Patricia Briggs - When Demons Walk

This was the first steady job he’d found in five years, but he wasn’t going to watch Lord Hirkin beat a boy to death in order to keep it. With a silent apology to his wife, he turned and slipped out the door at a moment when the other’s attention was focused on the little thief.

Once in the silent street, Talbot headed for the nearest thoroughfare at a brisk trot with the vague idea of finding a few other of the Southwoodsman guards. Hirkin’s control wasn’t as strong with them, and he knew of several who wouldn’t mind a chance to kill a few Cybellians, be they guardsmen or nobles.

He toyed briefly with the idea of sending a message to the Shark, but dismissed it. The Shark generally avoided direct contact with the guardsmen; he would avenge the lad’s death, but Talbot hoped to save it instead. Vengeance wasn’t worth losing a steady job.

The nearest busy street was several blocks away. At this time of the night there were fewer people, but Purgatory was never quiet. Once on the busier thoroughfare, Talbot caught his breath and looked around for any of the guardsmen that he knew, but the only one he saw was Cybellian. He swore softly under his breath.

“Trouble?” asked a nearby voice in Southern.

Talbot whirled and found himself face to face with a war stallion. Prudently he backed out of range of the horse’s eager teeth, and tipped his head back to meet the eyes of a man who, by his dress, could only be the Reeve of Southwood.

“Yes, sir.” His voice was steady. He had been a hand on the ship that sailed under the old King’s son. He was used to people of high rank, and the Whisper had it that Lord Kerim wasn’t as high in the mouth as most of his breed. He’d even heard that the Reeve concerned himself with all of the people of Southwood, Easterners and natives alike.

For the first time Talbot felt some hope that he’d get through this night with his job intact. “If ye have a minute, messire, there’s a crime that ye might be interested in.”

“Indeed?” Lord Kerim sat back on his horse and waited for the other man to continue.

Talbot cleared his throat and took a chance. “There’s been a murder, sir. When we came upon the body, there was a boy there with it. Normal procedure, sir, would be having us take him in for questioning and trial. But Lord Hirkin showed up an’ is proceeding with the questioning. I don’t think he intends to hold the lad for trial, if you get my meaning.”

Kerim looked at him a moment before saying softly, “‘Lead on then, man, and I’ll take care of it.”

With Kerim at his back, Talbot made good speed back to the little cottage. At the entrance, Kerim kicked his feet free of the stirrups and swung one leg forward over the saddle before sliding off his horse. Dropping the reins on the ground to keep the stallion in place, he followed Talbot to the open doorway.

“If you’re a good boy, there will be no need to meet the headsman just yet,” purred Lord Hirkin.

He had begun alternating his threats with outright bribery. Sham wasn’t sure why he was hunting the Shark, but it must be a matter of great importance to cause the urgency that he was demonstrating.

“I’d rather meet him than you,” she returned somewhat thickly from her abused lips. “At least he’ll smell of honest work. That’s better than what you’ll smell like when the Shark gets through with you. He doesn’t like people who poke around in his business—they usually end up feeding his brothers in the sea.”

Peripherally she was aware that someone had entered the room from the outside, but she assumed that it was only more guards.

This time the blow bloodied her nose. Eyes watering from the pain, Shamera knew that she needed to find a way to distract him soon. If she didn’t make her move before the pain got too bad, she wouldn’t be able to use her magic safely.

Obvious magic was out, unless her life was threatened. She wasn’t eager to be responsible for one of the periodic witch hunts that even now swept through Purgatory. But there were things that she could do that would even the odds a little.

She glanced at the door and froze, not even listening to Lord Hirkin’s verbal response to her insult. She was too busy staring at the Reeve of Southwood, standing inside the door just ahead of the Southwoodsman guard she’d seen leave a short time ago. When he noticed Sham’s intent stare, Hirkin swung around to see what had caught her attention.

“So,” said Lord Kerim, softly.

When he spoke the guards who had been looking at Sham turned to see the Reeve. She saw one of them take two quick steps forward and turn, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Southwoodsman just behind Lord Kerim—declaring silently where his loyalties lay.

“Lord Kerim, what brings you here?” asked Lord Hirkin.

“Did you see the boy kill this man?” The Reeve glanced casually down at the still form on the floor.

“No, my lord,” answered Hirkin. “One of the neighbors heard screams and sent his son to the nearest guard station. I happened to be there and joined my men in the investigation of the disturbance. We arrived to find this boy next to the body of the old man.”

Sham wondered at the lack of respect in the young lord’s tones. She had heard that Kerim was more popular among the merchants and lower classes than he was among the nobles, but this was more than she’d expected.

Scarf released her and stepped away, his eyes on the conflict between Hirkin and the Reeve. Sham let herself collapse to her knees and wiped blood out of her right eye, using both movements to shift a sharp little prying tool into her hand. The tool was small, but heavy and relatively well-balanced—almost as good as a throwing knife.

The Reeve shook his head lightly at Hirkin and said in the same dangerously soft voice he had used previously, “I met the young lad out on the docks less than an hour ago. He could not have made it back here in time to inflict this kind of damage.”

“I had no way of knowing that,” defended Lord Hirkin. “It is my duty to question all obvious suspects in a crime. This may be a quieter section, but it is still Purgatory. They wouldn’t tell the truth to their own mother, let alone guardsmen, without a little persuasion.”

“Perhaps,” Kerim nodded thoughtfully. “But from what I overheard just now, it sounds as if you are not overly concerned with the young man’s guilt. Indeed a listener might be excused for believing you are not even concerned with this crime.”

“My lord ...” Hirkin’s voiced died off when he met the Reeve’s eyes.

“It sounds as if you are questioning him regarding an entirely different crime. The theft of a logbook perhaps?” Lord Kerim looked at Hirkin with gentle interest and smiled without humor. “I believe that I can help you with that crime as well. Someone left a very interesting present with my personal servant just after dinner this evening.”

Hirkin whitened and slipped his hand down to grip the sword that hung from his belt.

Kerim shook his head with mock sadness. “I haven’t had time to go all the way through it, but someone was most helpful and marked certain entries. The most damaging entry, as far as your fate is concerned, was the kidnapping of Lord Tyber’s daughter and her subsequent sale to a slaver—he was not happy to hear that you were involved. I don’t know that I would return to the Castle if I were you.”

The Reeve’s lips widened into a smile that never touched his eyes and his voice softened further as he continued. “Many of these things had already come to my attention, but I lacked the evidence that someone so generously provided. In light of the fact that Lord Tyber would make certain that you do not live to face a trial, I have already passed sentence with the consent of the council. You are banished from Southwood.”