“As it turned out, he did not return at all. He was cut down in a small skirmish. Only a few casualties. They routed the rebels. On a ledger, just another rousing success for the Syldoon Empire.” He closed his eyes. “Only a few casualties, after all.”
Hewspear didn’t continue, and for once I was in no mood to push the issue, as I had no idea what I could say to a man who’d lost his son. Had the body come home to Sunwrack? Had he had a chance to say goodbye?
We sat there in silence for a time, me utterly regretting my line of questioning, him probably regretting answering. Hewspear lifted the flute very deliberately, examined it a final time. “So,” he said, still looking at it, “Adjunna refused to speak to me before we left on this campaign, blaming me, no doubt, for our shared loss. And she would not allow me to see my grandson. Denied every letter I’ve sent since.” He rolled the flute across the table, testing for warp. “I hope the boy is still fond of music. And I hope I get the chance to deliver this when we return. We shall see. I have my doubts. Three years might have lessened the pain, or hardened the heart. I have no wish to strip a mother of her child. Truly. But the boy is my blood as well, the last link to my son. And a man can be denied only so long. A Syldoon less so. There is a reason we are veteran killers, after all.”
He forced a pained smile and continued inspecting his flute, and there was little more I could add. I found the best reason I could to excuse myself without simply walking away. “I, uh, left my writing case behind in the wagon.”
As I left the inn and crossed the bridge, the sun was gone for good now, with the sky still holding onto some last vestige of the light, and I headed to the barn. I hadn’t thought to bring a lantern, so felt my way through the dark inside, listening to a horse snort in a stall nearby, my hand out in front of me in case I stumbled over something and started to fall. After reaching the wagon, I felt my way around it and climbed inside, eager to get my case and return to the inn as quickly as possible.
Careful to avoid all the objects hanging from the hooks, I hunchwalked as I cautiously made my way to the front, cursing myself for not walking around and entering from that side in the first place. I wondered if Braylar had ordered the cases with scrolls hauled inside, and hoped I would get a chance to start poring through the documents soon-even if I didn’t find what the captain was looking for, it would be a welcome diversion, and a chance to exercise skills I hadn’t used in some time. I found the cold brass lid and was picking my case up when the axle creaked.
I wasn’t alone.
I nearly jumped and fought the urge to spin around. The only occupants in the village were us, so it had to be an ally of some sort, and still I felt my insides turn to liquid.
Slowly turning around, I tried to make out the shadowy silhouette that was slightly more black than rest of the gloom in the barn beyond, hoping I would recognize Vendurro.
Instead I heard Soffjian say, “I have been waiting for the right opportunity to chat. I do hope this is a good time?”
She climbed all the way into the wagon and sat down near the rear. Soffjian didn’t have her ranseur for once, but its absence didn’t make me feel any more secure. She could strike men down with no weapon at all.
I was usually nervous enough around women as it was, especially attractive women. I routinely made an ass of myself, fumbled my words, inevitably said the wrong thing, and regretted opening my mouth in the first place. Now, alone in a dark barn with one, who also happened to be Braylar’s sister, who also had the capability of turning my mind to silt in an instant, or driving me absolutely mad (and not with love or lust), I was feeling as unsettled as you could possibly feel. Mulldoos would have been more welcome, and the phantom of a plague victim would not have been worse.
Still on my haunches, I leaned back against a barrel, wondering how far her unseen reach extended, and if I suddenly bolted out the front of the wagon, would I have any chance of making it out of the barn before she felled me.
Soffjian took my silence for concession. “Very good. Now then, I was hoping you might be able to clear up a few things for me.”
She said this with the sly implication that she already knew much more than I could ever know, but was only looking for confirmation.
I took a deep breath, sought the right words. “I’m happy to help in whatever way I can. Only, the captain will be wondering where I’ve gone to shortly, so I don’t know that we will have a lot of time. To sit in the dark and have a discussion, that is. And what’s more-”
“Oh, never fear-I won’t keep you overlong. I promise. And I would hate to do anything to jeopardize your relationship with the captain.”
I had difficulty believing that. Perhaps she was less manipulative than her brother. But I doubted it.
Soffjian continued, “I’m curious, though. What exactly is your relationship with Bray? Sorry, familial casualness. Your captain. Clearly you aren’t from the Empire. How is it you come to find yourself in his service?”
I weighed a number of answers, most designed to obscure as much as possible. But I suspected a Memoridon could learn the truth easily enough, even if she hadn’t already. I opted for selected truth. “I am Vulmyrian originally. Though I was trained at Highgrove University. I was a scribe and archivist for a number of patrons over the years, which brought me to Rivermost. It was living there when I heard your brother was looking for someone with my talents. Honestly, if I’d been satisfied with my lot in life, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to interviewing with the man. But I wanted more than what I had. A lot more. So I did.”
The silhouette seemed perfectly relaxed. “How wonderfully direct and forthright. I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. This conversation is going to go very well, I can tell already.”
I doubted that as well. “I’m not sure my new patron would approve me disclosing too much, however. He’s rather particular about who knows what about his goings on. And you… the two of you don’t seem to have an especially good relationship, if you pardon my saying.”
Soffjian laughed. “No. That we don’t. So pardoned. And I appreciate your loyalty. I do. Above all things, I appreciate loyalty.” She folded her legs underneath her. “So, he clearly misplaced the original scribe that was assigned to his unit.”
This clearly wasn’t a question, so I didn’t hurry to reply at all. In fact, I opted not to respond in the slightest.
That didn’t slow her down any. “So, do you know what happened to the archivist who was originally in his company? Before you joined? Thurvacian, I believe, was he not?”
I weighed my words carefully, cognizant that, despite her casual demeanor, she was obviously measuring my every word, the tone of my voice, and the time it took me to fashion any reply at all. “I can’t say that I do. Given that I wasn’t a part of his company when that person was assigned. I imagine he didn’t perform his duties adequately?”
Immediately after the words were out of my mouth, I wondered what else this woman could do. Was she secretly plumbing the depths of my memories as we spoke, to find the ones that proved the words a lie? Could she do such a thing?
Why had I left my writing case behind? Why?
Soffjian said, “Fair enough. Thank you for your candor, Arkamondos. Or do you prefer Arki? I’ve heard you referred to as both. And of course, much worse by Mulldoos. Foul beast.”
Was she trying to bait me into joining her in decrying a member of Braylar’s retinue? She seemed not to like the man any more than I did, but it was likely she was engaging in some verbal gambit or other. Was she attempting to position herself, align the two of us together in order to encourage me to speak more freely? If so, it failed. Despite my dislike for Mulldoos. “Well, I don’t know the man all that well, only having been among the company a short time. According to some of the other Syldoon, no one rubs him the right way, so I try not to take it personally. As to the name, whatever you prefer is fine. I will answer to either.”