D’Jenn smiled and offered the old woman his tobacco pouch. “Take as much as you like. You can have the whole bag, if you want it. I can always get more.”
Jeravin took the pouch and patted him on the hand. “I’m not as greedy as all that, young man. You’ll find quilts in the main room and you can lie down on the floor. I made the quilts myself.”
Merrick gave the old woman a one-armed hug and kissed her on the head. “You’re much too giving, Lady Jeravin.”
Jeravin smiled and patted Merrick on the cheek. “That’s your opinion, dear. Go get your rest. I’m going to sit here, have another mug of wine, and smoke a pipe. I have so much trouble sleeping of late.”
D’Jenn said his thanks to the widow and followed Merrick into the house. They laid their quilts on the floor and pulled their boots off before lying down. Merrick was still within a few moments, breathing a steady rhythm in the dark. D’Jenn laid awake, staring at the rough wooden boards of the ceiling. He was exhausted, but his thoughts whirled with dread.
When he fell asleep, he dreamed of vengeful townsfolk.
Free with his Anger
It was late afternoon when D’Jenn and Merrick dismounted before the woodcutter’s house.
The home was large and well-built compared to others in Rockman’s Ford. Outside, the house looked large enough to accommodate four rooms or more. The boards were straight and sanded. The roof was made of wood rather than thatch.
“Nice place.” Merrick looked over the house as they approached the door. “It’s a bit big for a man and his daughter alone, wouldn’t you say?”
“Maybe.” D’Jenn glanced to the woods surrounding the clearing in which the house was built. “Looks to me like the woodcutter is an accomplished carpenter. Building a roof takes time and skill. You don’t just pick that up on your own.”
Merrick nodded. “There’s always more to every person than what’s on the surface.”
“True enough.” D’Jenn approached the door and paused before knocking. “Have a look at this.”
The doorframe was carved with the faces of the gods. Each face was recognizable by its features—the beautiful, feminine face of Neesa, Goddess of Love and Music, was beside the bearded old face of Eindor, God of Magic, who had a missing eye. The expressions were rendered in loving detail, from the stern gaze of Evmir, King of the Gods, to the enraged scowl of Aastinor, God of War and Revenge.
“Loke did say that Aram carved once in a while.” Merrick ran his finger over the face of Devla, Mistress of the Hunt. “These are really good. Just as good as any artisan I’ve seen in my life.”
D’Jenn’s eyes lingered on Bast, God of Justice. “Indeed.”
Merrick squared his shoulders and knocked on the door.
Aram opened the door before Merrick got to the third knock, his scowling form filling the frame. He was much larger up close, with heavy, thick fingers. It was hard to discern his features through the dark beard on his face, but his eyes spoke his anger just as well.
“Master Aram.” Merrick bowed at the waist, prompting D’Jenn to do the same. “We didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves last time we met. I’m Merrick Vandrian. This is my associate, D’Jenn.”
Aram’s eyes flicked between them. “The bounty hunters.”
Merrick smiled. “We’re tracking someone, it’s true.”
“We just need to ask a few questions, and we’ll be on our way.” D’Jenn didn’t bother to smile when Aram turned his gaze in his direction.
Merrick raised his eyebrows at Aram. “May we come in?”
Aram’s scowl deepened as he put his thumbs through his belt. “You can ask your questions, but I’ll expect you gone before the sun disappears. Kira’s been through enough without you two ripping into her. After today, you never come back here. Those are my terms.”
Merrick’s smile stayed in place, though his eyes hardened. “Very well, Master Aram. This is not an interrogation. I can assure you—we mean your daughter no harm. We will be as gentle as we can.”
“Some folks never mean any harm, but it comes with them, nonetheless.” Aram stepped aside, gesturing them through the door. “Have a seat in the kitchen. I’ll fetch Kira.”
