Rangers at Roadsend

by Jane Fletcher

  “I know I owe a lot to Takeda.” Zoe carried on talking, but her tone dropped, holding a sober intensity. “Without her, there’s no way I’d have escaped a flogging.”

  Katryn’s jaw tensed. Who was there to help her escape a hanging?

  A surge of noise erupted outside in the parade ground—shouting and movement. “If that’s more for in here, they’ll have to sleep on the floor.” Zoe’s buoyant effervescence returned.

  Katryn tried to ignore Zoe’s voice, instead concentrating on the sounds outside. At least a dozen horses were trampling around. Then came the unmistakable tones of Captain Dolokov’s voice calling the order to disperse. The rest of the squadron had returned.

  Zoe leaped to her feet in excitement. “Wha-hay! Freedom, here I come!”

  Katryn’s shoulders drooped. Her own future did not look so good, but at least the waiting part would soon be over. In a sudden surge of fellow feeling, her eyes returned to the pointless, painful flight of the beetle.

  *

  Zoe had been right about the afternoon heat. Sweat trickled down Katryn’s neck and stuck her uniform to her body. She was alone in the lockup. Zoe had been escorted away hours before and had not returned. Presumably, Takeda’s evidence had won the Ranger her freedom. Katryn tried to find humor in the ironic thought that she had the room to pace only when it was too hot for any unnecessary activity.

  Several sets of footsteps stopped outside the door; then the key turned in the lock. Katryn sat up straighter as Corporal Kiani of D Patrol stepped into the cell. With a second key, the corporal removed the padlock from the grill and beckoned Katryn out.

  “Turn around.”

  Katryn obeyed and felt her hands tied securely behind her back. Outside the lockup, in the early-evening sunlight, another three Rangers were waiting, their faces impassive. They lined up as escort, two ahead and two behind, for the short walk to the captain’s office. Several clusters of Rangers were gathered around the dusty edge of the parade ground. Without looking, Katryn knew that all heads were turned in her direction, watching her march, step by step, to her fate.

  The captain’s office led off the main administration room. The escort stopped at the door, allowing Katryn to enter alone. It was not a large room; the desk took up a third of the floor space. On one wall hung a detailed map. Opposite it, a window overlooked the parade ground. Three women were awaiting Katryn’s arrival. Dolokov and Bergstrom were there, as expected. The other stood in a corner, dressed in the black uniform of the Militia, a lieutenant’s badge on her shoulder. This woman looked to be past forty and had an intelligent expression combined with a brisk, no-nonsense manner. Katryn remembered seeing her around town.

  Dolokov stood behind the desk, treating Katryn to a long, sour glare. Eventually, she spoke. “On the basis of the information received, I’ve decided to turn this case over to the Militia. Lieutenant Sanchez will be in command of the interview.”

  Katryn’s initial surprise faded quickly. Rangers had to trust one another with their lives. Murdering a fellow Ranger was the worst crime imaginable, yet many Rangers would think that Ellis had deserved it. No matter what the verdict and sentence were, some members of the squadron would be deeply unhappy. Dolokov had done her calculations and decided to let the Militia be the focus of any resentment—a safe decision, particularly if she felt that there was no doubt about the outcome of the investigation.

  Lieutenant Sanchez took a few steps forward until she stood directly in front of Katryn, claiming her attention. “Before we go any further, would you like to confess?”

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t kill Sergeant Ellis,” Katryn replied quickly.

  “Then who do you think did?”

  Katryn hesitated; it was not quite the question she had expected. “I don’t know, ma’am.” But there are enough candidates, she added mentally.

  “You disliked Sergeant Ellis.”

  “No, ma’am, I hated her.” There was no point denying it. Sanchez looked a little taken aback at the honesty. Katryn spoke again, “But I wasn’t the only one.” Out of the corner of her eye, Katryn saw Bergstrom shift uncomfortably.

  “You’re the only one we’re interested in at the moment.” Sanchez recovered her momentum. “Do you deny threatening to kill Sergeant Ellis on the morning she died?”

