The afternoon sun streamed in through the high windows of the bath. Leto sat on the ledge, his feet in the water as he scrubbed a soapy cloth over his body. The water that dripped from his body hit the stone floor and flowed back into the bath, leaving the floor bone dry. Nerves squirmed in Leto’s gut, and his mind flashed back to the party at the palace only days previous for him.
Sabian entered and nodded politely as he undressed, picked up soap, oils and a cloth, and walked into the bath. Leto absently noted the hard cords of compact muscle on Sabian’s frame. It was a physique Leto had seen on dockworkers, builders and other manual labourers but did not expect on a wealthy and idle scholar.
“You’ve been in here a while,” he said, “Stephanus said Rocco made demands on your time and talent for illusions. The boy will miss you when you leave us.”
“I’m grateful, but I can’t rely on your family’s hospitality forever.”
“You can rely on it as long as you need. Come here.” Sabian held out a hand, and two bottles lifted from different shelves and floated over to him. Leto slipped back into the water and waded to Sabian. Sabian pushed himself up onto the end of the bath. “Sit.” He opened his hand again, and a hairbrush and comb levitated across the room to his hand. “There’s an independence in you that may get you into trouble.” Leto sat between Sabian legs, and the other man cupped water onto his head with one hand. “From what your friends said over the years, you’re not one to ask for help.”
“I like to do things my own way,” Leto said, “Same as you like your secrets. You’re better at magic than you let on, and I’m sure you and Taeo spending so much time apart breeds rumours you don’t seem interested in addressing. It’d make some people suspicious.”
“But not you,” Sabian said, running the comb through Leto’s hair, “You’ve seen more of our lives than most. We’ve trusted you that much. It seems fair to the trust you put in us to keep you safe, even if you were unaware of it. I hope this does inspire some further trust on your part.”
“I trust people.”
“With your body and your heart, perhaps. You love Kol and Makarth like brothers and trust them with your life. That much is obvious. But would you have chosen to let them care for you in a time of need? Would you lead them into danger in your time in the Vigil? Would you have followed them? I suspect not. Taeo and I have each other, and we have friends we trust with our secrets. Perhaps you’re better without help. I don’t know the future. Not that you ask for advice, but I suggest you consider alternatives.” Sabian drizzled a thick liquid onto Leto’s head and brushed it through his hair.
Sabian’s touch was firm, gentle, comforting and oddly paternal. “I’ll consider that.”
“That’s all I ask. The guests have started arriving. Stephanus and Teresa are greeting them and getting them settled in the guest house while I make myself presentable.”
Leto moved away from Sabian and climbed out of the water to lay on the edge of the bath, feeling the water being pulled from his body. “No rush for me to join them then.”
“Independent and avoidant. A winning combination.”
“You’re a little bit judgemental.”
“And that’s just what I say aloud.”
An hour later, Leto was entering the dining room dressed in a dark red toga that wrapped around one shoulder and fell to his knees. The fabric was hemmed in gold and clung to Leto’s body, and he wore delicate gold chains on one wrist and ankle.
“This is too much,” Leto said to Sabain, who stood next to him, dressed in an ankle-length purple robe, “It’s obvious these clothes aren’t mine.”
“I thought I tailored them near perfectly,” Sabian muttered, “You’re the perfect distraction for this crowd. Let’s introduce you.” The dining room was packed with close to two dozen finely dressed people, a couple of plainly dressed staff passing around food and drinks. Sabian entered, and the room went quiet. “Welcome, my friends,” Sabian said warmly, “I’m so glad you can all join us here to thank the gods for our blessings and help us pass those blessings on. We’re doubly blessed this year. As some of you know, our family has been hosting a special statue and last week, the gods saw fit to return him to the world. I want to introduce Leto Avella once more in the flesh.” The group clapped and then returned to their conversations.
Teresa stepped forward, taking hold of Leto’s arm. “I’ll look after him,” she said to Sabian, “You need to play host.” She dragged Leto into the room to a pair of half-elves. The man looked to be thirty, and the girl appeared to be a few years older than Teresa. They both had long blonde hair and high cheekbones. “Leto, this is Kaladin and Astrid, the oldest and youngest of the Lighningbrand children.” Leto saw a tiny twitch in Kaladin’s eyes, and he swallowed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Leto said, shaking their hands, “Are you in the wine business?”
“No, we’re not,” Kaladin said. He wore a fine, sleeveless blue coat and his shoulder-length hair was tied back with a silver ring. “Mage crafting is the family trade, though Astrid here had to be a rebel and pursue alchemy. We actually worked on your condition. To no avail, obviously. We’re glad to see you hale and hearty again.”
“We really are,” Astrid said. She wore a long sleeveless white dress trimmed in the same shade of blue as her brother, “I think we were both here a couple of times a year with a new idea. Kaladin and Sabian got talking, and my brother got the bright idea to move to Sarcia and expand the family business. He’s set up a shop there.”
“Where are you originally from?” Leto asked.
“Viides,” Astrid answered, “On the south coast of Nymark. It’s cold, it’s foggy, and it smells like fish, but it’s not as charming as it sounds.”
“The elven branch of the family is from Awenor,” Kaladin added, “They brought the mage crafting with them. The human branch goes back to the founding of Nymark.”
“Which all sounds very noble until you fill a house with seven siblings, their partners and children, a widowed aunt and five cousins, and three grandparents. Even a house this big would start to feel crowded.” She glanced at her brother. “Find me find later, Teresa. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Leto smiled at Kaladin. “And I’d love to hear more about your efforts to help me.”
“Of course,” Kaladin said, “Find me later.”
They left the Lightningbrad siblings, and Teresa led Leto to three humans, each with swarthy complexions. The woman was thin with high cheekbones and a pointed chin. She wore a diaphanous orange dress and gold bracelets jangling on her wrists, and her eyelids were coloured to match her dress. Black hair cascaded over one shoulder, and she tossed it back as she laughed. She stood beside a tall and equally thin man with a shaved head and a white coat embroidered in orange. Both had warm brown eyes and easy smiles that lit up their severe faces.
The third was a square-jawed muscular man of average height. He appeared to be in his forties, with a few creases on his face and silver salting his black hair and a short beard. He wore a blue wrap embroidered with darker blue vines that hung from one shoulder and hugged his stomach, leaving his arms and half his hairy chest bare. One of his ears was pierced with multiple gold rings, while a gold spiral hung from the opposite ear. Gold necklaces of varying lengths hung from his neck, one holding a sizeable eye-shaped pendant with a sapphire iris. His fingers glittered with gold rings, and the back of one of his hands was tattooed with a design of an eye inside a star. Grey eyes twinkled as Leto approached.
“The man of the night,” the blue-robed man said warmly, his accent thick but his words clear, “But I think you’ll be tired of hearing that soon enough.” He bowed. “I’m Haşim of the Azure Spire.” He gestured at the two people with him. “Soraya Beheshti and Payam Bina. This is Leto Avella.”
“Soraya is one of our main dealers in Manjadiid,” Teresa said, “Payam is her husband. Haşim is a friend of Sabian’s.”
“Should I add him to the list of people I should thank for trying to help me?” Leto asked.
“No need for thanks,” Haşim said, “I owed Sabian a favour, and it seems to have all worked out. If it makes you feel better, we can say you owe me a small favour. Maybe deliver a couple of bottles of Vespertillian Wine to me in Akhar, and we can call it even. I don’t see anyone else in attendance tonight that you might owe. I’m curious about your recovery. Perhaps I can catch you alone and ask some questions and call debts paid?”