Merrick stepped through, keeping a pleasant expression on his face. D’Jenn followed, noting the scowl coming from Aram as he passed. Once they were through the door, Aram pointed them in the direction of the kitchen—a small room in the back of the house. His boots thumped on the wooden floor as he stomped down an adjacent hallway.
Why is he so hostile? Is he worrying for his daughter, or trying to hide something?
The kitchen was a small, square space dominated by a heavy wooden table. Five stools were arranged around the table, though only the two at the ends looked to have been used in the last few seasons. Merrick sat down at the middle of the table, looking around at the cooking implements hanging on the walls. D’Jenn paced the room, peering at the counters.
A basket held a few loaves of bread, with crumbs and pieces leftover from the last meal. A bucket sat in the corner of the room, full of still water. A stack of dirtied plates and bowls sat on the end of the counter, awaiting the water in the bucket.
Three plates, three bowls, three spoons. Aram’s had company in the last day or so.
D’Jenn turned as Aram came into the room with Kira.
The girl was a slight thing—which was surprising, given the size of her father—with brown hair and rounded features. One of her eyes was swollen and blackened, and Kira winced as she walked into the room. Merrick stood and pulled out a stool for the girl, offering a hand as she sat. Kira gave him a thankful smile, but Aram’s face was a thunderhead.
“Lady Kira.” Merrick smiled as he bowed. “I am Merrick Vandrian. This is my associate, D’Jenn. Has your father told you about us?”
Kira glanced between D’Jenn and Merrick, her swollen eye blinking. Aram loomed behind her, glaring at Merrick over his dark beard. Kira looked to her father, who gave the girl a grudging nod.
“He’s…mentioned you, sir Merrick.” Kira tried to smile, but the swollen knot on her face twisted the expression into a pained grimace. “He says you’re hunting someone.”
“We’re tracking a young man, that’s true.” Merrick offered the girl another friendly grin. “And I’m no sir, Lady Kira. I’m a lowborn citizen of Lesmira.”
Kira looked to D’Jenn. “And you—what was your name again, sir?”
“D’Jenn.” D’Jenn balled his right fist over his chest and bowed to the girl. “We don’t have nobility where I come from. I grew up on a farm, in a home like this one—though my childhood home was not as well-built.”
Kira again tried to smile. “You’re from the west, aren’t you? From the Sevenlands?”
“Aye. From the Red Hills of Soirus-Gamerit.”
Kira nodded. “It’s your accent that made me think so. There was a Sevenlander who came through town when I was a girl. Pa, do you remember?”
Aram’s face softened as he looked to his daughter. “Aye. Five or six years ago, was it?”
“Five, because I’d just had my sixteenth name-day. I remember because he gave me a handkerchief with an old Sevenlander proverb sewn into it. Do you remember, Pa?”
“I do.” Aram’s eyes flashed to D’Jenn, hardening on the way. “He was a nice fellow, despite what they say about Sevenlanders.”
Kira waved a loving hand in her father’s direction. “Pa, you always say such things. He was a nice old man. I loved that handkerchief. Wore it in my hair for three years straight. Girls in town were jealous—none of them had anything from a faraway place, but I did.”
Merrick smiled. “I’m sure they were just as jealous of your charm, Lady Kira. Ah—speaking of the people in town.” Merrick fished into his belt pouch and produced a small clay container stoppered with a cork. He showed the thing to Aram before offering it Kira. “The widow Jeravin wanted me to deliver this to you. She said it would soothe your injuries if you drink three drops with y
our evening tea.”
Kira flashed another look to her father, who nodded. Kira smiled as she took the container from Merrick and placed it on the table. She shifted in her seat, wincing.
She has more than just the black eye. Someone gave the girl a real beating.
“Jeravin has always been the kindest of people.” Kira prodded at her face again with a delicate finger. “She was always…well, she was always kind.”
Merrick shared a glance with D’Jenn before turning a smile back to Kira. “She mentioned to us that she’d made such things for you before—tinctures, poultices, that sort of thing.”
Kira shrugged, her gaze going to the container. “Sometimes. She’s done so for lots of people in town.”
