part0020

Boshea and Benedict were supposed to have reported to him with their findings, and their absence was beginning to distract him from the preparations in the trade square.

A bevy of civil watch constables and two raider squads for added protection secured locked cases inside a wagon. The radial quartz inside hummed—he could feel it against his sorcerous senses. Out of the shielded storeroom the unrefined quartz rippled in the unseen rivers as it was moved. With the whole load moving at once, they might as well light a signal fire to the canvas on top of the wagon. Half the sorcerers in the city would feel their convoy.

“You look anxious, Com- Lord Vulfort. Blessed Twins, I’m still not used to that,” said the raider sergeant beside him.

Vulfort met the single bright eye of Sergeant Aimes, though he had to look slightly up to do so. The other was covered by a colorfully painted patch stretched across a wicked trio of scratches. Her obfuscation charm shifted her facial features, but the blue eye never changed. Aimes had become hard as ice since a gargoyle had blinded her left side, though not entirely devoid of the warmth she had always shown. She was quicker to violence now, not only because of the new First Sergeant’s brutal ways, and fiercely protective of her squad. She was also the spellcraft tutor, her strength in sorcery among the most prescient of the official constables. Only the wizard journeymen were stronger, though they were not truly members of the Sorcerous Crimes Division.

“I dislike convoys. This city is too large to scour every corner and alley for would-be thieves and assassins, and too many are interested in this cargo.”

Aimes shrugged, the helmet under her arm scratching against her cuirass. “Lots of greedy people in the world, My Lord. But no amount of silver is worth trying to take something from twelve Heavyhand raiders.”

Not every thief was after money. Vulfort scanned the rooftops around the square for the civil watch stations his lieutenant had placed. All were manned and ready for the shipment to move. Still, no detectors.

“My Lord, we are ready.” The lieutenant, Richhart. Preened and groomed and immaculate as only a sycophant could be. He carefully avoided looking down at Vulfort, instead opting to address him at attention whenever the occasion arose.

“Lieutenant, were you in the banner companies before you elected to join the watch?”

“Blessed Twins no, My Lord. But I have on occasion fancied that I would cut a fine officer on the battlefield.”

“You may find the truth of that tonight.”

“My word, you expect an attack?”

Vulfort cast a glance upward to see a flicker of concern in the watch officer’s bravado. “Always,” he replied.

“My father said a man who looks for enemies in every shadow finds only darkness, My Lord.”

True, in a way, Vulfort supposed. Most of his enemies had not come at him from shadow. Generally it was with a spell on their lips and a burst of fire bright enough to banish all shadows. A healthy paranoia had kept him alive.

“The words of a man with no enemies to speak of, Lieutenant.”

Richhart’s face began to redden. Thankfully, some small fuss pulled him away from what might as well have been a permanent tether to Vulfort. With the palpable odor of the man’s perfumes removed, Vulfort could taste the beginning of a summer storm in the air.

“Begin moving the quartz,” said Vulfort, seizing the opportunity to move away from the watch officer’s vicinity.

The order circulated the square in various volumes, ensuring the command was heard by all. Slowly the horses strained against the slack and began to inch the cart forward. Sergeant Aimes donned her helmet and rejoined her squad, leaving Vulfort alone for a brief time. He caught himself surveying the rooftops again. Detector’s habits die hard. Were some of the men moved to adjacent structures? He spotted his First Sergeant, Harbin, the leader of the raiders. She was shorter than Aimes by almost a head, closer to a level with Vulfort. No matter how her features shifted, she sported a smile. Never a good sign, Harbin smiling. Only one thing made Harbin smile.

“My Lord Vulfort.”

Richhart had found him again, looking somewhat flustered. The smell of pomegranate and clove preceded him. “Your, er, fiancée sir.”

“It seems she has… been arrested by the Sorcerous Crimes Division,” he said sheepishly. “I just got word.”

“I see,” said Vulfort. That explained why the detectors were late. If they’d arrested Avarine, they had found evidence toward her being an unregistered adept. The civil watch lieutenant shuffled in place, clearly expecting something further. “Is there anything else?” Vulfort asked.

Richhart cleared his throat. “My Lord, is this not something you wish to attend to? I’m quite certain I can manage here if you wish to depart.”

Oh yes, Vulfort was going to leave and place this fat fool in charge to get in everyone’s way and claim the security councilor’s mandate to improve his standing in the watch. “That shall not be necessary. Go and check the south rooftop stations. Go yourself, do not send someone. Then report to First Sergeant Black.”

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Which of them is the First Sergeant?”

Vulfort glanced aside at the raider squads maneuvering from alley to alley. “She is the only one who looks pleased to be here.”

Richhart was obviously reluctant to leave Vulfort, but he gradually pulled two of his men to join him climbing up and down the buildings to check on his constables.

That took care of the adept, now they just had to worry about the sand elves. Vulfort tugged the collar of his coat a little closer against the night chill and the first few drops of rain. Even in the summer, the Kaharan River Valley didn’t hold the heat once darkness began to fall.