“We have other people to talk to,” Soraya said, patting Haşim on the shoulder, “It was nice to meet you, Leto. Teresa.”
“Shout if you need me,” Teresa said, smiling and leaving
“I must admit,” Haşim said, taking Leto by the arm and sweeping him out of the room and out to the courtyard, “Transmutation is my area of study, and I’ve dealt with petrification a few times in the past. It was terribly rude of you to be so resistant to treatment.”
Leto chuckled. “I’m sorry to have wounded your pride.”
“Apology accepted,” Haşim replied with a dismissive wave and a smile, “But I’ve been curious if it was different for you. What did you experience?”
“Nothing,” Leto answered, “I was at the palace in Sarcia, then I blinked, and I was here five years later. I was weak and dizzy at first, but that passed within a few minutes.”
“How strange. The petrification cases I’ve encountered retained consciousness and at least had an awareness of sound penetrating the rock and some passage of movement and time. Sabian said as much of his own time, petrified by the same spell as you. But you say you had no awareness? I wonder what it is about you that made a difference. Have there been any lingering effects?”
“No, I feel myself. A hot bath and a restful sleep were all it took.”
“That is wonderful to hear. It was most frustrating for me professionally but personally wonderful. Trying to unravel the mystery will keep me busy for some time, I think.”
“Glad to help, I think.”
“You can’t think to keep the boy to yourself, can you, Haşim?” A young night elf stepped out of the shadows. He had short white hair and silver eyes. He had a sapphire stud in one ear and tattoos of butterflies on the backs of each hand, as well as a chest and neck tattoo visible through the open collar of his white shirt.
“Not at all,” Haşim said with a laugh, “We have all night, and there are more wines to taste.” Haşim left.
“A delightful man, but he’s a born teacher. He’ll lecture you to death given a chance,” the elf said, rolling a cigarette, “I’m Callimar.”
“I suppose I owe you thanks as well, then,” Leto said, spinning a simple spell and snapping a flame into existence at the tip of his finger to light the cigarette.
“Consider it a public service. I get the impression you have enough outstanding debts.” Callimar glanced at the villa, and Leto followed his gaze to see figures moving through windows. “It looks like everyone’s starting to spread out and settle in. Be careful with this crowd. Haşim’s a nice enough man but can turn you into a rabbit. Most of the rest are merchants with more money than sense. The governor’s paranoid about his position and will probably think Sabian’s got some plan for you.”
“There’s no plan that I know of.”
“No, Sabian has never shown more than a cursory interest in politics. He has other interests and far more devious plans. Kaladin’s a curiosity. He is less confident than he projects. He's worried he’s not good enough to open a store so far from his family. Cassio’s a professional party guest. He plays the role well, but he has more of a brain than it seems and an intuitive understanding of people. His latest paramour is obviously chosen for his muscles rather than his sparkling wit. He probably has enough sense to know which end of the sword is pointy, but that’s probably the most dangerous thing about him.”
“What about you?” Leto asked, “Are you trying to stir up drama for a reason? To start some discontent among competitors or just your own amusement?”
Callimar grinned, “I thought you should know the stakes in this game. You don’t have much invested in it, which could make you invisible, but it could also make you an easy pawn. Be careful. It’s not as though you’re made of stone.” Then he, too, walked back inside.
Leto shook his head and returned to the villa, heading to the foyer where a considerable marble relief was carved between stairs leading up to the second floor. Lit candles and offerings covered a marble altar, the stone faces of impassive gods looking down at the sacrifices made in their name. Leto walked up to the altar, putting his hands on the cold stone.
“Gods grant me strength,” he muttered, “By your trails, I am shown the path, but I’m starting to feel like I was robbed and left in a ditch on the side of the road here. I need a sign or a mile marker. I’m not certain what I’m supposed to learn from all this. If I’m supposed to be here partying with rich people, I need all the strength I can get, and if not, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. Help me see the path before me.”
There was silence for a moment, then Sabian’s voice. “Can I offer an answer?”
Leto sighed and turned from the altar. “Sure.”
“Perhaps you’re not on the path. You see obstacles and a dead end when, to continue the metaphor of overland travel, taking a step back could reveal the secure walls of an inn. A moment of respite on your journey, and the gods prepare the way ahead.”
“People like me don’t get breaks,” Leto said.
“Not ones you trust, it seems. You think your life has ended, and you’re a shade watching the living carry on without you, no? Elves describe death as sleep, rest between the long waking days of many lives. It’s apt for a people who don’t sleep as other races do and an interesting perspective. The sun sets on one tired life with the knowledge that it will rise with the dawn of a new one. Death isn’t something to be feared but welcomed. This could be your long sleep, and now you wake to a new life, bright with possibility, but you close your eyes to the light and declare yourself blind.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Sabian. I need a job and somewhere to live.”
“In time. Your dawn is just beginning, I think.”
Leto groaned, turning back to the altar. “Please grant me strength.”
There was a scream, pain and fear echoing down the halls of the villa.
“The east wing,” Sabian said, pulling up his toga and bolting toward the sound.
Leto ran in step with him, racing across the courtyard and down a hall to Sabian’s study. The door was open, showing what to Leto looked more like a small library with full bookshelves reaching the ceiling, well-stuffed armchairs and a table in the middle of the rooms covered in charts, diagrams and open scrolls. Under a window was a desk with a padded chair, a neat stack of books, and orderly writing implements.
A woman lay on the floor, her olive skin pale and dark hair knotted. Her green and embroidered dress was finery that did not meet the standards of other guests. Her eyes were open, her mouth open and slack, and she lay with an unsettling stillness. Leto rushed forward, touching her throat and feeling no movement.
“Gods, what a shame,” Sabina said.
“A guest?” Leto asked.
“Marianna Iridalus,” Sabian answered gravely, “She owned the neighbouring orchards. We bought fruit from her. She’s always been invited to these events. She and Stephanus have been friends for over twenty years. She was all but family.”
Leto continued searching the body, finding a small cut on her wrist. He saw no signs of blood in the wound, just exposed flesh, and her skin felt unusually loose.
“This is strange if not suspicious,” Leto said, “Round up everyone and put them in the dining room, then send word to Mak. Assuming she screamed as she died, you and I alibi each other. Everyone else is suspect until we can determine her death was natural or accidental.”
“Can we rely on your experience until Makarth arrives?”
“I’m afraid it’s all we have.”
He watched Sabian trace a finger through the air, then spread his fingers wide, releasing a ripple of translucent energy. “The estate’s boundary wards are active. No one will be able to leave without me knowing. I’ve also asked Stephanus to gather the guests.”
“Don’t trust me enough to leave me here on my own?”
Leto looked around, the books shelved by subject and author, the papers on the central table arranged in neat rows. He noticed thin lines of dust on the shelves where removal and placement of books would have pushed it aside. The simple blue rug had indentations from the weight of the desk and table, and Leto got on his hands and knees to look behind the desk to see faint scratches on the edges of bricks.
“I think it best everyone remains in sight of at least one other until this is resolved,” Sabian answered, “Have you found something?”
“The room’s been searched,” Leto replied, “Tracks in the dust could be dismissed as you retrieving your own books, but the furniture’s been moved, and someone’s dug around the bricks with a blade looking for secret compartments.”
“And poor Marriana stumbled across this search. She may have been looking for me or Stephanus. I can’t imagine what someone might have been searching for. If someone were looking for accounting records, they would be in Stephanus’ office in the winery, and my work focuses on mental illness. There is little here except dry medical texts and journals of cultural and social commentary. If someone wanted help with an ailment, it would be far more expedient to ask for it.”
