The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2)

by Howell, Rob

  “Oh, she’s the best. Maybe you can play with us sometime.”

  The looks on the faces of Honker and his wife were priceless, but Zvono just smiled.

  “I’d like that. I don’t get to play much anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. Nadja will hold your hand too.”

  And Ludmilja placed Nadja’s hand into Zvono’s. We all smiled at that. How could we not?

  Chapter 5

  Early Evening, 30 Gersmoanne, 1712 MG

  After dinner we escorted Harald and his family home. The neighbors promised to help watch them. I told Harald that Sebastijan and his lads would come by soon. I shook my head when Honker protested, and he nervously allowed it might be for the best.

  Once back at the Faerie, Kapric, Zvono, and I found Piri waiting at my table, rubbing Melia’s shamelessly exposed belly. Melia jumped down to wind through our legs before finding a corner to curl up.

  “Vojin passed word to you.”

  “He’s a solid decarch. He knows his job.” Piri smiled.

  “Do you have the time to get involved?”

  “You’ve become something of a hobby, Sevener.”

  Kapric grunted at that, and we all chuckled and leaned back.

  I shifted topics.

  “Cute girl.”

  “And she may know more than she realizes,” rumbled Kapric.

  “Yes. ‘Talks funny.’ Like with an accent. So not from Achrida.”

  The quaesitors nodded back at me.

  “Do any of the neighboring cities or towns have pronounced accents?”

  “Some. Lezh comes to mind.” Kapric paused. “And I know just the person who might be able to get Ludmilja to tell us which accent she might have heard.”

  I raised an eyebrow but merely said, “It’s worth a shot.”

  I thought for a bit while the others drank. “Anything much east on the Kopayalitsa?”

  Piri shook her head. “Some old abandoned wayposts and inns that squatters have claimed. They pretty much let anyone who travels go through, so we let them be. The bodies were both dressed too well to be squatters.”

  “Neither of them wore nice clothes, even before the blood.”

  “But they weren’t wearing rags,” pointed out Zvono. “Those people are desperately poor.”

  I nodded. “How far to the nearest town that way?”

  “Kalajavaros is four or five days or so down the road.”

  “What else is along the way?”

  “Not much,” said Piri. “It’s too rocky to grow crops or raise sheep or do aught else but fish, and the shoreline is often too steep to land boats. Achrida is in one of the prime spots in this part of the world.”

  “Any other roads?”

  “Before Kalajavaros?” Piri shook her head. “There are some paths leading up the mountain, but nothing like a road.”

  “That means the murderers are most likely from around here. I mean, how well-known is that copse above the springs? Few people travel that way, meaning that most of the people who visit the springs are from Achrida, right? I mean, it’s not obvious from the road. If they were looking for a quick place to stash a body while on the Kopayalitsa, they would only use the copse if they knew about it ahead of time.”

  “Probably.” Kapric shrugged.

  “Unless they thought it would be a really good place to hide a body,” added Zvono.

  “But that would mean they would have to know about it already, suggesting they are familiar with the springs.”

  They nodded, and I turned to Piri. “What can you tell me about Kalajavaros?”

  “It’s a small town now, but once it was much larger. You can still see the remnants of aqueducts built to mine tin. But the veins ran out, oh, a thousand years ago at least and there’s nothing else there, just crumbling stone.”

  “What is it good for now?”

  “It’s a stopping point on the caravan routes from the east. Since the lake trade expanded because of Achrida, though, it’s almost done with that, too. There are only a few small, vermin-filled inns that charge too much and even fewer maniacs who somehow think they can find a new vein of gold or tin that will make them rich. It hasn’t happened in centuries, but that doesn’t stop them.”

  Piri shook her head in amazement and sighed.

  “Every once in a while one of our zupans thinks it’s useful that we train in the taller mountains and we spend a month or so in Kalajavaros. We curse him for that month and then spend the following month cleaning limestone dust and bedbugs from our gear and healing broken bones from falls. Fortunately, Vukasin hasn’t yet been so stupid.”

