Gifted Avenger

by Nicholas A. Rose

  "You should tell Ulena that sometimes it is cheaper to buy new blankets than repair old," said the draper, looking at Sallis down his long nose.

  "Ulena hates waste," replied Sallis. "You ought to know that by now, Melcer."

  Melcer nodded, though his slightly disapproving expression did not change. "Business is business," he agreed, though he may have been referring to the sale of new blankets, rather than the cost of repairing old ones.

  Sallis quickly secured the two bundles in the handcart, lashing them down with rope in case anything broke free when a wheel bounced in any of the many holes found in the paving, even at the edge of the industrial quarter.

  Sallis rarely liked coming here, with its random stinks and greasy feel to the cobbles under his feet. Ulena insisted on bringing her business to Melcer, because everything was cheaper in the industrial quarter, away from the more exclusive places elsewhere in Marka.

  Buildings hemmed in the roads almost oppressively, and Sallis was always pleased to return to more genteel parts of the city, where the spring sunshine warmed them again.

  They dodged people who crowded the streets, Oston helping to clear a path for the handcart. Habit made Sallis turn into the alley leading to the stables at the back of his lodgings. In fairness, it also made for a slightly shorter distance.

  Sallis banged on the wooden door.

  "Only me!" he called, straightening from the cart's handles.

  Silence.

  "Kerran, Errim? Quit playing games and open up!"

  "Looks like you're no longer welcome," remarked Oston. "Or do they know you intended to lose that bet? I want my money."

  "I intended to lose nothing," retorted Sallis, not wanting to be reminded of his recent defeat at Gamal's hands. "Open up!"

  "Nobody's coming," said Oston.

  Sallis glanced on the ground and finally snatched up a small piece of twig. "Hope this is strong enough," he muttered.

  "Ho." Oston grinned. "Our principled bounty-hunter is turning thief."

  "How can I be a thief?" demanded Sallis, poking the twig between two slats and feeling for the latch. "I live here."

  "Quicker to go to the front door," continued Oston, who enjoyed every opportunity to poke a bit of fun at the younger man. "You-"

  "Ah." Sallis leaned back and the door swung open. "In we go."

  Sallis led the way into the yard, pushing the handcart ahead of him, and Oston pulled the door shut behind them, dropping the latch back into place.

  "Thanks for nothing guys," Sallis called, as he passed the closed stable door. "Don't worry, I'll see myself in, I know the way."

  He turned his head as he passed, stopped in his tracks, and let the handcart stay where it was.

  "Oh no," he cried, reaching for his sword.

  "What?" demanded Oston, before he too saw red blood smeared around the stable door handle. "Careful!"

  Sallis ignored Oston's cautionary warning and pulled the door open, leaping inside with sword at the ready. He took everything in with a single glance. "No, no, no!"

  Oston followed more cautiously, sword also drawn. His gaze flickered around the stable while Sallis fought for composure.

  Kerran lay sprawled on his back amid spilled tack, eyes closed and looking peaceful, if the gash that split his mouth and opened his chest could be ignored. Behind him, the sylph Errim looked a lot less peaceful: her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief, though her earpoints had completely relaxed in death. A blue patch on her brown tunic suggested she had died quickly from a stab to the heart.

  Sallis leaned forward and touched Errim's corpse gently. Cooling, almost cold. He gave Kerran's body a compassionate look, before another thought came.

  "Inside!" he yelled, leaving the stables and sprinting to the house. "Pelim!"

  "He might still be in there," warned Oston, referring to the killer.

  "I bloody hope so," retorted Sallis, yanking the kitchen door open and leaping into the large family room where he had shared so many meals.

  Oban and Ulena faced each other, mugs of cold alovak set before them. From smudges of red blood on the tiled floor, Sallis knew they had been deliberately sat at the table. Their clothes were torn and blood-soaked where they had been stabbed, but they had died elsewhere in the house.

  "A sign," remarked Oston, unnecessarily.

  A word had been scrawled on a square piece of wood with charcoal.

  UPSTAIRS.

  Sallis's face contorted with rage and grief. "Revenge attack," he growled.

