“The viceroy would only like to see Tanor and Artanna.” The guard cut every word cleanly from his position blocking the entrance to the town hall. “Only the leaders, you idiots!”

The Hundred leader was lounging right there on the wide wooden steps, her eyes on the Brotherhood leader as he bickered with the adamant guard. She did her best to calm herself down, though her hands betrayed her nerves. Anyone watching carefully would have seen her fumble irritably at the sleeve she’d rolled up her left arm—she couldn’t figure out where her bracelet had gone.

Artanna was beside herself. It may have been just a bauble, but her arm felt bare without it, and the simple silver band was all she had left from her family. Even her two exquisite Vagran daggers had been given to her by Lord Rolf. For whatever reason, the duke often gave her different trinkets from her homeland, most likely in an effort to keep her spirits up. But in all the years they’d spent together, Rolf had never realized that she didn’t miss home. To the contrary, once out of the country, the Vagran girl did her best to erase the first seventeen years of her life, adjusting instead to new ways. What’s the point of holding on to the past if you can’t bring it back? Still, Artanna had never been strong enough to say goodbye to all her memories. That was why she never took the bracelet off.

Ultimately, the memory of who you are can occasionally save your worthless behind.

The Hundred fighters had made themselves comfortable on the steps and railing next to their commander. Some were smoking pipes, others were checking their blades, still more were glaring over at the Brotherhood rabble. Artanna had five hirelings with her; for some reason, Tanor had brought a crowd. That had the merchants nervous, not to mention their customers, and everyone’s mood was ruined on what was a warm spring day.

“Is he really afraid of us now?” The Vagran woman squinted at Tanor, smiling coldly when their eyes met.

Shrain was cleaning his nails with a small knife. “He probably wants us to be afraid of him. His head has always been a few sizes too big.”

“It helps that Tanor is predictable, unlike his deputies. The Chironis have me worried,” Vezzam said as he kicked a small rock down the steps. “That’s the real brotherhood—not Tanor, but those slippery Gatsons.”

Artanna grabbed Shrain’s knife and stuck it in her boot.

“You can usually find common ground with Gatsons. They like to talk.”

“Sure, while one’s talking your ear off, the second comes around behind you, pulls out his knife, and…” The giant drew a finger across his throat. “Get the pyre ready, sing the funeral hymns—he was a good guy.”

“Don’t let him behind you, and everything will be fine.” Artanna stood up, looked past Shrain’s shaved head, and frowned.

“What’s that?” Vezzam asked.

“Our recent acquaintance.”

Jert came over slowly, bowing in a clownish greeting. His scimitar’s elegant hilt glinted in the bright sunlight.

“Hi there, Commander.”

“What do you need? We don’t have time for you right now.”

“I missed you,” the Ennian replied with a smile. “Actually, I’m here to help.”

“Isn’t that a bit too much to expect from a stranger?”

The midday sun was so blinding that Artanna was having a hard time really looking the Ennian over. His smile broadened even further.

“I surprise myself, too. But be honest—you need me right now,” he replied, and Vezzam exchanged a glance with Shrain. “I’ll tell the viceroy everything I saw.”

Artanna leaned forward, her expression intrigued. Their new acquaintance was tall and built well, if no giant. His gait was easy, his movements measured like a trained fighter.

“You do realize that you’re going to turn half Givoi against you in one fell swoop if you join my side, don’t you?” the Vagran asked.

The Ennian looked up at the sky and sighed.

“Do you really think I care? I already picked a commander, and if you come with a few enemies lumped in, so be it. That’s the cost of doing business.”

“Things certainly move quickly with you.”

“Oh, stop it. You’re going to like me. Anyway, whose blood do we use to sign the contract?”

“Easy there, I haven’t agreed to anything yet. You promised me something…”

“The important thing is that I saw something. The night before your healer was killed, three people were following him. That’s why I’m here.”

He was interrupted by the thick oaken doors of the town hall creaking open, and a second later Guiro stepped out of the building’s gloomy interior. The Vagran woman pulled herself to her feet in a hurry. Tanor, in turn, finally shut up, turning to look at the viceroy’s aide expectantly. Guiro measured up both mercenaries with a long glance before inviting them in.

