Death and Honor: Book 1 of 2

by James Wisher

  The master waited in the hall where Gorn left him. It is done, master.

  What did you learn?

  The knight wanted something translated. I brought the paper. Gorn held the parchment he’d taken from the sage down so his master could read it.

  Slevas studied it for a moment then hissed. It is as I feared. This is a copy of the letter I sent to that fool Merik. He was supposed to burn it after he read it, not leave it lying around where anyone could find it. Worse, the knight must still have the original.

  Let me retrieve it, master.

  No. I have already pushed the overlord’s orders to the edge of breaking. If we act against a knight of the realm it will draw too much attention. The sage’s death will slow him. For now that must be enough.

  * * *

  Jeremiah left the mansion after breakfast, anxious to discover what Alzado had learned from the scroll, but not wanting to arrive before the old man was up, he took a longer path through the city. Morning was always his favorite time to go out on patrol. Everyone was coming awake, the scent of fresh bread filling the streets. He sighed; morning patrol was one of the few things he missed about his time with the watch. Jeremiah took one last deep, refreshing, breath and turned toward the sage’s shop.

  Four Watchmen surrounded the shop when he arrived. Even with the men blocking his view Jeremiah saw someone had smashed down the door. He went cold, something terrible had happened, he felt it.

  When he approached the scene two of the Watchmen moved to block his way. “This is a restricted area,” one of them said.

  Jeremiah shot him the glare he’d perfected over his years of commanding men. “Step aside, son.”

  A second look at Jeremiah’s armor convinced them to move. He slipped past them and inside saw another pair of Watchmen sifting through piles of fallen books. Before he set foot inside Eric appeared in the doorway.

  “I’d like a word, Jeremiah.”

  “What happened?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Robbery, looks like. We got here a few minutes ago. What were you doing here yesterday?”

  Jeremiah frowned. How could Eric have known he visited Alzado yesterday? Jeremiah mentioned his visit to no one and if Eric just arrived he wouldn’t have had time to interview any witnesses. Eric must have had someone follow him yesterday. Why would he bother? “Alzado was a friend of Alexandra’s family. She asked me to drop off a letter. We chatted a while about Alexandra and the boys. How is he? Was he hurt in the robbery?”

  Eric shook his head. “I’m sorry, he was killed. He must have heard the thieves and come downstairs.”

  “Gods no. I have to see Eric.”

  “You know the rules, watch members only in the crime scene.”

  “Damn it, Eric, I have to see. I’m not some civilian off the street. I won’t mess up your crime scene.”

  “Rules are rules, Jeremiah I’m sorry.”

  Smug bastard seem to be enjoying himself. Jeremiah stepped closer so no one would overhear him. “Listen to me. I’m going in there. You can either let me as a favor to a colleague, or I can order you out of the way with all your men watching.”

  Eric glared for a moment but stepped aside. Jeremiah moved past him and into the shop. Books lay scattered everywhere, even worse than the chaos he’d seen when he came to visit the previous night. Alzado’s body sprawled on the floor ten feet from his desk, the front of his chest gaped open, his heart torn out. What manner of thief tore a man’s heart out? Perhaps, a thief would have run him through or more likely bashed him over the head, but this, it looked like an animal got a hold of him.

  Jeremiah back out of the shop, his stomach churning, legs weak, not so much from the carnage inside, though that was bad enough, but because in his heart he knew he caused the old man’s death and now he had to tell Alexandra.

  “Not very pretty,” Eric said.

  “No, not very pretty. If there’s one constant in this business it’s that death never is.”

  “If you can tell me anything it might help us find out who did this,” Eric said.

  Jeremiah looked at him and for a moment a small part of him, a part he wasn’t proud of, wanted to dump everything in Eric’s lap and let him deal with it. He could return to the estate and Alexandra and the boys and forget the whole ugly mess. He wouldn’t of course. Lord St. Jaques had charged him with finding out what was happening and he would do so to his last breath, honor demanded no less. “I’m sorry, Eric. Good luck.”

