The Ten Thieves and the Elf (3)
After a simple lunch at the castle, I went out to patrol the county with Marhan.
I intended to speak directly to some of the nobles who'd been robbed. The count's ordinary soldiers hadn't been able to question them properly. The victims were proud men, and many resented being interrogated by people they considered beneath them.
As regent, I might have better luck.
“You were attacked on your way home, you say?”
The nobleman sitting across from us was the Ten Bandits' first known victim.
When the count's soldiers had come to question him previously, he'd angrily turned them away. He didn't want the whole city to know that common criminals had stolen his valuables, and he particularly disliked having to discuss the humiliation with ordinary enlisted men.
I wondered if he'd be just as difficult with me.
But when Marhan, a female knight of the Blue Banner order, and several soldiers accompanied me to his residence, the man became remarkably cooperative.
My temporary status as regent probably helped.
“I was taking a shortcut down an alley,” he began reluctantly.
His face tightened at the memory.
“Masked men blocked both ends. My servant drew his weapon when a dagger struck him in the shoulder, but they were already on top of him. They beat him without mercy… and left him to bleed to death.”
I listened in silence.
The bandits had been careful not to harm the noble himself. They must have known that killing a member of the aristocracy would bring a much greater response.
Instead, they trapped him where he couldn't flee, killed his attendant cruelly, and used the spectacle to frighten him into surrendering his valuables.
For a gang's first recorded robbery, it seemed disturbingly practiced.
“They reached for me next,” the man continued. “I thought they'd kill me. But they only demanded my money and everything of value I was carrying. I gave it to them. What else could I do? That's all I remember…”
“How did they injure your servant?” Marhan asked. “Did they only strike him with blunt weapons?”
I'd been about to ask the same thing.
The nobleman considered the question and shook his head.
“No. There were cuts too. Several of them. Something sharp—a dagger, perhaps. They could have stabbed him in the neck and killed him quickly, but they didn't. It was as if they wanted to watch him bleed to death.”
That was hideous.
The attackers had cut him repeatedly without delivering a quick killing blow, apparently taking pleasure in watching him die from blood loss.
Wait.
Something stirred in my memory.
Three years earlier, there had been a murder committed in much the same way. A woman named Haria had lost her husband, and her home had been burned down.
Could it be the same killer?
I opened my mouth to ask another question.
“Your Excellency the Regent!”
The door flew open, and a soldier rushed inside.
He wasn't one of the men I'd brought. Had he come all the way from the castle?
The soldier stopped to catch his breath.
“Good news! The bandits have surrendered! All of them!”
“…What?”
I was so startled that I forgot to be pleased.
Why would men who'd hidden from the authorities for a month suddenly surrender?
I looked at Marhan. She seemed just as bewildered.
When we returned to the castle on horseback, the prisoners were already lined up in the courtyard, their hands bound with ropes.
They matched the composite portraits in the investigation records, and the weapons used in the crimes had been preserved. Those things made their identification persuasive.
There could be little doubt these were the Ten Bandits.
“Unbelievable,” Marhan murmured.
“That's one word for it.”
I dismounted. Marhan followed.
A knight who was directing the soldiers spotted me and hurried over, looking almost giddy.
“Your Excellency! Congratulations on your success!”
“My success?”
“These men say they surrendered because they were afraid of you. Your investigation must have been closing in on them! His Excellency the Count will be delighted to learn you've captured the whole gang.”
Closing in?
I'd been investigating for two days.
The bandits had evaded the county's soldiers for nearly a month, yet they'd supposedly decided the game was over after a mere two days of my paperwork.
Something was wrong.
The knight didn't seem to notice my discomfort.
“There was a disagreement among them, apparently. Some wanted to surrender and the others refused. They fought, the deputy leader and another man were killed, and the rest came here to give themselves up.”
“Two men are dead?”
“That's what they told us. Lord Fred has gone to inspect the scene and confirm the facts. But the prisoners match our portraits, and they can describe how the crimes were committed. I'm convinced they're the right men.”
“I see. Which one is their leader?”
“Over there.”
I walked toward the man the knight indicated.
He was bound like the others, but he seemed especially nervous. He kept his eyes lowered, refusing to meet mine.
“You. What's your name?”
“…Murnon.”
“Do you remember a woman named Haria? Three years ago, she lost her husband and her home.”
“N-no! I never set a fire!”
A fire?
I stared down at him.
“That's strange. I didn't say anything about her house being burned.”
“I-I…”
Murnon's eyes darted wildly.
Then he looked past my shoulder.
His expression changed. He fell abruptly to his knees.
“You're right! Three years ago, I killed her husband and burned down her house! I'm sorry! Please forgive me!”
