by Graeme Hurry
Harry drove fast again, certain the agents could arrive too late. Havers had been less than enthusiastic. He saw Sammy Peters pulling away on the gravel drive inside the cemetery just as he approached. It had to be Bill Coyt’s car, but she was alone. To his surprise, two other unmarked cars raced up and stopped at an angle, preventing her from leaving. While two agents jumped out to grab her, three others ran toward the split elm, carrying shovels.
He followed them to where the overturned earth was clearly visible. In two minutes they reached Coyt’s body. Too late, the warden thought. It had to be too late. He could hear an ambulance siren in the distance. Then he heard a choking sound as the two agents bent over Bill. A minute later they were holding him upright, the third one supplying an oxygen face mask. The warden turned around just in time to see Sammy Peters realize Bill Coyt was alive. He’d never seen fury like that on anyone. It was uncontained rage.
A third car rolled up behind the other two and Federal Marshal Havers got out, glanced at Sammy Peters and at his agents who were leading Bill Coyt to one of their cars and walked over to Harry.
“We can’t send her back to your prison. I’m sure you understand.”
“I’m grateful for the fact.”
“Nice ending.”
The warden looked at Havers and thought he caught a slight smile on the man’s face, but it was gone fast.
Sammy Peters was being led away and struggled with the agents. “I want to talk to that bastard Atherton!” she screamed.
“Let her,” Havers said to his agents, who stopped walking but held tight to their prisoner.
She stared at the warden. “How did you figure it out?”
“You told one of the guards you could fool anyone with your deck.”
“Li. I said that to Li.”
“My brother tried to get me to use the cards, more than once. I learned a little.”
“I could care less. I want to know how you knew where I’d be.”
Harry wanted her to remember for the rest of her life how she had failed.
“You left what you called your secret weapon behind. That told me you were done. You left behind something else, too, that you should have taken with you.”
He caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes. Good.
“The deck had another Tower card tucked inside, remember? Not like the one you sent me. This one didn’t belong in the deck. Did you think we wouldn’t inspect it? The only thing I wondered about was why you didn’t destroy it. Then I understood. It’s because you couldn’t resist leaving the evidence, sure I wouldn’t figure it out until it was too late and we’d all find a corpse for our trouble. Was that your prediction, Sammy? You were almost right. But I’m happy to say, for Bill Coyt’s sake, you were dead wrong.”
He turned away and went back to his brother’s grave. A light rain had started. He waited until all the cars had gone and he was alone.
“I got her, Rick. But you already know that.”
He brushed his hand over the top of the granite marker. He could hear the rain hitting the lily pond.
“You know, I might have a prediction of my own. Maybe it’s time for me to look for another line of work. I’m getting this feeling I like finding the predators more than I like babysitting them. What do you think?”
He looked around at the peaceful setting.
“I’ll let you know what I come up with,” he said, once more laying his hand on the stone.
He pulled his raincoat close against the rising wind and walked over to his car.
THE JUDGMENT OF THE PEACEKEEPER
by Diana Doherty
Verity walked down the packed dirt road. Her familiar, Spirit, walked by her side, his head held high. Trees lined the thoroughfare, their baby green leaves poking out in the springtime warmth. Despite the nice weather and the trees’ acceptance of spring, the birds were strangely quiet. She heard calls from a few bold individuals, but the relative lack of song unnerved her.
“We’ll be to Stoneford soon,” Verity said.
Spirit glanced at her. The warg didn’t see the point in announcing obvious things that they both knew, but he accepted her words without comment. Verity looked down at him, to see if he felt any of the same unease she did. His stride was so graceful as to be almost liquid, his four feet making not even a whisper on the dirt road. The sunlight made his ebony fur shine as he focused his striking blue eyes on the path ahead, his lupine ears pointed forward. The row of spines that ran down his backbone were laid flat against his back, hidden by his coat, so Verity knew he wasn’t too ill at ease.