  “I didn’t mean it seriously.”

  “You were joking?”

  “It was more a figure of speech.”

  “You were angry at her?”

  Again, Katryn hesitated, but it was useless to lie. “Yes, ma’am. Very.”

  Sanchez drew a slow breath. “So you had motive and opportunity, and it was your knife that was found in her back. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to confess?”

  “Somebody else must have taken my knife from my locker.”

  “But nobody else could have taken it into the storeroom.”

  “It wouldn’t—”

  Sanchez cut her off. “You see, we are fortunate that two of your fellow Rangers were on sentry duty outside the lockup. From that position, they could see everyone who crossed the parade ground. The rear door of the stores was locked, and the key was found in Sergeant Ellis’ pocket. It would be impossible to break in without leaving a sign. Therefore, we can be sure that the killer came and went via the main door, leaving it open behind her when she left. The two sentries saw Sergeant Ellis walk across the parade ground toward the stable and stores. Nobody else went in that direction until your comrades from B Patrol returned in a group, shortly before the body was discovered.”

  Silence hung in the room. Katryn shook her head in confusion. “There has to be…” Her voice died.

  Sanchez continued softly. “Furthermore, we can place where everyone else was. Most of the squadron was with Captain Dolokov on the way back to Roadsend. Of the rest, the two sentries outside the lockup and the two at the main gates can vouch for one another. And we can also dismiss the Ranger in the lockup from the list of suspects. The six Rangers from your patrol were in a tavern and swear that nobody disappeared for part of the evening. None of them was carrying a knife; they’d all been searched on leaving the barracks. Lieutenant Bergstrom and Quartermaster Adebayo were together in the officers’ quarters—in this very room, I believe.”

  Sanchez paused and glanced at Bergstrom for a nod of confirmation. “Sergeant Takeda spent part of the evening here with them, discussing some information she’d gathered, and then returned to her room. The sentries confirm seeing her cross the parade ground in the direction of D Patrol’s bunkhouse, and also confirm that she did not return, with or without your knife. The two members of Adebayo’s staff were on the other side of town, being entertained by a visiting trader. The sentries on the main gates attest that no one else entered or left the barracks all evening.” Sanchez stared into Katryn’s eyes. “I repeat, are you sure you wouldn’t like to confess?”

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t kill her.” Katryn could hear the edge of despair in her own voice.

  “Then can you explain how someone entered B Patrol’s bunkhouse, took your knife, crossed the parade ground, killed Sergeant Ellis and then left the stores without being seen? Or can you say how someone was in two places at the same time?”

  “No, ma’am, I can’t.”

  Sanchez’s tone was remorseless. “There’s only one way Sergeant Ellis could have been killed. You had left your belt in your locker but taken your knife with you to the stores, maybe in all innocence, thinking that you might need it for your work. After everyone else had gone, Sergeant Ellis came to talk to you in the stables. She said something to make you angry again, and this time, you had your knife at hand and no witnesses. You followed her into the stores and murdered her.”

  “No, ma’am.” Katryn fought to keep her breathing steady.

  “I think you did.”

  “Would I then have left my knife behind and gone back to polishing the saddles?”

  “I’ve known murderers to do stranger things.”

  Katryn h
ung her head, trying desperately to gather her thoughts, to see the hole in the case being brought against her. “I didn’t kill her,” she reaffirmed, but now there was no hiding her panic.

  Sanchez moved away to the desk and returned with a trail knife in her hands. She held it up in front of Katryn. “Can you deny that this is your knife?”

  Katryn stared at it—the murder weapon. And then her eyes registered what they were seeing. “Yes, ma’am, I can.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s not my knife.” Confidence had returned to Katryn’s voice.

  “What do you mean?” Sanchez sounded slightly rattled.

  What I say. Despite her sudden feeling of euphoria, Katryn managed to restrain the retort. She swallowed before picking the words to explain. “I’ve only been a Ranger for six months. All my kit was issued new at Fort Krowe. This is the wrong knife. It’s much older than mine. You can see the wear on the handle, and the blade is bowed from sharpening. It would take years to reach that state.” She met Sanchez’s eyes. “This is not my knife.”