“Signor Kirino is expecting you. Hand over your weapons.”

Artanna handed her men her daggers and sword, pulled knives out of both boots, and, after pausing to think, slid a slender chain out of her pocket, one that often found a use for itself. Tanor did the same. In fact, a count’s armory would have been envious of his arsenal.

Jert relaxed on the stairs a bit farther away, closed his eyes, smiled as the warm sunlight bathed his face, and completely ignored the proceedings.

“Sit here. They may call you later.” The mercenary woman nudged the Ennian with the toe of her shabby boot before nodding to Shrain and Vezzam. “Try to make sure those two don’t kill you. I’m not a big fan of bodies.”

“That’s odd, considering your profession,” Jert replied lazily without so much as a glance in the woman’s direction.

The viceroy was awaiting his visitors behind a long oaken table. The elongated hall on the town hall’s second floor was heated by the midday sun, the doors to the balcony thrown wide, and a light breeze carrying in the smells and noises of the street. Artanna sniffed as she sat down on a bench polished to a shine by hundreds of important behinds. Tanor sat across from the viceroy at a safe distance from the Vagran. His leather pants creaked ominously.

Kirino looked cheerful, though he was wearing a cloak made of wool that was unusually thick given the weather. Pendants resplendent with amethysts dangled from a heavy chain that stretched from shoulder to shoulder. Placing his elbows on the table, the viceroy leaned his head on his hands.

“God as my witness, I don’t want to see a war in the city today,” he started quietly.

“Nobody would make money if that happened,” Tanor smiled.

“We can bargain later,” Artanna cut in. “As soon as we figure out why a peaceful person and honest healer was killed in Tanor’s territory, presumably, by his people.”

Tanor looked at the Hundred leader indignantly.

“Is that how you speak with the viceroy?”

“I wasn’t talking to him. We’re here to figure out what happened, and I want to hear your excuses in the presence of Signor Kirino.”

The viceroy looked like he’d just bitten down on a lemon.

“I’ll admit, Madam Toll’s statement is correct,” he said. “We checked it out—I’m afraid the healer by the name of Rianos, who served in the Hundred, was killed on land entrusted to the Brotherhood.”

Tanor clenched his fists and started to rise slowly from the bench.

“I’d keep the genie in the bottle if I were you,” Artanna said as calmly as she could, given the circumstances.

“Oh, I think the bottle is more your thing.”

“Enough!” Kirino brought a fist crashing down on the table with surprising force. “We get the same circus every time with you two. I’m waiting, Master Tanor. Why was the foundry quarter not under guard the way it should have been?”

“I swear, my people were sent there. A patrol of three mercenaries took their shift after dinner, all according to the schedule we have in our books,” the hireling replied, pulling a small paper out of his jacket pocket and handing it to the viceroy. “I looked over everything yesterday myself, and our clerk made a copy. We had Rindu the Rotten, Seryan the Limp, and Sagmo Crooked Scar on duty. They didn’t see anything.”

Artanna raised a brow and looked over at Kirino expressively.

“Interesting… Very interesting, in fact.”

“Do you have something to say, Artanna?”

“Yes. Today, I had someone tell me they saw the healer that night, and you know what the best part is, Tanor? He’s sitting downstairs and waiting to be called.” Artanna glanced over at the Brotherhood badge lying in front of the viceroy.

“You have a witness?” Kirino asked with a frown.

“Yes, an Ennian named Jert. He says he saw three people following Rianos that night.”

The viceroy nodded.

“I’d like to speak with him.”

“If my fighters haven’t broken any of his bones yet for his insolence, we can arrange that,” Artanna replied with a wave toward the balcony. “He’s out there.”

The viceroy looked past Tanor at Guiro, who was standing by the door.

“Federigo, please invite the witness up.”

The aide bowed wordlessly and disappeared behind the oaken door. Kirino turned his colorless eyes on the Brotherhood leader.

