Chapter 12

  Nicco

  Nicco and Leo exchanged looks of concern. Spurring his palfrey, Nicco rode toward the burning villa. Lanterns hung from lampposts around the plaza before Medistein villa. Servants fought the flames with quilts and water buckets. The servants had formed a human chain that stretched from the fountain to the villa. They passed water buckets between them. The last servant threw water onto the fire.

  “Halt!” a man demanded. He held a crossbow at the ready. Both Leo and Nicco obliged. “Name yourselves!”

  “Leo Medistein and Count Nicco Bizzi,” Leo said.

  “Apologies, young master. I didn’t recognize you in the dark,” the guard said. He stepped forward from the shadows behind a tree and lowered his crossbow.

  “Diego, what happened?” Leo asked.

  “Bandits attacked the villa,” Diego answered. “About a half dozen.”

  “We killed them all, but not before they set fire to the villa.”

  “We can talk later,” Nicco said. “Let’s help extinguish the fire.” He dismounted his horse and ran past a large fountain on the plaza. A statue depicted a dashing Markus Medistein--the founder of the Medistein House--standing on a column at its center.

  “Is everyone out?” he asked the assembled servants. No one answered him. The roaring flames overtook his voice. Smoke billowed out from windows and an open door. Nicco ran inside the villa’s front door.

  “Anyone there?” He called out, hurrying down the hall. It was hot but bearable. Smoke clung to the roof, but he saw no flames. “Hello, is anyone here?”

  “Hello!” A young, high-pitched voice yelled.

  “Where are you?” Nicco asked.

  “In here!” A child’s voice said behind the door.

  Nicco touched the wooden door with the back of his hand. The wood was warm. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. He grabbed the doorknob and pushed open the door. Heat blasted him and he shielded his face with a raised arm, coughing as he entered. Inside, he saw a little girl no older than ten. Thick smoke packed the room. Flames burned the ceiling.

  “We have to get out.”

  “Get Wiggles,” she pleaded between coughs. Soot covered her face. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead, leaving a streak of clean skin in its wake.

  “Wiggles?”

  “My dog. He’s under the bed. I can’t reach him.” She pointed to the bed.

  Nicco lay down on the stomach. The air was immediately easier to breathe. “Get down and crawl,” Nicco said. In the back corner under the bed, Nicco found a brown terrier hunched. Nicco reached forward and grabbed Wiggle’s paw. Wiggles yelped as Nicco dragged him closer. Once clear of the bed, Nicco cradled a trembling Wiggles against his body. “Keep going.” Nicco crawled toward the door, following the little girl. They reached the hall. “Go left.” They crawled faster. Sweat dripped from his face onto the warm slate tile floor.

  They turned a corner and almost collided with a sweaty, middle-aged man. “Are you alone?” Nicco asked.

  “Yes.” The man answered with a cough. “I checked this wing. Everyone is out.”

  “Let’s do likewise,” Nicco said. “Stand up and run. We’re almost there.” They all stood and hurried along the hallway. Nicco followed behind, still carrying Wiggles. They exited the burning villa emerging back on the plaza. He took a deep breath of fresh air. The night sky glowed orange.

  “Wait over there.” Nicco pointed toward a tree.

  Leo had dismounted and tied the reins of his horse around a branch. Leo had added himself to the human chain, scooping water from the fountain.

  Three old woman servants swatted flames from drifting sparks with damp blankets to prevent the fire from jumping elsewhere. Everyone contributed.

  Nicco took a position at the front of the line. A man handed him a water-filled bucket. He took it, threw the water on the fire, and handed it off to a servant girl. She passed the empty bucket back toward the fountain. Nicco continued to toss water into the flames. Sweat drenched him. Only part of the villa had caught fire. Nicco and the servants labored for over an hour. Fortunately, the servants had acted quickly enough to contain the damage. They finally extinguished the flames.

  “Praise the All-Father,” Nicco said.

