by Jackson Lear
“Lucky for him that there was a Gustali up there, right?”
“No kidding. He was in charge of repairing a whole fort by himself with no supplies and not enough manpower, yet he did it. Meanwhile, the commander spent the first half of the tour just riding his horse through the countryside and the second half hiding in his room.”
Curious. Last night there had been a lot of praise for Lavarta. This morning he seemed to be in over his head and incompetent. I had Martius’ warning buzzing through my mind: “Artavian said that if anything happened to him they would go after the commander next.”
Half an hour later I was back in front of the military compound from the night before. Only now I was positively debonair. The mustard shirt I had swiped from the merchant was perfectly sized for a man of robust proportions – or for a slim one who needed to keep his regular clothes out of sight but close to hand. A thick and gaudy belt helped to hold my usual clothes around my stomach. A long teal coat hung over me, all the way down to my boots. I admit the boots did not fit the part, but I didn’t find any suitable footwear in the merchant’s cupboard. I did splash a bit of the guy’s cologne around my neck.
I looked like an idiot and smelled like a fruit bowl. The stares I got from the military personnel as they realized I was coming directly towards them were out of this world. I told the soldier at the gate that I wished to speak to someone in the military police regarding a matter I saw with the army in Verseii the other night. He waved me in. Didn’t even want to hear my carefully prepared backstory either.
Inside, I spoke to the person most resembling a clerk. He listened for barely ten seconds, told me to wait over there, and he went to find someone appropriate for me to talk to.
A young man soon came forward. Early twenties. Not the fifty year old I was hoping to see. “You’re from Verseii?”
“I was there, yes. I was staying in the inn with some of your men. The stewards, I think.”
The young man nodded at me like he was still deciding on which rehearsed speech to give me.
“I saw something that night. A man. Trying to sneak into one of the rooms. It was the room the steward died in.”
He answered matter-of-factly. “When was this?”
“Two nights ago while everyone was sleeping. The intruder wasn’t a guest.”
Still matter-of-factly, like I had yet to provoke his interest. “How would you describe him?”
“He was short. Very short, actually. He looked well dressed as well, like he came from money.”
The description was a non-event for the young soldier.
“I chatted with the fella who died. Briefly, of course. He told me his name was Artavian. He thought …” Even though it was all clear around me I still scanned the room and dropped into a theatrical whisper. “He thought one of the lieutenants wanted him dead.”
The young soldier paused. Good, now he realized he had a potential problem on his hands. “Did he say which lieutenant?”
“I don’t know. How many are there?”
“Did you see him talk to anyone else that night?”
“Some, yes.”
“About this matter?”
“It was the only thing he was talking about. My friend suggested that if he really thought someone was going to kill him then he should tell his general or the military police.”
Another look of concern stretched across the young man’s face. “Your friend?”
“Oh yes. We all agreed it was a good idea, speaking to someone who could do something about it.”
“‘We’?”
“My travel companions.”
He jutted his jaw forward. “How many of you were there?”
“Six. Manus even suggested he should write his troubles down since Artavian was that afraid for his life.”
“Did he?”
“I was sitting right next to him when he said it.”
“I mean, did Artavian write his troubles down?”
I hesitated a little more. “He said he would.”
I was met with a pregnant pause. “He didn’t give you anything?”
“Not me, no. But Manus did give him some paper. All of the stewards seemed to retire early for the evening and there was a faint glow of light coming from under Artavian’s door an hour later when I went to bed.”
The young officer grumbled for a moment, working through the problem ahead of him. Like it or not this situation was now above his station and he would have to take it seriously after all. “If you could wait just here, I’ll go get someone who might be able to help.”
I waited, dressed like an idiot while trying to remain out of sight, which wasn’t easy with a dozen uniformed soldiers walking by at any given time. Little by little my stomach started to tighten and that annoying voice in my mind began to speak to me, urging me to leave while I still could. I mean, I was in the jaws of the lion, in the center of two things I had been trying to avoid my whole life: law enforcement and the military. If someone realized I was lying to them it wouldn’t end well. If they even discovered who I was, that I came from a mercenary group called the Governor’s Hand, an executioner’s ax would probably lop my head off before dusk. I half expected there to be a slew of arrest warrants behind me, a sketch of my face and my general description front and center. ‘Wanted for murder, kidnapping, and extortion – signed: Erast City Watch.’
Worse still, I was wearing stolen clothes which obviously didn’t fit me. Nor was I a particularly gifted actor. Liar, yes. But lying as myself is easy. Lying as a bumbling merchant was not something I’ve had much practice in.
I turned towards the exit. Counted the people between me and the far gates. Worked out the distance. Considered the spears. If all hell broke loose I’d have to run at least a hundred yards before I could reach the next nearest building. At full sprint I’d probably lose half my clothes stuffed around my belly.