  "Who have they upset?" Oston wondered.

  "They gave me somewhere to live," snapped Sallis. "This is aimed at me, not them." He lifted his head. "Pelim!"

  "Wait!" Oston's caution was ignored again.

  Sallis left the kitchen, stepping into the hallway and wincing as he saw the pool of blood there. Someone had opened the door to the killer. Another pool of blood in the parlor, on Oban's favorite chair. Sallis looked up the stairs and fresh grief twisted inside.

  Westin, the sylph who had been so pleased to serve indoors instead of working in the stable, sat cross-legged near the top of the stairs where they turned. Her head and earpoints were slumped, and hope flared momentarily in Sallis's heart. That hope died the moment he touched the sylph. Sat in a puddle of blue blood, her life had clearly ended where she had been placed.

  Also cooling, almost cold, and a hint of stiffness as he touched the corpse.

  "Why did he take time to move them?" Sallis wondered aloud.

  His heart pounded; he only had one more to account for.

  Oban and Ulena's room: empty. Kerran's room: empty. The girls' room, though only Pelim's bed was slept in these days: empty. The two other letting rooms: empty.

  Sallis pushed the door open to his own room. He took one look and dropped to his knees.

  "No!"

  Oston followed. "Ranva's breath!"

  Pelim lay on Sallis's bed, dark blue eyes staring accusingly at the ceiling. Her hands lay at her sides, but her killer had left her in an indecent posture, with skirt pushed up and legs parted. Her jugular had been cut; her blood sprayed across one wall.

  Sallis screamed in denial again.

  Oston caught the bounty-hunter just in time.

  "Don't break your own rules!" he hissed. "The killer didn't have time to do more than kill."

  "He touched her!"

  "No he didn't," retorted Oston. "He's trying to enrage you, he's trying to cloud your judgment."

  Sallis dragged his gaze away from Pelim. His eyes burned into Oston. "Go and fetch the City Guard. Now!"

  "Don't touch anything," Oston warned him, before leaving.

  Sallis waited until Oston had left and turned towards the board Kerran had painted black for him what seemed like so long ago. He blinked away tears, unheeding as they streamed down his cheeks. He hoped his companion had not noticed what was on the board which, thankfully, stood end on to the doorway. Had Oston's attention focused solely on Pelim?

  Someone had pinned a small square of wool to the precise center of the board.

  And four words were chalked below.

  COME AND GET ME.

  Opening himself to the Gift, Sallis leaned forward and snatched the square of wool off the board. Images formed almost immediately; he knew he could follow the killer's progress through the house and work out the order in which his second family had been murdered.

  More importantly, he could now follow the killer to anywhere in the world, a niggling sense that would not leave him until the killer either died, or else Sallis touched him.

  He eyed the words on the board again, slightly blurred as fresh tears welled. He reached for the other cloth he always kept beside the board, and erased the chalked message, so only a powder smudge remained.

  His voice barely shook as he spoke.

  "I'm coming," he promised. "I am coming."

  ***

  Chapter 5 - New Room

  Senator Olista kept Sallis waiting two days before seeing him.
Sallis called on Melda, his rather austere secretary, twice a day in case of any cancellations, but she rebuffed him each time.

  Oston, keeping an avuncular eye on the emotionally-wrought Sallis, stayed with him on each visit, in case grief spilled into anger.

  "Olista's more concerned with chasing one of those vacancies on the Supreme Council," grumped Sallis, after being rejected by Melda for the fourth time.

  Two high councilors had decided to retire within weeks of each other, and five senators chased the openings those retirements had created. Olista was one of the five.

  "He's not neglecting his other duties," replied Oston, reasonably. "That's not Olista's way. You'll see. Stop worrying, he'll see you tomorrow."

  "And every day's delay means the murderer is getting further and further away," retorted Sallis. "I - we must catch him!"

  Concern shone in Oston's dark eyes. "You've always taken pride in standing for justice," he said. "Has that changed?"

  Sallis looked at Oston for a long moment, stroking his sword hilt. He said nothing in reply.