  Nicco knelt by the fountain and cupped his hands in the shallow water, desperate for a drink. They had nearly emptied the fountain. If we had drained the fountain and the fire still burned, what would we have done? Nicco dismissed the thought. Others drank from the fountain as he did. “Let’s get a proper drink from the kitchens,” a manservant said. A few others joined him and entered through an undamaged side door.

  Nicco’s eyes had grown accustomed to the fading firelight. Catching his breath, only now did he notice the dead bodies. Three men in Medistein checkered tunics lay among six Black Blades. “What happened?” Nicco asked no one in particular.

  Diego spoke. “These men approached the villa and demanded to speak with Master Medistein.” Leo listened intently. “I informed them he wasn’t here, but they persisted in their demand to search the premises. They replied by drawing steel. Naturally, that turned into a fight. During the fighting, one of them set the villa ablaze. After the fighting ended, I alone stood.” He frowned. “Pietro and the brothers Mario and Marco lay slain. They died defending the servants and the villa. Any man of honor is worth two who would sell his sword, I say.” Diego pointed toward the sprawl bodies before him. “There is your proof.”

  A paltry consolation prize. Had they allowed them to search, they would have found nothing and left peacefully. But then they might have joined the ambushers along the road--then he would have faced a dozen men. Nicco had held his own against six, but eventually, numbers always overcame skill. He wasn’t sure what his number was, but he doubted he could fight a dozen.

  Nicco traced a diamond on his chest to honor the fallen warriors. “Tellius accepts their Essence to the stars.” He looked up at the star-filled sky. Telliusians believed every time someone died, their Essence would drift up to the heavens above and make another star. Assuming, of course, they lived an honorable life.

  “And six more for the Void,” Diego spat. Above, the night sky grew darker, like the Void was ever-expanding.

  “May the Voidhounds corral them in the darkness forever.”

  “Don’t forget the five you sent,” Leo added.

  A sudden sadness overcame him as he comprehended everything that had occurred these past few hours. The rapid journey, the fight, the brutal death of his parentDefenestrationDefenestrations, the burning villa.

  “Water or wine, my lord?” A young girl’s voice asked from behind. He craned his head over his shoulder. She was not yet a teenager. She stood, balancing a tray on each hand. Specks of ash clung to her face.

  “Water please,” Nicco answered. She offered the tray atop her right hand. Nicco took a mug. Diego did as well.

  “Wine,” Leo said. She offered the other tray, and Leo took a cup. The young girl moved on, offering a drink of choice to the others. Leo chugged down the wine. He placed the empty mug on the rim of the fountain. “I’ll get Mother, then I’m going to bed.”

  The mention of sleep made Nicco aware of how exhausted he felt. Nicco helped Leo attend to Sophia’s body. As they transported her to the villa’s temple, they surveyed the damage to the villa. Three rooms of the eastern wing required repairs, but at least such wounds could be healed. With Sophia stored, Nicco walked to his bedchamber. Inside, he removed his boots, sword belt, and soiled clothes. He needed a bath, but it could wait. He fell into the bed and slept naked.

  Nightmares came to him. The burning coach, the fight, Sophia’s death. His mistake was in allowing the bandit to break off his attack and kill her. He blamed himself and tried to force his mind to change the outcome. The moment of Sophia’s death hauntingly lingered. Desperate to force the nightmare away. He commanded his dreams to turn into more pleasant memories. He thought of Bianca. Her face hazy face came to focus. Her carefree laugh and long legs, her smile and smell. During the Medistein Tower celebration, they had drank and gambled away much of the night together. He mustered the courage to ask her to dance. When they did, their bodies close together--she radiated warmth. Her bosom pressed against him. He thought of the time--

  A loud knock started him awake. “My lord, your sister has arrived.”

  He grimaced at the disturbed. Suddenly aware of the soreness of his over-exerted muscles. Nicco groaned in frustration.

  “My lord, are you awake?” A young boy asked. The door creaked open.

  Nicco pulled the sheet over his morning stiffness. “Don’t come in. I’ll be out in a moment.”

  “Apologies, my lord.” The door shut.