“Master Tanor, doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

“It seems odd to me that some foreigner wants to set me up!” the mercenary shot back, then jabbed a finger in Artanna’s direction. “Or maybe you hired him to make me look like an idiot in front of the viceroy! I’m telling you, Signor Kirino, those three have been with me for a long time—I know them. They’d never kill without my orders, especially someone from the Hundred, and I didn’t give that order.”

“You didn’t give the order to kill Vazash, the carpenter, and he’s still dead,” Artanna replied.

The viceroy stared at Tanor. “Only your troops can shed light on this convoluted story. Call them immediately.”

Tanor shook his head gloomily.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Signor Kirino.”

“And why is that?”

“They’re missing. Rotten, Limp, and Crooked Scar, all three of them.”

“That’s convenient,” the Vagran said. “Smart enough to make a break for it, I guess.”

“And what, in your opinion, would make them disappear?” Signor Kirino took a swallow of wine before looking over at Artanna. The woman tracked Tanor’s every move warily. “People don’t just vanish.”

The Brotherhood leader creaked in his pants as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard bench.

“I have no idea, Signor. Those louts got paid regularly, but they’re hirelings. Throw a few gold coins their way, and they’ll sell their own mother, not to mention abandoning the brigade. I don’t know where they went.”

The oaken door creaked open. Jert walked in, with Federigo behind, shooing him in. Artanna was finally able to examine the foreign guest and found that he was a physical specimen. His permanent smirk tightened the tan skin on his cheeks, his cheekbones stood out, and his narrow green eyes were framed by a network of wrinkles. There was, however, something behind the feigned joviality, though Artanna had no desire to dig any deeper. The Ennian smiled amiably to Kirino and suddenly bowed so gracefully that it looked like he’d spent his whole life bending before noble masters.

“Have a seat, Master Jert.”

“I don’t mind standing.” The foreigner’s slipped over to Artanna’s neckline. “Some things are better seen from above, you know?”

The Vagran rewarded him with a withering look.

“You were called to tell your story about the healer, the one you saw the night he was killed,” the viceroy said. “Be so kind as to repeat everything you told Lady Toll.”

Jert squinted, staring at the Hundred leader. The latter pulled herself away from contemplating the fireplace, arched her brows, and shrugged, motioning for him to speak.

“Bring me the Holy Book,” the Ennian said. “I follow the Way, and I’m prepared to swear that I’m telling the truth.”

Kirino looked at the foreigner in surprise.

“I heard they don’t worship the Keeper in Ennia.”

“No, but I like him. I started my journey in the Sifares temple thirteen years ago.”

“All right,” the viceroy nodded. “Federigo, have the book brought.”

The Ennian quickly and fluently said a prayer in the ancient tongue to everyone’s amazement. His imperial was good, too. Too good for a simple soldier from Ennia, the kind of person he wanted to appear to be.

“I didn’t see much,” Jert started. “Forgive me, Viceroy, but I wanted to try pashtara that night. The locals said there was a place not far from the foundries where they sell it, and as I was walking there, I saw the healer carrying a loaded basket. Three hirelings were following him at a distance—I recognized the Brotherhood chevrons.”

“What did they look like?” Tanor asked quickly.

“One limped on his left leg. Another was tall and thin. The third had a scar across almost his entire face.”

“Those are mine,” Pops replied gruffly. “What else did you see?”

“That was it, I’m afraid. I saw them talking quietly with each other and pointing at the Ennian healer. They had weapons with them, but they didn’t pull them out. That’s when I saw the alley I was looking for and headed off for my pashtara.”

“Thank you, Jert,” the viceroy said with a nod before turning to stare directly at Tanor. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The Brotherhood leader was dumbfounded.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” he screeched girlishly as he leaped to his feet. His leather jacket groaned, threatening to burst at the seams. “His word means nothing, even if he did swear on the Holy Book!”

“Tell that to my old employers in Sifares,” the Ennian grinned. “Quite a few people would disagree with you.”

“This isn’t Sifares,” Tanor hissed. “You’re a stranger in Givoi.”