Verity sighed. Spirit saw no reason to be worried about something they had no power over. He was wary and alert, but he always was. So far as he was concerned, his duty was to keep her safe while she traveled from village to village. Not that he didn’t think it was important for her to perform her duties as a Peacekeeper, but his focus was entirely on the present.
As they rounded a curve in the road, Stoneford came into view. A cluster of small stone houses circled a village well, while gardens and yards for livestock extended out beyond the homes. Several women and their familiars were gathered at the well, and Verity guessed they were catching up on the latest gossip.
One of the familiars, a small warg, spied Verity and Spirit and alerted his partner. The gossiping women scattered back to their homes. Spirit made a chuffing sound, almost a laugh. People in remote areas were skittish around strangers, and the warg found it amusing that the presence of a single newcomer and her familiar made everyone scurry back inside.
Verity continued toward the now seemingly deserted village, knowing that the wise woman who was in charge would soon make an appearance to speak with her and Spirit. Thamina dealt with disputes in Stoneford and administered advice to those who sought it. Anything that the wise woman couldn’t handle was Verity’s jurisdiction as the local Peacekeeper.
To her surprise, the person who stepped out into the middle of the village was a young man. He wore the robes of a wise man, though they were simple and well worn. No one out here had fine clothing, which suited Verity, since she always arrived in her travel clothes. The man looked vaguely familiar, but seeing as she hardly ever saw any of the villagers, she couldn’t place him. But there was something off…
Spirit scanned the area. “Where is his partner?” his basso voice asked in her mind.
Verity kept herself from reacting to Spirit’s question. Leave it to the warg to notice something so obvious that she hadn’t seen it. There were a few rare individuals that were never selected by a familiar, but Verity usually heard about it, because it was so uncommon people feared that the unselected person had to be cursed. She was sure she would have remembered it if this man had no familiar.
When she entered the village, he inclined his head. “Welcome, Mistress Peacekeeper,” he said, his voice smooth. “I am Ulrich, wise woman Thamina’s apprentice. I will escort you to her home.”
“Thank you,” Verity said, inclining her head slightly in response.
Spirit eyed Ulrich suspiciously, making him take a covert step back. The warg had that effect on most people. He was large for his kind, weighing as much as a large man, and he preferred to wear his leather armor when traveling, always ready for a fight. The Peacekeeper kerchief around his neck was likely the only thing that kept people from running away from him.
Verity glanced around the village and was surprised to see a woman standing in the shadow of a house. She wasn’t overly physically imposing, but there a was an intensity to her gaze that made Verity take note of her. A male warg stood a short distance from her, keeping a careful eye on Verity and Spirit. She figured the warg must the woman’s partner. He couldn’t be Ulrich’s, since same sex partnerings were almost as rare as someone having no familiar, and Verity usually heard about those as well.
Ulrich turned and started walking toward the wise woman’s home. Verity followed, glancing back at the woman.
“Who is that?” she asked him, keeping
her voice low.
“That’s Brígh,” he said. “She isn’t intimidated by very much.”
Then Verity caught a hint of what had put Spirit on alert. Cold washed over her skin, making her repress a shiver. The chill felt like dark sorcery, but she shook it off. She discretely looked Ulrich up and down. Surely Thamina wouldn’t select a dark sorcerer as a her apprentice. Dark sorcery was a forbidden art. Part of a Peacekeeper’s duty was to subdue or destroy users of dark sorcery.
Ulrich led them to a stone house and pushed open the door, gesturing for Verity to enter first. She walked inside and Spirit followed on her heels, his spines half-raised.
“Easy, love,” Verity mindspoke to him, “I doubt we have anything to fear here.”
The warg paused a moment.“You felt a wrongness on the way here. Do you not trust yourself, beloved?”
Verity met his gaze, unsure how to respond. Spirit believed that humans ignored their instincts too much. Verity did her best to listen to his advice, but she couldn’t act on a hunch—she needed evidence. Shaking her head slightly, Verity stepped into the one room house. Thamina was seated on a cushion at the small stone table, her wyvern familiar crouched behind her.