  Nicco sighed, stretched, and sat up. He opened the wardrobe and put on fresh clothes and boots. A welcome comfort. Nicco regarded the dirty blooded, sweat-soaked clothes on the floor. They were beyond salvaging. He picked up his sword Vindicator, said a quick prayer, and kissed the diamond cross guard before buckling it around his waist.

  Nicco sauntered into the dining room. “Beer, bacon, and porridge.”

  “Would you care for any fruit, my lord?” the servant asked.

  “Something with citrus,” Nicco answered. The servant bowed and left the dining hall.

  He was the first one awake, as usual.

  “Brother!” He recognized the voice as Alessandra’s.

  No sooner had he turned than she wrapped her arms around him. Nicco hugged her back. Sometimes Nicco wondered if they were related. Alessandra was the opposite in appearance to Nicco in every way imaginable. She reminded him of the sea. Skinny, with skin pale as sea foam, and warm sea-green eyes above a constellation of light freckles that tickled her high cheeks. Whereas Nicco was golden-skinned, muscled, with cold blue eyes. The only common feature was the golden blond hair. She released the hug. Alessandra’s appearance was awful. Her hair was unkempt, eyes red-rimmed. Dirt smudges smeared across her skin.

  “Are you all right?” Nicco asked.

  “No,” Alessandra said. “I must speak with everyone at once. Have mother and father awoken yet?”

  Nicco frowned. She doesn’t know.

  “Allie,” Leo called out as he entered the dining room. “I’m glad to see you.”

  Leo hadn’t changed his clothes, and he stood as a canvas of filth, blood, and sorrow. His red-rimmed eyes matched Allie’s and looked sleepless from grief. Leo had at least wrapped a bandage on his burned forearm.

  She turned, and her smile faded. “What happened to your arm?” She grabbed his hand to examine his wound. Leo pulled his arm away.

  Nicco noticed she had wrapped a makeshift bandage from her skirts around her own arm. “What happened to yours?”

  “It’s nothing,” she said. “I should tend to Leo’s wound.” She gestured to Leo’s clothes. “Is all that blood from this? And how did the villa catch fire?”

  “No,” Leo said. “We should eat first. Then we can talk.” No one argued.

  They congregated on the edge of the dining table. Nicco sat at its head, flanked by Allie and Leo. Nicco hoped focusing on the meal would distract him from the prior night’s trauma. Servants brought out breakfast which they all ate with ravenous appetite. Nicco had a bowl of sweetened porridge with cinnamon. He preferred meat, especially bacon, which was his favorite. He placed six thick crispy slices on his plate. The salted crunch of each bite complemented the sweet porridge. Strawberries and slices of pineapple completed the meal.

  “Should we wait for Mother and Father?” Alessandra asked between spoonfuls of porridge.

  Nicco flicked a glance toward Leo, hoping he would answer. Leo stared into his bowl and ate rhythmically. His spoon shoveled porridge into his mouth as soon as the prior bite had been swallowed. Nicco delayed by folding a piece of bacon in half twice. He shoved the entire slice into his mouth. Someone has to tell her. “I’ll start,” Nicco mumbled with a mouthful of bacon. “Reinhard received your message, and we rode at once.” He swallowed the bacon and washed it down with a swig of a clear golden beer. The cool liquid tasted slightly bitter, almost earthy. The servants had made an excellent choice. Nicco preferred the pale lagers in the morning over the darker stouts. He paused. How do I tell her?

  Nicco absent-mindedly spooned the porridge, dumping it again and again into the bowl. Clumps of porridge plunked into the bowl like sticky mud. He spoke to his bowl, afraid to meet her eyes. “Eventually, we caught up with their carriage on Avictus Way.” With a blank stare, he shoveled a heaping spoon of porridge and smacked it back into the bowl. “Brigands ambushed us. Leo and I tried to...I tried to...”

  “They’re gone,” Leo whispered, still staring into his bowl.

  “Gone?” Allie asked, confused.