  "Another day won't hurt," said Oston. He grinned. "And I'm coming with you."

  Sallis grunted, but finally stepped back and nodded. "All right, I'll see him tomorrow."

  "And come to the practice ground," continued Oston. "It might be the last chance you get."

  ***

  Olista Dovna Allert, senator with responsibility for the Guard and legal matters in Marka, never seemed to change. His unlined face and dark blue eyes, framed by a good head of medium-brown hair, gave the impression of wisdom beyond his years. Of course, coming from one of the wealthiest families in Marka, his education had probably been second to none, but he had spent his entire adult life in public service.

  Eight years as a lieutenant in the Guard had seen him become one of the few blade grandmasters in Marka, but for most of the past thirteen years he had been in direct charge of nothing more offensive than a desk. However, he held the power to commission bounty-hunters for those tasks falling outside the Guard's usual remit.

  When Sallis arrived for his appointment, with Oston in tow, the young hunter eyed the faded gilt lettering on the outside of the door. The name Nelsten Jasin Olfank still adorned the door, though as three centuries had passed since that senator had died, the words were barely legible.

  Melda looked up, nodded recognition, and ushered Sallis and Oston into the inner office before withdrawing again. Olista began by offering his condolences.

  Sallis mumbled an acceptance, then came straight to the point. "You do know the killer has fled Marka," he said, "and that he expects me to follow?"

  "You seem sure." Olista smiled. "Your instincts are usually good, but I'm certain the Guard will learn all they can."

  "I'm hoping for one of those letters with the black sealing wax," said Sallis, ignoring Oston's horrified stare.

  "I'm sure you are. But you're not getting one."

  "Why not?" The young bounty-hunter glared at the senator.

  "I respect your frankness, Sallis, so I'll be equally blunt with you." Olista gave him a small smile. "You're too emotionally involved to justify giving you the commission. Your eagerness to accept it is confirmation enough."

  "So which bounty-hunter is getting this one?"

  "None of them." Olista picked up a quill and fiddled with it. "The Guard can deal with it."

  "Who's in charge?"

  "None of your enemies." Olista smiled. "You are aware that the Guard will want to interview you?"

  Sallis gave an offhand gesture. "When they have, I may as well go home."

  Olista leaned forward and his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Go wherever you like. But I will not and cannot grant you this commission." He leaned back again in his chair. "Do not leave Marka until after your interview."

  "Like I've got any choice." Sallis sounded bitter. "Those vacancies are more important to you."

  Oston failed to restrain his sigh.

  "The Supreme Council beckons, yes." Olista's voice firmed and his eyes hardened. "You have my deepest sympathy, but I suggest you don't upset the few friends you still have in this city."

  Sallis barked a laugh. "Like I ever had any." He stood. "I would thank you for your time, but I'm not sure you deserve that."

  "Suit yourself." Olista's attention switched to Oston. "Take good care of him."

  Oston bobbed his head. "Will do that, Sir." He turned and followed Sallis out from the office, hurrying to catch up.

  ***

  "Are you insane? That was Olista you were talking to!"

  Sallis nodded as he ran down the steps from the coronation building. "I noticed. The man's playing games again."

  "Just ambitious, nothing more." Oston shrugged. "There are only two places free on that council and he wants one of them."

  "I'm not talking about the council," retorted Sallis, who had words of wisdom to share about politically ambitious people. Another time. "He's playing games with me."

  "What do you mean?"

  Sallis restrained a sigh. Why did people always miss the obvious? "He told me to stay in Marka until after the Guard interviews me. He knows I'm leaving the city."

  "To go home."

  Sallis grimaced. "Olista doesn't believe that."

  "Neither do I," grinned Oston. "How do you know the killer has left Marka?"

  "I just know he has," said Sallis. His fingers felt for and found the square of cloth that, with luck, nobody realized he had taken from his old room.

  Oston looked at his companion and nodded. "Now what?"

  "Let's see if your fellow guards will let me into my room now. I've got some things to pack, and then I'll go to Captain Elleyn and demand he gets my interview out of the way. Then I'm going home." Sallis gave Oston a humorless smile.