My heart thumped loudly in my ear. You should leave. You should leave. You should leave right now.
“That’s him.”
I turned. The young soldier had locked eyes with me. To his side and striding forward was a heavy-set fifty year old. Disgruntled and irked at my presence. Lieutenant Kace, unless I was very much mistaken. Either way he was the same fella I saw last night in the stables. Bags under his eyes with something of a vacant expression, though that seemed to be him in a perpetually tired state of mind. Wide jaw. Thin beard. White nose hairs poking out of his nostrils. Tufts of hair coming out of his ears.
Army, no question there. Probably tried to find a better life after getting a decent promotion. Found wine instead. Had probably forced himself away from wine completely as a result of some colossal cock up that also cost him a promotion. Now he’s working off his embarrassment any way he can. I mean, at fifty he shouldn’t still be a lieutenant.
He glared at me. “Who are you?”
I lifted my voice, trying to sound more nervous than I actually was. “Are you investigating the steward’s death in Verseii?”
“I asked who you were.”
I dipped my head, leaving Kace to assume he had the power in our meeting. “I’m sorry. I’m Raike. I was in Verseii the other night. I saw something.”
The officer grumbled. Whatever situation Artavian had caused him to be in I had just made it worse, and it was not news he wanted to hear. “What did you see?”
“I saw someone trying to get into the steward’s room.”
“How do you know he was a steward?”
Curious. Instead of probing me his first thoughts turned to picking at me as a reliable witness. “I was staying there.”
“‘Sir.’”
“I’m sorry?”
“You would do best to address me as ‘sir.’”
“Yes, sir.”
“So I’ll ask again: how do you know he was a steward?”
“I ate at the table next to him and the other army guys. We started talking. They said they were stewards.”
“‘Sir.’”
“Sir. Then in the morning the innkeeper told me the aide-de-camp was dead.”
He raised his chin, allowing himself the pleasure of peering down at me like I was vermin. “Where are you from?”
“Newbridge.”
“You sound like you’re from Erast.”
“My father’s from Erast. I’m told I sound just like him.”
He rolled his jaw around, sighing over the problem. “You know this is a military matter, yes?”
It wasn’t that I was standing in the middle of the largest military compound I had ever set foot in that tipped me off. Nor was it that I was surrounded by hundreds of officers and speaking to a burnt-out man in uniform. No. It was increasingly high level of bureaucratic indifference that told me this was a military matter.
“We know what we’re doing here, right? And you’re just coming in here with nothing of use.”
“I saw a man …”
“In an inn. You saw a man in an inn at night.”
“He was trying to open the door without a key.”
“Did you see him with some kind of instrument that would open the door?”
“Instrument …? Oh, I see. Yes, I saw him with a thin piece of wire.”
“And how would you describe a key?”
That one actually had me baffled. “It’s … like a wire, I suppose. Sturdy, though, and shaped with two or three prongs at the end.”
“So what you saw was a man with a key.”
“He was kneeling down at the door.”
“You saw the occupant of that room kneeling down, because he had been drinking and he couldn’t easily figure out how to unlock his door.”
“He wasn’t dressed like a soldier. He was short. Had dark clothes, trousers …”
“Then you saw another guest who forgot which room he was staying in. If he was really up to no good he would’ve caused you a problem. He might’ve even stabbed you. But he didn’t.”
“I waited for him. He was in the room for just a couple of minutes. He came out again and locked the door behind him. He had a small pot in his hand.”
The soldier released a burst of annoyance by throwing his hands out wide. “Then he realized he was in the wrong room! It happens.”
“He crept inside like he shouldn’t be in there.”
“He didn’t want to wake anyone.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean he was a murderer sneaking around.”
“What about the pot he had with him?”
“A chamber pot. Are you really so dense that you came all this way with nothing? You’re wasting my time with this crap? Look, I’m sure you thought you saw something but the man died in his sleep.”
“It’s just that–”
“No. Look, you’ve wasted enough of our time already. I’m going to ask you to please leave.”
“I heard them talking in the inn.”
He walked me towards the door. “Please, no more of this crap. I’m too busy to deal with this.”
“They said something about Gustali wanting Lavarta dead.”
He slowed, grimacing.
“And that’s what happened, right? Lavarta is now dead, isn’t he?”
He paused. Nearly chewed through his own tongue. “That wasn’t Lavarta.”
“It wasn’t? Well, then this Lavarta person is in trouble, isn’t he? Sir?”
He pursed his lips together and furrowed his brow at me, desperate to throw me out of the building but forced to play nice now that I had him by the balls. “What else did these stewards say?”
“Just that a few months ago the cavalry outsmarted a would-be ambush set by the northerners, and thanks to them there was no raid that season along the border. I guess Commander Gustali was responsible for that.”
