by M. Gregg Roe
The citizens obediently flowed out of the way as he strode forward. It was the usual mixture of elves, half-elves, and humans, all of whom lived together in relative peace. As he headed east, someone fell in alongside him, effortlessly matching his pace.
“What’s going on?” Audrey asked, nicely attired in an elegant yellow blouse and long black skirt. Her unbound brunette hair seemed to glow in the bright sunlight. His own close-cropped hair and beard were nearly the same shade.
Gabriel had first met Audrey when she was a simple peasant living in Farmerton, a small village that bordered Fog Lake. Later she had moved to the Witch’s City, eventually becoming both a friend and fellow adventurer. But then had come the unexpected. It still worried him just how much power she had been granted. She was unquestionably the most powerful person in Andoran’s Realm.
He kept his explanation brief. As a close friend of Cinda’s, she knew all about the infamous massacre.
“We were off adventuring then,” she remarked as he acknowledged the salutes of a pair of guards walking the opposite direction.
“We were,” he agreed.
Audrey glanced at the sky. “I hope you find the culprit,” she said. “I need to get to work.”
“Fare well,” he called out as she veered off toward a side street. He too had work to do.
The elegant door appeared to be solid mahogany, but Gabriel knew that it was just a veneer. The interior of the door was high-grade steel, and the surrounding frame reinforced with more steel. Following the massacre, Desires had upgraded their security significantly. Breaking in would now require a major effort (and probably magic). No one entered or left the establishment without passing by an armed guard.
There was no sign to inform that this was a brothel. The rectangular, two-story building looked no different from other large houses in the area, even down to being surrounded by beautiful and well-tended gardens. Most of Desires’ wealthy clientele probably lived in the general vicinity, so the location made perfect sense. The door he was standing in front of was not where clients entered the establishment. That entrance was around back, affording greater privacy.
Making use of the polished brass knocker, Gabriel rapped twice. Seconds later a narrow slot opened at eye level, but nothing was visible within. “What is your business here?” growled a deep voice.
“I am Lieutenant Gabriel av Mardan of the Witch’s City Guard, and I am here in my official capacity. I wish to speak with Koralena av Leona.”
“One moment, Lieutenant.” The slot abruptly closed.
There were several sounds—scrapes and thuds—before a rugged-looking man clad in studded leather armor opened the door inward. He gestured for Gabriel to enter and then stepped back. Once inside, Gabriel removed his sword belt and handed it over. It wasn’t strictly necessary, given his position, but it was the polite thing to do.
A short flight of stairs led to a hallway. Gabriel turned right and passed by the courtesans’ common area, which was where the massacre had occurred. Five courtesans were present. Two men and two women sat around a square table playing Sparrow, a game that employed colorfully painted wooden tiles. On a small beige sofa, a pretty half-elf with long blond hair engaged in embroidery. She looked up and flashed him a winsome smile that he acknowledged with a polite nod.
Courtesans were not simply prostitutes. They were well-educated, receiving training in a variety of disciplines. It wasn’t unusual for them to be hired merely as companions for attending social events. But they also possessed considerable sexual skills, something that he could attest to personally. Courtesans were also well-compensated, often working for only a few years before moving on to a different life.
After climbing a full flight of stairs to the upper level, he knocked on the door to the right. “Come in!” called out a voice that still stirred powerful feelings in his heart. He and Kora had a history, one with both highs and lows. He paused briefly to calm himself before pushing the door inward.
“Gabriel,” she said as he entered the room. “It’s good to see you.” Smiling gently, Kora rose from her chair and gave him a gentle hug that he awkwardly returned. “How are you?” she asked, looking up at him earnestly.
“I am well,” he responded, hiding his discomfort. “And you?”
Kora shrugged. “Same as always. How is Marryn?”
That was a sore point. “Also the same, I am afraid.” His sister seemed intent on working herself to death.
Gabriel took a moment to gaze at the young woman that he had once hoped might become both his wife and the mother of his children. Short and slightly built, Kora’s lustrous light brown hair fell freely down her back to her waist. Lambent green eyes were the most striking feature of her expressive face.
“I am here on business,” he began. She had been the one to put a stop to the massacre, making use of her extensive unarmed combat training, so she was already familiar with the sword. He quickly described how the weapon had come to the Guard’s attention, then concluded by putting forth the question that Eomera had instructed him to ask.
“Yes,” she said, furrowing her brow slightly. “I don’t know if we’ll put it on display, but that sword is part of our history now. It belongs here.”
He couldn’t argue with her logic. “I will inform Captain Eomera.”
She bit down briefly on her lower lip. “It still bothers me.”
He needed no further explanation. The two of them had lived together for well over a year. It wasn’t the killing that bothered Kora—the man had left her no choice—it was the fact that the man couldn’t be raised from the dead afterward. Gabriel had slain opponents many times in the course of his many adventures, but for her it was a heavy burden.
“I should go,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “I will have the sword delivered here tomorrow morning.” He would see to it personally.
Still looking glum, and with her shoulders slumped, she simply nodded.
