Death and Honor: Book 1 of 2 (6 page)

Jeremiah glanced around to get his bearings. His subconscious must have been looking out for him since he found he was a couple blocks from the sage’s shop. A few more minutes walking led him to an unassuming brick storefront, the sign above the door showed an open book and a candle. The name Alzado was carved in the wood below the book. It seemed he had the right shop.

Jeremiah stepped up and knocked on the door. A few seconds later the door opened and a withered old man bent almost double stood looking up at him, frowning hard.

“You work for the government?” Alzado said it as half question and half accusation.

“Yes, sir. I was hoping you could help me.”

“I don’t work for the government anymore. You people never pay on time and I’m too old to worry about outstanding bills.”

“My wife recommended you, sir, and I’d be happy to pay up front.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure you’re with the government?”

“Yes, sir.” Jeremiah forced himself to keep a straight face. “I’m Lord Knight Jeremiah Kane.”

Alzedo slapped his forehead. “Alexandra’s husband, of course, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Come in, come in.”

Alzedo shuffled out of the way and Jeremiah stepped inside. The old man shut the door and led him deeper into the shop. Books covered every flat surface, some in precariously balanced piles reaching halfway to the ceiling. Jeremiah tried to imagine how the old man reached the top books and failed. A twisting path led to a pair of chairs beside a table, a wood stove heated the place to an almost uncomfortable degree.

Alzado eased himself into one of the chairs and Jeremiah took the other. “I remember when you got your spurs, Alexandra’s father was so proud. It was a shame he died so soon after.”

Jeremiah nodded. “Alexandra was heartbroken. You should come out to the estate sometime, I’m sure she’d like to talk about the old days.”

“That sounds nice, but I don’t get around so good anymore. Now, you had business to discuss?”

“Yes, sir.” Jeremiah took the scroll out his pocket and handed it to the old man. “I took this off the body of a bandit. Alexandra said the language was Torin and she thought you’d know how to translate it for me.”

Alzado took the scroll and unrolled it. After a moment’s study he said, “That girl always knew her languages. She’s right as rain, that’s Torin. I’ve got a book around here somewhere with a key. If you leave it here I can translate it and have it ready for you in the morning.”

“Unfortunately I can’t leave evidence with a civilian. Perhaps you can make a copy?”

The old man snapped his fingers. “Certainly, I just need to find a pen and parchment.”

Alzado copied the scroll and handed the original back to Jeremiah. “Stop by in the morning and I’ll have it ready for you.”

“I appreciate it. How much do I owe you?”

The old man smiled. “For Alexandra’s husband, no charge.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jeremiah tucked the scroll back into his pocket. He’d be sure to leave the sage a few coins in the morning. “I should be going.”

Alzado got up and shook hands with Jeremiah. “Say hello to Alexandra for me.”

“I will. Next time I come to the city I’ll bring her and the boys.”

E
ric Ericsson sat
in a dark corner of a rundown tavern, a tattered cloak with the hood drawn up hid his face from prying eyes. Not that any of the drunks or addicts gave him a second look. In a place like this minding your own business was good for your health. The pickpocket would arrive soon then he could leave this dump.

Fifteen minutes later the pickpocket ducked through the door. He spotted Eric at his usual table and rushed over to join him.

“You’re late,” Eric said.

“Hey, you want the information or not?”

“Fine, spill it. What happened?”

“Happened? Nothing happened. He went to Tristar’s warehouse and returned their stuff, then he wondered around for a while. After a while he went to Alzado’s place.”

“Alzado?”

“A sage. A really old sage.”

“What happened there?” Eric asked.

“They talked for a minute then went inside. An hour or so later the guy came back out and went to the mansion.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“All right, get lost.”

The thief ran like a kicked dog. He had a little information at least, enough to keep the demon off his back, he hoped. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The contact came in an instant, the demon anxiety coming through as a nasty pain behind Eric’s eyes.

Well
?

“Your mercenaries are in my jail. Jeremiah brought them in this morning.”

The package
?

“I don’t know. He returned the merchant’s goods to them so it’s possible your package was there. He also visited a sage, why I have no idea.”

Find out, order this man to tell you
.

“I can’t order him, Jeremiah out ranks me.”

Then what good are you
?

Eric winced as the pain behind his eyes increased. “You have more information than you did,” he said.

Yes, barely, enough to make me worry. You’ve done enough. I will handle things from here. Tomorrow you will report the sage’s death as a robbery
.

Eric swallowed. “Yes, master.”

T
he master was
in a foul mood, Ick sensed it from his perch on Gorn’s massive shoulder. The great, golden serpent that was Slevas favored form slithered back and forth across the smooth tile, every few minutes looking at the lesser demons like a real cobra might a mouse. A mortal would never guess from looking at the trio that the eight foot serpent commanded a demon the size of Gorn, but Ick knew better. In a race as physically mutable as demons, size meant nothing. Magical power decided who was master and who servant, power and intelligence, Slaves had these in abundance.

Ick was growing impatient; they’d been waiting for the master to speak for over an hour, not that the little demon would say anything. If the master wished them to stand and watch him slither then they would stand and watch until the end of time.

Slevas reared up four feet off the floor, his hood flaring.
I have decided. Ick, you will sneak into the merchant’s warehouse and search for the package. Gorn, you will go to the sage, find out what the human Kane wanted then kill him.

Ick flinched as an image of the warehouse appeared in his mind. It was small as such structures went, but it would still take most of the night to search it. A thousand deaths on whoever shielded the chest from his magical sight.

Ick launched himself off Gorn’s shoulder and flew out one of the windows in the hall. Calling on his innate magic he shifted his form to that of a bat and flittered his way across the city. A few minutes later he entered the warehouse through an open vent high in the rafters. Once inside he shifted again, this time into a rat, he’d noticed over the years that humans seemed to regard rats as another bit of the city scenery. Though the warehouse was dark Ick had no trouble seeing the stacks of crates, piles of cloth, and boxes, boxes, boxes. A little rat sigh escaped the demon. It was going to be a long night.

The little demon pawed through the contents of a crate, human garbage. He was halfway down when a door slammed. He scurried out of sight just ahead of the light of a human’s lantern. Ick burrowed into the human’s mind, searching for any sign of the master’s package. He saw the human, Kane, delivering a wagon load of merchandise but no sign of the package.

Ick let the contact fade. He doubted the package was here. When the human finished whatever he came to do the demon resumed his search. He would search the entire warehouse; his life would be forfeit if he ignored the master’s orders.

G
orn arrived
, invisible, on the front steps of the shop his master showed him. The street was empty, even the tavern next door had closed for the night. The demon reared back and kicked down the door, the attack causing his invisibility to fade. He stepped through the wreckage and found the skinny old human the master showed him seated at a desk surrounded by books.

The human’s head jerked up when Gorn entered. He opened his mouth to scream but Gorn lunged across the room and clamped a clawed hand around his throat, stifling the scream. The demon stared into the human’s eyes and projected his master’s questions into the feeble organ that passed for a brain in the primitive creature. Unlike Ick, Gorn had never bothered to learn to speak the human’s language. His interactions with them tended to be limited to rending them into bite sized chunks.

In response to Gorn’s telepathic questions the image of the knight appeared handing the old human a scrap of paper. Next he received an image of the old human translating the paper he’d received. The demon looked down at the desk and saw a paper covered with markings that matched those of the mental image taken from the human. That must be what his master wanted. Gorn drove his clawed hand into the human’s chest, ripped out his heart, and tossed the carcass aside. He collected the paper and teleported away with his two trophies.

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
.

J
eremiah 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.