Gram and I set off shortly before dawn, not least because the Templar convoy was mostly priests, and they were up and finished with vespers and quite impatient to leave.
He and I suppressed yawns in the predawn murk, but we rode along the deserted roads and saw that maybe there was some wisdom to leaving early.
The plan was this: Flex was the convoy destination. But Hasid lay only two or three days' ride away, and the priests would be at Flex for a good two weeks. Gram and I would have ample time to make it to Hasid and do our research, and then come back to meet up with the priests again.
The first days of the trip were dull, but the bandit attack on the third day proved a welcome respite.
They came on us in broad daylight, four of them on horseback, and they blocked the road in front of us. They wasted valuable time shouting at the priests and brandishing their swords in a futile effort to impress us, and it was quite easy for Gram and me to string our bows in the darkness of the wagon's cover and sight down two throats for our arrows to find.
Almost as soon as the two bodies fell from their horses, the others lost heart and fled. Gram came out from the cover of the wagon, loosing off more arrows, as I threw down my bow and took a running jump onto a riding-horse.
This steed wasn't bred for skirmishing, but I figured all I had to do was catch up with the bandit and I'd be all right. I spurred him on and reached down to my waist, finding the tightly bound handle of the blade that lived by my side always.
The man pulled ahead a ways, then veered sharply as an arrow from Gram took his mount in the rump. His horse gave out a shrill cry, and then he circled back to face me, his sword out.
I drew and charged him, deflecting his wild swing easily and giving his horse's shoulder a shallow stab - just a prod, really, with my blade. Horse and rider went over, and I circled round and dismounted, blade out.
"You picked a poor convoy to raid, villain," I said. "The Temple has its own army, now."
He looked up at me, still catching his breath from the fall.
I looked back at the wagon, where the priests were quieting their horses and Gram was mounting up to come to me.
"Take off your pants," I said. "Your shirt too."
He looked at me. I wiped my blade and took a few quick steps closer. He cringed and began to strip.
I saw the hollow ribs and the lean calves. This man and his feeble cronies had seen several hungry days.
"Captain," said Gram. "The priests don't want any more bloodshed."
I squinted at him.
"They what?"
"They say you're not to kill him," Gram said.
I spat. "Let them be the ones on the ground, surrounded by armed men. And see if they get the same mercy," I muttered.
The man looked up at me, wide-eyed. He shivered in his breechclout.
"We're going to hang him," I said. "By his shoulders. As an example."
Gram protested. "But the priests said-"
"He'll live," I broke in testily. "Next person along will cut him down."
I finished tearing his flea-bitten clothes into strips, and bound his hands and feet. Gram helped me hoist him up into the branches of a tree, and we left him there, hanging from ropes threaded under his shoulders, looming ridiculously over the highway.
The man shivered in the cold, blindfolded. But he'd be all right. Gram had made out a sign and hung it around his neck. It said "HAVE MERCY ON ME. I HAVE SINNED".
Flex was much as I'd remembered it. We saw the priests to the Temple in the Merchants District, a place I had never been to before, but we ignored the bustle of the bazaars and went instead to the caravan gates. We paid for our passage to Hasid, and settled in for a ride there.
Much to our surprise, we were raided again. The second day out from Flex, a band of six men tried to take the convoy. We shot down two of them and went after them on horseback again, and took two more.
Gram came back, wiping his bloodied blade in disbelief.
"What's with all the bandits?" he asked.
A merchant told us what he knew. Given the stalemate with the sable banner armies, it seemed that the various lords had begun to run low on funds to pay their armies. Without the treasury to support them, the most desperate men had deserted and gone to the countryside. Those who had homes to go to did so. Those without homes eked out an existence through raiding.
"What of Roshan and Palt?" I asked. The merchant made a face and shrugged. Nobody had heard from them for nearly half a year now, since they fell again to Malarchus.
Gram and I exchanged glances. If there wasn't any progress made against Malarchus at Roshan or Palt, then that meant Hasid and Forg would be on the new border. Forg meant nothing to me now, but there was still some business to attend to in Hasid.
We settled back into the wagon and looked forward impatiently to our arrival.
The accent in Hasid wasn't that different from the Forg accent, I noted with a pang. I heard the Hasid phrase "as you may say" several times, and each time I looked up, half-expecting to see Anveran saying it.
But I reminded myself Anveran was long gone. And the ungrateful whelp-child she had raised was dead to me too.
We checked in at the Temple and met with their lead Templar, Thadros. Quite unlike Stalvan, this man was thin of face, and body, and even of patience. Clearly, the strain of being next in line for Malarchus' attentions had gotten to the clergy as well.
Gram and I rested for the first night in a cramped cell with a single board-hard bed, and then we woke and massaged some feeling back into our joints, before going to the tithing records.
As it turned out, we found Raseyan Verdinesh very quickly. He was a regular tither and a familiar face to the Temple. Apparently he had worked on some of the Temple's buildings.
Gram and I strapped on our swords under our cloaks, and we went forth just before dawn.
By degrees, it seemed like Raseyan was the foreman. He was not a young man, older than both Bela and Wilmar. But he had undeniable strength, both in his thickset arms wielding the stonemason's chisel and adze, and also in his ruddy voice, calling across the site and setting his men in order.