“Paranoia is a symptom of many ailments, though, is it not?”
“It can be.”
“And your medical opinion of Marianna? She’s been exsanguinated, as far as I can tell. The only injury I can see is the small cut on his wrist, and there’s no blood spilled in this room. I could search other rooms, but to move a body in the time it took us to get here and not spill a drop of blood… I can’t picture it.”
“Nor can I.”
“She couldn’t have tripped over one of the artefacts you brought in to help me?”
“Unlikely. When each failed to be useful, I ensured they found new owners to put them to use. None remain here, but that is not to say one of our guests hasn’t brought some terrible weapon with them. We’ve never needed to search them before.”
“Might be time to start, but we should ask everyone where they were first.”
Leto and Sabian walked to the dining room, where the guests were milling around, whispering.
“I’m sorry to disrupt the evening,” Sabian said, “I fear I must deliver terrible news. Our friend Marianna has died here tonight, so we must end our festivities. Worse still, it doesn’t appear to be a natural death, so I must ask that everyone remain here until the matter is resolved. We’ve already sent word to the Vigil, but until they arrive, Leto was an investigator with the Vigil and has offered to take some notes for the Vigil in the meantime.”
“How do we know Leto didn’t do it,” called an older man.
“I was with Leto,” Sabian replied, “We saw each other not killing anyone.”
“You could have done it together,” The man called back.
“And you’re free to raise that possibility with the Vigil, Governor,” Sabian said with a smile, “But until then, we alibi each other. You’re in my house, and he’s the one with the experience, so you’ll have to content yourself with the circumstances at hand.”
“We should keep everyone separate to stop people collaborating on their stories,” Leto whispered.”
“We also can’t have them free to tamper with possible evidence,” Sabian whispered back.
“I demand-” the governor began but was cut off by Sabian raising his hand, and Leto felt a spell expand to fill the room, cutting off the governor’s objections. His mouth moved with the attempt to speak, but the room was silent.
Sabian crooked his finger at his uncle, and Stephanus followed them out of the room. “They at least can’t talk to each other,” Sabian said, “I could darken the room to prevent anyone from reading lips or signing, but disrupting more than one sense would start to feel like torture, and I think it’s a bit early in the night for that.”
Leto frowned. “Stephanus, did you kill Marianna?”
Stephanus was pale, his eyes glassy. He shook his head. “No. I’ve either been in the dining room or the sitting room with guests. So has Teresa.”
“All right,” Leto said, patting him on the arm, “Can we rely on you to keep everyone calm and tell us who was within your sight when Marianna screamed?” Stephanus nodded. “Thanks. I’m sorry for your loss.” Stephanus returned to the dining room. “You’re taking this better than your uncle,” Leto noted mildly.
“Grief can wait.”
“Spoken like someone accustomed to death. You didn’t even flinch at the body.”
“I am a trained physician. I may focus on the mind now, but it takes more than the gruesome truths of flesh to turn my stomach.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Leto stepped back into the room, the magical silence pressing on his ears uncomfortably. He pointed at Callimar and beckoned him out, leading him to the sitting room.
“Am I at the top of your suspect list?” Callimar said archly, sitting and crossing his legs, “How flattering.”
“Maybe I’m going by name,” Leto replied.
“That would depend on the alphabet. Arnotia would be before me in the common tongue.”
“And Callimar is higher on the list in at least three other languages. You’re also too suspicious to take seriously, so I thought I’d get you out of the way so I can move on to real suspects.”
Callimar smiled. “You really know how to hurt an elf’s feelings, don’t you? If you want to know where I was when all the screaming was happening, I was in my room changing my shirt. Someone bumped into me and spilled my wine. I was alone, so there’s no one to support my claim, but you have said yourself I’m too suspicious to be suspicious.”
“Then I look forward to finding a soiled shirt in your room. To satisfy my curiosity, why are you here? Are you a friend of the family or a buyer?”
“I’m here on behalf of the Luent Elemmiire Trading Company.”
“He’s also a spy,” Sabian said.
“I’m retired,” Callimar replied, “I have been for almost a decade. Just as you, Sabian, are a humble purveyor of wine and spirits and occasional dabbler in human minds.”
“What are you suggesting, Callimar?”
Callimar’s smile turned predatory as he eyed Sabian. “That you have secrets. Everyone believes you idled away your time at the Astrium and that your medical endeavours are little more than charity to spill the coin Stephanus makes for you.”
Sabian raised an eyebrow. “What secrets could I possibly be hiding?”
“Who could say,” Callimar said with a shrug, “Your association with Rhiannon Astridr is enough to draw the attention of half the spies on two continents, and at least a few of them are competent enough to notice the mind behind those brooding brown eyes is anything from idle. Befriending the Lighningbrand boy distracts from mage crafting you’ve sourced elsewhere. Maybe you’re a mage crafter yourself. Queen Olenea commissioned you to review of the death of her husband, didn’t she? As well as palace physician? That seems like too many scalpels in the kitchen to me. What new knowledge did you bring to that cause? There were no known mages consulted. It was odd for an attack that involved such powerful magic. And you’ve been seen travelling as far as Wadawandra to meet with blood hunters. What could you want with monster slayers? What could you learn from them? And why would they share their secrets with you?”
“I’m a scholar of diverse interests and the privilege of leisure,” Sabian said dismissively, “And I can be persuasive. You’re fishing for reactions to validate a manufactured scandal, Callimar. We’ve known each other long enough that if there were anything for you to take back to your matriarch, you’d have found it long before now. Not that you’d take that kind of risk with high tensions between our nations. Normally, I’d play this game with you, but tonight is not normal.”
The smile slid from Callimar’s face. “You’re right. I got carried away.”
“You can go back to the dining room and send in the governor,” Leto said.
The Governor was already objecting as he entered the sitting room.
“Do you know who I am?” he said, “My family has been in this region as long as yours has, Sabian. Just because you took the region’s name for your own doesn’t give you the right to -”
Sabian waved his hand, and the governor’s voice fell silent. “Leto, our illustrious governor of Marcia, Zefiro Cinici. Governor, please sit so we can ask you a few questions.” Sabian waved his hand again.
Governor Cenici glowered at Sabian. “You’ll pay for this.”
“I’m sure,” Sabian said, “But one thing at a time.”
“Tell us where you were when you heard the screaming, Governor, and then we can move on,” Leto said.
“I was in the courtyard,” the Governor replied, still glaring at Sabian, “I stepped away for a moment to relieve myself, but I was talking to the dwarf and the gnomes the whole time.”
“Did you relieve yourself in the herb garden?” Sabian asked.
Cenici glanced at Leto before straightening his back. “The apple tree.”
“How well did you know Marianna?” Leto asked.
“Not well at all,” the governor replied, “She kept to herself, like others in this area. I’d seen her here a few times. I can’t imagine any reason someone would want to kill her except for her land. She has some of the finest fruit trees in the region, and it would save some people much money if they owned those trees from themselves instead of having to buy them from Marianna.”
“Sabian was too busy being in another room talking to me to kill anyone, and Stephanus was with guests,” Leto said, “As was Teresa, to my knowledge. Unless you think Taeo, the hulking mass of muscles that he is, snuck in without anyone noticing or that Rocco slipped out of bed for a glass of milk and cold murder?”
Cenici scoffed. “They could have paid someone.”
“Yes, someone who needs to kill for money often doesn’t have the coin to spare on assassins.”
“It’s obvious whose side you’re on then.”
“It would appear to be obvious, yes. Thank you, Governor. You can return to the dining room now. Sabian might even let you complain loudly on your way.”