  I chuckled and turned back to Zvono. “Did your magicians find out anything?”

  She flipped out her wax tablet.

  “Not much that you wouldn’t expect. They said both the body in the copse and the one you killed showed the emotions and lives of criminals. They probably came from the same place, maybe even grew up together. Your point about the people burying the body coming from around here is likely correct. They certainly didn’t sense anything too odd, and if the people burying the corpse had been from far away, that would have left traces they would have noticed.”

  She made a check in her tablet and continued.

  “Also, neither of the bodies carried anything of interest. You saw, I presume, some money on the one you killed. A solid amount, but certainly not the going rate to help bury a body. Before you ask, all of the coins were Imperial, minted either in Achrida or Basilopolis. They tell us nothing.”

  I nodded.

  She shut her tablet. “Unless Ludmilja can tell us which accent the men had, then we don’t have much to work with.”

  “Maybe not even then,” grunted Kapric.

  “In that case,” I said, “we will need to make some assumptions.”

  “Assumptions?”

  “My first assumption would be these men were involved in something you’re supposed to frown on.”

  “And the sun rises in the east. Even two petty officials of the Emperor could’ve figured that out.”

  I laughed. “Yes, Kapric, but I might be able to get Gibroz to talk to me, and if I’m as brave as the Wolf’s trapper, there’s always Katarina.”

  “We’ve expected to write paperwork about your death ever since we met you,” laughed Zvono.

  “Thanks.”

  “You think of any better ideas, Sevener, let us know. We’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

  I nodded as they rose and left.

  Piri also rose, saying, “I’ll not be back tomorrow, I’ve too much to do. You should come practice soon, though. You did well against two today, but you know that’s not enough.”

  “Yes, I do. We’ll see. Maybe tomorrow or the next.”

  Piri looked at me sharply. “One or the other, Sevener, or I’ll send a hunting party.”

  I laughed. “Begone, Hecatontarch. I’ll be over soon.”

  She smiled and left.

  I finished the little left in the pitcher and Karah off when she floated over to refill it. I leaned back to stare at the rafters of the ceiling.

  “What is it about this city?” I murmured to myself and went to bed.

  Chapter 6

  Morning, 1 Blommemoanne, 1712 A.G.

  The warmth of the new month’s sun shone through the window of my room and woke me. I started moving, sore from the previous day’s ride and fight.

  I wished Desimir was there to laugh at my weakness and hone my wrestling skills. Unfortunately, dead friends are not particularly good at wrestling, though I could still hear his mockery in my brain.

  “Get up, Sevener! The morning isn’t hot, and you didn’t even get scratched. Now get into a guard and let’s see what you can do.”

  Dead friends can at least inspire, so I decided to heed Piri’s warning and go to the Pathfinder barracks. I still needed to let yesterday’s events settle in my brain, and sparring would help.

  I lifted my scale armor off of the chair I used as a rack and put it on.
I would need to borrow some of Eirik’s leatherworking tools, as two of the straps had started to tear. I put my sword belt on, slung my shield over my shoulder, and went downstairs to face any opponent.

  Before I could escape, I found a foe I could never defeat in the taproom.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I turned to see Zoe in the kitchen door, tapping her foot.

  “I’m going to practice with the Pathfinders.”

  “Not before breakfast. Knowing you, you’ll end up in a dozen street fights each way and you’ll never eat again until this evening. Take off your scale and sit!”

  “Better be doin’ as she’s to be sayin’ lad, you know I’ve never been havin’ much success in getting’ my way over these long years. Why I’m to be thinkin’…”

  “Shut up, Ragnar, I’m not even going to try to ignore her.”

  I started unbuckling my sword belt as Ragnar walked over, grinning, bearing a mug of lakewater. Zoe arrived presently with a large bowl of gruel covered in honey and a slab of the previous evening’s lamb, freshly warmed from the kitchen fire. Melia jumped up and helped with some of the lamb.