  There was not a sound in the room for the space of several heartbeats. Eventually, the unexpected turn brought Dolokov in. “So you took someone else’s knife with you to the stables.”

  Sanchez interrupted “Maybe we should find out whose knife this is first.”

  “How?” Dolokov snapped back.

  Sanchez pursed her lips. “Well, from what Private Nagata says, there should be a veteran Ranger with a knife in pristine condition.”

  “I’ll check.” Dolokov moved toward the door.

  Sanchez beat her to it. “I’ll check, but you can come as well if you want.”

  Their places in the room were taken by two members of the escort waiting outside. Nobody spoke. Bergstrom stood staring through the window at the parade ground. Katryn tried to get her pulse under control while her mind raced over what she had been told. Somewhere, something was wrong, but she could not pull a coherent explanation together. Fortunately, it was clear that Sanchez was as sharp as she looked and not about to rubber-stamp the expected conclusion.

  A fair slice of Katryn’s thoughts was directed toward Dolokov. She wondered whether the captain was beginning to regret giving the case over to the Militia. Katryn’s brow furrowed. It seemed as though Dolokov wanted her to be guilty, but her attitude probably was not malicious. The captain would see her as being one of the more expendable members of the squadron—certainly in comparison with other enemies of Ellis. Most of all, a clear-cut case was what Dolokov would want. The squadron would lose a Ranger, but there would be no suspicion attached to anyone else. No one would be left looking over her shoulder at her comrades.

  The wait for Dolokov and Sanchez to return was agonizing. Once they were back and the two junior Rangers left, Sanchez again held out a knife. This time, the finger guard was unscratched, the cutting edge was straight and the wooden handle was not polished dark and smooth from years of use. “Is this one yours?”

  Katryn nodded. “That looks much more like it, ma’am.”

  Sanchez compared it with the first knife. “I’ll concede that the two cannot be confused.”

  “Where was it found?” Bergstrom voiced the question that Katryn had been dying to ask.

  Sanchez pulled a wry smile. “It would seem that Sergeant Ellis was stabbed with her own knife. Private Nagata’s was found hanging in its place in her room.”

  There was a lengthy silence, but at last, Dolokov faced Katryn and snapped out impatiently, “It makes no difference. You’re still the only person with opportunity. You admitted that you hated Sergeant Ellis. You hated her enough to want to stab her with her own knife as the final insult. So you switched your knife with hers before going to the stables.”

  “No, ma’am. And if I’d planned the murder in advance, I wouldn’t be so stupid as to do it when there were no other suspects.”

  “You admit that there are no other suspects.” Dolokov pounced on her words, but Sanchez stepped in before Katryn could reply.

  “Private Nagata couldn’t have switched knives before going to the stables.”

  “Why not?” Dolokov said tersely.

  “I’ve already checked with the sentries to make sure nobody had carried a knife off-site. As part of their evidence, they told me about an incident with Sergeant Ellis. After B Patrol had gone to the tavern, Ellis wanted to speak with one of them. She was challenged at the gates, as she was still wearing her knife. The sentries told her to remove it. Apparently, things got a bit heated.”

  I can imagine, Katryn thought.

  Sanchez continued, “She wasn’t permitted to leave the barracks until she’d put her knife back in her room. I have confirmation that she made a brief appearance at the White Swan and then returned to the barracks. I think if the knives had already been switched, Ellis would have spotted the difference just as quickly as Private Nagata did just now.”

  “She must have taken the knife after Ellis put it in her room.”

  Sanchez shook her head. “We have the evidence of the sentries that she didn’t cross the parade ground after B Patrol had left the barracks.”

  “Obviously, the sentries weren’t as alert as they claimed—probably chatting with the prisoner,” Dolokov said doggedly.