Sabian escorted the Governor out of the sitting room and returned with a man in his early thirties with dark hair tied back in a ponytail and a sun-darkened leathery face. He had a scar along one side of his jaw and more long-healed wounds visible on his hands. He was dressed in rich clothes that he pulled at uncomfortable.
“Varron Jemand,” Sabian said as the man sat.
“What brings you here tonight, Varron?” Leto asked, “What’s your relationship with the people here?”
“Don’t know anyone,” Varron growled, his voice rough, “Except Cassio. I was his bodyguard. Now I’m… more. He asked me to come, so I’m here.”
“And before we called you to the dining room, what were you doing?”
“I was on the way to meet Cassio in our room in the guest villa.”
“Did you see anyone in there?”
“A few of the kitchen staff a few minutes earlier.”
“We’ll check that. Thank you.”
Varron left, and Sabian showed in a thin, pale individual with shoulder-length black hair and yellow eyes with narrow pupils and scales on their forehead, cheeks and neck.
“This is Zhetsha,” Sabina said, “They buy our wine to sell in Sunahara Sathaan.”
“You wish to determine my potential as a killer?” Zhetsha asked, “I did not know the human, bore her no animosity, and her death does not benefit me. I was also not in her vicinity. I was in the bath. Nights are cooler than I am comfortable with this far south. There is no one to corroborate my location.”
“Uh… that was easy. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If you have no other questions, I will return to the dining room.” They stood and left.
Leto continued interviewing the guests until he had finally spoken to all but one, and Sabian showed up as a middle-aged dwarven man with steel grey hair and a beard and a dark blue doublet and hose. He had a deeply wrinkled face and bright eyes, and his bushy eyebrows were pulled down with concern.
“Galkam Thradig, yes?” Leto asked, gesturing to the chair, “I almost met you five years ago.
“Another terrible day,” Galkam said, “How can I help?”
“We just need to know where you were and who was with you when Marriana died.”
“I was in the courtyard with Davel and Tasys.”
“That’s the gnomish distributors, correct?” Galkam nodded. “The Governor was with us briefly, but he stepped away in the direction of the guest house, and he returned after perhaps fifteen minutes.”
“Very well. Thank you, Galkam.”
“So that rules out Galkam and the gnomes,” Leto said when Galkam had left, “You and Stephan have a motive, and I guess I have the same motive, assuming I’m in your eternal debt, but almost everyone alibies Stephanus and we were together. Stephanus and Teresa alibi Astrid, Haşim, Thymir, Sylvana, Soraya and Payam, the governor’s wife Norina, the Nymarkans Tola and Runa, and Dariman Nanarus. You’re certain Zhetsha isn’t suspect?”
“They have no motive,” Sabina answered, “The snake folk can seem cold but their lack of passions makes them more predictable and honest in my experience. Unless we find evidence that they’re lying, I believe them.”
“But he says he was alone in the bath. Arnotia says she was also in the bath, but without Zhetsha backing that up, she’s suspect but without motive, but her husband Dariman didn’t make any effort to support her, and she has no motive that we know of yet. The governor could be telling the truth, but there’s still fifteen minutes he’s unaccounted for, so unless he has the bladder of a horse, he’s suspect.”
“More suspicious is his wife, Norina. She has a devious streak, and I suspect she’s had her hand in some unsavoury political manoeuvres without her husband’s knowledge. Zefiro is loud in his discontent, but he’s direct in his plotting. Norina is the sort to frame my family for murder to prop up her husband’s position. Even if she was in sight the whole time, she’s not above hiring another to do her dirty work.”
“Cassio, Callimar and Kaladin all say they were alone in their rooms. I can’t see a motive for Cassio. Even if he’s smarter than he pretends to be, he seems to be living a life of leisure as a professional party guest. Kaladin said he was getting a ring he made for you as a gift.”
“And Callimar is more subtle than this, despite how he portrays himself. His persona is a distraction designed for people to be suspicious of him and watch him while the true spycraft happens under everyone's noses. Still, he wouldn’t risk conflict across the border without orders from his matriarch, and I can’t imagine any benefit to conflict for her.”
“Sefora claims to have been in the kitchen, but the cooks don’t recall seeing her. They did confirm that Varron was in there, but well before Marianna’s death. That doesn’t contradict his story, but he is unaccounted for as well. I’m looking at the office and body again.” Leto stood and walked back to the office.
“I’m not sure there’s anything new to learn,” Sabian said, following Leto.
“There’s always something,” Leto said, opening his mind to magic. He felt power, dark and sharp against his senses like the barbed tentacles of a jellyfish. They were coiled around Marianna’s limbs and slipped into her flesh through the small cut in her arm. “Well, that’s something,” Leto remarked, “I don’t know what it is, though.”
Sabian sighed. “It’s blood magic. It draws on the mage's own life and vitality as a source of power to manipulate and empower spells in ways usually reserved for those born with a spark of magic or wrestled through rituals.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Few have since almost everyone who learns blood magic dies using it before they pass the knowledge on. They never consider the fragility of their own lives and burn themselves out on their first use. It’s not as though mages are known for their hearty constitutions.”
“The survivors must be remarkably powerful.”
“No, just methodical, paranoid and suicidally self-sacrificing. Blood hunters use blood magic in the rites and rituals they use in their monster-slaying endeavours. A great many of the early hunters died in the experiments that gave the orders the powers they use now. There are also a few particularly masochistic mages who dabble, but they are few and far between. The closest hunters are a chapter of the Halatat Order on the northern border with the Wild Lands, but there’s never been trouble with them in the past.”
Leto looked sideways at Sabian. “We should see if there’s any evidence of blood magic in our suspects' rooms and see if we can confirm some alibis.”
Sabian gestured to the door. “Lead on.”
Leto walked to the guest villa, where a small, tiled fountain bubbled merrily in a lush courtyard surrounded on three sides by the villa, double loggia shading doors and shuttered windows, and open to a view of the main villa on the fourth side.
Sabian pointed to a door. “Kaladin’s room.”
Leto opened the door and lit up the room with a simple spell, lighting several candles to see a large room, a big bed, a wardrobe, and a screen of latticed wood panels taking up one-half the room. The other half was a living space with cushioned benches and a low table. Travel bags were piled in a corner, and a small box of lacquered pale wood sat on a small table beside the bed. Leto opened the box to see a ring of shiny steel metal embossed with a second silver metal with a faint blue sheen. Leto picked up the ring, examining the metal as his mind touched the magic woven into the ring.
“Platinum and mithril,” Leto said, “Fancy. Kaladin’s gift for you? If it was here, Kaladin wasn’t; otherwise, it’d be in his pocket. He lied. I don’t think he’s a killer, but he’s suspect until I know what he was doing. I don’t see anything else left out, no mage crafting tools, and I don’t sense any more magic. Next room?”
“Sefora Ferra. She is the wife of the general in command of Arci Marcia. He’s a capable military leader with the personality of a hungry bear. He earned his rank purely by merit, and his lack of social skills earned him a posting here, far from the capital. Sefora studied at the Academy d’Oratio and handled the general’s social obligations. She’s also a remarkable singer, though I believe she has taken a break from performing.”
Sabian showed Leto to another room, much like the previous one. The bags were open, and clothing was laid out on the bed. Jars and vials were on the table, along with a tea set. Leto crouched, looking at the labels on the jars, squinting to read the scribbled writing.
“These herbs and tinctures are used during pregnancy,” Leto said, “At least, that's all I saw them used for when I helped my mother.”