Artanna smiled, enjoying the look of confusion on her rival’s face.

“But why would this good fellow lie to the viceroy himself?”

“Maybe because you paid him.”

“That could be,” the Vagran replied, “if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t have any extra money. You can ask anyone working at the Gatson bank.”

“Who cares?” Tanor asked with a roll of his eyes. “You can always find a little silver to make someone blab.”

“By the way, you promised me payment for my information today, and I’d appreciate it—”

“Shut up!” Artanna barked at Jert. “We’ll figure you out later.”

Kirino slammed a fist down on the table again, once more so hard that Tanor and Artanna jumped in surprise. The Ennian smiled.

“Is the viceroy allowed to talk?”

The mercenaries fell silent, though they continued staring daggers at each other.

“If you want a circus, wait until the fair season starts. In the meantime, be so kind as to listen to me.”

Jert saw the Hundred leader’s face tighten. Tanor gripped his armrests with fat fingers and paled from the stress, though it didn’t look like he noticed either change. The only thing breaking the silence was the monotone buzzing of a fly as it threw itself against the windowpanes.

“I’ve come to a preliminary decision.” The viceroy looked around the room and nodded curtly to his aide. “We have reason to believe that the trio who killed Rianos, the healer from the Hundred, were Brotherhood people, Master Tanor. According to your contract, you bear responsibility for their actions in Givoi, if not complete responsibility, of course. If the three mercenaries are proven party to the murder of an innocent man, they will accept their punishment. On the executioner’s block. When they’re found.”

Artanna nodded.

“That’s excellent, but what—”

“I’m not finished,” Kirino said sharply. “With you, Tanor, the situation is more complicated. Let’s put aside the murder and look at the facts. Givoi, as represented by the council of signors, hired your troops to enforce order in the streets. The foundry quarter is on the list of areas you were entrusted to secure. You failed to do so, you permitted a man to be killed, and, what is worse, you turned out to hire very poor people.”

“But that’s—”

“Your reasons and excuses mean nothing to me. The internal conflicts going on in the Brotherhood aren’t my problem, and they shouldn’t affect innocent civilians. The turmoil in your group is the direct cause of what happened. Because of that, I’m forced to act: if you don’t restore order within your ranks in the very near future, you can say goodbye to your contract.” A triumphant smirk flitted across Artanna’s face. Tanor froze, his tiny eyes widened, and he stared unblinking at Kirino. The viceroy took a few sips of wine before wiping his beard slowly, putting his cup down, and continuing. “From this day on, the foundry quarter is under the protection of the Hundreds. And pray that it’s the only area the Brotherhood loses.”

Tanor gritted his teeth and threw a look of rage at the Vagran, though he said nothing.

“You will compensate the Hundreds, as represented by Artanna nar Toll, the amount she deems fair for the loss of their healer, though no more than five imperial aure,” the viceroy said. “The contract with the Brotherhood will be reviewed at the next council of the signors, at which you will make a public apology for your negligence. That is all.”

The Brotherhood leader’s face darkened. He lifted his chin proudly and looked directly at Kirino.

“In what regard will my contract be reviewed?”

“The signors may cut the cost of your services or refuse them altogether,” the viceroy replied with a shrug. “When we meet at the next new moon, you’ll hear our decision.”

Tanor cracked his knuckles and turned to the Vagran.

“What compensation will satisfy you?”

“Your balls nailed to the gates of my manor, that would satisfy me,” Artanna said without a shadow of sarcasm. “But Signor Kirino wouldn’t approve of that—I can see by the look on his face. And so, I’ll be forced to live with the five aure you’ll deliver at sunset.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tanor yelled. “That’s a fortune!”

The mercenary woman leaped up and bounded over to the head of the Brotherhood.

“You think I’m kidding you? Your people killed two of mine—first Vazash, and now Rianos.” She straightened up and stepped away. “Five aure isn’t nearly enough, but it’s something. Learn how to pick people or pay for their mistakes.”

“I can nail his balls to your gate if you want,” Jert said with a smile.

“You just worry about your own,” the Hundred leader shot back.