“Mistress Peacekeeper, welcome,” the wise woman said. “Please sit and be refreshed.”
“My thanks,” Verity said, seating herself on a cushion beside the table.
Thamina glanced at Spirit, who was still watching Ulrich. She frowned, then turned to her apprentice.
“Ulrich, would you kindly go and let everyone know that it’s just Peacekeeper Verity visiting?”
“But—” he started.
She looked at Spirit meaningfully. “Please.”
He turned to Spirit, who kept gazing at him. Ulrich let out a breath.
“Of course,” he said, then walked outside, shutting the door.
Thamina poured the tea, then set a chipped mug in front of Verity. The two women drank the tea in silence. Though Verity usually found the custom relaxing, this time it irked her. Something was off in the village, and sitting here sipping tea wasn’t going to get them any closer to righting the problem.
Thamina’s familiar moved up beside his partner and gave Spirit an assessing look. The wyvern was about the height of a man when he stood upright and had an impressive wingspan, but wyverns generally walked on all fours, using the hands on their wings as forepaws, the membrane of their wings folded up. His long, lizard-like tail swished back and forth as he and Spirit held their silent communication. His slitted eyes locked with Spirit’s lupine ones.
Thamina placed a hand on her wyvern’s scaled snout. “I don’t believe we have anything to fear from our guests, my friend.”
The wyvern eyed Spirit for a moment longer, then seemed satisfied. He put his head in Thamina’s lap and sighed. She stroked the side of his long neck.
“Is everything going well, Thamina?” Verity asked.
The wise woman looked Verity in the eye. “We have had some…difficulties.”
The leaders of the villages on the outskirts never liked to admit there were problems they couldn’t solve. They appreciated the Peacekeepers, but at the same time resented them. Verity was used to it, and, swallowing her impatience, she let Thamina take her time.
“Difficulties?” Verity repeated.
Spirit walked up beside her, then sat on his haunches, his head at the same height as hers.
The wise woman nodded. “You know that there’s a nest of wyverns on the cliffs not far from here?”
“I do,” Verity said.
“Well, one of them appears to have gone, well, mad.”
Spirit and Verity exchanged a glance.
“Gone mad? What do you mean?”
The wise woman gazed into her empty cup. “I have not seen the wyvern myself, but a few of our hunters have. It’s been living in the forest nearby, and has scared nearly all the game away. It doesn’t come into the village, though sometimes we can hear its calls at night. One of our hunters was attacked by it when he was in the forest.”
Verity blinked rapidly. A crazed wyvern? She supposed such a thing was possible, but the vast majority of adult wyverns had a partner, and likely wouldn’t be terrorizing the village if that were the case. If it were a youth, she supposed it was possible it could be up to mischief, but these people were used to mischievous wyverns. This was something else. Verity supposed an unpartnered adult could cause problems, but generally they kept to themselves. If they didn’t have a partner, it was likely because they wanted nothing to do with humans.
“How old is this wyvern?” she asked.
“From what we’ve seen of it, it appears to be mature.”
“Does it have a partner?”
Thamina set her cup on the table very deliberately. “None of the hunters who have seen it recognized it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a partner who doesn’t live here.”
This wasn’t adding up. There was something Thamina wasn’t telling her. Verity was unsurprised, but she hoped the wise woman would get over her reluctance and explain. Leaders in the outskirts sometimes liked to test the Peacekeepers, but Verity thought she had already proven herself to Thamina. Wise men and women were also by nature secretive, as they had to maintain an aura of wisdom. Verity found it terribly frustrating.
“We would be appreciative if you would see what has the wyvern so riled up,” Thamina said.
Spirit bumped his shoulder against Verity’s. She could tell he was puzzled as well, but he was fully willing to check out the problem. He knew that humans could be deceitful, but often assumed that the person speaking to him told the truth, because he had difficulty understanding the point of lying. Of course, Verity didn’t think Thamina was lying to them. No, she just wasn’t telling the whole story.