Sabian scanned the table from behind Leto. “This combination is taken as a tea, yes.” He pointed at two of the smaller vials. “That tincture settles a nauseous stomach, and that soothes the skin as it stretches. She must be very early in the pregnancy.
Leto looked around and saw paper poking from the top of one of the bags. He went to the bags and pulled one out, unfolding it and reading the letter within.
“Blackmail,” he said, handing the letter over to Sabian, “Marianna was accusing Sefora of having an affair with Arnotia.”
Sabian barely glanced at the letter before passing it back. “The affair has been going on for a few years, though I had no reason to believe Marianna knew or cared.”
Leto scanned the letter again. “Looks like she wanted Sefora to use her connections to get investors in her farm. Was she struggling?”
“Not that she mentioned to me, and Stephanus hasn’t said so either. Land rights and associated politicking can be murky and treacherous, however. Taeo’s family lost their land to neighbours when they petitioned the governor at the time. They lost the land to others who bribed their way to influence. Our laws are designed to promote a virtuous economic environment, but they’re convoluted and far from perfect. They can be leveraged by the unscrupulous. Marianna, lacking a clear successor to her possessions, would be vulnerable to such machinations and may have sought as many protections as she could muster.”
“I trust you that it all makes sense. Arnotia’s room? I have a suspicion I’d like to confirm.” Sabian showed Leto to another room, and he looked in to see the sheets on the bed entirely dishevelled. “I think we can move on from that. The governor’s room? I don’t think he’s a killer, but he annoyed me.”
The governor’s room was a mess. The sheets crumpled on the bed, and belongings spilled out from travel bags across the floor. An empty glass vial caught the light of the flames Leto conjured, and he picked it up, seeing a rust-brown residue at the bottom that smelled of rotting grass.
“Rosada,” Leto said, “There’s no medical use for it.”
“It’s used in the treatment of illnesses of the mind but only under careful supervision. No physician or apothecary would administer it outside of a hospital.”
“Then I guess the governor is using it recreationally and doesn’t want the public to know. It’s not illegal, but his political opponents could undermine his position with the knowledge. Probably what he was doing in the dark when the others lost sight of him. Take me to Haşim’s room. He’s a mage, and if Marianna was killed with magic, I have to rule him out.”
“Very well.”
Haşim’s room appeared untouched save for a single large bag on a chair. Leto reached out with his mind to feel for magic, his awareness brushing against the same hooked threads of power that he had felt on Marianna’s body. He followed it to the bag, feeling the magic twisting out from beneath it. Leto lifted the back, feeling around the outside until he found a pocket hidden behind clever stitching. He reached inside and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. He flicked through the book, seeing hand-written notes and complex arcane diagrams. The writing was familiar, and Leto held the book up, scowling at Sabian.
“It didn’t seem relevant,” Sabian said mildly before Leto could speak, “You know I didn’t cast the spell that killed Marianna, and I’ve already made it obvious I have knowledge of blood magic.”
“But you’re studying it,” Leto said, “Practising it.”
“And Haşim is an expert in transmutation. We started collaborating and sharing ideas, but we haven’t attempted any practical experiments. Our discussions have been purely hypothetical.”
“How do you use this magic this magic if it’s as dangerous as you said?”
“Carefully. Callimar is correct that I have spoken with blood hunters. I learned what secrets of blood magic they had uncovered and shared my knowledge with them. As I have consulted healers and physicians.”
“Why not just tell me Marianna was killed with blood magic? Surely, you recognised the signs immediately. Why make me run around and discover it for myself? Or if you were so determined to keep this secret, not stop me?”
Sabian cocked his head slightly. “I told you what you needed to know and answered the questions you posed. Beyond that, I’m not accustomed to being forthcoming. I have no desire to keep any truth from you, but it’s not in my nature to wantonly confess my every thought and feeling. It is your choice to trust me when I say that Haşim has no interest in my research beyond exploring his field and that I have no interest in murder.”
“Very well,” Leto said, “I still want to see Callimar and Cassio’s rooms.”
There was a sound of fast footfalls, and Leto left the room to see Teresa running toward them. “Mak’s here,” she said, “We did send word to the Vigil, didn’t we?”
“We did,” Sabian said, “Teresa, we have things under control now, with Makarth’s assistance. Go and see to your brother. We’ll meet with Vigilant Makarth.”
Teresa jogged away, and Leto hurried back to the main villa to meet Mak standing outside the dining room, Sabian following.
“Leto,” Mak said as they embraced, “You can’t help but find trouble, can you?”
“I need to stop accepting invitations,” Leto replied, “You got here fast. It’s a day to Rafiria.”
“I was only a few hours ride away. I… was in the area. I would have seen you, but I rented a room in Pallisina, and I wanted to get back before it got too late.”
“What brought you here?”
“A missing man. A child, really. The Lightningbrands petitioned the Vigil to search for one of their own. Kaladin and Astrid’s younger brother.”
“If he had travelled to Tereno from Nymark, he may have passed through the region,” Sabian said.
“The boy’s barely eighteen,” Mak said, “A runaway from what I’ve been told, but it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye for any sign of him. Gaz does the same from Ravelano and inquires with a few friends he’s made in Tevicii if the boy went north, but there’s been no sign of him. I was here to tell Kaladin as much. He’s been insistent on keeping the matter secret.”
“They’re a proud family,” Sabian said, “Between their history as a bridge between human and elven cultures and their regard among mage crafters, they have accumulated many accolades, and a wayward son might be considered a shameful blemish on the name.”
“I didn’t ask about it,” Mak said. There wasn’t any reason to air this family’s troubles in public, so we didn’t question their desire to keep it quiet.”
“Kaladin was meeting with you then?” Leto asked, “That’s why he wasn’t where he said he was when Marianna died?”
“Most likely,” Mak replied.
“Then I’ll tell everything we know so far, and you can-”
“Sabian!” Stephanus came running into the room, fear in his eyes, “Sabian. Teresa and Rocco are gone.”
“We just saw Teresa,” Leto said, “She told us Mak was here.”
“Where would they do?” Stephanus asked, clutching at his nephew’s arm, tears in his eyes, “Who would take them?”
“Who else is missing?” Leto asked, “With Mak speaking for Kaladin, I think we alibied everyone except Cassio- Varron!”
“He’s the only one here no one truly knows,” Sabian said, waving his hand, “Where’s Varron Jemmand?” he called, his voice echoing down the halls of the villa.
Cassio appeared. “He went to relieve himself. Why? What’s going on?”
“Speak, Cassio Tarro,” Sabian said in a voice like cold steel, “What do you know of Varron Jemmand? Where is he from? Under what circumstances did you meet?”
“I don’t understand,” Cassio said.
“Speak!” Sabian growled, power cracking in the air like a whip, and Cassio flinched. Leto felt himself recoil from the word.
“Six months ago,” Cassio stammered out, “We met almost a year ago. The person I previously hired as my escort wished to settle to start a family. I met Varron in Tevicii after a couple of months of looking for a replacement.”
“And the escalation of your relationship?” Leto asked.
“Six months after I hired him,” Cassio said, “I found his roughness… interesting.”
“What did he tell you of himself?”
“He’s from Citia, his parents are dead, and he’s estranged from his siblings. He’s spent most of his life as a mercenary. That’s all I know of his past.”
“Citia is near the Belua Mountains,” Sabian said, “It’s the closest Tereno settlement to the stronghold of the Halatat hunters.”
“Varron’s a blood hunter?” Leto asked.
