Sieged

Chapter Nineteen

Staring at the spot where the king vanquished my only worth in this world, I sit for hours. I sit until the morning light peers through the kitchen window, until my mind is clear from the drink. 

I yawn but there's no time for sleep. I must tell my men of the king's directive. 

But first, I wash and change my clothes. 

Stinking of firewater and from the days of travel are not what I want the people I've worked with for many years to remember on this day. I want to leave them with a clean visage of me. 

As I limp outside in a fresh coat, dew collecting on it immediately, I call for May. As always she eventually shows, and with a spring in her gait. 

She's glad to see me. I'm glad to see her. 

After a welcoming rub of her muzzle and a few playful nudges from her, I take her round to the back and harness her to the carriage. I clamber up to the driver's seat and head off to Lorma's. 

Being that it will be the last time, the ride is a somber one. The city's residents are out, going about their day, with many calling out to me. 

'Morning, sheriff,' they say as happy as one could be. 

I don't correct them. And little do they know about my failed attempt at peace. It's hard to look at them. But look at them I must. And I return their greetings. 

With the streets less crowded, the inner city is a welcome sight. And when I sidle up to Lorma's home, I see her and my men waiting with smiles, and all looking eager for positive news. 

I ache at the disappointment I'm about to inflict. 

Yet, I greet them warmly once my boots touch the ground inside the courtyard. I shake the hands of my men and give Lorma a respectful peck on the cheek. 

'Seamil just messaged that you returned,' Lorma says. 'We all felt like waiting for you. We were very anxious.' 

'Did he mention anything about the return,' I ask. 

'Like what?' 

'Oh, nothing,' I reply, thankful he hadn't mentioned our get together inside the gear room. 

I don't want Lorma to judge us, to judge me. Many don't like ones that drink their sorrows away. 

'How went the meeting with King Jabora?' asks Tready. 'Is there peace in our future?' 

It hurts me to answer with words and so I just shake my head. And they react as Seamil did. 

After a moment, Tready asks softly, 'What do we do now, sir?' 

'Like you always do,' I reply. 

My men nod their heads before Jac says, 'We were able to identify the Night Cleaver's last victim.' 

'That's a good start,' I croak. Even though I'd rather the situation be a terrible fantasy, I'm delighted. 'And?' 

'Remember the woman who came into the keep to report that someone had stolen her corset–' 

'It was her?' 

'Yes.' 

'Shit.' I pause, shaking my head, before saying, 'Anything else found?' 

'Sorry, sheriff, that was all we could find so far.' 

'So there have been no more attacks since I left?' 

'Nothing.' 

Relieved, I let out a sigh, but maybe the Night Cleaver wants me around. 

'Oh, and the examiner was able to find out the poison that killed the blacksmith,' says Tready. 'He said he was able to analyze the blood. He wrote a letter detailing everything. It's on your desk.'