  Oston nodded. "I'll check to make sure my leave has been granted. I've always wanted to see Re Annan and this farm of your father's."

  "Still coming with me?"

  "You bet. Trips out with you are usually fun."

  Sallis firmed his expression. "This one won't be," he promised.

  Oston changed the subject. "Need a hand carrying your gear to your new place?"

  Sallis considered. "I'm only taking what I need. The rest can be put in storage somewhere; I'll never stop in one place for long again."

  Oston nodded. "Who do you think is responsible for this? Any strong contenders?"

  Sallis shrugged. "All the violent ones I've captured ended up hanged. That tends to prevent revenge attacks. As for the rest... Well, I can't see it being any of them."

  "Someone driven to insanity," remarked Oston. "And who wants to get back at you."

  "Nobody I captured lost their family because of me," continued Sallis.

  "But some families of those who ended up hanged might well have lost their breadwinner," said Oston. "Might be a relative of someone you saw off."

  Sallis almost stopped walking. "I hadn't considered that. But why wait until now?"

  "Might have taken them this long to plan it out," replied Oston. "Or to grow old enough to be able to take you on. Perhaps they needed training. I know it feels like longer, but you've only been here three years."

  "If they needed to learn a skill, whoever murdered them could have taken me on directly," said Sallis. "What's the point of taking it out on Ulena and her family?" Taking it out on Pelim.

  Oston shrugged. "I doubt very much if the killer has traveled to Re Annan for you to chase after."

  "Probably not." Sallis gestured. "Here we are."

  They halted outside the building which Sallis had made his home for the past three years. Sallis sighed and fought fresh emotion that welled and threatened to embarrass him in public. A single guardsman stood outside.

  "Ganner." Oston inclined his head and the guard responded in kind. "Can we get in yet? The lad needs to collect his gear and move to new lodgings."

  "Yes you can," nodded Ganner. The look he directed towards Sallis displayed sympathy. "You can pro
bably get more from in there than we ever could."

  Sallis's fingers closed around the square of cloth in his pocket.

  "Probably," he said, and stepped inside.

  It no longer felt like home.

  The bodies had been taken away, but nobody had attempted to clean up the bloodstains. The dead had departed in more ways than one, and the building already felt as if nobody had ever lived here.

  Sallis pushed the feeling away and bounded up the stairs and to his room. He pointedly ignored his bed, where he had found Pelim.

  "How much stuff have you got here?" asked Oston, from the doorway.

  He glanced from where Oston stood, to the board, and back again. No, the man could not have seen the cloth the killer had pinned to it.

  "Enough for us to make two trips," replied Sallis.

  Oston nodded. "Then we'd better get started."

  ***

  "You can have this one for nothing," said Lyane, "but I'll charge you for any meals. I expect you to be in before the city curfew and you can't bring friends back to your room."

  Sallis inspected the small attic room and nodded to himself. A single, narrow bed, an ancient wardrobe that looked like wood beetles had dined on it, and a single scrap of rug were its only furnishings. The tiny window set into the roof looked like it only got cleaned when it rained, and was too small to let in much light even then. But the room itself was spotless, if rather plain.

  "It'll do," he said. He did not intend staying long.

  "Oston tells me you don't spend much time in the city sometimes."

  "I'm planning a trip away," said Sallis.

  "Well, you'll be wasting no money on meals you won't need. You can also store your belongings here."

  "Yes, I'll take it." Sallis nodded again.

  Lyane's dark blue eyes regarded Sallis solemnly for a moment longer, before she finally turned away and left.

  Oston half-jumped onto the bed and grinned at the younger man. "It's a dive," he said, gesturing with an arm.

  "I won't be staying long," growled Sallis. "Just until I get my interview out of the way."

  "You'd better tell Elleyn where you're living then. Else he might never find you, assume that you've run away and send someone after you."

  "If you were speaking of Vayburn, then I'd believe you," muttered Sallis.

  Oston scowled. "Vayburn's not the monster you seem to think."

  "Someone happy to let someone else die for a crime he never committed is what makes Vayburn a monster. He already knew the man was innocent, which is worse."