“More than that,” Sabian said, “He’s a werewolf. The Halatat Order was founded by hunters who had been transformed by their prey and turned their arts to mastery of their condition. Most these days are born werefolk, not cursed, and they have all the power of the condition without any adverse experiences. Even those who are cursed or infected with it and join the order have attained control through the rites, alchemy, and blood magic of the order. They remain themselves, in control and aware, even as they draw on the savage power within them.”
“Yeah, I’m not trained to fight werewolves,” Mak said.
“We’re too far from the Hunters to ask for their expertise,” Leto said, “We have to do something to rescue Teresa and Rocco.”
“I can help with that,” Sabian said, then glanced at Cassio, “You can go.” Cassion fled, and Sabian beckoned Leto and Mak. “Come. Taeo has some things you can borrow.” Sabian strode off, and Leto and Mak jogged to keep up. He took them out of the villa and through the dark gardens to one of the storage buildings on the edge of the property. “Stay here,” he said as he opened the door and entered the building. He returned a few minutes later, handing Leto and Mak bundles of equipment.
Leto unwrapped the bundle, revealing armour, thick clothing, a sheathed shortsword, and the disconnected halves of a double-ended spear. The edges of the spear blade shone with pale metal in the moonlight.
“Thanks, but I’m already armed,” Mak said, pointing at the sword on his waist.
“They’re edged in silver,” Leto said.
“Silver isn’t deadly to werefolk like the stories proclaim,” Sabian said, “Nor are they invulnerable to other weapons. They do heal quickly, even from the most grievous wounds.” Leto undressed as Sabian spoke, then donned the clothing and armour he had been given. “They are fast, strong, and they are difficult to strike, let alone seriously wound. Silver will impede the healing ability, but inflicting injury will be a matter of your skill.” Sabian pointed at the spear pieces. “Make use of the doru. Keep out of reach of the claws and teeth. Be mindful that this is not a savage beast driven by primal fits of hunger or curse-inflicted madness. This werewolf is a trained warrior, whatever form he may take. If you can find the children and get out without conflict, do so, but be mindful that he has heightened senses. It will be almost impossible for you to sneak up on him without him hearing and smelling you.”
“Get in, get the children and get out,” Make said, straightening Leto’s armour and tightening its straps, “Don’t become a werewolf in the process.”
“We should start with the children’s rooms,” Leto said, “Mak?”
“I’ll follow, my friend,” Mak answered.
Leto nodded to Sabian and led Mak back to the villa, to the upper floor of the west wing, and opened a door, seeing a room in chaos. It was an apartment like his own, with a living and a bedroom through an archway. The mattress of the bed was overturned, blankets and pillows cast about the floor. In the living space, drops of blood were splattered across the floor and table, a small bloody knife dripping on the rug. Candles and braziers burned, lighting the room.
“Not much blood,” Leto said, kneeling next to the knife to see it more closely, “Teresa’s knife, but this is Rocco’s quarters.”
“She tried to defend her brother?” Mak asked, “Brave girl, and she got a drew blood.”
“There was more than one person here to control two children without them calling for help. Simply threatening to hurt their family wouldn’t have worked with their father and uncle surrounded by friends, and Teresa would have fought until she was certain she couldn’t help Rocco.”
“So there was someone for Teresa to stab and another to grab Rocco quickly.”
“At least.”
Mak pointed at the window. “More blood. Looks like they went out the window.”
Leto went to the window, seeing five rough grooves in the wood of the sill that continued down the stone brick wall outside. “Agreed.” He looked out across the grounds. “They’re not going to haul two children over the walls. They’ll head for the west gate. It’s the closest, and they’ll avoid the staff villa and winery to the north. We can track them through the vineyard. The ground’s soft, and they don’t have much of a lead on us.”
Leto and Mak hurried out of the villa and ran to the west gate, a tall door in the high, thick wall that divided the land of the estate from the vineyard that surrounded it. Leto pushed on the wooden gate, and it swung open easily. Leto cast a small spell, held out his hand as a light shone from his palm, and saw bootprints in the dirt path that led into the rows of vines.
“There’s more tracks further along,” Mak said.
Leto closed his hand and unravelled his spell, the light fading. “Then lead the way.”
Mak stepped forward, and Leto reached out, resting his fingertips on Mak’s belt, feeling his friend’s movements as Mak led them away from the failing light of the villa and through the dark vineyard. Leto glanced up at the stars as they walked, tracking their direction as they jumped the simple waist-high fence that enclosed the vineyard, Mak’s firm hands guiding Leto over the barrier.
“You’re going to have to learn how to see in the dark one of these days,” Mak murmured, a smile in his voice.
“I’ll work on that,” Leto replied dryly.
“They’ve turned north. It’s about five miles to the road.”
“We could lose the trail on the road. You and Kol have been out in the region for a while. Do you know anywhere this Varron could hole up with children? I’ve read most ruined were reclaimed to rebuild after the war the last couple of wars.”
“There’re a few places around. A couple of old forts from before the expansion that were too solid to pull apart, and an old temple, I think, that no one wanted to desecrate.”
“Do you know anything about these hunters?”
“Had a couple pass through Rafiria last year, carting something back to their keep. I didn’t know they were werewolves, however. They stayed with the druids and didn’t cause any trouble.”
“There is something about taking children that feels desperate. Sabian said he knows hunters – and had working relationships with them. If this wanted something from him, he could have asked. He tells me he hasn’t got his order backing him on this. I only saw one claw mark on the window, too. I’m hoping that means Varron’s the only werewolf. We should pick up the pace.”
After an hour, they reached the road, and Mak stopped, looking around. “You were right,” he said, “We lost them on the road.”
Leto unbuckled one half of his doru and cast another light spell on the blade, illuminating the wide cobble and concrete road. “Thank the gods for Tereno infrastructure. Our roads will be in perfect condition for generations of criminals to come.” He held the glowing spear blade aloft like a torch, shining the light as he looked around. A shadow in the road’s gutter caught his eye, and he walked over to it, seeing a delicate slipper now stained with dirt lying in a line of scuffed ground running parallel to the road with the toe pointing east. “This is Teresa’s.”
Mak joined him. “She might have lost it, except that it looks like she kicked up the ground in the process. She’s a smart kid. You think she’s left us a trail to follow?”
“Rocco said Sabian tried to teach him some magic. It wouldn’t surprise me if Taeo imparted some of his legion training on the children. You saw Sabian when he found out they’d been taken. He almost bit Cassio’s head off and practically put this armour on me himself. I think they’re very protective of their niece and nephew, and it would surprise me if they wanted Teresa and Rocco to have the skills to look after themselves when they’re away from the family estate.”
“And I don’t see any other sign of them,” Mak said, “I’m happy to follow the shoe.”
Leto picked up the slipper, tucking it into his belt, and put out his light before they continued along the road, running as far as they dared without tiring themselves. After another hour, Mak put his hand on Leto’s chest to stop him.
“Another slipper,” Mak said, walking to the edge of the road, and Leto lit up his spear again to see the slipper pointing up the gully to the north, “Both of them can’t be a coincidence. We’re at the east edge of the hills that run from here to just past Palisina. Looks like they went that way. I don’t know of any place to hide in those hills, but this is Kol’s territory. He’d know better than me.” He picked up the slipper and tossed it to Leto.
Leto caught the slipper and tucked it away with the first. “We don’t have time to run up to Ravelano and ask him.” He held his glowing spear ahead of him, walking off the road and searching the low bushes and tall grass. His light caught something dark on a thing tree trunk, and he approached, smelling urine and seeing a smell red handprint on the tree. “Mak,” he whispered, looking down to see dark soil at the base of the tree. “We’re on the right track.”