“Okay, so, five aure or the equivalent in silver, and the conflict is resolved,” the viceroy said. “My only requirement is that Signor Guiro is to witness the handover, so we don’t have any more questions.”

“Of course.”

Kirino pulled himself slowly to his feet and headed toward the door.

“That’s it. Until next time.”

The viceroy walked out, his long mantle trailing behind him. Jert, who was standing by the door, bowed gracefully. After watching the old man leave, a frown on his face, Tanor turned to look at Artanna. The Vagran was stretching her cramped muscles.

“See you at sunset,” she said, preparing to leave as well.

The Brotherhood leader stood slowly, his eyes never leaving his rival.

“You arranged the whole thing.”

“Oh, please. I just did my best with the cards I was handed. Believe me, I’d give up a lot more than five aure to get Rianos back. We’re parting in peace this time, but don’t you dare cross me again, Tanor. The next time, I’ll follow through on that threat and actually nail your balls to my manor gate.”

Tanor stepped over to Artanna, though she just calmly looked him in the eye.

“You lost one guy; I lost three fighters.”

“My healer was worth an entire squad, and he was my friend.” Artanna crossed her hands over her chest, smiled sadly, and walked over to the window. “Stop the antics and just admit you were wrong. You lost, Tanor. Pick up the remains of your dignity and accept it like a man.”

“I don’t know how to lose—you know that,” the Brotherhood leader whispered quietly, almost tenderly, as he crept up behind her. “You embarrassed me, and I can’t let that go.”

Jert saw the mercenary pull a dagger out of the folds in his leather jacket. But there wasn’t enough time to do anything.

“Knife!” the Ennian barked, sliding a hidden blade out of his own boot.

Tanor took a swing, but Artanna was able to dodge in time. The mercenary cursed as his blade sliced through thin air.

Federigo Guiro stared at the fighters in shock.

“What the devil? You were supposed to give up your weapons!”

“Should have done a better job checking,” Jert snarled. “Get help, Signor. Hurry!”

The Gatson disappeared immediately into the hallway.

“Vagran whore!” Tanor bellowed. “Think you’re going to take the whole city?”

Artanna took a few steps backward without taking her eyes off her opponent’s weapon. Jert called over and tossed her his dagger.

“Just don’t even think about losing it, Commander! It means a lot to me.”

Too busy ducking away from Tanor’s attack and leaping to the side, Artanna didn’t reply. Suddenly, she banged into a bench she missed, overturning several chairs. The Ennian’s blade slid across the floorboards and came to a stop right next to her leg.

Jert leaned up against the wall to watch the fun calmly. It was time to see how lucky the woman was.

“Not going to help?” the Vagran woman screeched, dodging another blow and gripping the weapon comfortably.

“I already did!” Jert grinned. “You’re on your own from here.”

“Bastard.” Artanna barked grimly and leaped over the bench, evading yet another strike.

She weighed half as much as Tanor and was twice as nimble, but he was stronger. Still, the odds were decent for her. As long as she was able to penetrate his thick leather armor with her little knife… Artanna landed on the floor and spun around quickly. All that stood between her and the livid mercenary was the wide table, though behind her were nothing more than windows and the balcony. She was out of room to maneuver.

“Let’s go,” Tanor said. “Stop playing the coward! Fight me, duke’s whore!”

“Official mistress, for your information. Not that you see any difference.”

The mercenary was slowing down. He leisurely moved around the table, took a lazy swing, stepped heavily… Artanna dodged that attack, as well. Almost dancing, she dipped past him and slashed at the straps holding his thick leather shell in place. When Tanor turned quickly in an attempt to follow her, she buried her forehead in the bridge of his nose. He howled, awkwardly sweeping his blade through the air. Artanna’s face spread into a crazed smile, and she seized the moment when Tanor opened up to give him as hard a kick as she could muster straight to the groin. Not very sporting, but highly effective. He doubled over, grabbed his codpiece with both hands, and dropped his blade. The Vagran woman leaped over and kicked the weapon away.

“What do you say, sweetie? Still want to kill me?”

