Sieged

Chapter Thirteen

'He was poisoned,' the examiner tells me as we stand over Able's body in Lorma's cellar. 

'As I had suspected,' I reply, bobbing my head in acceptance. 'As sheriff and being in the army, I've seen many poisonings in my lifetime. I would not want to leave this world in such circumstances. It is wicked. More wicked than other ways no matter how brutal. Do you have any idea what kind of poison?' 

The symptoms do look familiar but I can't place where I've seen them. 

'I'll need to do a thorough inspection of his blood to give you specifics.' The examiner takes off the round spectacles from his crooked nose before holding up the vial of blackish-red liquid he just siphoned from Able. 

The blood swirls with corruption. 

'How long will that take?' I ask. 

'It first depends if I can make the concoctions that will provide the answers,' the examiner replies. 

'So you may not be able to?'  

'Unfortunately. As you know, as everyone knows, resources are hard to come by.' 

A torment suddenly races through me like a violent thunderstorm sweeping the Godly Plains, making me wince and clutch my leg. 

'That looked painful,' the examiner says, a look of pity in his keen dark eyes. 

I don't need his compassion. I don't need anyone's compassion. 

'Any chance of knowing someone in the city's physician community that has a drop of strong elixir that they can spare?' I say. 'My elixirman has nothing to give.' 

The examiner sharpens his stare, his features creasing. 'I didn't know you acquired a new elixirman.' 

The image of me hitting my elixirman the other day flashes through my thoughts. 'I may need of a new one now.' 

'Excuse me?' asks the examiner. 

I wave him away. 'It's nothing. It's nothing. A personal matter.' 

After a pause, the examiner says, 'Pardon my advice but it looks like you could use some sleep. Lack of it can play havoc with the body. And not just physically.' 

'Like resources, that's hard to come by too. Well, I'll let you get back to your other obligations, Ren. Once again, thank you for coming by.' 

The examiner leaves me to stew in the cellar alone, to glare at the bodies of Able and the young woman lying side by side. 

Clearly the poisoned food, the loaf of bread, was intended for me, my attacker, and who surely must be the Night Cleaver, trying his luck once again. 

I need to know who he is. 

Barth, the vigil who has always brought me my rations, whom I've grown to know in five years, has some questions to answer for. And I fear I won't be pleasant with him. 

I wait and wait, my senses easing to the growing stench the bodies expend. But rage begins to boil away within. And my desperation feeds my anger until it's a red-hot pit. 

Hours go by, I'm sure of it, when I hear footfalls plodding down the stone steps to the cellar. Then beside me, a door opens and in walks Tready and Scar, again with a suspect yet unchained. 

The three immediately gasp and cover their noses. 

Barth's eyes draw to the bodies, candles lighting the fetid rotting corpses. 

'Gods fucking shit,' he strains as his face whips away at the sight. 'What's all this?' He begins gagging, setting off Scar. 'Why did you send for me, sheriff?'