said. He moved to crouch at Lohren’s side, laying a hand on her shoulder. “When?”
“The tower,” she said and he felt her shudder. “Now.” Her shudder abruptly turned into a convulsion, her face bleaching of colour as she fought down a retch. “Part of him . . .” She grimaced in confusion. “Someone he used to be . . . wants to meet his daughter again. It was a delightful surprise to find her here. He never got to kill her when he was alive. Something he’s always regretted.”
Someone he used to be . . . his daughter . . .
Vaelin tore himself from Lohren’s side, unhooking his sword from the back of his chair before rushing to the door. The realisation sang in his mind with all the force of a scream. Ellese!
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Vaelin dragged his horse to a halt in the courtyard, leaping down from the saddle and sprinting for the stables. He drew his sword and forced himself into a walk before entering the shadowy interior, ears alive for any sound beyond the snorting of many annoyed horses.
“Ellese!” he called out, moving towards the rear of the stables. “Show yourself!”
“Uncle?”
He turned to find her framed in a doorway, blanket clutched around her unclothed body and an aggrieved scowl on her face. Beyond her, Vaelin could see the pale form of Sehmon Vek frantically struggling into his trews.
“Get dressed,” Vaelin told Ellese.
“Much as I appreciate your concern,” she said with a sigh, “I am not yours to command . . .”
“Get!” Vaelin broke in, moving towards her, staring into her eyes with unmistakable intent. “Dressed!”
She blinked and stepped back, her eyes flicking to the sword he held and scowl fading as she gave a nod of understanding. “Of course.”
The North Guard sergeant who had charge of the night watch hurried into the stables, two poleaxe-bearing guardsmen at his back. “Trouble, my lord?” he asked.
Alum appeared behind the guardsmen, breathing heavily. He wasn’t an experienced rider and Vaelin had quickly outpaced him in his dash to the tower.
“You,” he said, nodding at one of the guardsmen and gesturing to Alum. “Give this man your poleaxe.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Sergeant,” Vaelin went on. “Rouse Lord Orven, and the entire garrison. There is an intruder in the tower. It’s to be searched from top to bottom.”
The sergeant, a veteran of many years’ service, gave only the slightest hesitation before saluting smartly and turning about, voice raised to bark out the requisite orders.
“What’s happening?” Ellese asked, Vaelin glancing over to see her now mostly clothed, hands moving rapidly as she laced up her boots.
“You have your weapons?” Vaelin asked her.
“Always.”
“Good. Get them.”
“Your pardon, my lord.” Sehmon appeared at Ellese’s side, bowing low, voice strained with panicked contrition. “If I have offended in any way . . .”
“Oh, shut up, you!” Ellese snapped. She strapped on her belt with its two hunting knives, one long and the other short. “Here,” she said, handing him the shorter blade. “Might as well make yourself useful.”
“Stay close,” Vaelin told them, heading back to the courtyard.
“Where are we going?” Ellese asked, nocking an arrow to her bow.
Lohren’s words played through his mind. He’s come such a long way . . . “We need to check on our visitors.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Ambassador Kohn had at least received a quick death. He lay on the voluminous bed in the large chamber reserved for the most honoured guests, steel-grey beard stained red below the chin and the sheets on either side soaked with fresh blood.
A single cut, Vaelin saw, teasing aside the beard to peer at the wound, an almost surgical one-inch incision severing the main artery in the neck. His attendants hadn’t been so lucky. Four of them lay around the chamber, each body featuring at least three stab wounds to the chest. The blood sprayed onto the walls, and the general state of disorder indicated a frenzied slaughter.
“This all happened very quickly,” Alum said, surveying the carnage with a practised eye. “The old man was killed first, probably in full view of these others.” His foot nudged the hand of one of the slain attendants, the fist slack around the hilt of a knife. “No blood on the blade. They tried to fight, but it did them no good.”
“He’s not here,” Ellese said, moving from one corpse to another, face set in the predatory tension of the hunt. “The one with the scar.” She straightened and turned to Vaelin. “He knew me. That’s what I saw