  He left the crime scene and turned back toward the mansion. He was no further ahead and now an innocent old man was dead. Maybe he was a little ahead; he’d learned that whoever had written the note was willing to kill to stop him from learning what it said.

  Half way back to the mansion Jeremiah stopped dead in his tracks. If whoever killed Alzado knew he visited the sage they might also have learned he went to the Tristar warehouse. He turned north and ran. If anyone else died because of him… Jeremiah ignored the stares as he ran through the streets like a mad man.

  He skidded to a stop a hundred feet from the warehouse, gasping for breath. He was too old to run like that. The doors were open and the twins directed a pair of men in unloading a full wagon. As far as Jeremiah could tell everything looked fine, thank the gods. Mind at ease, Jeremiah retraced his steps back to the mansion.

  Jeremiah approached the wrought iron gates at a calm walk, that being the most speed he could manage after his half mile run. The two guards on duty snapped to attention and held the gate open for him. He nodded to the guards as he passed his mind already on the conversation he had to have with his lord.

  * * *

  “Killed, because of this?” Duncan held the scroll that cost Alzado his life. The two sat beside a cherry table in Lord St. Jaques book lined study. “Are you certain?”

  “As certain as I can be. He died the same night I gave it to him and what kind of thief rips a man’s heart out? No, whoever, whatever did this was after the scroll.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I was hoping you could help me.” Jeremiah hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

  “Anything, just ask.”

  “Do you know any sages outside the city? You could send a copy of the scroll in secret so the killer doesn’t find out.”

  “That’s no problem,” Duncan poured them both a shot of brandy. “My nephew is apprenticed to a sage up in Northrend. It will be a few days in transit.”

  “That’s fine, my lord. I’m going to Three Streams to search for the woman that put the chest on the caravan. Perhaps she knows what’s inside.”

  Duncan frowned. “Why don’t you open it?”

  “I tried, took an ax to the thing, didn’t even scratch the wood.”

  Duncan’s eyes widened. “That’s rather peculiar wouldn’t you say?”

  “Everything about this incident is peculiar. I can handle peculiar as long as we can avoid lethal.”

  “Here, here.” Duncan raised his brandy and took a sip. “I hate to cut this short, but Duke Cariden is stopping by later and I need to get ready.”

  Jeremiah hesitated then said, “Just one thing, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything to Eric Ericsson about this matter.”

  Duncan’s eyes got even wider. “You think Knight Commander Ericsson is involved?”

  Jeremiah stood. “I’m not certain enough to make an accusation, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find he’s hip deep in it.”

  “He’ll hear nothing from me.” the two men shook hands. “I’ll get a copy of the scroll out later today and Jeremiah, be careful.”

  Chapter 5

  “Dead?” Alexandra paced around the great room. Jeremiah had gotten back to the estate an hour ago, but he’d been dreading this conversation since he found out the old man was dead. “Alzado’s dead?”

  “Murdered. I’m sorry, dear, if I’d known the danger I never would have gone to someone you knew.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe he was just hurt.” Her
voice caught and tears glittered in the corner of her eyes.

  Jeremiah shook his head and hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

  Alexandra leaned against his chest, shaking as she cried. “Alzado was a sweet old man. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”

  “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to him.”

  “Don’t say that.” She looked up at him, a fierce gleam in her eyes. “Whoever killed him is to blame, not you.”

  “I’ll find whoever did this Alexandra, I promise.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to Three Streams to try to find the woman Burt mentioned. Maybe she can shed some light on what’s happening.”

  “Be careful, Jeremiah. If anything happened to you…” she started crying again.

  Jeremiah pulled his wife close. “Don’t worry, I’m taking my best men with me, and don’t forget it wasn’t that long ago I was regarded as the best swordsman in the Watch.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “The men are waiting for me now.”

