“It’ll only be for a few weeks, Sibb. Not long at all.”
The Lord Captain of Hearne was sitting with his wife in the garden behind the house. Sibb grew herbs for her kitchen there. The scent of sage and basil filled the air. Around them, the plants flourished in their tiny plots. Morning sunlight crept down the wall. The honeysuckle vines growing along the wall were covered in a profusion of yellow flowers.
Sibb picked up his hand, turning it over in her own. His palms were callused and his knuckles wealed with scars. A particularly large scar ran between his thumb and finger, reaching almost to his wrist. She ran her finger along the ridge, remembering. A frown crossed her face.
“Three weeks at most,” he said.
She said nothing in reply, but only traced the scars on his hand.
“I’m leaving Bordeall in charge at the tower. He’ll have near enough the entire strength to command, so Botrell can sleep soundly at night. Hearne will keep safe while I’m gone.”
“It’s not Hearne I worry about,” she said, tracing the scar alongside his thumb. He laughed and kissed her.
“Don’t fret, Sibb. With a sword and a good horse, I’ll always have the luck to find my way home. Odds are we won’t find hide or tail of them, so there’ll be no need to worry on that account.”
“Them,” she repeated.
“Aye.” He sighed. “I don’t even know what we’re looking for. Man, beast, or something in between. I have the feeling it’s something in between. At any rate, we’ll ride out to our foundling’s village and see if we can find some tracks. How I wish she would regain her tongue. Without her knowledge, we’ll be hunting blind. Even if we return with only stories of bones and an old slaughter gone cold, it’ll be worthwhile, for I want Botrell thinking beyond this city. He’s able as regent, I’ll give him that, but he forgets that all the lands of Tormay look to Hearne. The other duchies are unsettled about these murders and, so far, Botrell ignores their unease.”
“He’s an odious man,” said Sibb.
“Woman, you forget he is our regent. I’m sworn to protect his city and his personage. In pursuit of such office I’ll have to—ouch!”
She punched him in the ribs and they were both silent for a moment. Bees drifted and settled among the honeysuckle vines.
“I’m worried about that girl. I fear she’ll never be well.”
He frowned. “Would any child who’s lost their family at such an age ever become well?”
“I’ve held her while she sleeps. She’s as fragile as a sparrow. Doubtless, she’s older than our Magret, but less than half the weight. When she’s taken by nightmares, her heart races and she pants as if she is running, as if there’s some horror chasing her. I can’t help but think the thing is chasing her still, sniffing along her trail. Perhaps, one day, it’ll find its way here and so her nightmare and waking day will merge into one. Not just for her, but for all of us.”
“Sibb.”
She sighed and laced her fingers through his.
“I can’t shake the thought from my mind, Owain. Such eyes she has. She’s always staring and not noticing anything about her. Perhaps she sees things we cannot see. Sometimes she seems to focus on Loy—”
“Her devoted dog,” he said, smiling.
“I can’t help but think of our own in her stead.”
Her hand tightened on his.
“Find them, Owain. Find them and kill them.”
The Lord Captain of Hearne and his men rode out that afternoon. The troop was twenty strong—the best of Hearne. Some of the older ones had seen battle during the Errant Wars, when Owain Gawinn had been but a young sergeant and the forces of Hearne had been commanded by his father, Rann Gawinn.
Their saddles creaked with the weight of their gear and provisions. On their backs they bore spears and quivers bristling with arrows, muffled by their cloaks. They received scant notice from the folk in the streets going about their business—the vendors at their carts, the shoppers sniffing over turnips and fingering bolts of cloth, the drifting rabble, and the urchins—they made grudging way for the troop, action that stemmed more from the need for their own safety from the stamp of hooves rather than from any regard for the regent’s men.
This lack of regard was due to no fault of the Lord Captain of Hearne. On the contrary, he had always been pleased by the blind eye the people turned to him and his men. He considered that his job was to allow folk to go about their lives while he dealt quickly and quietly with those who broke Hearne’s laws. And he did that job well enough so that he had achieved a kind of facelessness for his men.
When the troop reached the city gates, however, a cheer went up from the soldiers standing watch. Owain reined in under the shadow of the tower, and a man strode forward. His hair was white but his back was as straight as a sapling. He held a spear in his hand.
“Bordeall,” said Owain.
“My lord,” said the other, touching the spear shaft to his forehead. His voice was deep and raspy.
“Hearne will be in good hands while we’re gone.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Another soldier came forward and both men turned in some annoyance.
“My lord Gawinn.”
“Arodilac Bridd,” said Owain. “You would do well to observe the propriety learned under the patience of my sergeants. Did they teach you nothing?”
Arodilac flushed red at the rebuke.
“Forgive me, my lord,” he stammered. “I merely wished—is there no chance of—?”
“None,” said Owain, cutting him off. “You will remain and serve here. Curb your patience, my young cub. Do not be so eager to rush into battle, though likely we’ll see none on our hunt.”
“It isn’t because of my uncle wanting me kept from danger, is it?”
“No,” said Owain, though it had been precisely for that reason. “Bordeall, I’d ask you to see that my household is well. My wife has some womanly fear concerning the foundling we took in. Perhaps send a man by, now and again, to have a word with my doorkeeper and see that the child is well enough.”
“Assuredly, my lord,” said Bordeall. “Might I not make that Arodilac’s duty?”
“Certainly,” said Owain, and looked sharply at the young man, for his mouth was opening. Arodilac shut his mouth with a painful click of teeth and backed away.
“The city is yours.”
“Thank you, my lord. Good hunting.” Bordeall turned away to bellow at the soldiers at the gate. “Present!”
Spears gleamed as they rose in a flourish. With a jingle of harness and the clop of horse hooves on stone, the troop rode out through the gates and onto the road that curved away east, over the bridge and across the river and then down through the long, green reaches of the Rennet valley. The sky was clouding over. It would be raining again soon.