“Small hand,” Mak said quietly, “The boy’s? Teresa pretends to trip to drop her shoes. Rocco trips on a root while watering the tree and puts his hand out to catch his balance.”
“And Varron the werewolf doesn’t smell the blood? These kids are sneaky, but I’m hard-pressed to think how they managed that. I hate the idea that Rocco’s bleeding and had to think of putting an injury to use like that.” He put out the light again and put his hand on Mak’s belt again. “Lead the way.”
“There’s more blood over that way,” Mak said, “A few drops. No footprints.”
“They’re being careful. Don’t lose that blood.”
They marched up the hill, Leto careful to follow in Mak’s footsteps in the dark and uncertain terrain as they climbed the slopes. Over an hour later, Mak crouched, slowly crawling down into a valley. They stopped, and Leto felt Mak move close, his breath hot on Leto’s ear.
“Bones of a building up ahead,” Mak breathed, “Old fort tower, probably. The trail leads there. There are no tents or fire that I can see. Gone underground?”
“Cellar or underground armoury, maybe,” Leto whispered, “Lead us in.”
They quietly crawled to the jagged, broken walls of the ruined building, finding a narrow path through the tumbled bricks. He heard Mak rummaging around in some foliage, seeing little more than dark impressions in the shadows, then a dim light shone through, lighting up a descending stairwell covered by a large square of canvas and obscured by bushes. Mak held the thin, springy trunk of a bush aside with one hand and lifted a corner of canvas with the other. Leto pulled out the other half of the doru and put the shafts together, the metal endcaps fitting together. Leto twisted the caps into place, locking them together to complete the doru, Mak doing the same as he followed.
Spears in hand, they crept down the stairs to a small room, a couple of simple wood chairs sitting empty and facing the stairs and a lit lamp on a small table. There was a doorway on the other side of the room, and a barred gate more rust than iron lay to one side. They pressed on down a short hall to a balcony, looking down at an ample square space lit with open braziers. There were two dozen doors around the balcony set with rusted metal bars, and Leto could make out small rooms in the low light. He inched around the balcony, finding an open doorway and narrow stairs leading to the floor below.
Leto crouched and edged to the balcony rail, looking down to see the area below was empty before slowly descending the stairs with Mak behind him. He took in the room again when he reached the bottom of the stairs, seeing one of the cells had a new and sturdy barred door. Leto signalled for Mak to stay with a hand gesture, then hurried to the barred cell to see Rocco curled up in the corner of the cell, his head tucked behind his knees.
“He has Teresa right here.” Leto turned to see Varron Jemmand stepping out of one of the cells near the stairs. He held Teresa in front of him as he walked into the room, one hand tight on her arm and the other at her throat, sharp claws pressing into her skin. “Leave,” he spat through curled lips, “Di Marcia gives me what I want. I let the children go. Everyone walks away.” Teresa’s eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears, but her jaw was set, her hands scratching ineffectually at Varron’s rigid arm that pinned her to him.
“I don’t know what Sabian will be happy with that,” Leto said, “He was happy to have us come back with your head. What is it you want?” He saw Mak slowly stepping out from the stairwell, and his spear held ready.
“I want his research,” Varron answered, “That’s all. He’s spent years conning and bribing his way through the hunter order, raiding our knowledge. We suffered and died for those secrets. That research is ours, and it was never for sale.”
“It’s not like he took your order’s secrets with him, did he?” Leto asked, keeping his tone conversational, “He bought access, made copies perhaps, but he didn’t walk out with that knowledge and leave your order with nothing?”
“It is not his to take or borrow or purchase or copy,” Varron snarled, “He’ll give up our secrets, or he’ll give up his kin. One bite and the children are ours. That is a fair price.”
“Your order’s behind you on that? They support forcefully recruiting children, do they? As for payment for a trade they’d already settled? That all the orders seem to have settled, for that matter. If your order changed their mind on the deal, why are you here alone, using children as hostages? Why are there representatives from the other orders here making similar demands? Why do you really want the research, Varron? Why not simply access your order's hard-earned knowledge? Is it because they don’t support whatever you’re planning any more than they’d support you threatening these children?” Leto spread his arms, pointing his spear away from Varron. “Let Teresa go. I’ll put this weapon down, and we can get you something you actually want.”
“I want the monsters dead!” Varron roared.
Mak threw his spear, the blade gleaming, but Varron twisted and knocked it out of the air. Blood sprayed the air, and he roared again in wordlessly. Leto rushed forward, thrusting his spear into Varron’s shoulder, then letting go with one hand to pull Teresa away. He jerked his weapon free and jumped back, pulling Teresa with him. Blood dripped to the ground, and Leto watched the cut on the back of Varron’s hand already closing.
“You don’t have to fight, Varron,” Leto said, “We’ll take the children home, and we all leave in one piece.”
Varron grinned, his scars pulling up his lip in a cruel grin. He kicked Mak’s doru into the air with a flick of his foot. “No, I kill you, take the children, and I get everything I want. Silver blades won’t help you.” He threw the spear with one hand, and it flashed through the air. Mak barely moved his head as the spear lodged in the wall behind him. With his other hand, he tore through his fine shirt with his claws. His body swelled, muscles building and limbs stretching, black hair rapidly spreading across his form. He growled as his face elongated into a snout with the sickening crack of bones, and he spat out blood that dripped from long, pointed fangs. Varron stood over seven feet tall, inhuman yellow eyes glowing in the firelight.
“Teresa, get Rocco,” Leto said, not taking his eyes off the werewolf, “Go!”
Mak twisted free half his spear and drew his sword. “Varron Jammand, I am here to take you in Vigil custody for kidnapping,” he said, “Surrender yourself to the Vigilant.”
“I don’t answer to the Vigil,” the monstrous Varron growled.
Varron rushed forward in a blur, and Leto ran to meet him as Varron clawed at Mak. Mak swung his sword at Varron’s extended arm and thrust his spear forward, turning and ducking to avoid Varron’s claws. Leto stabbed at Varron’s legs and arms, aiming to distract, disarm and slow the werewolf as Mak rolled away. When Varron turned on Leto, he jumped backward, and Mak slashed at Varron’s legs.
Varron was fast, stamping a long, clawed paw on Mak’s sword blade and slashing Mak across the back, digging into his armour, then turning on Leto and backhanding him. Leto fell back, the wind pushed from his lungs, but he rolled back into his feet, focussing through the pain and stars dancing across his vision. He saw Varron dart around the room and leap at Mak, claws extended, before retreating and lunging at Leto, pain flaring in his leg and claws cutting deep into his side.
Leto and Mak pressed Varron, Mak stabbing and slicing while Leto covered his friend’s retreats with the reach of his spear. Leto felt himself flagging, cuts and bruises draining him as much as the fight. His strength fading, Leto cast his light spell, weaving as much magic as he could into his spear blade as he thrust it at Varron’s head. Light flared bright, and Leto squinted to preserve his vision as he twisted his spear apart. He spun, plunging the unlit spear blade into the same shoulder he had previously pierced. Mak ran forward, skewering Varron’s other shoulder with his spear and plunging his sword into the monster’s gut.
Varron howled, the sound shaking the walls as Leto drew his sword and swung it, cutting off the noise as Varron’s head rolled away with a spray of dark blood. Leto stood for a moment, and Varron’s body crumpled, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding in his ears, and his hands starting to shake. He blinked blood out of his eyes and stepped back, dropping his weapons and looking around.
“Teresa?” he choked out, “Rocco?”
“We’re okay,” he heard Teresa replied, “Is it over?”