  * * *

  Jeremiah and his ten man escort were three days out from the estate riding down a worn dirt road through the deep forest. It was early afternoon on a warm, gray day. With any luck they should reach Three Streams before dark.

  He’d hated leaving Alexandra and the boys again so soon but he couldn’t wait. After the sage’s murder, he thought nothing and no one would be safe until he got things sorted out.

  As soon as they got back to the estate from Lord’s Way Jeremiah had gone alone to the storage shed where he’d hidden the small chest. He took it, along with a shovel, and buried it under his favorite shade tree, a massive oak on the edge of the forest. He couldn’t say, thinking back on it, why he’d buried the chest, but at the time it had seemed right.

  “Sir?” one of his men dragged Jeremiah back to the present.

  “Yes, Corporal?”

  “When we arrive at Three Streams, how are we going to find this woman?”

  Jeremiah smiled. “We’ll look. A beautiful, red haired woman that looks like she’s been living in the forest should stand out in peoples’ minds don’t you think?”

  “Do you think we’ll find her?” another man asked.

  “I hope so,” Jeremiah said. “Because we’re not going back until we do.”

  Something rustled in the leaves overhead drawing Jeremiah’s attention. A brown and white kestrel rested on a branch and looked down at him, head cocked. Jeremiah frowned. He swore the bird was looking at him specifically, but that was ridiculous.

  “I wonder if hawk tastes good?” one of the men had spotted the kestrel.

  “I had falcon once,” one of the new recruits said. “It attacked our chickens so Father shot it. That was the toughest most gamey meat I ever tasted.”

  “That little fella up there is hardly enough to feed a cat let alone a man.” a third man said.

  As though the bird realized they were discussing him it shrieked and took off deeper into the forest. Jeremiah smiled, pleased that the little bird wouldn’t be going into the cook pot.

  “If we arrive in town before dark we can eat at the inn, my treat,” Jeremiah said.

  This brought a chorus of cheers, just as he knew it would. They rode hard for the rest of the day and reached the six foot palisade surrounding the village a little before dusk. Two men with spears stood outside the gate. One turned and shouted to someone inside.

  They walked the horses the last few yards, not wanting to scare the guards. The gate opened wide enough to allow a short, fat man with a sergeant’s badge decorating his shoulder out. He strutted toward them like an overstuffed peacock.

  “Look here, we don’t want any trouble. Turn your men around and we won’t have to turn you into pincushions.”

  Behind Jeremiah someone stifled a laugh. He frowned at the sergeant. It appeared the man didn’t recognize the uniforms of the king’s soldiers. “I am Lord Knight Jeremiah Kane. My men and I are here on the king’s business. If you wish to retain your meager rank I suggest you get this gate open, now.”

  The militia commander gave Jeremiah and his men a second look and his eyes widened. “Right oh, my lord. Snap to lads, get that gate open. Terribly sorry about the misunderstanding. The lads told me a group of armed horsemen were riding toward the village. You understand how I might misunderstand.”

  “I understand that you would do well to teach your men what the uniforms of the king’s soldiers look like.”

  The sergeant paled. “I’ll see to it. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “I’m investigating a caravan that was destroyed after passing through here. I’m especially interested in a woman that spoke to the caravan master before it left. She has red hair, attractive, with a wild look about her.”

  “The witch woman,” one of the militia said.

  “What was that, soldier?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Just superstitious nonsense,” the sergeant said. “There’s a young woman that lives in the forest. She doesn’t come into town often, but when she does she has a nervous look, like a caged animal. I’ve spoken with her several times and you could hardly ask for a more pleasant person.”

  “That sounds like the woman I’m looking for, but to be sure I’ll need to canvas the town.”

  “You don’t think the lass had anything to do with the attack?” The note of genuine concern in the sergeant’s voice surprised Jeremiah.

  “No, I don’t think so. She was the last person to speak to the caravan master before it departed and I want to find out what she knows.”