His terror was extraordinary. He looked as if he'd seen a demon.
I turned to see what had frightened him.
The elf stood near the stable, dressed in her maid's uniform and watching the courtyard without expression.
When our eyes met, her face crumpled into a plaintive look.
She seemed to mouth something from where she stood.
Please punish me, Master.
I couldn't hear her voice from this distance. I was only guessing at the words.
But the situation was beginning to make sense.
Don't tell me…
Had the elf hunted these criminals down herself and threatened them until they surrendered?
It was hard to explain their terror any other way.
I didn't know whether to be grateful or horrified.
The knight beside me suddenly strode forward and kicked Murnon, knocking him into the dust.
“How dare you change your story in front of the regent, you worthless criminal!”
Murnon curled up and groaned.
The knight turned back to me.
“Your Excellency, what should we do with them? Shall we have them hanged in the street?”
I was tempted to agree, but it wasn't that simple.
“Imprison them for now. We can decide on a punishment when His Excellency the Count returns.”
“Of course! Men, take these scoundrels away!”
The knight marched across the courtyard, barking orders. Soldiers hauled the prisoners to their feet and began leading them away.
I watched for a moment, then glanced again toward the elf.
Now what am I supposed to do?
The excuse that I was too busy to punish her was gone. She'd apparently solved the very problem I'd been using to keep her at a distance.
I tapped Marhan's armor.
She looked at me.
“Yes, Your Excellency?”
“Marhan. I have a very important assignment for you. It must be kept absolutely secret. Will you swear on the honor of your family and your knighthood to carry out my instructions?”
She stared, puzzled.
I understood her confusion. Why would I suddenly entrust her with a secret mission immediately after the bandit problem had been resolved?
But this wasn't a minor concern for me. My life and the future of House Deharem might depend on it.
I couldn't hide behind my duties anymore.
After thinking for a moment, Marhan nodded.
“My first loyalty belongs to the count. But while you act as regent, you have the authority of my lord. Provided your orders do not conflict with His Excellency's will, I swear on my family and knightly honor that I will keep them secret and carry them out.”
“Thank you.”
Her sincerity gave me a little courage.
I leaned closer and lowered my voice.
“Are there any torture instruments left in the castle basement? Something that could also be used for… sexual punishment?”
Marhan looked at me with sudden disgust.
“No, that's not what you think—”
I could already feel my dignity crumbling.
The cellar beneath the Black Wheat Fields Tavern reeked of blood.
Fred descended the stairs with two cloaked men behind him. The wrecked door lay in pieces, and two headless corpses were sprawled across the floor.
He pinched his nose and frowned.
Their heads were blown apart.
There were no obvious injuries to the rest of either body. Whatever force had killed them appeared to have acted from within the skull, rather than crushing it from outside.
Magic? Some kind of dark magic?
Fred had heard of sorcerers in the demon realm who could overload another person's body with destructive power. But he'd never heard of anyone making a head burst like this.
What level of magic would that require?
Did Theorad hire a sorcerer to catch the bandits?
No. That seemed absurd.
Someone who could use magic on this scale would demand an astronomical fee. Theorad could hardly have paid it just to make a good impression on the count.
To Fred, it seemed that someone had intervened on Theorad's behalf.
Fred considered the evidence again and laughed quietly.
A contract. Of course.
Theorad might have struck some bargain with a powerful mage, placing that person's abilities at his disposal.
Did he even offer up his soul?
In the darker parts of the demon realm, Fred had heard, souls and things promised after death could serve as payment in a pact.
He couldn't know whether that had happened. But he was suddenly forced to reconsider the mild, innocent young man he thought he knew.
And all this time I believed he was harmless.
Theorad might be involved in affairs far darker than Fred had imagined.
Still, Fred had no intention of spreading the story.
Fred was involved in questionable business of his own, and he had no wish to draw attention to it. Turning the investigation into a public scandal would only put the count's house under unwanted scrutiny.
Besides, Theorad appeared to love Ashley sincerely. Whatever dealings he might have with dangerous people, Fred had no reason to interfere so long as his sister wasn't harmed.
He nodded toward the two bodies.
“Gentlemen. These shouldn't be left where anyone might see them. Take care of the scene.”
“Understood.”
The men stepped forward and rolled back the sleeves of their robes.
A black scorpion tattoo came into view among the exposed wrists.
“I'll wait outside,” Fred said. “I'm still not accustomed to the smell of blood.”
He climbed the stairs, his smile uneasy.
I don't know what business you're involved in, Theorad. But I hope we never find ourselves on opposite sides of it.
That apparently kind young man might be more deeply entangled in the underworld than anyone Fred knew.
If they ever became enemies, Fred wasn't at all sure he could win.