“Stay a minute,” Leto said, calm returning and his nerves settling slowly, “Mak, Varron wasn’t alone.” Mak nodded and began searching the cells, sword at the ready.
Leto pointed his sword at Varron’s lifeless body as it slowly shrunk, hair and claws retracting, until it appeared human once more, bloodied, broken and naked. He snorted, picked up the corpse by the arm and dragged it into a cell, kicking the head as he went. Then he returned to the cell he had seen Rocco in. Teresa and Rocco held each other through the bars.
“You’re safe,” he said quietly, crouching and putting a hand gently on Teresa’s shoulder, “Are you hurt?”
“We’re all right,” Teresa answered shakily, “I cut my leg, but I can walk.
Leto took the slippers from his belt and handed them to Teresa. “These might help. You did well, leaving a trail for us. You did very well.”
“No one else here,” Mak called out, “I’ve found the key to the cell. Leto, there’s more you should see.” Mak returned after a minute and unlocked the cell. “He used a couple of the cells near the door we came in. There’s a desk with papers you might make more sense of than me.”
Rocco gripped Leto’s hand, and Leto picked him up. “Come on,” he said soothingly, “You’re safe now.”
Mak took them to the cells, and Leto looked over the papers spread across the desk, seeing arcane diagrams and alchemical formulas. He recognised a few foundational principles, but much of it was beyond Leto’s understanding, and the accompanying notes appeared to be entirely nonsense.
“Sabian might know,” Leto said, “Let him have a look before it gets locked up in a Vigil warehouse.”
They took the children outside and walked slowly and deliberately. Leto ignored the exhaustion creeping into his bones, holding Rocco tight. When Teresa stumbled, Mak caught her and picked her up as well. A false dawn lit the horizon as they reached the walls of the villa and dragged themselves inside.
Sabian and Stephanus sat on the stairs in the main entrance, but they jumped to their feet as Leto pushed the doors open, and Stephanus rushed forward, wrapping Leto, Mak and his children up in his arms and showering any face he could reach in kisses.
“You’re alive!” Stephanus cried, tears streaming down his face, “My babies! You brought them back to me.”
Sabian put gently pried Stephanus away. “Let them inside. We’ve all been awake too long. Take the children to bed and get some rest.
Stephanus nodded, taking Rocco from Leto and holding Teresa’s hand as Mak set her down. “Yes, thank you. Thank you.”
Leto grabbed the back of Stephanus’ head with one hand. “I owe your family a lot,” he said, “And you are raising fine children. They are smart, brave and strong. They did as much as we did to get here safely. They’ve earned a hero's welcome home.” Stephanus nodded, and Leto let him go. Stephanus thanked them again, then retreated with his children.
“I’m going to write all this up while it’s fresh,” Mak said, “I’ll send a letter to Kol, and we’ll collect everything we found with Varron.”
“You’ll stay so I can stitch you,” Sabian said, “You injured and bleeding on my floors. Both of you.”
“See Teresa first,” Leto said, “She was hurt. It might have been from trying to protect Rocco, but I wouldn’t put it past her to cut herself to leave a trail of blood for us to follow. Mak and I will wait for you in my room. If we pass out, feel free to ply your needlework all the same. I’ll clean up any blood myself. And I think Cassio deserves an apology. Varron was here to target you and your research, and Cassio was as much a victim of his machinations.”
Sabian nodded. “Perhaps.”
In his rooms, Leto peeled off his armour and fell into a chair. He drifted, watching Mak retrieve writing implements. He tried to listen as Mak talked his way through his report, memories of the night flashing through his mind, but the weight of exhaustion pulled him into sleep. He stirred briefly as Sabian administered to his winds.
“Rest,” Sabian said, his words swimming through Leto’s hazy consciousness, “This won’t hurt. Sleep.”
The following day, Leto and Mak bathed early, and Leto saw Mak dressed, fed and to the gate to bid him farewell. He returned to the villa to find Sabian in his study, writing in a book.
“We’ll be seeing the guests off today,” Sabian said, not turning or looking up from his writing, “We’ve called a priest from Revalano for a funeral in a week to see Marianna to the gods. I went to see Varron’s hideaway myself and look over his… work.” He put his pen down. “He was trying to find a way to make more werewolf warriors quickly. The rites of his order are meant to help werewolves control their nature, not pass it on. The Halatat Order wouldn’t have supported Varron in that. The work Haşim and I have been doing might have been what he needed to accomplish that.”
“He had help from someone,” Leto said, “Maybe he promised some a few tavern rowdies a share in supernatural power for their help and taking the children was a step too far for their consciences. All I know is that they were nowhere in sight when we caught up with Varron.”
“I hope it’s something so simple,” Sabian said, “The children are safe, and Marianna’s killer is no longer a threat. We’ll have to be satisfied with that.”
“It’s all made me think about what life has waiting for me. I joined the Vigil because I wanted to help people, but it was never a perfect fit. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m… independent.”
Sabian chuckled. “I never noticed.”
“Yes, well, I expect I would have ended up disagreeing with orders at some point and gotten myself into trouble. Last night, I realised I could do good outside the Vigil. Most vigilant have the best intentions, but the Vigil as a whole isn’t perfect.”
“No institution, no matter intent, is perfect. Even entirely free of corruption, there are too many people to coordinate. It becomes slow and cumbersome. It is the price paid for the support and resources of so many comrades.”
“But if I had the support of a few resourceful friends? I… would you help me if I went mercenary?”
“Without question. You’ve more than repaid any debt you might think you owe us. To that end…” Sabian pulled a handful of papers from a stack on his desk and finally turned, holding them out to Leto.
Leto scanned through the pages of officious writing in a perfectly steady hand. “An employment contract?” Leto asked, “I don’t understand.”
“The property is in Sarcia,” Sabian explained, “I told you the Venator went their separate way after Barret Stagmantle was killed along with King Kyrilian. Barret was a friend for some years, so Taeo and I acquired the Venator guild house. I hoped to put it to some use that would honour Barret. How familiar are you with our nation’s taxation laws?”
Leto grimaced. “Is anyone familiar with our tax laws? Our financial laws and policies are enough to drive even the most fastidious bureaucrat to their wit's end.”
“I suspect that’s by design to prevent people from taking advantage. Still, I have a passing knowledge of the law, and Taeo is perhaps one of the few people alive with a complete understanding. In short, simply giving you the property is fraught with challenges, both immediate and future. We have the infrastructure to handle the technicalities of the law, so keeping the property and having you contracted in an independent capacity should allow you to work without such concerns. We’ll handle tax collectors and help cover expenses, and you can leverage our name as you need. You pay us a boarding fee to appease certain legal technicalities but are welcome to take any work you wish and keep whatever fees you negotiate.”
“I suppose that works for everyone,” Leto said, giving the document a second more carefully read, “Sounds like I get the better end of the deal. There are no time frames in this. The boarding fee is freely negotiable, as are the dates of payment. I could lounge around and piss away your money and be well within the protections of this contract.”
“I know. Any investment is a risk. This one is calculated. We can void that contract at any time for any reason, including perceived intent to neglect contractual obligations. Taeo and I have agreed on an acceptable loss on this investment. But you said you want to help people. I want to help you. That seems a reasonable gamble to me. We’d also like to invest in your skills. It’s not in the contract, and you still need time to recover, but Taeo is willing to keep up your combat training now that you don’t have Vigil instructors to rely on, and I have a few spells I can pass on if you’re willing to learn.”
Leto walked over to the desk and signed the contract with a grin. “I’m willing.”