  I looked at Zoe as we finished.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now you can go play.”

  Ragnar and I laughed at Zoe’s sniff and I started putting my armor back on.

  “Ragnar, when I get back, I need to make a few repairs to my straps. Will you ask Eirik for me if I can borrow his tools?”

  “Ach, yer to be knowin’ he’ll be wantin’ to do it for ya, he’s to be thinkin’ that he’s needin’ to be helpful and I’m to be encouragin’…”

  “Yes, yes, I know all that,” I cut him off with a smile. “But it’s my armor. I need to care for it myself.”

  Ragnar shrugged and started another speech, which I ignored as I left the Faerie.

  The sun that had nudged me awake now smote me with its power. The limestone buildings reflected the heat into the street, and I immediately felt sweat trickling down my spine.

  I wound down to the Square of Legends, pushed my way through the crowd, and headed south on the Trade Road. Soon enough, I walked up to the barracks.

  Arkady, newly promoted to decarch to replace Desimir, stood guard with another Pathfinder I did not recognize.

  “New recruit?”

  The other Pathfinder, a small, dark-haired girl, bristled as Arkady laughed.

  “Raw as new linen on a sunburnt shoulder.”

  The girl glared at both of us.

  Arkady glared back at her. “And too young and stupid to realize it.”

  “She’s only, what three or four years younger than you, Arkady?”

  “It’s three, whoreson, whoever you are!”

  I lifted an eyebrow at her as I laughed at her youthful arrogance.

  “Sevener, how old were you when you first stood in a shieldwall?”

  I answered Arkady, but spoke directly to the girl.

  “Fourteen, in the rear ranks next to my armsmaster. Northern raiders wanted our cattle and our women.” I laughed. “I never wore those pants again.”

  Arkady chuckled and nodded.

  The girl simply growled, “Then you’re a coward.”

  Arkady raised an eyebrow of his own and turned to her.

  “Maja, I think you have earned the chance to prove your skill. Escort the Sevener to Piri and inform her I wish to see how you handle him. Then suggest to the hecatontarch that she send Danjel out to take your spot here.”

  I nodded at Arkady as I followed the girl’s stomping steps into the barracks. After Maja repeated Arkady’s message, Piri looked at her for a long moment. Long enough for Maja to start protesting. Piri cut her off.

  “Why are you still standing here, girl? Edward won’t wait forever. Oh, and put on your full armor.”

  Maja glared at both of us and then moved away.

  “Run, Maja,” snapped Piri.

  Maja did not look back but ran across the field to her quarters.

  “Feisty.”

  Piri sighed and nodded. “Been small all her life. Desperate to be a Pathfinder. She’s actually promising, and if she ever learns to learn she could take my place someday. Must control that temper, though.”

  I nodded and let out a long breath, and Piri chuckled.

  “I’m guessing you’ve been stamping on your temper since she started talking to you.”

  I nodded again.

  “Any more details from yesterday?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. The quaesitors said they’d be over today, and I want to know what they know. I’ll be over at the Faerie tonight and you can buy me dinner.”

  I raised an eyebrow and slyly smiled, recalling a couple of other times we had shared dinner.

  Piri grinned back.

  “Not that kind of dinner.”

  She thought for a moment.

  “You know, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you let loose with some of your temper when Maja gets back out here. I don’t think she knows she’s not any good yet. Let her know.”

  I looked at Piri steadily.

  “Yes, Sevener, get out some of that anger you have at Desimir. It’s time.”

  I shrugged and looked away.

  Piri smiled sadly and yelled across the field, “Edouard!”

  A Pathfinder already in armor turned to us.

  “Spar with Edward here, he needs to get warmed up.”

  She turned back to me and chuckled.

  “Save the anger for Maja, but get the blood flowing.”