  Nicco slammed his spoon into the glass bowl, shattering it with a clinking tinkle. Broken shards and porridge rested on the table. Leo startled.

  Allie’s eyes widened with realization, and she shook her head in denial. “What are you saying?” Tears fell from her eyes. Nicco gave a subtle nod. “I don’t believe it,” she said, sniffling. “I won’t believe it.”

  “Their Essence has made its exodus,” Nicco whispered. He placed his hand on hers. She leaned over and cried into his shoulder. Nicco hugged her and her grief became infectious. Nicco fought back tears of his own. He hated crying not only because it made him feel weak, but because of his haemolacria condition. Crying was one thing, but whenever someone saw him weeping blood, it drew reactions of pity or disgust. Neither of which he needed. Instead, he had to be strong for Allie and his family. He had sworn a vow to protect his family with his life and had failed to uphold that vow. Because of that, his parents died. He gave another silent vow to the All-Father that no harm would come to his family while he lived.

  Alessandra cried for a while. Hearing her story could wait. He let her cry in his embrace. Her sorrow stole his appetite. After breakfast, Alessandra treated her and Leo’s wounds. She had studied some of the healing arts at the Arites Academy. Afterward, she sent a telepathic message to Reinhard informing him of their parent’s death and that they intended to hold a funeral at the villa.

  “Reinhard and Karl will depart Tarona at once,” Allie said.

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  Afterward, all three strolled to the bathhouse. They all needed to cleanse the stench of death from them. Large stone columns and arches stood inside the bathhouse. A single pool with heated water took up half the space. The other space held four individual bathtubs. A privacy screen had separated Allie’s bathtub. Glass lanterns sat on protruding stone shelves. Leo stepped into the larger single pool. Nicco joined him, sinking into the warm water, and sighed with relief. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes as the water cleansed tension and stress from his body. They all bathed in silence.

  The afternoon passed in a haze.

  Later that evening, Reinhard and Karl arrived under the escort of a dozen Skywatch guards. No sooner than Karl and Reinhard had dismounted his horse than Leo extended his welcome.

  “I see you found plenty of volunteers to protect you on your dangerous journey!” Leo said.

  Karl frowned. “I ordered them to come.”

  Leo’s face flashed with fury. “They might have been helpful had you found your courage yesterday. Father and mother might still be alive.” Leo punched Karl in the jaw. Karl spat blood and punched Leo back, knocking him to the ground.

  Leo scrambled to his feet and charged forward. Nicco reached forward and wrapped his arms around Leo’s waist, restraining him. Reinhard tried to position himself between the two embattled brothers. Allies’ pleas to stop fell on deaf ears.

  Pandemonium ensued during which finger-pointing, obscene gestures, slaps, and curses about everyone’s intelligence, abilities, ancestry, habits, sense of fashion, morals, and personal honor were insulted. The kind of fight that dredges up grudges from decades past that only family knows about.

  “ENOUGH!” Reinhard roared so loud Nicco would have sworn he felt the ground quake. Silence followed for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  Everyone parted, adjusted their clothes, and gathered their breath.

  “Do you think I don’t know I fucked up?” Karl said. His wet eyes mixed with fury and sorrow. His lip quivered, and he struggled to hold back tears. “I didn’t sleep last night. That decision will haunt me for the rest of my life.” Karl sobbed. Alessandra hugged Karl. “I’ll never forgive myself.” Mucus ran from his nose.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Alessandra said soothingly.

  “No, he’s just the one to blame!” Leo spat.

  Karl looked up from Alessandra’s hug and stepped forward. Reinhard stood firm between the two brothers.

  “I wanted to go, remember!” Karl raged. “You were the one who insisted it be you instead.” Leo appeared to have forgotten that. Because he stood paralyzed with a sudden realization that his brother spoke the truth.

  “Karl, don’t blame Leo,” Reinhard said. “I agreed with him. My counsel shares the blame here, if not more.”

  “No one standing here now is at fault,” Alessandra reasoned. “The murders are the ones to blame. We cannot place that blame on others. It will do no one any good.”