In a different life, I mused, he might have made for a good army commander.
He took off his cap and mopped his brow, and I saw the beginnings of a bald spot in his crown. I loosened my grip from my sword. This man did not look like a cold-hearted killer.
After the day's work was done, I trailed him to the tavern where he spent modestly for a hot meal for himself and a few of the young apprentices. Then he went home, to a cellar apartment where I heard the unmistakable voices of children in the household as his wife kissed him a welcome.
I could make out two or three voices of young ones. Perhaps I was hearing his wife, though. Some women's voices were hard to tell from children.
Back at the tavern, Gram and I held a hunched discussion over a cut of lamb.
"What do you think?" he asked. "He doesn't seem all that much."
I chewed thoughtfully.
"He's older than I thought he would be," I said. "And he's the last son of the last daughter. I'd be surprised if there were that many Verdinesh still left."
Gram pondered this.
"How old was Alicov when all this happened?"
"Twelve," I said. "It happened fourteen years ago."
Gram sniffed. "All those vineyards and stables and boathouses we saw in Hawkbluff," he said. "And here's this Raseyan fellow, working in the dust and living in a cellar apartment. Makes you think, don't it?"
I shrugged. He seemed happy enough.
"I don't think we have to worry about this one. Let's go back and find out more about the others," I said.
We found a few scattered references to them. There were a few tithes here and there. Then, we found a sudden flurry of death notices. Fourteen years ago.
"Does it say Karras anywhere?" I asked.
Gram checked the spelling. "Yes," he said. "But that's not the strangest thing. Look here."
I squinted. But by degrees I made out the name. Alinestra Covelia - 12 years.
"Says here she's dead," he said.
I bit my lip. This was a troubling development. If Alinestra Covelia was dead, then who was the woman in Hawkbluff? Who was my lover?
"It has to be a mistake," I said. "Remember that she was in hiding for a long time. Maybe they gave her a death date to throw off the scent."
Gram nodded. "It's possible. If she was the last hope of the family, it makes sense," he said.
I sat back and rubbed my hand against my eyes. "Look up Remigerius. He was a cousin or something."
Gram put his finger in the page and flipped around. "Here he is," he said. "Actually there's more than one. Looks like there's three in total."
Allie had said something about Remigerius' brothers and kinsmen dying in the raid. So now we had to find out if the old man and the young woman in Falcon's Way were the real thing.
"These all happened at Stablethorpe, a few hours' ride risewards," Gram said. He pulled up a map. "Shall we go?"
I closed the books. "Why not."
Still, squatters had made their homes here. They eyed us from the burnt-out windows and eaves of the shells of buildings. Gram and I kept our swords close and dismounted only at the front door of the collapsed structure that was the inn.
Inside, I looked around and waved the dust from the place. A main spar had fallen in the middle, bringing down the staircase and several tables. The firepit in the side had collapsed too, and bits of the chimney stones had scattered to the middle of the room.
Something crunched beneath my foot, and I made out a curious wooden rattle. I picked it up, the little knick-knacks swaying slightly, and suddenly remembered what it was - it was the thing that they shook at weddings, for good luck.
I looked around. This was the ruined inn where Allie had been married to her cousin. I looked closer at the tables and saw mugs, long dry, tipped over or standing where they had been left. Perhaps her relatives had managed to muster some sad show of levity for her sake.
I stepped closer to the collapsed fireplace, and something caught my eye.
I called out to Gram, and he came in.
We pulled the spar off the fireplace. The bones there were unmistakably human.
All finished, we went to the Temple outpost. It was empty, long abandoned, but we dug about in the records and found the burials. Karras Markeides was there, along with several others. And Alinestra Covelia.
We trekked up the hill to the burial grounds and looked about the gravestones. These ones had no names - only numbers. We found the ones we wanted and set to digging, after offering a quick prayer to Mislaxa for this necessary evil.
I stared at the corpse in her grave. There was a rusted length of iron by its side.
Gram came up to me. "What's the matter?" he asked.
I shook my head. I was trembling with relief.
"Look at the skeleton," I said. "She was supposed to be twelve when she died."
Gram looked and then took a few paces for measurement, and then nodded.
"Too big," he said. "That's not her."
I looked at all the rest. They were all undeniably adults. Not a few had been buried with their swords by their sides.
"I think we need to talk to Raseyan soon," I said. "Somebody's been less than truthful about the bodies."
He ordered his drinks for self and his apprentices, and then talked to them about the craft. I listened in, happy to hear about stoneworking again, and remembering the craft I had learned in my youth.
"I like that, it's a good technique," I said, at length. "When I left off as a builder, we hadn't solved the load-bearing sheer problem."
He looked at me. "Good heavens, man, that's been the builder's standard for five years. Where have you been since building?"
I flicked my cape out for a moment to reveal the scabbard at my side, then drained my mug.
"The army picked me up, didn't it? I got stupid ideas of glory and gold, didn't I?" I said. Then, with a pointed look at the apprentices, I said "Don't you lot go hankering after battle like some idiot foolsons. You've got a good trade here - don't throw it away like your uncle Hawk did over here."