  I nodded and went out to meet him. We started with small maces and our shields, working until I got five touches. Breathing hard, we went to the arming stand that held other practice weapons.

  “You’ve gotten better since the first time we sparred, Edouard. I could always touch you on the return from my off-side swipe at your hip.”

  He smiled a little shyly. “I got tired of that return hitting me in the head.”

  I laughed and we switched to blunted swords.

  Edouard noticed Maja impatiently bouncing on her heels waiting for her turn. “Take her down a few notches.”

  I nodded.

  “After I deal with you.”

  When I had achieved six touches to Edouard’s two, we cooled down, passing a jug of lakewater back and forth while Maja stewed.

  “Are you finally ready, Sevener?”

  Had Maja’s anger been steel, Edouard and I would have been slain, but all it did was bring my own anger back. I had seen too much blood of late, and she knew nothing.

  I joined her on the field as Edouard spoke up.

  “Maja, you’d best calm down if you want to have a chance.”

  That just made her angrier—which might have been Edouard’s intent, for he followed that up with a mocking laugh.

  More than a few Pathfinders had come out to watch our sparring. Piri stood to the back, stolid as ever, her calm eyes recording everything.

  I knew that once we started, Maja’s anger would force her to attack. My own anger had cooled into a Helsniht icicle, and I decided to simply let her start her way. I needed to practice my ripostes anyway.

  We began with blunted swords but no shields. From the first, I could see the tools that Piri suggested Maja possessed. She had the knack of staying balanced. Even when she overextended in anger, she shuffled her feet forward to compensate rather than leaning forward as so many others felt natural.

  She had no problem generating powerful strikes, despite her small stature, though her blows were inefficiently thrown. Every warrior got more efficient with practice, if their mistakes did not prove quickly fatal.

  She threw several combination strikes, which few armsmen of her age consistently tried. Rarely can a single strike land upon a trained and experienced opponent without some maneuver or distraction.

  All that said, she clearly lacked experience. Her combinations were mostly simple flips of her wrist, striking at my other side but not shi
fting the angle or the distance of the blow.

  I needed little effort to block her shots. I simply rolled my own wrist back and forth, hiding behind my sword and putting my sword arm in an excellent position to strike back. Every once in a while I tapped her when she overextended more than I thought prudent.

  I was toying with her, and she knew it. The snickers of onlookers told us that they knew it too. In her anger she unleashed a flurry even more inefficient and simple to block than all the rest.

  I waited until she tired and then hit her solidly on her forearm.

  “Shall we use shields?” I suggested.

  She nodded as she was catching her breath.

  I smiled nastily. “Excellent.”

  I waited with my round shield while she got her rectangular Pathfinder shield. She still panted as we reset.

  We started again, and this time I released my anger a little.

  Maja had not yet learned to use the corners of her shield effectively. Piri had mastered twisting her shield ever so slightly to catch incoming blows on the corners. That blocking style expended little energy while still protecting the shieldbearer more swiftly than defenses with broader moves. Maja, on the other hand, tried to block every shot I threw with the center of her shield.

  I took advantage of this inefficiency in her style and hit her solidly on the right thigh, following up with strikes alternating on each side. I hit her in both sides of her helm, both elbows, and both thighs.

  After one of the blows, I saw her shift her feet, clearly intending to charge. I let her come, leaning slightly so she would hit my shield at angle. Just before she hit, I stepped forward with all of my weight and her slight frame bounced away, tumbling to the ground. With one quick step, I stood over her, my blunt sword tip resting on her neck.

  She started to move but I pressed her down. Even a blunted sword can make someone wary when pressed to a person’s jugular.

  “Now listen, fool girl. You’re talented, but talent does not mean much if you don’t use it right.”

  She growled.

  “And that’s another thing. You don’t pay attention. Growling at the man with a sword at your neck will not lengthen your life.”

  She subsided, but anger rose off her like the waves of heat reflecting from the grass and stone of the practice field.