encounter might be less risky than telling them you’re a sheriff. In fact”—a scheme began taking shape—“to make things easier, I’d be willing to accompany you while you speak to them. We could say we are cousins.”

“I see no purpose in deception. In this matter, at least, they’ve no reason to fear me.” He straightened to his full height, looking down at me quizzically. “But if, for whatever reason, you’d like to be present when I interview them, I’ll not prevent it. I certainly don’t intend for you to leave Grenatte until we can discuss other matters… such as what you’re doing here.”

I bridled. “There’s no need to assume that because I answered a few of your questions, I’ll allow you to question me on my private business.”

“Madam, I would never presume to expect anything from you.”

I did not respond to his goading. I was already planning what to say to the priests.

As soon as Rowan and I entered the inn, the landlord bustled up to us, eyeing the sheriff suspiciously. “Is the gentleman bothering you, madam?”

“No. Not at all, Goodman Bartolome. Thank you.” I would not allow Rowan to control the situation. “In fact, this is my cousin, Graeme, come unexpectedly to meet me.” I ignored the sheriff’s darkening brow. “Can you tell us, innkeeper—there’s a gentleman in your common room, one who wears the robes of a priest—do you know his name, sir? He looks quite like the priest who wed my sister Catherine to her man, but I’d feel quite foolish asking if it were not the same priest.”

“The fellow’s name slips my mind,” said the innkeeper, “but the three of them come from a temple school in Valleor. Don’t know much else.”

Through the door of the brightly lit common room I could see the priests seated at a table near the center of the room. “That could well be the same Pere Franze, don’t you think, Graeme?” I said, indicating the three. “I believe he’d be interested to know Catherine has produced five healthy boys in five years. His offering of Mana’s blessing was most efficacious!” Producing the Twins was Mana’s only role in our holy legends, and the First God’s wife was interested only in sons.

The sheriff peered through the opening and then dragged me back into the shadows. “I think you should come away immediately,” he said in a tight whisper.

“What think you, innkeeper?” I said, paying Rowan no more heed than a doorstop. “Should I speak to them?”

“Well, now, they seem right enough fellows,” said the innkeeper, shrugging his massive shoulders.

“I can’t imagine they’d have an interest in such trifles,” said the furious sheriff. “You—”

“My cousin always thinks I am too forward.”

Rowan tugged my arm so forcefully, it was difficult to hold my ground. “And so you are. You should not bother either the priests or our host with your foolishness.”