"Certainly. Not too many big, strapping fellows in some sort of armor make a habit of strolling behind me at the same distance all morning long."
Mirolyn looked from her mother to the man in front of her and shrugged.
"Nothing wrong with her hearing," the girl said, a wan smile emerging briefly.
"I guess not," Vambran said. "I assure you, I have no malicious intentions, here. But I need to speak with you for a few moments, someplace where we won't be bothered. It concerns your other daughter, Jithelle."
At the mention of their slain family member, both women's faces turned ashen, and Mirolyn closed her eyes, swallowing a sob.
Nimra turned her sightless eyes toward Vambran and said, "Who are you, bringing pain to an old woman by speaking that name?"
Vambran swallowed and frowned. He knew it would be a difficult subject to bring up, but it was unavoidable.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, "and for reopening the wounds of her passing, but if you will give me a moment of your time you will see that-"
"I'm sorry, but we have nothing more to tell you, soldier," Nimra interrupted. She took hold of Mirolyn's arm and began to tug her away. "It was watchmen who killed her, and I will not help you besmirch her name further."
Vambran shook his head, then remembered that Nimra couldn't see his gesture.
"I'm no watchman, milady, as your daughter will certainly testify. I am a soldier, true, but one who is trying to find the truth, not bury it."
Nimra hesitated and turned back.
"What purpose do you have in tracking me down?" she asked.
Beside her, Mirolyn looked at Vambran with eyes already brimming with tears.
"I was witness to your daughter's death" Vambran said quietly, eliciting a gasp from both women. "I don't believe the charges leveled against her, and I want to discover who would see her dead."
"Why do you care what happened to a commoner?" Nimra questioned quietly, reaching a hand out to take one of Vambran's. "Yes, I suspected as much. You may have the calluses of a swordsman, but you still have the voice and bearing of a wealthy man."
"The gold in my family's vaults does not affect my desire to see justice," Vambran replied. "I cannot stand to see murder done, any more than you, though Jithelle was no one I know." As he spoke the word "murder," the lieutenant saw both women flinch again. "But we must not talk here," he continued. "It is not safe. Where can we go for a bit of quiet conversation?"
"The cheesemaker's on Slake Street," Nimra said quickly. "Mirolyn works there, and the proprietor will let us visit in his room upstairs. Do not follow us," the woman added. "Meet us there at the next bells."
And with that, the two women turned away and crossed the square, continuing their shopping, though their pace was a bit quicker and more urgent to anyone who might have been watching. Vambran observed them both go, then turned and took a different route, weaving in and out of the crowds of people at the market. He headed surreptitiously toward Slake Street, approaching it finally from the opposite direction from the market, and when he ducked his head inside, found only a single customer being served.
The proprietor, Neely, if the name on the sign outside was accurate, gave Vambran an appraising look, then shrugged and finished filling his customer's order.
When the woman left with her block of cheese, the man turned to Vambran and asked, "What can I serve you today, good sir?"
Vambran smiled and cast a quick glance around, then said, "Nimra Skolotti sent me here. I am supposed to meet with her in a few moments, and we needed a private place to gather. She suggested that you might make your family room available for a few minutes."
At the mention of the woman's name, Neely smiled, but the grin vanished again just as quickly.
"Is there a problem?" he asked. "Mirolyn is a fine girl and a hard worker for me, and I would hate to see anything happen to either of them, especially after-"
"Nor would I," Vambran interrupted, "which is why I would ask you not mention what you were about to bring up, or me, to anyone else."
The man gave Vambran a long, hard look before he finally nodded.
"You can wait upstairs in the parlor. Straight back there"-he jerked his head behind the counter and into the back room-"up the stairs, first doorway in the right-hand corner."
Vambran thanked the man and slipped past the end of the counter and strode into the back part of the house. There, he found that the whole building was a large square, with a very small open courtyard in the middle. The courtyard was surrounded on all four sides by two stories of open balcony, literally covered with climbing plants and hanging baskets. In the middle of the courtyard was a single large rain barrel. One set of stairs rose up along the back wall, and Vambran made his way there, climbing them quickly. At the top, he went to the right, as the man had instructed, and found a small patio that opened back out onto the front, where the street was. He cast a quick glance down the lane in both directions, then retreated into the shade and settled into a wooden chair to wait.
The mercenary did not have to wait long. Shortly after nine bells, he heard voices emanating from below, in the courtyard, and slow, methodical footsteps on the stairs. Soon, Nimra's graying head appeared, accompanied by Mirolyn's, and the pair of women made their way into the little tiled parlor. Mirolyn helped her mother to a seat and settled her there before moving to a chair of her own.
Vambran simply sat and watched the blind woman for a moment, waiting to see her demeanor before he began to speak. He had no doubt that she knew he was there, for whether Neely the proprietor had informed her that he had preceded them or if she could merely hear him breathing, he was confident she was waiting for him to speak first.
"I know it must be hard for you, speaking of your daughter, but I'm trying to find out anything I can about her, anything that might clue me in as to who would want her dead."
Nimra nodded and asked, "Can you give me some idea of where to start?"
"Well, how about first telling me if she ever thought of pretending to wield arcane power, ever intended to thrice mark herself in public."
"Never," Nimra said. "My daughter was a good, law-abiding girl who wouldn't dream of such a foolish and dangerous thing."
"Was she secretly delving into magic somehow? Is it possible she really did know some arcane tricks?"
"Jithelle didn't even know her runes, sir. She didn't know how to read or write, much less how to cast a spell. If she was found with marks on her head, as they say, then someone else put them there."
"I see. Mrs. Skolotti, did you daughter ever mention seeing someone? Perhaps where she was working?"
"She was not having relationships with the stable boy," Mirolyn said. "No matter what everyone says about finding them together, she wasn't seeing him."
"Hush, girl," Nimra said. "Jithelle's personal affairs are just that-personal."
Vambran shook his head, again forgetting that his counterpart couldn't see him.
"No, Mrs. Skolotti. I need to know these things. It's very important, if you want me to be able to prove that your daughter didn't commit those crimes and didn't deserve to die."
Tears began to flow down the woman's cheeks then, and she reached up with a gnarled hand to brush them away.
She sniffed once, softly, and said, "How will such a discovery make anything better? I already know the charges against her are untrue. Letting the rest of the world know will only make it hurt more, for then I will hear an endless string of apologies and sympathies from everyone, none of which will bring her back to me."