  “Yes,” Reinhard agreed. “Listen to Allie. Let’s support each other in these tough times.”

  “Let’s seek such comfort inside,” Alessandra suggested.

  Leo and Karl nodded, but avoided each other’s gaze. Shameful expressions hung on both their faces. Nicco felt the way they looked. His own actions conflicted with guilt and fear. Why did the All-Father give guilt more than joy?

  Nicco relaxed his restraint on Leo, who turned and went inside the villa. Nicco and the others followed into the great room, greeted by a roaring hearth. They sat on padded couches to discuss the painful events that had transpired.

  “I know this is hard for us all,” Reinhard said assuringly. “Feelings of sorrow and anger tear at your heart. We’ll have time to mourn. For now, we must share our stories while events are fresh in our minds. Perhaps some clue will help us uncover the truth and administer justice.” Somehow, through all the turmoil, Reinhard had temped emotions of the heart. Instead, he appealed to the logic, hoping to solve the mystery. “Allie, you first alerted me to the attack in Avictfell. You may hold some knowledge that would aid in uncovering the truth.”

  Alessandra recounted her tale from the beginning. Her arrival at the Medistein Bank and how, before leaving for the villa, Otto loaded a wagon to pay the Grand Vicar. The attack at Avictfell that resulted in Mia’s death and the branch burning down. Her escape through the city where she hid out in an inn and her message to Reinhard to rendezvous at the villa. Allie hesitated. “I’d hoped I’d escaped the worst of it. As I traveled along the road, a rock knocked me off my horse. I was unconscious briefly. When I came to, a bandit was on me...” Her lip quivered. “He had ripped my dress...” she stammered, tears flowing now. “He pushed my skirts up.” She sobbed.

  “Perhaps it’s best if we wait,” Reinhard said.

  “No,” Leo insisted. “We need to know now, while the events are still fresh in her mind.”

  Allie nodded. “I’m fine.” She took a deep breath to gather herself. “Somehow I managed to--”

  “Somehow?” Leo interrupted. “We need specifics. Every detail could matter.”

  “Do you have no sympathy?” Nicco snapped.

  “Enough fighting!” Reinhard bellowed with a commanding tone a general would use. Everyone sat in silence. Reinhard turned back to Alessandra and spoke with gentleness in their voice. “I know it’s painful. Try to remember anything you can.”

  “I tried to ingest some salts, but he took my arm and cut it. I threw the salt in his eyes and scampered free. He had his sword ready to kill me, and I threw my hand up to shield myself. Then lightning shot from my hand and I...I killed him.” Reinhard’s eyes grew wide, surprised at what she had described. His mouth hung open to ask her a question, but he never did. Alessandra cried. “I killed him. I took a life, sent his Essence to the void.”

  “He tried to kill you,” Nicco said. “You were only defending yourself.”

  “It still hurts knowing I killed a man. I never want to feel that again. I’ll never kill another person as long as I live.”

  Nicco held her hand. “Such pain is common, it’s what makes us human. I felt that way at first, but you’ll find that Tellius forgives. You’ll move on. I promise.”

  “You’ve taken your vows to honor Tellius, haven’t you?”

  “I have.”

  “Then I shall too. I swear to never again take a life.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Nicco considered her story, thinking back to his own and how any of it might relate. He found no connections.

  “It’s only normal to be stressed after such an incident,” Reinhard said, breaking the silence. “Allie, I must ask, this Essemancy you wielded, you summoned lightning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you done so before?”

  “No. I don’t know how it happened.” She scratched her head, peering upward. “After he cut my arm, I grabbed the wound with my hand. Salt stuck to my hand and infused my blood because I felt a sudden connection to the Essence. As for the lightning itself, I’m unsure.”

  “You would need a rune as well.”

  Her eyes went wide white with sudden realization. “The Cipher Scroll! I remember frantically reaching for anything to use as a weapon. I grabbed the scroll. With the salts coursing through my blood, a fearful will to survive. The chaotic panic overtook me and lightning burst from my fingers. I can’t explain it. Afterward, I remember feeling exhausted, overdrawn, and thirsty.” She took a sip of wine and continued. “It frightened the brigands. After they saw that, they ran like coward dogs.”

