I had just stepped into the shade of a bright blue awning when a bull of a man carrying two giant bags of fleece hurried past, forcing everyone to move aside. No sooner had I stepped closer to the shop front than I was knocked off balance by three small boys careening through the crowd, trailing a rainbow of shining ribbons pilfered from an outraged ribbon-seller. When a firm hand gripped my arm, I thought some kindly passerby was helping steady me. But instead of finding myself upright and on my way, I was dragged into a dark alleyway between two buildings.
And before I could utter a word of protest, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind.
“At last!” said a man’s voice, not unfamiliar. “I thought I’d have to chase you across all of the Four Realms just to have a simple word with you.”
So much for caution. I struggled and kicked, but Graeme Rowan was a good deal stronger than I and determined to hold on. He propelled me deep into the alley, deftly dodging the cats who snarled and raised their hackles at this invasion of their private feasting ground. I bit his fingers hard enough to draw blood. With a curse he yanked his hand away, and I spat out the blood, yelling as loud as I could, “Help me!”
Rowan immediately slapped his bleeding hand across my mouth and tightened his grip. “Curse it all, are you mad?” He shoved me into a corner of the gloomy alleyway and spun me around to face him. His grim face was flushed, his green eyes glittering. “Promise me you’ll be quiet and listen, and I’ll let go. Do you promise?”
I nodded, almost twisting my eyes in their sockets in an attempt to glimpse the brass buttons on his coat, wild to see if one was missing. But he stood too close. Tentatively he removed his hand, ready to clamp down again if I made a move to scream. When I stayed quiet, he relaxed his grip on my arm a bit, but not yet enough for me to break away. “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said, “but after the miracle of finding you in this hellish city, I’ll not let you get away again.”
“How did you find me?”
“I have a friend with an extraordinary gift for following people.”
Ah, yes. His friends. I could not allow myself to be deceived by his aggrieved sincerity. I was in no position to run, but I did wrench my arm from his grasp. “Are you going to arrest me? Where are your ”friends“?”
“I’ve no intention of arresting you. Now I’ve come out ahead on our little game of chase-the-cat, the only spoil of victory I ask is two moments without argument. Would that be at all possible?”
“I don’t see that I have much choice in the matter.” But I was certainly puzzled. He was a sheriff. No one would take him to task for questioning me. Why lurk in an alleyway?
He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and twisted it about his bleeding fingers. “You’re acting the fool,” he said in quiet vehemence. “You think you’re so clever sneaking and hiding with your strange friends who do such extraordinary things. But you’re not deceiving anyone. I’m not the only one after you.”
My flip retort died unspoken as I watched the subtle changes in his features. The sheriff’s unremarkable face with its weather lines and scar had never revealed much of his inner life. But on the few occasions I’d seen him express strong feeling—whether anger, disgust, anxiety, or anything else—his every action had proclaimed his face a true mirror of his sentiments. And on this hot afternoon, his face told me that he was worried and afraid.
“What do you want with me?” I said.
“This is about Jacopo.”
My hackles rose, along with a rush of guilt at the thought of my recent promise to my old friend. “Jacopo is not involved in my business. Leave him be.”
“I’m neither a fool nor blind,” snapped the sheriff. “I saw him talking with you not a half-hour since. I just want to know if he understands what he’s doing. Is this some kind of playacting like you did in Grenatte or is he in need of my help?”
Despite my efforts to dismiss Graeme Rowan and his worries, the day shifted uneasily. “Jaco is in Montevial to sell barrels,” I said. “That’s the truth.” Tell me if you know something more. “Jaco often comes to Montevial to trade.”
“Don’t lie to me about this. You oughtn’t put him in this kind of danger. As if his keeping such company wasn’t bad enough…” Rowan stepped back a bit and rubbed one elbow. “I’m out of my depth, as you well know, but you’d best not be ignorant of the risks you take. It’s naught of a secret that the odd little man was in Dunfarrie those weeks ago, seeking his servant with the bad temper. But do you know who else come hunting the two of them on that day, swearing me silent and claiming the whole business to be some matter of spies? It was your brother’s man, my lady… and with him those damnable priests.”
There it was! Darzid and the priests—the improbable connection, joined in the hunt for D’Natheil and Baglos. But if it were true… Dared I believe Rowan just because his tale matched my instincts?
“This doesn’t surprise you?” he said, wrinkling his brow.
“Only that you would tell me…” But the evidence was stronger than Graeme Rowan’s word or my instinct. Three riders had stayed back at the edge of the meadow when Darzid came hunting… and I felt again my inexplicable shudders when I’d noticed them. The priests… the Zhid…
Unimpeded by any argument from me, Rowan rushed onward. “They each went their own way after questioning me—the captain and the priests—but I saw them together again in Grenatte. And now the priests are after you and your friends… and I see Jacopo helping them along the way, first at your place and then at the house in Valleor. Blessed Annadis, do you have any idea what they did to your friend’s servants?”
“Jaco help the devil priests? You’re mad!” Why was I allowing Rowan to lure me into his snare? Gods, he was a sheriff! Our lives were forfeit if he uncovered proof of what D’Natheil was, and here I was with explanations on the edge of my tongue. Jaco, the kindest, dearest person on the blasted earth… Rowan’s accusation made a lie of everything he’d said already, serving only to remind me of his other secrets and lies.
“How can I believe you, Sheriff? Perhaps your story might be more trustworthy if you had let me witness this great conspiracy for myself. You were quite anxious to get me out of Grenatte, as I recall. One might think you didn’t want me to see the meetings that took place there.”
A movement behind the sheriff caught my attention, but I quickly averted my gaze. Rowan had not sensed the tall figure gliding silently down the shadowed alley.
“I knew enough to guess that your presence in Grenatte was a violation of your parole,” he said. “You couldn’t afford to be anywhere near those people.”
“And so you successfully defended the law from my depredations, while allowing Giano to go on his way—and yes, I heard what they did to the professor and his servants.”
“Giano had committed no crime. Not then. You had. Or were about to.”
“And so I’m to be grateful to the one who saves me from my own perverse wickedness and points the finger of blame everywhere but at himself.” Anger consumed all my uncertainty, making my limbs and voice tremble—fury at a murderer who could come so near convincing me of his honesty and at myself for listening to him. “I’m to confess all my crimes to my generous savior, the upright servant of the law, one who protects us all by exterminating children and scholars. Who else have you murdered, Sheriff? Tell me the names of all your victims.”
Graeme Rowan flushed the same scarlet as the flaming emblem on his coat, but before he could say more, something large and heavy crashed down on his head. I drew back into the corner of the wall as he toppled into the dirt. Even in the sudden quiet, the street noise seemed as remote as my own woodland, allowing my own doubts and accusations to scream warnings.