“If I were him, I’d want to kill you even more,” Jert said thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you had a little crazy in you.”

“Only when people want to slit my throat.”

Artanna stuck the dagger in her belt and walked out onto the balcony past a wheezing Tanor. She needed to clear her head, let the blood settle. Suddenly, she could smell all the aromas coming up from the city, feel every gust of wind blowing in from the river, and hear the murmur of hundreds of voices. Artanna shook her head to get rid of the feeling.

Jert walked over to the railing, and the Vagran woman noticed that for the first time since they had met, he wasn’t wearing a smile. The Ennian was as serious as a master giving a sermon.

“What the hell was that?” he asked quietly.

“Just your usual knife fight between mercenaries,” Artanna replied with a shrug. “Welcome to Givoi.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You move really quickly.”

“Tanor likes his food a bit too much.”

“You know, I was a fast fighter, one of the fastest in Sifares. But you move like a demon, by Arzimat’s hole.”

A distant smile continued playing on Artanna’s lips. The woman was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling under her stained white shirt.

“If all of you are that fast, I don’t stand a chance,” Jert said.

“You’ve never fought a Vagran?”

They both turned, distracted by noise from the hall. The doors flew open with a bang to let in several guards, the viceroy, and his aide. Artanna took a deep breath.

“Here we go…”

“For the love of all that is holy, what’s going on in here?” Kirino roared.

“Tanor didn’t want to share.” The Vagran threw her arms wide, continuing to smile as she did. “He threatened me with a knife, can you imagine that? The bastard. Seriously, have you ever seen anything like that?”

Jert went over to the viceroy.

“Signor Kirino, that guy tried to kill her. He brought a dagger in with him, and it’s only Artanna’s good luck that I did, too. Signor Guiro saw it all.”

The old man looked furiously at the guards. They stared at their boots in sheepish silence.

“I wouldn’t have expected an indiscretion like that from you, Master Tanor,” the viceroy said. “All you’re doing is complicating your position.”

“It’s too late to change anything, Signor Kirino,” the mercenary wheezed as he pulled himself to his feet. “I made my choice; the die is cast. You know what everybody has always valued most about me? I finish what I start.”

As he was wrapping up his short speech, Tanor straightened up and moved slowly toward the balcony. Then, he jumped around the guards and hurled himself forward, leaving the Hundred leader no time to evade him.

Jert didn’t realize what was happening at first. The enormous body flew at Artanna, and all the Ennian saw was her shock of gray hair go flying. The pair smashed through the wooden railing out on the balcony and hurtled downward, just a second after the mercenary woman’s shirt caught on a nail sticking out. But the sound of fabric tearing was quickly drowned out by howls, cursing, and the crash of the entire scene hitting the ground below.

“Shit!” Jert yelled as he ran over to the edge the two had toppled over. Guiro gasped and cursed; the viceroy hobbled over and stared at the ground beneath them in silence.

The crowd outside the doors had scattered. Blinded by the dust that had been kicked up, the fighters were grabbing for their weapons as the commoners raced to get away. The Brotherhood leader was on his back, his pants torn, and a yellowish bone sticking out of his right leg. His breastplate had been thrown off to the side. Artanna, in turn, was sitting atop him and slamming his head into the ground. Vagran profanities accompanied every hit.

“Shit is right,” the viceroy said.

***

For some reason, Artanna was being pulled off the lout, though she ripped herself free and threw a punch in reply. Only then did she realize that he was one of hers.

“Get off me!”

“Leave him alone!” It must have been Shrain. Or Vezzam. She couldn’t tell.

“Get out of here, bastard!”

She kept battering away at the pulp that was Tanor’s face. He was still breathing, a hearty scoundrel.

Somebody buried their boot in her face. Artanna flew off to the side, choking on a mix of blood and saliva; did a somersault; coughed; and wiped her nose with the dusty back of her hand. Jert stood above her.

“What are you doing, you idiot?”

“I’m going to kill him!” the Vagran gritted in reply as she stood up.

Jert gave her a backhand across the side of her face. She staggered and nearly lost her balance.

