Page 156 of Swordheart
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out. People manage to kill each other all the time. How hard can it be?”
Halla suspected that it would be quite difficult, but then again, Sarkis had killed a half dozen bandits in less time than it took to cook a chicken, so maybe the priest was right.
“Anyway, it wasn’t the killing part that was hard, it was dealing with the body afterward. And in this case, they’re a kidnapper, so we’ll just go straight to the constable and explain the situation. Well… part of the situation…”
“Maybe we can get Brindle to do the actual killing,” said Halla.
“Err. I wouldn’t feel right about that. I mean, defending his ox is one thing, but asking a gnole to kill somebody in somewhat cold blood…”
Halla sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“Though I do wish we had a Sin-Eater…” Zale muttered, half to themself.
“What? One of those people who eats food off the dead?”
“Well… no. Not exactly…” Zale lifted their bound handsto scratch awkwardly at their neck. “They’re… a religious order my priesthood works with occasionally. For things like this. You know, murders, assassination, things like that. I mean, we’re practical but we’re notcriminals.”
Halla gave them a look.
“Yes, all right, the law might frown on the hiding bodies part, but the Motherhood started it.”
“They did,” Halla agreed. She was mostly just bemused at how Zale had gone from throwing up in the bushes to coolly plotting murder.
She was even more bemused that she seemed to be going along with it.
It’s for Sarkis. You have to get him back. He’s been kidnapped. If you’ve got to kill the kidnapper, that’s just how it is.
No use dithering. Get to work.
“If you’re still bothered by it,” said Zale, bending back over her bonds, “I’ll take your confession afterward.”
“Who’s going to takeyourconfession?”
The priest gave her a wry smile. “The bishop. And if I did not suspect the bishop would agree with me, we would be having a very different conversation.” They slid their fingers under the loops of rope, tugging another one clear of Halla’s knuckles. This one went much easier.
“And if I find she does not agree,” they added, “then it will all be on my head for leading you astray. As it should be…”
CHAPTER 50
Sarkis materialized outside the sword again in a room filled with packing crates.
Some kind of storeroom, he thought. Not one he’d seen in Halla’s house, certainly.
He eyed the men across the room. Bartholomew and Nolan.
“Throw down your sword,” said Bartholomew.
“No,” said Sarkis.
There was a packing crate in the middle of the room, about waist high, with a lantern on it. He could not throw the lantern at Bartholomew. Nolan stood too far back.
The finger marks on the scholar’s neck were livid purple, going green around the edges. It had been at least a day, then.
How far could Bartholomew have traveled in a day?
How much damage could Halla’s cousin Alver have done in that time?
He had no idea how to get a message to Halla, or even where he was in relation to her. He could be five miles away or fifty.