He held a sneer in place. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“But after that the steward – the dead one – he started getting worried, like hadn’t been himself since then. And now look. He thought he was going to die and he did. And if he isn’t Lavarta then maybe someone should warn him before it’s too late.”
Kace lifted his hands up to appease me. “Easy … let’s just … let’s just stick to how you can help us with this, okay?”
“Okay. How can I help?”
An involuntarily flick of his eyes came as he tried to find a perfect solution to this mess.
I dropped to a whisper. “It wasn’t blackmail or anything like that, was it?”
Kace’s eyes lit up. “Hey, now, no one said anything about blackmail, okay?”
“Uh …”
“No one said anything about blackmail. Got it?”
“Okay. No one said anything about blackmail.”
Kace leaned in, glaring at me like I was a six year old being schooled. “Because that’s the kind of thing that would get people court-martialed and expelled from the army in a matter of days, and we can’t have that happening.”
“I understand.”
He sighed, now a lot more satisfied with his stroke of genius. “Thank you for your help. You have been most useful.”
“My pleasure. What about the short man?”
“The …?”
“Short man breaking into the steward’s room right around the time the steward died?”
Kace grimaced once more. “I’ll send someone to Verseii to see if they saw someone like that trying to sneak into a room. But you shouldn’t go around repeating this to anyone.” He paused, cocked his head to one side. “Who else have you told?”
“No one.”
He nodded, unsure if I was telling him the truth.
“What’s your name again?”
“Raike.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m not, actually. I’m heading on to Highlake this afternoon.”
That seemed to please him, though he hid it as best he could. “Have you told us everything you think is necessary?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Then I thank you for your concern and I will look into this. Good day.”
The door practically hit me on the ass on my way out. I headed away as meekly as possible, convinced that this guy was keeping an eye on me through the window as I left. Even so, I kept track of where everyone was positioned. A guard house ahead of me – two soldiers looking out onto the street. A low-standing tower at each far corner. No one visible, but they were certainly manned. Five others in uniform coming and going in different directions.
Don’t let anyone stop me.
Don’t let anyone stop me.
Don’t let anyone stop me.
I reached the guard house by the front gate. Held my breath. Got a sneer from one guard as he registered what I looked like and how I moved. I left without incident. Didn’t dare to breathe in relief until I was a hundred yards away.
This wasn’t just incompetence, this was someone ordered to actively sabotage the investigation. Last night Lavarta was being reasonably well praised and Lieutenant Gustali was tolerated. This morning everything had changed. Lavarta was now a liability to the army and Gustali was looking more like a hero with every passing hour.
Someone had been busy working their story into as many minds as possible, I’ll give them that.
Like it or not, it was time to tell Alysia that her husband was a dead man walking.
Chapter Fourteen
I threw the merchant’s clothes into the window of a nearby orphanage and made my way towards Lavarta’s. I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to say to Alysia when I saw her but that wasn’t what was causing me indigestion. Somehow the nerves of that morning had spread to my chest, pushing against my lungs and leaving me unable to breathe properly.
It should’ve taken fifteen minutes to walk there. It took me closer to thirty. Even then I didn’t ring the bell straight away. Instead, I strolled past her gate, telling myself that I needed to scout around a little more. I checked which of the neighboring homes were guarded by attack dogs and which might be the easiest walls
to climb over in case I had to leg it. Why I might need to leg it was still a mystery, but on my third passing of Lavarta’s gate I knew I had wasted more than enough time and if I couldn’t get my shit together then maybe I should look at a life of laboring instead of bounty hunting.
I rang the bell. Waited. Waited some more. Looked over my shoulder to see who had taken notice of me.
A face appeared in the window. Young. Female. Blank at first then positively startled when we locked eyes. A quick ‘you?’ flashed across her eyes. I nodded. She glanced to one side as an equally quick ‘what the hell do I do?’ sunk in. She raised one hand in a gesture of ‘wait right there, I’m coming down.’
Alysia Kasera Lavarta trotted along the front path and reached the gate in just a couple of strides. She checked either side of me to see if I was alone, popped the catch to the lock, let me slip through. She took a step back, short of breath herself, and scanned me from head to toe. “Is this a …” She shook her head, re-jiggling her thoughts. “What is this?”
“Gustali had Artavian murdered, didn’t he?”
Her eyes widened like she had just been slapped in the back of the head, her jaw dropped open as all brain functions had ceased, and her whole body sunk half a foot as she had temporarily become a rag doll. “How do you know about that?”
“I was in Verseii when it happened. I followed the army. Asked around. Here I am. Your husband’s in danger.”
“You were there?”
I nodded.
“So was I.”
“I know.”
She pulled back, defensively. “You saw me?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t come over?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I was busy.”
A momentary offense passed her by, replaced by the reality of who I was and what I represented. “Are you causing trouble?”
“No.”
“Because the last time …”