Raseyan ordered another, but I got it for him.
"You the foreman? Aye, I thought you might be. I'm with the Temple - they remembered the work I'd done as a builder and they took me in even after I became a soldier," I said.
"Reason I'm here is I saw your name in the tithing books. But it reminded me of another Verdinesh. My commander used to speak of him, back out in New Aurim. Have you heard of a Verdinesh who was in the army? Maybe ended up out here?"
Raseyan shook his head. "Couldn't rightly tell you, Hawk," he said. "There may have been several."
Gram turned from his game with a sigh of exasperation. He tapped one of the boys on the shoulder.
"These men can't play worth a penny," he said. "Would any of you care to join?"
I looked at my drink. When I turned back to Raseyan, we were pretty much alone.
"Fourteen years ago," I said simply.
He looked at me. There was a sudden sharpness to his eyes.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Fourteen years ago, my commander said he trained under Lord Malchior Verdinesh. But then the lord moved out here suddenly, and my commander never saw him again. A pity, too. He said if I ever need to train under a real master, I should find Malchior Verdinesh. So I've been searching ever since," I said.
Raseyan eyed me. "Malchior Verdinesh is dead," he said slowly. "He got here at the same time as Malarchus' men. They torched Stablethorpe. He died with his sword in his hand, trying to fight them off."
I turned to him, looking at his face for any sign of duplicity. Then I nodded slowly.
"I hear there was a girl, too," I said.
He stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"Somebody to do with Markeides," I said. "I have my hand on my sword and I really don't want to use it. But I can assure you that things will go very smoothly for you only if you answer my questions."
He swallowed. There was a dangerous look in his eyes.
"Gram," I called. "Move your noisy dice game over to the booths, would you?"
Gram took the apprentices out of the way. I continued looking at Raseyan.
"I know you work hard. I know your apprentices respect you, and I know the Temple especially thinks very highly of you," I said. "You have a wife and children too, and if there's been any unpleasantness in the past, I can assure you I've seen enough in the present to forgive and forget. But I have some questions and they need answers. From you, or from other Verdinesh."
He nodded.
"What happened to Karras Markeides?" I asked.
"He got away," Raseyan said simply.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Because he wasn't there when we got to Stablethorpe," he said. "We were met by a group of them on the road between Stablethorpe and Hasid, and they killed two of our men. We may have taken a few of them with us too. It was dark and we couldn't see." He chewed his lip angrily. "They killed my uncle, Beldrish."
"...Malchior's brother," I said. "I understand. Who was at Stablethorpe?"
"The girl. I don't remember her name. She wasn't Markeides. She was somebody else. But they were getting ready to move her, and our orders were to take her hostage so they'd be forced to negotiate," he said.
"Did she live?"
"How should I know?" he asked testily. "Halfway through the standoff, the black-flag riders swept through town and routed us. They burned everything. They staked Malchior's corpse in the courtyard. That wasn't right. He was a tough old bastard and he didn't always live by the best of ways, but it wasn't right to leave his body hanging like that. Not when he'd served in rank and file like the rest of them."
I relaxed slightly.
"Malchior's dead?" I asked. "There's no record."
"Yes, we listed him as Karras. And Beldrish we listed as the girl. Once they were in the coffins, nobody would be any wiser."
"Say the girl's still alive," I said. "What then? Would you go after her? Hunt her?"
Raseyan gave a curt, nervous laugh that sounded more like a bark.
"I? With what? My hammers and nails? Tell my wife I'm going out for three weeks to put up a fence in New Aurim?" he said. "This was all Malchior's crusade, from the start. The prince's estate meant so damn much to him. Little did he know it was worthless from the moment we left New Aurim."
"How's that?" I asked.
"The prince had an estate out near Roshan - a summer palace with hunting grounds and a river and lake," he said. "It was the first to go to torch when Malarchus moved through."
He laughed bitterly. "And to think we gave up all our lands in New Aurim for that. Ashes in the wind."
I nodded and ordered beers for us both.
"You seem like a good man in a bad world, Raseyan. Have you heard of the Temple's Lovedays?"
He thought.
"I've heard of them. Never too clear what they are though."
I drank.
"It's for settling disputes and old grievances and putting them aside," I said. "The Temple arbitrates and enemies put down their differences and become friends. I'd like to ask the Temple to make peace between the Verdinesh and the Markeides. These feuds only waste lives and resources."
Raseyan looked at me cautiously.
"Sounds good," he said. "But how will we do it?"
I drained my mug. "I'll check with the Temple tomorrow, and I'll leave you a message here at the pub. If you agree to it, the Temple will extend its protection to you."
I held out my hand, open, on the bar.
"Raseyan, I'm glad I came out to speak with you," I said. "I hope we can make peace between the two families. But even if we can't, I hope at least that I can swear my peace to you."
He took my hand and shook it.
"Do that, Hawk," he said. "I'll try to get in touch with my cousins. Times have moved on and we're tired of fighting our parents' battles."
I walked out of the bar, Gram at my side, with an odd feeling of elation.
_