Gabriel let himself out and headed down the stairs. After retrieving his sword belt, he returned to the Guard headquarters, but by a less-than-direct route. Speaking with Kora always unsettled him, and he needed time to think.
Bad luck had always seemed to hound Gabriel, and his relationship with Kora was no exception. She had once been a courtesan herself and was still working freelance when they had begun their relationship. That had bothered him more than he would admit. And then there was his father’s insistence that prostitution was immoral, even it was perfectly legal in the Witch’s City. That had created even more stress, especially for a young man pursuing his first genuine romance.
They had survived the initial hurdles. Kora agreed to help run Desires, and that had brought an end to her freelance work. The massacre had caused Gabriel’s father, Mardan, to view the courtesans with more sympathy. The man had even come by and suggested ways to improve security. And Gabriel had been there to help Kora through her trauma.
But it was after they decided to have a child that it all begun to unravel. After months of trying, Kora finally sought help at a temple, only to be told that she was infertile. She was despondent. Children had always been part of her plans, and she prided herself on charting out her future in detail. He had told her that it didn’t matter, that they could adopt a child. But Kora hadn’t been fooled. She knew him too well. And she was right; he wanted children that he had fathered. After that, it had been like they were two people living together out of convenience rather than love. It hadn’t been long before he had moved out.
Over two years had passed, and Gabriel was still struggling. With his handsome face, square jaw, and muscular build, he was a magnet for females (and even some males). He was looking for a partner, a companion, a mother for his children, a woman to spend the rest of his life with. But the women he attracted were only interested in casual sex or had personalities that repulsed him (not that he would ever say that to their face). It also didn’t help that he possessed a dry sense of humor that it took time to appreciate. Women com
plained that he was overly serious, boring even. As a result, second dates were rare and third dates virtually nonexistent. He was beginning to despair, because Kora was the only one who seemed to truly understand him.
Meetings called by Captain Eomera were rarely long. The woman liked things simple. She wanted to hear brief summaries from her underlings, not long droning expositions. Gabriel’s shared her dislike for long meetings. More often than not, they were a waste of time. Those that needed more information could read the written reports. His own were always both detailed and complete.
Eomera had been a member of the Witch’s City Guard for nearly six decades. After working her way up to second-in-command, she had pronounced herself satisfied and stubbornly remained in that position for over three decades. The previous captain’s sudden resignation two years earlier had finally elevated her to the position that she had avoided for so long, but he could tell that she secretly relished it.
Upon taking command, Eomera made sweeping changes to the Guard’s structure. Her reorganization led to promotions, reassignments, and, in some cases, demotions or firings. The woman cared nothing about seniority. She wanted people who were competent, reliable, and had integrity. Age and years of service were irrelevant.
At twenty-three, Gabriel was the youngest of the three lieutenants by a considerable margin. His parents—both seasoned warriors—had not only trained him in combat but instilled a strong sense of justice in their son. Adventuring had then given him a breadth of experience that few of his colleagues could match. During that time, he and his companions had battled villains and protected the innocent. In short, Gabriel was exactly the kind of person the Guard needed.
The other two lieutenants were Ilia, an elf from a wealthy family, and Lirawyn, a half-elf who had been the previous captain’s assistant. Together with Gabriel, the three of them represented the three races that comprised the majority of those who dwelled in the Witch’s City.
After stifling a yawn, Eomera motioned at Ilia. “You start.”
In a lilting voice, Ilia described a group of criminals who gathered embarrassing or incriminating information, then blackmailed their victims. The gang demanded money but never threatened violence. “They never ask for more than their targets can afford,” she told them. “They also place an emphasis on secrecy, reportedly never meeting at the same place twice and often wearing disguises.”
“They’ll slip up eventually,” Eomera said with a calculating look. “But they’re not a high priority.”
“Yes, Captain,” Ilia replied crisply.
Lirawyn was next, and she described a raid on a pottery business accused of using child labor. “There were nine children there,” she said, looking at her notes. “Their ages ranged from seven to thirteen. They weren’t being treated poorly, so I took no action.”
The woman’s decision surprised Gabriel.
“Explain,” Eomera ordered, gazing at the rather drab-looking woman.
“They allowed us to speak to all the children,” Lirawyn began. “Some had no homes, and the rest didn’t want to return home for various reasons. The factory provides them with a place to sleep and food to eat. And they only work half a day. None of them want to leave.”
Eomera tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Are they paid?”
“One copper piece a day each,” Lirawyn responded.
“I can’t argue with what they’re doing,” Eomera said. “Those kids are better off there than on the streets. Conduct random checks, but otherwise leave them alone.”
“I’ll see to it, Captain.”
It was Gabriel’s turn now. He began by reviewing the sequence of events involving the sword. The couple had willingly agreed to give over the sword to Desires and in return had not been charged with any crime.
“We still don’t know who took it from the castle?” Eomera asked, scowling.
“We do not,” Gabriel stated. “We questioned everyone that we could locate. After being examined by several people, the sword was packed up and placed in the vault. There is no record of anyone removing it for any purpose.” The good news was that the inventory had found nothing else missing.