  “Well if we can do anything to help just let me know.”

  “Thank you, sergeant. We’ll be needing bunks for the night.”

  The sergeant scratched his head. “Not sure if I’ve got bunks enough for all of you. Want to head over to the barracks and take a look?”

  “You go ahead,” Jeremiah said. “I promised my men a meal at the inn. Why don’t you join us later?”

  “Right, oh. I’ll check on the bed situation and be over in a bit.”

  Jeremiah nodded and turned his horse toward the inn. He had no trouble spotting it as it was the biggest building in town. They dismounted in front of the two story structure. Smoke issued form two of the three chimneys. Jeremiah’s back creaked when he bent down to tie his horse to the hitching post. Jeremiah groaned softly when he straightened up. He was getting too old to ride all day.

  He led his men inside. A fat, bald man in a greasy apron approached. “Something to drink, my lord?”

  “Ale all around,” Jeremiah said. “Food as well.”

  “I’m afraid all we have is mutton stew.”

  “That’ll be fine.” Jeremiah sighed as he settled into a chair at the head of the largest table in the place. Only two other tables were occupied, one by a trio of older women chatting and cackling like mad and the other a pair young men deep in their cups, heads drooping, eyes half closed.

  The innkeeper and a pair of servers approached with the food and drink. When everyone had a bowl and frothing mug the innkeeper asked, “Will you be paying, my lord?”

  Jeremiah smiled. As a knight he would be well within his rights to claim the meal in the king’s name and not pay a copper. He dug into his pouch and dropped six gold royals into the innkeeper’s hand. That was at least twice what the meal was worth, but he hoped the coin would buy some goodwill as well as the meal.

  The innkeeper bobbed a little bow and smiled wide enough to display a set of yellow teeth. “Enjoy your meal, sir.”

  They had barely finished their meal when the militia commander stepped through the door. He spotted them and walked over to their table. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is I have bunks for eight of your men, the bad news is we’re three bunks short.”

  “Excuse me,” the innkeeper approached their table. “I couldn’t help overhearing. I have two free rooms if two of your men don’t mind doubling up.”

  “That w
ould be perfect, thank you,” Jeremiah said. “Let’s get some sleep. We start canvassing at first light.”

  Jeremiah closed the door to his room and yawned. Everything hurt after three days of riding and sleeping on the ground. He unbuckled his breastplate, thrilled that he hadn’t bothered with the whole suit of armor. The straw mattress felt unaccountably good when Jeremiah settled down to sleep. Maybe Alexandra was right and he should let the younger officers have more responsibility.

  * * *

  Light streamed through his window when Jeremiah woke. He climbed out of bed and moved around, stretching, trying to work the aches out. When he had his armor in place he turned to the door. On the floor sat a folded strip of parchment, someone must have slipped it under his door in the night. He picked it up and unfolded it. The note said: if you wish to know why they attacked the caravan come to the forest north of town after dark tonight. There was no signature.

  It had to be from the woman. She must have been afraid to come into the village, judging by the guards’ attitude he didn’t blame her. If it was from her Jeremiah wouldn’t find anything in his search today. Perhaps a rest day would do the men good. He shook his head; he’d go through the motions. He’d announced the search last night and someone might notice if he canceled without explanation and he wanted to keep his meeting quiet.

  Jeremiah crumpled up the note and stuck it in his pocket. Downstairs his men sat at the same table as last night. It was good they arrived early but he was embarrassed to be the last to arrive.

  “All right,” Jeremiah said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll divide into two man teams and spread out. You all know who we’re looking for also don’t forget to ask about the caravan and anything strange they may have noticed. We’ll meet back here at noon.”

  They left the inn, Jeremiah having gotten a biscuit stuffed with bacon to take with him. Jeremiah paired up with the newest member of his command, a red headed kid named Sam that was so shy you could hardly get two words out of him.