Marsheila Rockwell - The Shard Axe

He paused again, but this time Sabira had no urge to hurry him along. Because she knew what was coming next.

“It’s almost the exact method—”

“—used by Nightshard,” she finished flatly, her stomach suddenly lodged somewhere between her heart and her throat. “But he’s dead. I saw him die myself.” And she had; the assassin had taken Leoned with him.

“Yes,” Mountainheart agreed. “But the suspect in custody has intimate knowledge of those killings, which unfortunately is going to make it very hard to prove his innocence.”

What? They’d already arrested someone? Then what by Olladra’s golden purse strings did they need her for?

And perhaps more important, who had they arrested?

“Don’t make me drag it out of you, Mountainheart,” she warned, her voice tight with dread and danger. “Who’s the suspect?”

“My uncle,” the dwarf answered, hedging, and Sabira knew this was the crux of the matter—why Breven wanted her for this job and why the envoy was so reluctant to answer.

Sabira’s growl was audible.

“He’s also a member of the Aurum, which of course complicates—”

“Who?”

Mountainheart took a deep breath, and then just blurted it out.

“Aggar Tordannon.”

“No, Elix! I won’t do it! I won’t go back. Not for him. ”

She’d stormed out of the room after Mountainheart’s revelation, Elix chasing after her. He caught up with her in the hallway and guided her into a nearby empty room, which turned out to be a library. She rounded on him in a fit of fury and grief.

“How can Breven even think of asking me to do this? How can Aggar?” She was as close to tears as she could remember being in years, and the realization only made her angrier.

“Saba, you know you’re the only logical choice—not just because of your past with Aggar but because the dwarves trust you. No other Marshal would get the access they’ll give you. You’re like some sort of folk hero to them.” His tone softened and turned playful as he tried to calm her. “What’s that song that Tordannon bard wrote about you?

“Silver,” Sabira corrected automatically. At any other time, she’d joke back with him—flirt, even, for she knew Elix had had feelings for her once. She’d argue that her eyes were closer to lowly pewter than to any of the more precious metals and wait for him to rebut her. But not now. She couldn’t joke about this.

“Look, Saba,” Elix said earnestly, no longer teasing, “I know this is bound to bring up some painful memories, and I’m sorry for that, but you have to deal with them sometime. You’re needed.”

“Oh, really?” Sabira bit back, incensed. “And have you taken any assignments down in the Talenta Plains since Jayce died there?”

Elix’s eyes went wide, as if she’d struck him, and she felt a momentary pang of regret. But it paled in comparison to the burden of guilt she carried, and she would not apologize.

“It’s only been one year, not seven. And if I were called there tomorrow, I would go. I’m a Marshal; it’s my job.”

“Going to the Holds is one thing, Elix, and I might consider it —might , eventually—but going there to help Aggar? He’s the one who got Leoned killed; if he’d just stayed where he was supposed to, and hadn’t followed me …” she couldn’t finish the thought; that well-trod path led only to pain. She glared up at him, Leoned’s cousin and closest friend, who’d loved him as much as she had. Or so she thought.

“It was Aggar’s fault!” she spat fiercely, but the last word came out sounding like a sob.

“It wasn’t his fault, Saba,” Elix chided gently, reaching out a hand to hold her chin up and force her gaze to meet his when she would have looked away. “And it wasn’t yours, either.”

She closed her eyes against the sympathy and concern she saw in his face. She wanted to believe him, needed to … but she just couldn’t. If she hadn’t left Leoned alone, Nightshard would never have been able to capture him. To torture him, in that horrible cave, with no one to hear his screams.

“Ned was a Defender. More than that, he was a Deneith, my aunt’s marriage into the ir’Thul family notwithstanding. He knew what it means to bear that name—knew the rewards and the risks. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for his death, and he’d never want you to refuse a request for aid because of him—especially not Aggar’s request. Ned cared about him. You both did, once.”

Which only makes it that much harder, Sabira thought. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to forgive the dwarf for the part he played in Leoned’s death. Any more than she could forgive herself.

She felt Elix’s hand, soft on her cheek, brushing away traitor wetness. When she opened her eyes, she saw an answering sparkle in his.

“Leoned wouldn’t hesitate to take this assignment if he were still alive, you know that. He’s not here anymore; he can’t do it. But you are, and you can. Do what he can’t, Saba. Not for Aggar, not for the Marshals, but for him. So he can finally rest in peace. So you both can.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, finally dropping his hand and taking a small step back, unsure of what he saw there.

“Saba?”

“I still can’t believe Breven would ask this of me. He made me a promise, ” she whispered, her voice thick with suppressed rage and tears she would not, Host help her, shed.

“He didn’t ask you, Saba.” Elix said, his chin lifting and his jaw tightening, as though he were expecting a blow. “I did.”

“You …?”

“The letter was from me.”

Sabira felt as if she’d been hit square in the chest with a barbed quarrel—one that had been pulled back out the way it came in, rending flesh as it went. Only the last time that had happened, it hadn’t hurt this badly. And that wound had eventually healed, leaving a jagged two-inch scar. This one … this one would not.

She groped behind her for the nearest chair and lowered herself slowly into it, not trusting her knees to hold her. Her thoughts raced as she went over in her mind the letter she’d thought was from Breven. She would have sworn the phrasing and the signature were both his, but any Sentinel Marshal with more than a few years’ experience knew both so intimately, it would not be hard to mimic one and forge the other. The letter hadn’t borne the Baron’s personal seal; instead it had been the chimera of House Deneith. That wasn’t so unusual, in and of itself, but considering the nature of the assignment, the lack should have tipped her off. Would have, if she’d had any reason to suspect duplicity. But she hadn’t. Not from Breven; not about this.

Then again, she would never have expected it from Elix, either, and yet here they were. She stared up at him, at the once familiar and even cherished face that now looked as alien to her as that of any of the denizens of Xoriat.

“Why, Elix? Why would you do this to me?” she whispered at last, not even caring how broken and lost her words sounded.

“How else was I going to get you to come home?” he asked, looking pained.

When she didn’t respond, he sighed and dropped to one knee in front of her.

“If there were anyone else, don’t you think I would have gotten them? You’re the only one who can do this. Aggar needs you, and we need the Tordannons. And you’ve been gone so long, and you never answered any of my letters. I just needed to see y—”