  Leo looked up. “Did you kill--”

  Nicco shot him a look and shook his head.

  “No, wait,” Alessandra said. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the events. “I lost control. The lightning continued and I couldn’t stop it. From the corner of my eyes, a log flew toward me and it knocked my arm down, stopping the lightning.” She shook her head, eyes still closed. “Only it wasn’t thrown, not in the traditional sense, like one might throw a rock. This bandit--an Essemancer--telekinetically hurled this log at me. Afterward, the bandit fled.”

  “It has to be the Cipher Scroll,” Reinhard said.

  “Essemancers know telekinesis,” Alessandra said, “but not lightning. At least not to my knowledge.”

  This was all too much for Nicco. Bandits and swords he could understand, but what Allie spoke of was strange to him. He understood simple facts. “So we knew these bandits were Black Blades. They had two groups and the group that attacked Allie had an Essemancer.”

  “Allie, are you certain?” Leo asked.

  “I am sure,” Alessandra nodded. “One of them was an Essemancer.”

  “Did you see any of their faces?”

  “No.” Alessandra frowned.

  Silence lingered like an empty church. Nicco thought through the events once again. The Black Blades coordinated an attack on Avictfell, his parents, and Allie. They sought the scroll and had an Essemancer with them. He took a drink and shifted in his chair. “We must learn who hired the Black Blades. To do that, we need to speak with the company’s leader, Captain Bastian Bach. Too bad we can’t just message him and save us the trouble of travel.”

  “And ask him what?” Leo retorted. “Have you taken any contracts to murder any prominent bankers lately?”

  Nicco scowled.

  Leo continued. “Even if he answered, I’m not sure the Black Blades have an Essemancer in their service. Those with permanent employment arrange contracts with nobles, lectors, acolytes, and Grand Burghers. An Essemancers consistent service would be very expensive. Our father...” Leo paused, as though mentioning their father hurt his heart. Nicco shared that sorrow. “Otto maintained a ledger of all the trained Essemancers and under whose employ they served. A special arrangement as a condition of selling them salts.”

  “Without salts, they may as well be a beggar on the street,” Allie said.

  Leo’s head rocked back and forth. “A literate beggar, but essentially, yes.”

  “So this ledger might list the Essemancer working with the Black Blades?” Nicco asked.

  “It could, but even if such a person exists, I would prefer to question the captain in person. Who knows where that Essemancer’s loyalty might lie?”

  “I’d hope with House Medistein. Their livelihood is tied to your house. Why would they attack that?” He suspected some ulterior motive. Alessandra’s story about the robbery in Avictfell. Two separate attacks on the highway, one of which led to murder. “Why now?”

  “Most bewildering,” Leo said.

  “The Imperial salt tax,” Allie answered.

  Leo twirled a lock of hair--thinking. “Unless they have found an alternative source of salts on the black market.”

  Allie’s brow scrunched together. “Have any Essemancers gone rogue before?”

  Leo shook his head. “None I’m aware of. The Scribes Guild maintains strict rules, a blacklist of sorts. I can ask the Guild Master for an updated census when we get back to Tarona.”

  “It would stand to reason,” Allie said, pacing before the fire, “since Essemancers require salt, maybe one grew disgruntled at the Medistein monopoly and hired the Black Blades to exact revenge. We have a clear motive, but who could’ve done it? If one can afford an Essemancer, surely they could afford to hire a mercenary captain.”

  Leo paced, rambling his stream of consciousness like he often did. “I’d agree with you in times of war. But in peace, it’s an unnecessary expense. Essemancers know their worth. They’re not cheap.”

  “Can’t Allie message or mind read them or something?” Nicco asked.

  Leo snickered. “It doesn’t work like that. Besides.... nevermind,” Leo exhaled a long breath. “Allie, have you never explained Essemancy to your brother?”

