Then she straightened and looked back at the father. He was alone now, save for three House Cannith monitors who had their crossbows trained on Sabira. The rest of the crowd had disappeared, deciding they hated warforged less than they wanted to be arrested.
“Drop the-” one of the monitors began, then caught sight of her brooch. He lowered his weapon, motioning for his companions to do the same.
“Your pardon, Marshal. We heard a commotion and came to see what the problem was.”
More like, they heard a commotion and watched until they were certain they wouldn’t have to lift a finger themselves to resolve it before stepping in to take credit for keeping the peace. But what were a few pertinent details among fellow defenders of law and order?
“The ‘problem’ is that you stood by and let a mob form to persecute an innocent warforged and got a Sentinel Marshal wounded in the process. You’re just lucky I don’t have time to take this up personally with your superiors, but rest assured that Captain Greigur will hear about this and he will make the time.”
She had no intention of filing a report with Greigur, of course, but the monitors didn’t need to know that.
“According to this man here, Marshal,” said another of the monitors, clearly taking umbrage at her tone, “he and his companions were trying to conduct an orderly, lawful citizen’s arrest on this warforged when you interfered and wounded two unarmed Cannith residents in the process.”
Sabira’s brows shot up and she couldn’t suppress an incredulous laugh. She kicked the dagger toward him.
“Sure, they’re unarmed now — how exactly do you suppose they got that way? Or do you think maybe I threw that knife at myself?” she asked, pointing to the blade stuck in the wall near the ventilation shaft.
“The Sentinel Marshal speaks truly,” Guisarme said, though after seeing the dark looks he got for it, Sabira sort of wished he hadn’t. She didn’t really think his support would earn her any favor in the monitors’ eyes. “The fleshlings accused me of assaulting their daughter, but I have been here working on this ventilation shaft since the first bell. Those were my instructions, to work until the fourth bell, or until the fan was fixed, whichever came sooner. As you can see, two of the fan blades are still in need of straightening. As I have not yet completed my task, I have not left my post.”
“The ’forged is right,” came a gruff voice from above. Sabira looked up to see Skraad standing on the stairs that overlooked the courtyard. She’d wondered where the orc had gotten off to, but assumed he’d left when the monitors showed up, like the others. She saw a hand crossbow hanging from his belt that hadn’t been there before and realized he’d moved to better cover the courtyard. “Humans came looking for warforged blood, and his was the most convenient. If the Marshal hadn’t been here, you’d’ve had a corpse to clean up instead of two rabble-rousers to arrest. You should be thanking her, not aiming a quarrel at her.”
The third monitor, a woman who hadn’t spoken yet, leveled her crossbow at Skraad.
“You telling us our job, orc?”
Skraad raised his hands and shook his head, backing down. Probably a wise choice.
Too bad Sabira wasn’t the backing down type.
“Somebody has to, apparently,” she said. “I’ve no doubt a crime was committed, but not by this warforged.” Not this time, anyway. Sabira wasn’t about to vouch for the metal man’s innocence in any other regard. Dolurrh, he could have assaulted Kanjira, for all she knew-the mob just didn’t have anything resembling actual proof of it. “So let’s not compound one wrongdoing with another, hmm?”
The first monitor-the one who’d had sense enough to apologize for pointing his weapon at her-spoke again, but his voice wasn’t nearly as conciliatory the second time around.
“You’re absolutely right, Marshal. Which is why I’d suggest you and your new friends leave the enclave now while you have the chance. I can’t guarantee that mob won’t be back, and we can’t be everywhere at once.”
It wasn’t a particularly subtle threat, but she supposed it didn’t need to be. Brooch or no, this was Cannith’s enclave, and even the authority of the chimera would only stretch so far.
“Well,” she said, looking over at Guisarme, “I did come here to offer you a job.”
“I already have a job,” the warforged replied, gesturing to the bent fan blades.
“No,” Sabira answered, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think you do.”
Guisarme turned to the monitors and read the truth of her words in their faces. With a noise that would have been a sigh in a race that actually needed to breathe, he hefted his hammer up onto his shoulder.
“Well, then, House Cannith will have to find someone else to keep this machine running for them. And I will retrieve this, as it is part of my armor and so technically belongs to my new employer.” His hand darted into the spinning fan blades faster than Sabira could see and pulled out a finger plate he’d used to jury-rig the fan. With the bit of metal removed, the fan slowed to a stop with a clanking noise and black smoke started wisping up from the shaft in a matter of moments.
Sabira bit her lip to keep from laughing and looked up at the orc.
“What about you? Interested in a job?”
Skraad’s nostrils flared.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“How much I make and how many I get to kill,” the orc said with a grin.
“Plenty of both where we’re going.”
The grin widened.
“I’m in. Just have to say good-bye to my brother Garsk first.”
Sabira nodded.
“Meet us at the Bull in a quarter bell, then. We leave on the hour.”
As the orc jogged down the stairs and out of sight, Sabira slapped her urgrosh back into its harness. Then she strode over to the monitors, sidestepping Melcare’s son, who was still lying in the dirt and whimpering softly, even though the blood had long since stopped flowing from the wound in his thigh. He glared at her as she passed, which she thought was rather unfair, considering she’d intentionally avoided the femoral artery. You’d think the man would be grateful he was still alive to feel the pain, dull as it must be by now.
She stopped by Kanjira’s father, who at least had the grace to look embarrassed.
“I hope you find who attacked your daughter. Just make sure you have the right guy before you try to gut him this time, hmm?”
She smiled up at the monitor who’d invited her to leave.
“Great enclave you have here. I’ll make sure to tell all my friends not to visit.”
Then she walked away with Guisarme at her side, wondering how in the name of Khyber a Sentinel Marshal, a dwarf, two warforged, and an orc were going to be able to accomplish what a powerful sorceress and a seasoned group of Blademarks had been unable to. Given a hand like that in Jarot’s Bluff, she’d have folded without a second thought. Unfortunately, quitting wasn’t an option. She could only hope winning still was.
CHAPTER NINE
Wir, Barrakas 4, 998 YK
Stormreach, Xen’drik.
Greddark wasn’t waiting for them at the Burnished Bull, but a small warforged with reddish armor was. Glaive introduced him as Jester, though it wasn’t really necessary-the lyre on his back and the rapier at his hip gave him away. Considering the last warforged Sabira had seen carrying a musical instrument had lifted her pouch back in the Mror Holds, she resolved to keep an eye on this one. Given the choice, she’d trust a self-proclaimed thief over a bard any day-at least you knew the thief would try to rob you; the only question was when. With a bard, the questions began with “if” and ended in “how” and the only one you’d ever really know the answer to was “why”-because it would make a great story.