“Most often for you, though.” Merrick’s eyes flicked to Aram, though his tone stayed friendly. “Forgive me, Lady Kira, but the people in town had little good to say about your late husband. Most describe him as being…free with his anger.”
Aram stepped forward. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Merrick held up a hand for peace. “Maybe nothing. It’s just what people in town have said.”
“What did they say?” Kira’s voice was small, her gaze still on the little container.
Merrick put his hands on the table and regarded Kira with a sad smile. “They said he was unkind. That you were the frequent recipient of his displeasure.” Merrick flashed another look to Aram. “They say there was a confrontation between your father and your late husband awhile back, and after that, your husband stayed out of town. There doesn’t seem to be much grief over your husband’s death.”
“What are you trying to say?” Aram placed a protective hand on his daughter’s shoulder and scowled across the table at Merrick. “If I had wanted to kill Rulon, I’d have done it then, and with my own two hands.”
D’Jenn snorted, drawing everyone’s eyes. “I don’t know your customs here, but any man in the Sevenlands would have done the same for his daughter.”
“We don’t think you killed Rulon, Master Aram.” Merrick indicated the stool next to Kira. “Please—we’re on your side, here. We only need to understand what happened and why.”
Aram eyed Merrick with suspicion but nodded and sat next to his daughter. The stool creaked under his weight. D’Jenn moved to stand at the end of the table, ignoring the scowl from Aram as he declined to sit.
“Why dig up the ancient past?” Aram reached a meaty arm around Kira’s shoulders. “Why make my girl relive that pain?”
Merrick wielded his smile like a shield against Aram’s glare. “To find the one responsible. Lady Kira—can you recall the night of the murder? Start at the first thing you remember.”
Kira shared another glance with her father before offering Merrick the flash of a smile. She gazed at the table, though her eyes were turned inward. She licked her lips and took a shuddering breath.
“It was nighttime, I think.”
“You think?” Merrick leaned forward. “Close your eyes, Lady. Try to be specific.”
Kira flashed him a nervous glance before nodding and closing her eyes. “It was nighttime. I’m sure of it. The insects were singing, and they only sing after dusk.”
“Good. What were you doing?”
“Gathering clothes for the wash.” Kira’s brow tried to furrow, but she winced as the motion disturbed her swollen face. “I…I was holding the basket when the knock came at the door.”
D’Jenn thought of the clothing he’d found in the back room of Rulon’s cottage.
“There was a knock?” Merrick shared a glance with D’Jenn. “How many knocks? Did it sound friendly, or was it insistent?”
“I…I don’t remember. Insistent?”
Aram glared at Merrick and hugged his daughter closer. “It’s alright, love. Just tell them what you remember, and they’ll be gone from here.”
“Did the knocking startle you?” Merrick met Aram’s scowl with a bland look.
“I thought it was odd.” Kira reached out and fingered the clay container. “We didn’t get visitors. Rulon had a rule, you understand. No visitors.”
“Was it you or Rulon who answered the door?” Merrick said.
“Rulon, of course.” Kira took another nervous breath. “He never wanted me to answer the door. He said I should stay out of sight. Didn’t want the people in town making up stories about me.”
Seeing the truth, more like. No wonder Rulon was so well regarded.
“But you were never curious?” Merrick watched Kira’s face as he spoke. “You never peeked when people came to the door?”
A smirk flashed across Kira’s face. “Sometimes.”
“And did you peek that night? Did you see who knocked at the door?”
“I—” Kira paused. “It was a tall man. A tall, older man with a beard. I…I only saw for a moment.”
Merrick raised an eyebrow. “And what happened next?”
Kira glanced at Merrick before she shut her eyes again. “They…they argued. I’m not sure why. Money, I think. There was shouting. A scuffle. I hid in the back room. Barricaded myself inside.”
Merrick narrowed his eyes. “I see. What happened next?”