  “She may have tried once or twice,” Nicco yawned. “Best sleep I ever had.” He hoped the joke might help soothe their sorrow. Leo, Reinhard, and Karl all grinned.

  Allie glared at him with hands on her hips. “It’s no more boring than your mindless sword hacking at a defenseless wooden man.”

  Everyone laughed. Even he failed to suppress his amusement. Their banter relieved a bit of tension. Now Nicco turned back toward more serious matters. “We should consult Otto’s ledger. It may help narrow the list.”

  “Only the rich can afford such services,” Leo said. “Whoever planned the attack must have considerable influence and wealth to persuade an Essemancer to join their plan. We’re looking for a lord, gran burgher, or priest perhaps.”

  Reinhard stroked his beard. “Only a fraction of the Scribes Guild members know Essemancy.”

  “We can consult with the Scribes Guild Master Thomund,” Alessandra said. “An Essemancer leaving the guild wouldn’t go unnoticed.”

  Reinhard swallowed a gulp of beer, its froth clung to his beard. The mug clunked against the table. “We should also speak with Arch Magus Sabine as well. She has overseen some portion of training for every Essemancer in the empire. I’ve known her a long time and trust her unequivocally.”

  “Is it possible for someone to learn such skills outside the academy?” Nicco asked.

  Leo crossed his arms. “No, we maintain strict control of salt trade.”

  “But salts are only half the equation,” Allie added. “And possible and probable are two very different things. Otto only allows a few Essemancy runes to be taught at the academy.”

  “So how many Essemancers have been trained?” Nicco asked.

  “About two dozen,” Reinhard said.

  “It’s likely closer to two hundred,” Alessandra corrected. Reinhard flushed. “Things change, Uncle. Knowledge grows. You taught me that.”

  Reinhard tugged his beard. “That means it’s plausible an Essemancer might have left the guild.”

  “Or became a rogue,” Leo agreed. “Gold’s temptation could warrant such a risk.”

  “It’s essential we speak with Captain Bastian, Grand Master Thomund, and Arch Magus Sabine.”

  “You’re forgetting the Tellisium church,” Leo added. Nicco furrowed his brow. Leo must have seen his expression. “I’ve known the church to hire Essemancers.”

  “I doubt men of faith would condone such actions,” Nicco said.

  Leo scoffed. “How many Expeditions did they lead against the Julk?”

  Nicco crossed his arms. “Against barbarians to reclaim what once belonged the Traessyean Empire, and by extension the Avictean Empire. What of the Theogonist acolytes? They have used Essemancy far longer. Shouldn’t we add them to the growing list of suspects as well?”

  “Theogonists didn’t start wars to find salts.”

  “But they prospered from them. What is that expression you’re always saying? Prosperity prevails. Your grandfather prospered from such a war.”

  “What did you expect? He was a pirate!”

  “Exactly,” Nicco said, pointing his finger at Leo proving his point. “The church defends the people, it doesn’t rape and murder them along highways. Mercenaries or brigands did this, I’m sure of it.”

  “Nephews!” Reinhard interrupted. Nicco gave him his attention. Reinhard’s voice turned calm. “There are many black days in our history. Despite the prevalent use of Essemancers by both religions, we have no reason to believe either was involved. Let’s focus on facts and not let past transgressions divide us.”

  What do we know? A sudden realization took root in his mind and smacked his forehead to knock some sense into himself. Nicco had assumed Allies attackers were Black Blades mercenaries, but he had never explicitly asked. He assumed by mere coincidence, but what if wasn’t? “Did they wear all black? Your attackers, I mean.”

  Alessandra’s brow furrowed. “It was dark. It was hard to tell.”

  “Try to remember,” Nicco insisted. “It would have been all black. Boots, cloak, and armor. Black as a starless night.” Allie shook her head. “Are you sure? Did you check the dead man?”

  “No Nicco, I didn’t take the time to examine their fucking wardrobe.”

  Nicco leaned back. His sister didn’t swear often. Commenting long ago that it made one appear uncivil.