“What about the shop where the couple bought the sword?” Eomera asked.
“The shop has an excellent reputation. They told us that the sword had been brought to them by an older woman who told them that it had belonged to her husband. The name she gave seems to have been false. The couple bought it because they thought it looked interesting. It was months before they figured out what it actually was.” Gabriel hesitated. “I see little hope of further progress after so long.”
“And that’s how it goes sometimes,” Eomera said with a shrug. “It’s just an unsolved theft, nothing more.” She looked at each of them in turn. “Any more business?” No one said anything. She pushed back her chair and stood. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the castle. Get back to work.” She walked out without saying another word.
Gabriel returned to his office and did just that.
[ 4 ]
The Guardian
The Guardian of Andoran’s Realm yawned and scratched her rear as she waited for her lord and master to complete his business outside. That was how she thought of Benson, the large black-and-white cat that had made himself at home in her cottage shortly after she had moved in. The cat viewed her as his personal servant, and who was she to disagree? Besides, a cat was good company for someone who lived alone.
There was a small opening covered by a leather flap at the base of the back door, but Benson refused to use it when she was nearby, instead wailing pitifully until she opened the door for him. But she really didn’t mind. The cat had spent over a decade living outside and fending for himself. He deserved some pampering in his old age.
Spotting Benson heading her way, Audrey dutifully opened the door for him, letting in cold air that made her shiver despite her flannel robe. But the sky was clear, so it would probably be plenty warm later when she went out. The cat headed straight to the corner of the dining nook where she had two bowls put out, one filled with water and the other containing small pieces of leftover chicken. Benson was definitely a carnivore, turning up his nose at any type of vegetable or fruit.
Her own breakfast of rice porridge was still heating, so she gave it a stir. It was nice and warm in front of her alchemic stove. They were something new in the Witch’s City but rapidly growing in popularity—at least amongst those who could afford them. Fortunately, the friendly couple that owned her cottage had bought her one.
Two days later, and she still smiled every time she recalled Ferikellan’s stunned expression in response to her casual mention of who his new neighbors were going to be. Well, it was better than having to follow through on her threat to kill him. She would probably have just locked him up somewhere if he refused, unless he really did turn out to be a bad person. So far all she knew was that he was originally from Zardis, the largest city in Andoran’s Realm.
Even though she had shown surprise upon seeing Vurk, she had already known that a gworn was involved. It was further proof of Ferikellan’s intellectual prowess, but told her nothing about his aims. Gworn were amoral, not caring if the person they served was saintly or evil incarnate. She had encountered a number of gworn in her time, usually befriending them but in one case battling them.
Finally satisfied with the temperature, she ladled a generous portion of porridge into a bowl and then added a dollop of fresh honey. As she ate at her small dining table, she savored the flavor and texture of each spoonful. Benson, who had already finished his meal, hopped up onto the other chair opposite and began to clean his face in the way that all cats do. It was their usual morning routine.
Audrey pushed back her chair when she finished, and Benson promptly hopped down and headed toward the sitting room. He had a bed there that she had made for him, and he would probably sleep in it for hours before stirring again. She busied herself cleaning the dirty dishes and putting away the rest of the porridge. Th
ere was enough left for at least two more meals.
Next was cleaning up and brushing her unruly hair into submission. (Her hair always looked terrible in the morning.) For clothing, she selected a conservative light blue blouse and a calf-length black skirt. She would be visiting her mother today, and she wanted to look nice. As a finishing touch, she fastened a copper bracelet around her left wrist that had once belonged to her mother.
Since it was sunny out and she had some time, Audrey went for a stroll. It had warmed nicely, so she didn't bother to don a cloak. After departing the cottage via the front door, she paused to admire her surroundings and inhale the familiar medley of aromas. The rectangular log cottage stood in one corner of the well-tended grounds that surrounded the largest mansion in the Witch’s City, a structure shaped roughly like a cross when viewed from above. The huge plot of land was a paradise, planted with a variety of flowers, bushes, and trees. It was also home to a variety of birds and small animals. Even after years of living here, the sight still brought a smile to her face.
Curving flagstone paths ran throughout the grounds in a fashion that never ceased to perplex visitors. After a moment’s thought, Audrey headed for the area in front of the mansion’s main entrance by a long and meandering route. And she took her time, walking slowly and pausing occasionally to sniff some of the more fragrant blooms. Spring was such a lovely season. Her route ended at an arched wooden bridge that crossed the middle of a small fishpond. She had brought nothing along to feed them, so she settled for just watching the colorful fish as they swam about. It was something she always found calming.
Hearing one of the mansion’s front doors open, Audrey turned her head to the right and saw her two cousins approaching. From a distance, no one would ever guess that the thirteen-year-old girls were identical twins. Back in their home village of Farmerton, they had dressed identically, talked sequentially, and been virtually inseparable. Few of the villagers could even tell them apart (although Audrey always could). But when they came to live in the Witch’s City, things had changed.