“Could I speak to the hunter who was attacked?” Verity asked.
“If you wish, but I doubt he will tell you anything of use.”
Spirit sighed, and Verity agreed with the sentiment. Thamina was likely right. The hunter would either be overwhelmed by speaking to a Peacekeeper, or incredibly suspicious because she didn’t live in the village. Either way, he probably wouldn’t give her any useful information.
“Very well,” Verity said. “Where does the wyvern spend most of its time?”
“North of here,” Thamina replied. “You should be able to locate it easily, Peacekeeper. It doesn’t appear to try for stealth at all.”
Verity nodded. “Come, Spirit. Let’s see what we can find.”
She rose and strode to the door. Just before she pushed it open, the wise woman cleared her throat. Verity looked back at her.
“Be careful, Peacekeeper,” Thamina said. “I think there may be more to this wyvern than meets the eye.”
“What do you mean?”
“A wise woman only has so much power,” Thamina said, as if in explanation.
A wise woman only has so much power? Had someone usurped control of the village? Or had Thamina been threatened? Ulrich was an obvious suspect if that were the case, but perhaps too obvious. Thamina was a discerning woman, and she likely wouldn’t select someone who’d steal her authority. Unless, of course, she’d had no choice.
Verity stood by the door for a moment longer, considering. “Perhaps I will go speak to the hunter.”
Thamina nodded. “His name is Grosvenor. Ulrich can take you to him.”
Verity thanked her, then walked outside with Spirit, sensing that the wise woman would say no more. She looked northward, but didn’t see any obvious signs of the wyvern’s presence. Except for the silence, of course. It was far, far too quiet, and not just because all the villagers were hidden in their homes.
Ulrich walked up beside her. Spirit quickly positioned himself so he was between Ulrich and Verity.
“Is there any way I can assist you, Peacekeeper?” Ulrich asked.
She looked at him. “May I ask you something personal?”
He blinked. “Of course.”
“Where is
your familiar?”
“Ah. I was just with her. She’s shy around strangers, but she’s nearby, I assure you.”
In Verity’s experience, shy familiars stayed very close to their partner. But there were a few that didn’t like other people, and would make themselves scarce when their partner had a guest. Still. Her instincts were warning her that something was very wrong. Or was she being too suspicious? Why suspect Ulrich, specifically? Yes, Thamina had warned her, and it was about something deeper than just a mad wyvern. But did that work in the apprentice wise man’s favor or not?
Verity blew out at breath. “Thank you, Ulrich. Actually, I would be appreciative if you would take me to the hunter, Grosvenor. I think he may have some information that could be useful to me.”
“Of course,” he said, inclining his head. “This way, please.” Ulrich led them past the well to another stone dwelling and rapped on the door. Verity heard someone moving inside, then a woman opened the door a crack. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Ulrich, Verity, and Spirit. Verity did her best to appear non-threatening, but there was little Spirit could do to make himself approachable. Not that he made any effort to do so.
“Hello, Lykke,” Ulrich said. “The Peacekeeper would like to speak to Grosvenor. Is he well enough?”
The woman nodded. “Please, come in.”
Lykke pulled the door all the way open and hurried back inside. Ulrich gestured for Verity to precede him. She nodded to him, then walked inside, Spirit right behind her. This home was quite similar to the wise woman’s, with a packed dirt floor with rushes strewn on it, a small scarred table with cushions next to it, and a pallet in the back. A man sat on the pallet, leaned against the wall. The lone window didn’t get much light at this time of day, obscuring his features. A wyvern was curled into a ball next to him, but it picked up its head when Verity entered the room.
Verity approached him. “Are you Grosvenor?”
“Yes, Peacekeeper,” he murmured. “That’s my name.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Lykke was by the hearth doing her best to look busy. Her wyvern made no such attempt; it watched them avidly. Ulrich stood just inside the doorway, his hands clasped. Feeling self-conscious due to the audience, Verity straightened her shoulders.