“What’s going on with you?”

“I warned him, I warned him…”

She was breathing heavily. Blood was running down her face from a cut on her eyebrow, and a string of drool hung from a corner of her mouth. The pain she hadn’t been feeling started to creep in. With each second, it was like a weight pressed down harder and harder on her shoulders, mashing her into the ground. The lightness was gone. Artanna wheezed, grimaced when a spasm came over her, fell to her knees, and vomited.

“Are you okay?” Vezzam’s voice whispered from right next to her ear. Somebody grabbed her under her arms.

“Better than I was in Rundkar,” she replied. “Let me go.”

Shrain’s paw held her wrist in a steel vice.

“Let Tanor be,” he boomed.

“Screw him, Baby. I want to get cleaned up.”

“You need to get yourself checked out.”

“I’m fine.” Artanna waved him away, wobbled slightly, and turned to the viceroy as he stepped closer. “Would you be okay with having the money delivered to my manor? I suddenly don’t feel like coming back here again today.”

Kirino nodded silently.

Tanor was taken away by his people, among which Artanna noticed the Chironi brothers’ dark mops. The pair stared intently, if silently at her. Out of the blue, someone handed her a skin of water—she used it to clean some of the blood off her face. The guards were busy getting the bystanders moving along.

Artanna stepped down the steps to the town hall, called Jert over, and handed him his dagger.

“You may have helped save my skin today. Thanks.”

The Ennian looked the blade over carefully before slipping it into his belt.

“I like you better alive.”

“No second thoughts about joining the Hundred?”

“You’ll take me?”

“That depends on you. You were hinting about something last time, and now’s as good a time as any to make good on your word. A little more, and I’m going to pass out.”

Jert smiled and stuck his hand into his jacket pocket.

“Let me start by apologizing…”

“For what?” Artanna looked at him with exhausted eyes.

“Well, I’m a really good thief,” he said, pulling a piece of fabric out of his pocket and carefully unrolling it. “I took this off your wrist during the fight at the tavern—I wanted to show you what I can do. Although, right now I’d have to say I signed my own death warrant.”

Artanna stared at the bracelet in surprise.

“How did you do that?”

Jert shrugged. “We all have our talents. Are you going to kill me or just give me a hard time?”

“You’re in,” the Vagran said hoarsely. “But I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Yes, I’m a sight for sore eyes, aren’t I?”

“While I was falling off the balcony, I realized I missed you already,” the Vagran relied, though she quickly turned serious. “You’ll sign the contract tomorrow. And remember, from now on, my enemies are your enemies, Copper.”

“Easy, Commander! Why Copper?”

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?”

The Ennian chuckled shortly. Artanna picked herself up and signaled her troops to head back to the manor, though she didn’t even have time to button her cloak when a noise broke out behind her. As onlookers scattered, a rider pounded up on a pureblooded chestnut Belterian stallion, a popular horse among couriers serving the elite. Artanna took one glance at the crest sewed into the rider’s cloak and knew exactly who his master was.

“Shit,” was all she said as she watched the young man hurry over.

“Who is that?” Shrain asked, walking over.

“That, Baby, is a problem. The untimeliest of all possible problems.”

The rider came up to them and addressed the crowd.

“Where can I find Artanna nar Toll?”

She stepped forward. “Here I am. Tell me what I have to do.”

“In the name of Gregor Voldhard, Duke of Highligland, son of Rolf Voldhard, you, Artanna of House Toll, have been summoned for your service.” He unrolled a small scroll and glanced over it. “Eight years ago, you were found guilty of treason and were to be executed by order of the ducal court.”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that…”

“Silence! Your sentence was substituted for exile in exchange for your pledge to come to the aid of any of the Voldhards at their first call. Gregor Voldhard has sent for you to come at once along with all your available people, and I am to accompany you to Ellisdor.”

“I thought he forgot about you,” Shrain said. “Any way you can say no?”

Artanna shook her head.

“Nope. I gave an oath. And I warned all of our troops that this might happen one day.”

The problem was that she couldn’t have picked a worse time to leave the city.