  “What are you getting at, Nicco?” Karl asked. After being silent during most of the questioning, he finally spoke. They should have included him more. Being captain of the Skywatch meant he often had to solve crimes. His detective skills could be quite valuable. Karl often listened without opinion, gathering facts in order to discover the bigger picture.

  “The men who attacked us wore all black. They were members of the Black Blades. Did you notice any tattoos or black clothing?”

  Alessandra closed her eyes in deep thought like she was picturing the event in her mind. “No, he had brown boots and a dark blue tunic. It was burnt after I...but I am sure it was navy blue, not black.”

  “Fuck.” Leo said.

  “What does that mean?” Karl asked.

  “It means that whoever murdered our parents hired multiple mercenary groups. And not all were Black Blades. There’s another mystery to solve.”

  “It may be difficult to find the truth now,” Nicco agreed.

  “I still intend to ask this Captain Bastian if he knows anything.”

  “As do I,” Nicco said, “but it’s likely the Black Blades we encountered were a rogue group, perhaps no longer even employed with the company. He may not be as helpful as we once hoped.”

  “It’s unusual,” Karl added, “but not unheard of for mercenaries of different companies to work alongside one another.”

  Despite training daily, nothing fatigued muscles more than actual combat. Nicco shifted, working an ache out of his right shoulder. “How do you know this?”

  “You may consort with noble knights of honor, Nicco, but not all men have such virtuous ideals. You hear things as watch captain. Some men served in mercenary companies. The smart ones retire and seek less dangerous employment where their blade still has worth. Men often boast to one another of past deeds, especially over a pint of ale. Hearing about their experiences can be surprisingly enlightening.”

  “Bottom line,” Leo said, “they all want the same thing.”

  “Gold,” Karl said.

  Nicco found himself in agreement.

  “There is another possibility we haven’t considered,” Reinhard said. Everyone looked at their uncle. “The attacks happened on the same evening, but for different reasons. We may be searching for a nonexistent connection. Perhaps we seek two unaffiliated groups of brigands.”

  Leo scoffed. “Uncle, if it looks like shit and smells like shit, it’s probably shit,”

  Reinhard frowned. “Probability isn’t a certainty. And is such an analogy necessary?”

  “Uncle’s right,” Nicco said. “We should be open to all possibilities.”

  Leo rubbed his temples. Everyone waited until he looked up, seeing everyone staring at him. “What?”

  Nicco spoke what they all probably thought. “This is usually where you make some joke proving you’re smarter than the rest of us.”

  Leo shrugged.

  Karl grimaced.

  Allie tapped her foot. “Really? Nothing?”

  “Other concerns weigh on me, so forgive me if I’m not my usual self.”

  “I apologize,” Alessandra said. Karl and Nicco said nothing. Nicco found Alessandra’s elbow in his ribs.

  Nicco gasped. “Sorry. Truly Leo.” Alessandra glared at Karl.

  “Sorry, little brother.” Karl smirked.

  Leo smirked back. A bit of humor to lighten the mood.

  Alessandra swigged her wine. “We should take some solace that your faithful servants could save our home.”

  “I’d sooner trade a home for our parents,” Leo said.

  “As would anyone,” Nicco agreed, “but now we must place our faith in each other.”

  Leo examined Otto’s signet ring. “Faith eludes me.”

  Nicco couldn’t agree with that, but unlike Leo, he knew when to remain silent. My faith never eludes me.

  “As it does us all,” Reinhard said. “Leo, do you seek solace with the Primordials?” Reinhard asked with the sort of peculiar caring wisdom that only he could convey.

  Nicco realized the burden Reinhard now faced alone. For the last twenty-five years, Reinhard, Otto, and Sophia had raised the four children together. Now he was all alone. Otto was the mind, Sophia the heart, and Reinhard the Essence. One family, two houses, three parents, and four children.

  Leo kissed the signet ring. “No.”

  Nicco’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword Vindicator. “So you seek vindication?”

  “No,” Leo said. “I seek vengeance.”