  Sanchez was equally implacable. “I’ll agree that they must have missed seeing someone, but I don’t see how we can positively identify Nagata as the person they didn’t see.”

  “She had the best opportunity. She’s still our top suspect,” Dolokov persisted.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t see why she’d focus suspicion on herself by swapping her knife,” Sanchez spoke calmly. “My guess is that Sergeant Ellis took her own knife into the stores. Somebody got in, took the knife and stabbed her. This woman had heard about the threat Private Nagata had made earlier in the day and decided to frame her. So the murderer took Ellis’ empty belt, slipped across the parade ground without being seen and put Nagata’s knife in the sheath before hanging it in the sergeant’s room.”

  “That sounds pretty implausible,” Dolokov said.

  “Maybe, but I think it’s the best option.”

  “How…” Dolokov’s voice faded as the difficulty of finding a sensible sequence of events finally overcame her determination to blame Katryn.

  Sanchez put both knives down on the desk and crossed her arms assertively. “I want to go back to my office and read the statements that have already been collected. I’ll need to interview everyone again, starting first thing tomorrow. For the meantime, I’d say we have no more of a case against Private Nagata than anyone else, and I can see no justification in keeping her imprisoned, although how you run the barracks is your concern.”

  Dolokov mustered her composure quickly. There were a few last comments, but nothing of any significance, and Sanchez left. After she had gone, the Ranger captain continued to study Katryn for a while longer but then untied the binding on her wrists.

  “You are released for the evening, but consider yourself confined to barracks. And don’t repeat anything that was said here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dolokov opened the door. The four Rangers who had escorted Katryn from the lockup were waiting in the outer office. They scrambled to attention.

  “On the advice of the Militia lieutenant, I’m releasing Private Nagata without charges. You are all dismissed.” Dolokov’s voice was so utterly neutral as to sound forced, and her expression was one of displeasure.

  Katryn followed the others out of the building. At the foot of the steps, they formed a small huddle that Katryn was obliged to squeeze past. The sound of muttering followed her as she set off across the parade ground. Dolokov had released her, but by the manner in which she had done it, and with the absence of any information, few people would think that it meant Katryn was innocent.

  *

  Katryn lay on her top bunk, staring blindly at the ceiling. She was alone in th
e room. The others had headed off after dinner. They had not said where they were going, and Katryn had not been invited. No one had spoken to her directly since she had left Dolokov’s office, although she had overheard plenty of hissed comments. The words “Militia sticking together” formed part of most remarks, while the “facts” being passed around bore no resemblance to the truth. It was unfair, but there was nothing Katryn could do about it. Dolokov’s order to say nothing meant that she could not even challenge the rumors.

  The ceiling blurred as tears stung in Katryn’s eyes. She had just started to think that she might be able to be happy in the Rangers—that it would be possible to form friendships while her skill with a bow earned her respect. Then Ellis had to get herself murdered. Katryn could almost believe that the sergeant had done it out of spite—or even committed suicide. It would fit with all the facts. Ellis could easily have swapped knives before walking over to the stables. All Katryn had to do was work out how Ellis managed to stab herself in the back.

  The door to the bunkhouse opened, and the rest of the patrol filed in. They spoke among themselves, but no one even looked in Katryn’s direction. It was time to sleep. With any luck, on the next day Sanchez would return and the real murderer would be found. It would help a bit, but Katryn knew that doubts would always be attached to her name. She was a new girl and not popular, despite the affair with Tina and the mountain cats. Some Rangers would want her to be the guilty one, and when another, better-liked member of the squadron was arrested, they would still continue to blame her. Worst of all, the murderer might never be caught.

  Katryn rolled over and climbed down from her bunk. She needed to visit the latrine before sleeping. As she walked through the bunkhouse, the conversation quieted, but no one acknowledged her. She might have been invisible. The volume of voices rose again after the door had swung shut.

  No lantern hung in the latrine block, but brilliant bands of moonbeams fell through the windows. Katryn left the stall and went to the water trough. She still had not taken the bath she wanted. Now it was too late, and there would be no hot water.