'Please, let's not stand on ceremony here, I doubt we have the time.' He sat in his gold upholstered armchair across from the deputation and waited for a servant to pour him a cup of tea and withdraw before gesturing for his old silks merchant friend, Hancross, to speak.
'The situation on the docks is getting worse, Jasto. These Black Wings are nothing more than thugs intent on getting their way and wrecking our businesses into the bargain. Stealing from the outlying farms is getting worse by the day and now they have stooped even lower. Erik?' Hancross gestured at the son of Aden's most successful shipping agent, a man being groomed to take over the family business.
Erik Paulson nodded, fighting to keep his emotions in check. His eyes shone with tears. 'I think this is really why we felt we had to appeal to you directly, my Lord. While it was intimidation aimed at us, it was different. Now it's our families, it's unacceptable and we need action.' He paused, breathing deeply. For a moment, his chin wobbled. He gathered himself and spoke. 'Yesterday evening, my wife and daughter were returning from the market to our house. Three of those bastards knocked my wife to the floor. One held a dagger to my daughter's throat while the other two pawed at my wife's body, threatened her with rape and my daughter with murder.
T can't believe I can hear myself saying these words,' he swallowed hard. 'Not here. Not about my family.' He shook his head and a tear escaped to roll down his cheek. 'You should see them. They are both in shock in my house, too terrified to venture outside the front door. And this is Arlen. What the hell is going on?' He looked at Arlen then, his expression pleading. 'This is a peaceful
town, my Lord, but unless you act, we fear people taking the law into their own hands.'
'In fact we promise it,' said Alpar, his throaty voice grating on Arlen's ears. 'Paulson has suffered the worst but we are all losing here. Each morning, my flock is short by a little more, despite the guards I post. Hancross won't tell you but there's been a fire at one of his shops and we all know who started it.'
Arlen nodded and raised both his hands to ask for quiet. He felt a growing anger in his gut. He had worked so hard to rebuild after the austerity of the Wesmen wars. He had brought peace and prosperity to Arlen, not just the town but across the Earldom. And he deserved respect. The Black Wings would have to be taught how to show that respect.
'Gentlemen, this is my town and I abhor violence of any kind being committed within its borders or in the lands I also control. I therefore implore you not to raise arms as I will come down equally hard on either side in this dispute should violence ensue.
'However, your coming here together tells me all I need to know about your sincerity and your trust in my stewardship, and for that I thank you. Now, I will, as soon as I am able this morning, visit the Lakehome Inn, where I understand their leader to be in residence. He will be ordered out, never to return. Any monies that he has paid for goods he has not received will be returned minus costs for damages, stolen goods and sundry expenses.'
'Jasto-'
'No, Hancross, don't say it,' said Arlen. For the third time, he raised a hand. 'The reputation of this town is built on honesty, particularly in dealings for trade. Money exchanged in good faith will be returned. And petty thieves clutter jails to no purpose. However, Erik, if your wife wishes to identity her assailants, they will not leave Arlen before paying for their crimes.'
Arlen looked hard at Paulson and could see the man's fury burning in his hooded eyes. He wrung his hands and his tanned skin had an unhealthy grey tone. He didn't sit on the chair, more perched like some predatory beast. It was clear his chosen justice would be vengeful and violent.
'Erik?'
'They touched her. They touched her,' he said, another tear easing
from the corner of his eye, his control so admirable, cracking a little more. 'This is a violation. They should pay.'
'Then pay they will,' said Arlen. 'Trust me.'
Erik locked eyes with him then and it was clear that he did not. 'Yes,' he said. 'I just want them to be able to walk in the streets of their own town without fear.'
Arlen rose from his chair and walked over to Paulson, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. T know, Erik. Leave it to me. They won't escape my justice.' He looked up at Hancross. 'Take him home and keep an eye on them all. I want the word passed around the dock that it will be cleared and I want no one getting in my way. I want word sent to Lakehome to delay Selik however is necessary. I will be there within the hour. Anything else I should know?'
The Unknown Warrior stared at his sword as if it were a snake waiting to strike at him. There it lay where he had thrown it during the downpour and where it shimmered in the dying glow of the fire, ignored now that dawn was close. It was a symbol. Of the death of The Raven, finally. Of the ending of the trust they had in each other, he and Hirad. It had been everything to him. Even through the years they hardly saw each other, let alone spoke or fought together. Something he always had was Hirad's unconditional belief. And last night, he had betrayed it.
And worse, Hirad had been right. When it had come to it, he had been driven to protect Denser. Protect. How hollow that word sounded now. All he had done was drive away the man that could keep them together long enough to save not just Denser but his whole family, and Balaia too.
The Unknown's reaction had been much more than just desire to see a family saved, though, and that fact worried him deep in his soul. He should have been thankful he had a soul to feel worried but he wasn't. Too much within him was still wedded to the Protectors and despite the relatively short time he had spent as one of them, he lamented the loss of the brotherhood. Even after six years and more, he had to accept it was a loss he would always feel and that was something he had not yet been able to fully come to terms with.
And they were coming again. They were close. He could feel
them and had told Ilkar so the day before. He couldn't describe to Ilkar the clash of emotion it sparked within him. The joy of being near them and the tragedy of their existence linked with the exclusion he felt now his soul was again his own. That was the most acute pain for him. He would always be able to feel them but he would never again feel the oneness that, despite its dreadful reality, the Soul Tank bestowed. He wondered if they could feel him too.
He looked over at Ilkar and Denser, sleeping under the hasty and inadequate shelter of leaf, branch and leather they'd created. He'd been glad for Ilkar last night. His sense had stopped a catastrophe. The Unknown had wanted to go after Hirad but Ilkar had stopped him doing that too. The elf thought Hirad would turn up in the camp come dawn. The Unknown wasn't so sure.
The rain had stopped at last but the wind was cold and whipped through the trees, chilling him as he sat by the fire. How they needed Hirad, now more than ever. After he'd.calmed down, Denser had agreed to Commune with a contact in Korina to pass a message to Diera. All that he'd heard was yet more bad news.
The contact was preparing to leave the city as, apparently, were tens of thousands of people, fleeing inland. Two days before, after an unceasing torrent of rain, the tide had risen along the estuary and, fed by run-off from the hills and mountains and whipped up by gale force winds, had kept on rising.
The docks were under water, as were all of the low-lying areas in the estuary basin. Further up into the centre of Korina, conditions were better but the waters were still rising. The Unknown's house had been in the estuary basin. The contact had no idea of the level of casualties in the city but knew The Rookery still stood and still served its patrons. He had promised to deliver The Unknown's message there.