“There was—” Kira opened her eyes and looked between D’Jenn and Merrick. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to describe it. There was a noise. Our house started shaking and then…”
“Then what?” Merrick said.
Kira took a deep breath. “Then I heard Rulon make a noise. Not a scream, just…I knew. I knew what had happened.”
“And you were hiding throughout the fight?” D’Jenn ignored the scowl Aram turned in his direction as he spoke. “What did you use to barricade yourself in the room?”
“I—” Kira blinked. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” D’Jenn kept his tone light. “Caught up in the moment, I suspect. Happens sometimes, when you’re in danger.”
“I think it was a chair.” Kira smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry. It just…it all happened so fast. I was confused.”
D’Jenn nodded. “I understand.”
“What happened next, Lady Kira?” Merrick offered another smile. “This bearded man—was he the one who did this to you?”
Kira’s hand went to her swollen face. “This?”
Merrick nodded.
“Oh.” Kira’s voice went soft. “Aye, it was him.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Merrick shook his head. “Terrible thing. Did he say anything to you? Give you a reason? How did you escape?”
Kira glanced to her father again before speaking. “He…he forced his way into the room and started in on me. He hit me a few times. Kicked me in the side.” An expression passed across the girl’s features for a moment—a disgusted twist of her lips. “I thought he was finally going to kill me. He dragged me into the main room where…where it happened. When I saw, I just—I screamed.”
Aram pulled his daughter close to his side. “It’s alright, love. It’s over now.”
“I think the door was still open.” Kira sniffled as tears came to her eyes. “He must’ve let me go at some point because I just ran. I just remember running away.”
“Did he chase you?” D’Jenn said.
Kira wiped her nose and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. All the way into town.”
Merrick nodded, his face contemplative. “So—this man shows up at the door. He knocks, and Rulon allows him inside. There’s a fight, and this mysterious figure kills your husband with magic.”
Kira wiped a tear from her swollen cheek and nodded.
“Why didn’t he use magic on you?” D’Jenn tried to mimic the charming smile that came so easily to Merrick, but felt it die on his lips as Kira turned a confused look on him.
“What?” she said.
“He killed Rulon with magic.” D’Jenn shrugged, trying to keep the suspicion from his face. “Why resort to more…personal methods…where
you were concerned?”
Kira glanced at her father, but Aram’s eyes stayed locked to D’Jenn. “I…I don’t know.”
“It just seems strange.” D’Jenn turned and walked a slow circuit of the table. Kira and Aram followed him with their eyes. “Did this man attack you in the bedroom?”
Kira blinked. “I…I think so.”
“It’s a small room. Not many places to hide.” D’Jenn fingered the dinnerware on the counter. “Why would he clean up afterward?”
Aram narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?”
“We’ve been to see the cottage, Master Aram.” Merrick’s smile was still on his face, though his eyes glinted. “The bedroom was neat.”
Aram glanced to D’Jenn. “So?”
“This mysterious person—a tall, bearded fellow—put a beating on your girl, here, but left no trace of a struggle in the room?” D’Jenn met Aram’s gaze with a bland stare. “There was no blood on the floor. The sheets were missing. Did he search the cottage for gold marks, then clean the bedroom?”
“He might’ve taken me into the great-room,” Kira said, her voice shaking. “I don’t remember.”
“I see.” D’Jenn reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the wooden figurine. “Have you seen this before, Lady Kira?”
Kira’s eyes sharpened at the sight of the toy legionnaire. “Where did you get that?”
“Found it at your cottage.” D’Jenn proffered the figurine. Kira made to reach for it but stopped herself at a squeeze from her father’s hand. “The carving is remarkable. Like the gods carved in your archway, Master Aram.”
Aram rose from the table. “It’s time for you to go.”
Merrick held up a hand. “Master Aram, please—”
“Please, nothing!” Aram put a protective hand on Kira’s shoulder and leaned over the table, placing his other meaty fist on its surface. “You’ve asked your questions. You heard what she has to say. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. You have no authority here.”
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