Page 171 of Swordheart
“Not at first,” said Nolan. “Dreadful woman. I’d have stabbedherif I thought I could get away with it. Once we had proof you really were a servant of the sword, he said it would be the best way to keep Mistress Halla from following after and claiming he’d stolen the blade. But he wasn’t supposed to draw it! The bargain wasneverthat he’d be the wielder.”
Privately, Sarkis suspected that had bought Bartholomew several days more life. Nolan, for all his whining, was clearly not above a little murder to get what he wanted.
“So what happens now?” he asked.
“We’ll be returning to my order’s compound,” said Nolan. He looked over at Bartholomew’s corpse, lip curling. “I’ve already been away far longer than I intended. Smith’s grace, this has beenmiserable.”
He sounded so much like an ordinary person complaining about travel delays and unreliable merchants that Sarkis would have felt a pang of sympathy for him, if it wasn’t for the dead body.
“So what are you doing with the corpse?” he asked.Why is so much of my life these days related to corpse disposal? It never used to be. I used to just leave them where they dropped. I could really get to hate the south.
Nolan smiled. There was a shine in his eyes that reminded Sarkis of something… something bad…
Ah. Yes. Of course. Thezetheyes of the Sainted Smith.
“There’s so much junk in this house,” he said, waving a hand casually toward the ceiling and the second floor. “I expect it’ll go up like a torch, and take anything else in the house with it.”
Sarkis said nothing. The house shared a wall on either side with its neighbors. Presumably Nolan wasn’t concerned or didn’t care that the fire might not limit itself to the contents of Bartholomew’s back bedrooms.
He wondered how much the sword would let him get away with, in terms of stopping a wielder bent on arson.
He did not have to find out. The front door opened. Sarkis heard footsteps in the hall and turned to face the intruders.
“The door is locked!” hissed Nolan. “What the hell is going on?!”
“Bartholomew’s kept a spare key in that gargoyle for the last twenty years,” said the intruder, stepping into the room. “Hello, Sarkis. Hello, Nolan. Hello, Bar… oh. I see.”
Nolan was making demands. Nolan was cursing. Sarkis had eyes only for one person.
“Halla,”he said.
CHAPTER 56
“You!” said Nolan. “You’re here? How the devil are youhere?”
“Mostly luck,” admitted Halla. “Or, since it was paladins, maybe grace. Zale? Was that grace?”
“I’m willing to call it grace,” said Zale, who was standing behind her in the doorway to the dining room. “Whether divine or simply human kindness, which is its own form of grace. Hello, Sarkis.”
Halla stepped sideways until she was standing in the portion of the kitchen that adjoined the dining room. She was carrying a cloak slung over one shoulder, hanging down past her hips, and limping a little. The notion that she might have been injured sent mingled rage and shame slamming through his veins.
“Are you hurt?” he said.
“Just saddle sore,” she admitted, not meeting his eyes. “We rode very fast. Or what felt like very fast, anyway.”
It was terribly stupid, he realized, to be trying to work out if she was furious at him based on how she was looking at him when there was a murderer directly behind him and a corpse sitting at the table. Nevertheless, the fact that she wouldn’t make eye contact seemed like the worst of signs.
“Well,” she said. “You murdered Bartholomew, then?”
“I had no choice,” said Nolan. “He was the wielder and refused to give up the sword. I knew he always intended to double-cross me.”
“He was the one who sent the footpads in Archon’s Glory,” said Sarkis.
“Ah. Yes. And left me to Alver’s tender mercies. Still, I’m sorryhe’s dead.” She sighed. “I suppose it is you I must negotiate with, then.”
“What?” said Nolan.
“I will buy the sword from you,” said Halla, in a clear voice. “I never meant to cast it aside, but I realize that things have become muddled.” She looked at Zale. “How much is my inheritance worth?”
