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“Dispose of the bodies,” said Matullus. “There is little else we can do. And then we will spread out through the neighborhood
and make inquires. Someone must know these men. But if they were in the Alliance, none will admit it. An admission would be self-incriminating. We may learn their names, but I doubt we’ll learn anything else.”
“The caravan from Balic should be in tonight, shouldn’t it?” one of the guards asked.
Matullus nodded. “If they are on schedule. Our new captain is going to inherit this sorry mess. I doubt he will be pleased to start his job on such a note. And if Kieran is displeased, I fear we’ll be the first to feel that displeasure.”
“This isn’t going to stop, is it?”
Matullus shook his head. “No. Not unless we stop it. Whoever is doing this is good at killing. The bastard likes it.”
“Surely this isn’t the work of one man?” one the guards asked with astonishment.
“Each of these men was killed by someone very powerful,” Matullus said. “And it was done very quickly. Two of them didn’t have a chance to draw weapons. And if they were adepts, they certainly did not have a chance to cast defensive spells. This one here had drawn his dagger. It’s still grasped in his hand, for all the good it did him. One dagger was thrown.” He pointed to where it was embedded in the wall. “I think… by that one, there. Obviously, he missed, and it cost him his life. The others were all disarmed before they died. And quickly, too, for the killer toyed with them.” He indicated the smashed table and overturned chairs.
“One was thrown across the room, onto that table, and while he was stunned, another was disposed of. Then another was thrown against that wall there, where the spice jars have fallen off the shelf and shattered on the floor. Stun one, grab another, and so forth, like a mountain cat toying with janx. Whoever did this was incredibly strong, and burst in upon these men like a windstorm off the desert. They never had a chance.”
“Six against one, and all died,” a guard said in a low voice. “And not one of these men was far above middle age. Only one was on the frail side. Still…” The guard shook his head. “To throw men around like this, like chaff before the wind…”
“It isn’t human,” one of the guards said.
“No,” said Matullus thoughtfully. “Something much stronger. A half-giant or a mul, perhaps.”
“But there are no half-giants or muls in Altaruk,” one of the others said.
Matullus nodded. “There is now.”
“Someone like that would stand out in this town like an oasis on a desert.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Matullus said. “Unless someone is hiding him. And that means a confederate. Perhaps more than one.” He nodded. “At least we will have something to tell Kieran when he arrives.”
“What do you think he will do?” someone asked.
Matullus turned to face him. “Well, we’ll soon I find out, won’t we? He’s supposed to be the best. I expect he’ll waste no time in taking charge of the situation. And that means we’ll have to be up to the challenge. When he arrives tonight, I want every man in the house guard turned out clean and sharp. And woe to the man our new captain finds fault with. I will personally see to it that he regrets not being one of these corpses. Now clean this mess up. We have a great deal to do before the caravan arrives.”
* * *
It was late afternoon when Lord Ankhor entered his private study on the top floor of the mansion. A few hours earlier, Matullus had nervously made his report about the recent killings. He was cautious in remarks, but astute in observations. He’d conjectured that the killer was a half-giant or a mul, judging by the murders, which indicated not only strength but also fighting skill. Matullus was a clever young man. Undoubtedly, Kieran would be more clever, still.
Ankhor went to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. It would not do for Kieran to resolve the situation too swiftly. That would displease the templar and undermine his plans. Jhamri needed to be suitably embarrassed by his ineffectiveness in countering the threat. And then, of course, at the proper time, the mul would be apprehended by the Ankhor House Guard. A pity to waste a property like that. She was rather an expensive purchase to discard, but it would be well worth it to see Jhamri properly humbled. Merely the first step, of course, but a significant one—the cost of doing business.
Ankhor frowned as he saw the small statue on the mantlepiece turned to one side. He had specifically told the templar to hold her meetings late at night, except in an emergency. Could something have gone wrong? He paused to lock the heavy, ornate door of his study before opening the secret panel. He stepped back in surprise as Edric came into the room.
“What in thunder are you doing here?” he asked, frowning. “You were supposed to be with the caravan!”
“I was,” said Edric, moving to the sideboard to pour himself a drink as casually as if he were in his own home. For the first time, Ankhor noticed he was wounded. His left arm hung limp at his side, and he favored his shoulder as he moved. “I rode like the wind itself to get here ahead of them. We had some problems.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Ankhor.
“The attack failed,” Edric said simply.
“What do you mean it failed? How could it fail?”
“It failed because we lost the element of surprise,” said Edric, tipping back his goblet. “And I almost lost my life as well, but we won’t dwell on little things like that.”
“What happened? What went wrong?”
“Everything,” said Edric. “Those three fools you-hired to join the caravan at Grak’s Pool drew suspicion instantly. I told you additional men on the inside were not necessary. I would have been quite capable of handling things myself. And then, just to make things worse, I was unmasked.”
